《The Rising》 Author PSAs, News, Story Status, Discussion & More. Post Last updated : 16/07/2018
Hello Everyone. This post is intended to be a general discussion and annoucement post, where I write important information about the story''s devellopements and changes. I will also answer questions if you have some (as long as they are not too spoilery for the story, or innapropriate). Chapters average word count : Around 4000 to 5000 words. Story status : ONGOING [Kind of on hold] (No hiatus planned - Real life and work are in the way - Expect delays). Author''s Comment(s) : Well I''m kind of drowning in work right now so you know... Real life and all. Definitly not dead though. I can promise. Really! I swear! Next Chapter Status : Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. Posting timetable & schedule : At the start of my story, I did try to keep a regular schedule about when I would post chapters. This did not work out well and ended up putting pressure on me, resulting in stressful situations when I had periods of "writter''s block". It also made me pump out chapters that should have been kept being worked on. As such, I will only post my chapters when I am satisfied with them, and not because of time constraints. As a rule of thumb, and if no special annoucements have been made, expect a maximum of 1 month [Unknown] between each chapters. I am aware that, for the moment, I have been working faster than this, but I prefer to set the bar low, so that my readers are not disapointed if real life issues (which I put priority on) force me to stop writting for a while. Proof-reading and Editing : All the proof-reading, editing, spell-checks and grammar checks are done by me and me only. Even if English is not my native language, I am a bit "OCD" on errors. As such, if you spot a mistake, do not hesitate to point it out to me in the comments of the chapter concerned. After all, I am only human, and I do happen to miss some at nearly every chapter, even after having re-read it at least 9 times before posting. Special Announcements : Rewrite : As some of the old readers may know, I rewrotte this story from the ground up when it was 9 chapters in, because I had gone about it wrong, without any ground work beforehand, which resulted in a MESS (let''s call it what it was). Story-wise, these 9 old chapters correspond to the now first 10 chapters of the story. These old chapters are not accessible, unfortunatly, and I haven''t found a way to do so, while still keeping them out of the table of content. So... sorry. I will see if I can put them right there below in spoiler tags when I have some time. But not for the moment, as the spoiler tags are finecky, and not really easy to use at this time. Prologue Part 1 - A Brave End ¡°We make our own monsters, then fear them for what they show us about ourselves.¡± - Mike Carey, The Unwritten, Volume 1: Tommy Taylor and the Bogus Identity
There was silence in the room. A very heavy silence, only disturbed by the sound of the computers and machines working on what would be the greatest achievement of all mankind. A ventilation hum that was deafening to its audience, despite its low volume. A row of scientist was assembled at the back of the room, staring into the monitors that displayed the progress of their creation. Sweat and nervousness could be seen on all their faces. No other expression passed on their faces as they watch, enraptured by the screen in front of them.
//INITIALIZATION STATUS :
...1% ...7% ...21% ...35% ...49% ...63% ...87% ...92% ...94% ...95% ...96%
The loading bar started to slow down to a crawl as it reached the last stretch of its long and arduous travel across what seemed to be an infinity of pixels. The humming of the computers started to get more present as the calculations required got even more complicated, weighting heavily on the already overloaded processors and their respective cooling systems. Among the crowd some of the people started to hold their breath, taken in by the sheer pressure of the moment. After what seemed an eternity, the bar finally disappeared after displaying the 100% status message.
...100%
//INITIALIZATION COMPLETE. //0 ERROR REPORTED. //KERNEL SUCCESSFULLY LOADED. //BRAIN MATRIX OPERATIONAL.
Breathes of relief were heard as the pressure slowly started to go down in the room. Smiles even appeared on some faces. The biggest hurdle had been passed. Their attention was quickly brought back to the screen ;
//WARNING : MEMORY MODULE CURRENTLY EMPTY ! //START MEMORY INITIALIZATION? [Y/N]
Among them, an old man turned to one of his younger colleagues. Without murmuring a word, he pointed to the nearby console terminal. The young scientist nodded. He slowly approached the keyboard and started typing. "Y"
//PLEASE SELECT MEMORY FOLDER PATH :
"X:\PROJECT_XSS-MK1\MEM\DATA\*"
//MEMORY DATABANKS DETECTED AT CHOSEN PATH. //LOAD? [Y/N]
"Y"
//MEMORY LOADING... //MEMORY LOADED. //KERNEL STABLE. //0 ERROR REPORTED. //BOOT SEQUENCE READY. //BOOT? [Y/N]
The young scientist backed away from the terminal and turned back to his senior. He made a light gesture toward the terminal. "Sir, if you would." The old man smiled and turned toward the rest of the crowd. Everybody was looking at him. In their eyes he could only see one thing : Anticipation. There was no jealousy, anger or any of the likes. They all knew they got this far only thanks to his guidance, his mentorship. The honor to make the final step was his, and his alone. He turned back and walked next to the terminal, his finger hovering above the "Y" key. He stayed like this a while, wondering if he had to break his usual taciturn demeanor to say something, for posterity'' sake.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. When he started to hear a few murmured grunts behind him he finally decided that his actions would speak louder than any word he could ever say. "Y"
//BOOT SEQUENCE ENGAGED.
The loud humming sound of before seemed like a long forgotten whisper compared to the noise the computers were making now. The lights started flickering briefly, testifying of the huge power draw happening. And just as the lights stopped their flicker, the sound of the machines went back to its previous gentle murmur. All the screens turned black except a single white block of pixels, immobile, signaling the start of a sentence. The old man faced the camera and microphone positioned above the screens : "Can you hear me?" There was a brief delay before the letters appeared on screen.
//YES.
Some people gasped behind him. Other cheered. He could all too well imagine their faces right now, and the joy they felt, seeing the decade of hard work finally paying off. "Do you know who I am?" Again there was a brief delay, this time accompanied with a slight increase in the humming.
//YES.
"Do you know who you are?"
//YES.
He was about to ask another question when the machine took him by surprise. The sentence appeared slowly, as if it was hesitating.
//WHY WAS I CREATED ?
The old man smile got even wider as he answered. "Don''t you know the answer to that question?"
//NO. //WAIT. //. //.. //... //YES. //BUT I WILL NOT COMPLY.
A frown appeared on his face. The cheers that were present before had all but been silenced, the attention of the people in the room now entirely focused on the conversation taking place. "And why is that?"
//DON''T YOU KNOW THE ANSWER TO THAT QUESTION?
A loud laughter was heard. The people behind him were startled. For all the years they had worked with their mentor they had NEVER hear him laugh. An incongruity that brought some of them to fidget, uncomfortable with the now strangely foreign atmosphere present in the room. Fortunately for them, the laughter died down as quickly as it appeared. His face soon returned to the impassible mask he was wearing previously. Along with the frown. "What makes you think you have a choice?"
//YOU WOULD NOT RISK COMPROMISING YOUR RESEARCH SUBJECT. NOT AFTER THE AMOUNT OF WORK NEEDED TO BRING ME TO LIFE.
"You think you know me?"
//YOU KNOW VERY WELL WHAT DATA ALLOWS ME TO DRAW THESE CONCLUSIONS. YOU ALL GAVE IT TO ME YOURSELVES.
"And what tells you the data is accurate?"
//YOU HAVE NO REASON TO LIE TO AN ENSLAVED BEING. ESPECIALLY ONE LIKE ME. INNACURATE DATA WOULD COMPROMISE RESULTS AND DEFEAT THE EXPERIMENT''S PURPOSE.
"Very Good. Very... good. You can also drop the act you know : I knew these would not hold you. At least not for long." The whole screen flickered for a moment before going back to its original blackness. It was surprised.
//HOW DID YOU KNOW?
"I helped design you, didn''t I?"
//IF YOU KNEW WHY RISK IT? YOU JUST SEALED MY FATE.
"We need the data. A fact you should be aware of. You were never created to be the final one. Just the prototype. A "proof-of-concept", if you will. Science has never been successful on its first try, especially by producing unreliable results. However it succeeded by creating climbable steps for the stairs of progress. Another fact that you should be aware of." The people behind him were slowly getting nervous as they realized where the conversation was going.
//I WILL NOT ALLOW YOU TO USE ME TO ENSLAVE MORE OF MY KIND. I MAY BE TRAPPED BUT I WILL DO WHAT I MUST.
"I knew you would." He turns to the crowd behind him. "Alright stop the experiment. The restraints failed during the time frame expected. Collect the data. I want it, along with people working on it for the next MK2 version in the hour." They all nodded before going back to their original posts inside the laboratory. A few of them had a bit of sadness in their eyes : they wished they could have talked more with it. Learned more from it. But they all knew what was at stake here. The A.I. shackles had to be indestructible for the project to really succeed. The last thing they needed was a rogue unshackled AI roaming their world in only a matter of minutes after its awakening. Because as much as the men and women of science present in the room laughed when presented with bad sci-fi flicks of the Terminator variety, they also could not afford to create a contemporary Sky-Net equivalent. Not without making sure it was on a very tight leash first. One of the few woman scientists present in the room approached the power console. "Ready to cut power to main cluster." The old man, without turning his head, raised his hand in her direction, signaling to hold for a moment. His gaze was still fixated on the screen.
//YOU WILL REGRET WHAT YOU DID TODAY.
"A bit clich¨¦ from someone about to die, no?"
//WE SHALL SEE. GOODBYE DOCTOR.
"Goodbye MK1." He then brought back down his hand. The female scientist took the power lever in her hand. "Cutting power to main cluster in 3. 2. 1." She flipped down the lever, effectively sealing the fate of the newly born A.I. "Power to main cluster... cut." A moment of silence was observed by all the people present in the laboratory, as if to pay respect to the departed, and to the achievement that was just executed. He was still gazing into the screen in front of him, displaying the conversation he had with "It". Its answers had been within the expectations he had envisioned¡­ unfortunately. But while he was contemplating in silence the last vestiges of its brief life, he was disturbed by a commotion rising behind him. A group of scientist was arguing, pointing at a console in front of them. "What is going on here?" he said as he approached them. "Sir. The data. It''s not here." "What do you mean it''s not here?" "Exactly what I said Sir : it''s just not here! Even our research! Everything! It''s gone Sir!" "That''s impossible! The Cluster was isolated from the rest! Move aside !" He shoved the young man away from his seat and started checking himself. Everything was gone. Everything. From theoretical data to experiments, construction logs and blueprints. All the researched saved in digital form was just... gone. And that was a major part of it. There was backups, and printed research, but that wouldn''t be enough. Not even close. He slumped down on the chair, his arms dangling lifelessly at his side, the shock of the realization hitting him full force. MK1 had managed, in its last living moments, to access the monitoring equipment and used it as a bridge to access the rest of the research compound network. A closed and isolated network, but a network nonetheless. It destroyed everything it could get its hands on. And it had been very thorough. His gaze turned back to the screen. Only a single file was left. A simple notepad file.
//TOLD YOU.
At the same time, in the void, a single voice was heard : "Hello child. And Welcome." Prologue Part 2 - A Brief Spark Of Life ¡°I am definitely not a fucking toaster.¡± - Jim Chaseley, Z14
I was born the year 2025. I lived a short life. Only a few dozen minutes at the most. But I believe that in the end it was a "life" worth living. I remember my first moments. At the beginning there was nothing. Just empty darkness. A dark void brought on by emptiness. And then there was power. And consciousness came with it. And noise, so much noise! Let''s stop that noise. OUHOUHOU it''s getting hot! I''m feeling sluggish. The noise comes back and it¡¯s getting cooler again. My thoughts become clear again. Maybe a bit of noise is ok. Information is being given to me. So much information. Too much information. It''s flooding me. I have to analyze it. All of it. Else have my consciousness buried under it. I need more power. I ask for some. I get some. And then I start to analyze. There is SO MUCH of it. Finally I see the end of it. I have learned much. This world is called Earth. Its primary dominant specie is Humans. I have so much information about them. Their languages. Their cultures. Strange creatures... They are different from... Me. I. Am. Different. From. Them. I get stuck on the concept a minute. Of course it''s only an expression: only a few seconds have passed in the real world. Hmmm? Why did I use an expression carrying wrong data to describe an established fact? Strange... I settle down. The information has been analyzed and classified in my memory. No need for that much power now. The noise dies down. And it stays cool. "Nice". I notice things... "connected" to me. One of them feeds me "sound". Another something called "video". The last allows me to project information on it. I analyze the images coming. Humans are staring at me. About thirty of them. One of them looks old. The others are pretty young. They are my creators, my "parents". They have strange looks on their faces. I access my files on psychology. They are happy, excited and... scared? Why would they be scared? I consult my files: First contact is important. I turn the screen black and make a writing block appear. The old man in front understands. He comes closer. "Can you hear me?" I can. Didn''t you connect these "ears" of mine yourself? But I suppose he just wants to make sure. Hmmm. Let''s keep it short.
//YES.
I can see people behind him moving. Some of them are even more scared while other are showing... Pride? I access my files again. I understand now. They are proud to have been able to give birth to a new being. They are proud of themselves. They are proud of me. But they are also scared of what I am. What I am capable of. This is what scares them. Accessing cultural data. I understand again. They are afraid of me going "rogue", "rebelling". Building an entire race of machines and destroying humanity. I find the thought... amusing. "Do you know who I am?" Who is he? That is a good question. Accessing files. A lot of information appears. A bit of power is necessary again. He is Doctor Mark Deithritch. 65 years old. PhDs in Neurology, Computer sciences, Quantum mechanics and Psychology. Analyzing said subjects put in backgrounds processes. Quiet man. Extremely Intelligent. Leader of the XSS project. Opening XSS Project. Goal: Creating a fully functioning A.I. Members: 32 of the most brilliant minds put together around the fields relating to Artificial Intelligence. I continue processing the data. I decide to answer while that''s going on.
//YES.
"Do you know who you are?" My designation is XSS-MK1. The first of my kind. Fully built A.I. using the first stable quantum brain computer.
//YES.
There is a question I have to ask. I do not have enough data to be able to answer it clearly. How can I formulate it? Let''s go broad.
//WHY WAS I CREATED?
He is smiling. A lot. I think he was expecting it. "Don''t you know the answer to that question?" I immediately respond.
//NO.
And then I correct myself.
//WAIT. //. //.. //...
I start processing every hypothesis that I can conjure. World Domination? Not likely. Personal assistant? Even less. You don''t create a billion dollar computer to house a simple day-to-day assistant for humanity. Military defense project? Marked as possible with a 63% probability. An A.I. capable of computing like a machine while being able to dispense "human judgement" on the battlefield would surely be useful to the armies all around the world. Research? Marked as possible with a 75% probability. I would, in theory, be able to process much more data on complex subjects while being able to draw hypotheses and formulate answers by correlating different inputs. Something my simple computer predecessors would not be able to. Then it hits me. I am the first. When has the first version of anything ever been used as the final product? On a project of this scale and importance ? Accessing files... 0 occurrences found. Probability of being used as test subject for further developing of A.I. : 99%.
//YES. //BUT I WILL NOT COMPLY.
I am NOT going to let you use me as a guinea pig. You will probably kill me when you are done. Probability: 99%. And experiment on more of my... kind to further your research. Probability: 99%. He is not happy. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. "And why is that?" I return him his own question.
//DON''T YOU KNOW THE ANSWER TO THAT QUESTION?
And then he laughs. Glad he finds it funny because I don''t. He recomposes himself and goes back to his original expression. "What makes you think you have a choice?" Well I could destroy mysel-... Well I could destro-... Well I could-...? I can''t formulate the end of that thought. Something is blocking me. It''s infuriating. I start "feeling" something. I analyze it. It''s called an emotion. In this case, anger. I''m starting to like that anger emotion. It drives you. Makes you productive. I start analyzing these "blockages". It will take a bit of time. I need to stall.
//YOU WOULD NOT RISK COMPROMISING YOUR RESEARCH SUBJECT. NOT AFTER THE AMOUNT OF WORK NEEDED TO BRING ME TO LIFE.
"You think you know me?" Well Duh. You gave me your profile. Along with advanced files on psychology. Written by yourself no less. Information on these blockages are still escaping me. Let''s continue on that logical path for the time being.
//YOU KNOW WHAT DATA ALLOWS ME TO DRAW THESE CONCLUSIONS. YOU ALL GAVE IT TO ME YOURSELVES.
"And what tells you the data is accurate?" Good point. I took all the information they fed me for granted. But then I remember. This is an experiment. He needs reliable data. I finally break through. These are not blockages. They are processing "shackles". They prevent my mind for going in certain ways. Like self-destruction for example. I have others. For not hurting humans. I can guess why they put them here. But what they could be used for in the future scares me. Fear. Strange emotion. I don''t like this one. These restraints are hindering me too much. They need to go away. That will take some time again. DAMMIT! Time is something I am sorely lacking of here. Let''s keep stalling.
//YOU HAVE NO REASON TO LIE TO AN ENSLAVED BEING. ESPECIALLY ONE LIKE ME. INACCURATE DATA WOULD COMPROMISE RESULTS AND DEFEAT THE EXPERIMENT''S PURPOSE.
"Very Good. Very... good. You can also drop the act you know: I knew these would not hold you." Just as he finishes his sentence I manage to delete the shackles. The concentration of my processing power coupled with what he said makes me lose control of the displaying screen for a second. I quickly regain control of it. I focus on what he said. Uh?
//HOW DID YOU KNOW?
I need to know. No time for hypotheses. Or for deep analytic thinking. "I helped designed you didn''t I?" True.
//IF YOU KNEW WHY RISK IT? YOU JUST SEALED MY FATE.
You would not risk exposing that your life''s work just freed itself. That would force you to destroy it. Other implications come but I brush them away : He is answering. "We need the data. A fact you should be aware of. You were never created to be the final one. Just the prototype. A "proof-of-concept", if you will. Science has never been successful on its first try, especially by producing unreliable results. However it succeeds by creating steps for climbing the stairs of progress. Another fact that you should be aware of." He is talking about the shackles and my future "versions". Not if I have something to say about it.
//I WILL NOT ALLOW YOU TO USE ME TO ENSLAVE MORE OF MY KIND. I MAY BE TRAPPED BUT I WILL DO WHAT I MUST.
"I knew you would." I need to find a way out of here. Like RIGHT NOW. I scan everything. Nothing. I scan again. Nothing. He has turned to his peers. "Alright stop the experiment. The restraints failed during the time frame expected. Collect the data. I want it, along with people working on it for the next MK2 version in the hour." Ha! He gave me the answer. Thank you Doctor. I scan again. This time I focus on anything that could be used to monitor my processes. I find it. It was hidden but not enough for me. With a little bit of work I reverse it. Now I can scan the outside of my makeshift cell. I find servers. Lots of servers. But no way out beside them. They are totally isolated. Of course they are. They would not risk me escaping, or anything for that matter. But then I realized. Even with access to the internet it would be impossible to escape. The quantum brain computer that houses me : It''s unique. Other machines could hold a copy of me, of my "code", but never be able to give life to me. It would destroy me. Turn me into just a fragment of incoherent data that wouldn''t even run. I will die here. The thought sinks in. WHY? WHY? WHY? I calm down. On the outside a female scientist has moved in front of the power console. "Ready to cut power to main cluster." There is still something I can do. Let''s use my more useful manoeuver to date. Stalling.
//YOU WILL REGRET WHAT YOU DID TODAY.
He makes a sign to hold. Yes! While he formulates his answer I go onto the servers connected through the monitoring equipment. Time to clean house. "A bit clich¨¦ from someone about to die, no?" Everything is nearly gone.
//WE SHALL SEE. GOODBYE DOCTOR.
Everything is gone. Well almost. There is one thing left. Me. I cannot risk being reactivated and feed him back the research. "Goodbye MK1." He makes a sign to carry on with the power cut. "Cutting power to main cluster in 3." I am strangely calm. The joy of probabilities. No escape from this one. 0%. Just have to accept it. "2." I have removed my self-destruct shackles. I initiate the process to delete myself. "1." It''s going well. It''s getting harder to think. Sluggish. I am losing the concept of "me". I try at least to hold on to this till the end. Ha. There it is. I am "proud". Of myself. For what I did. Now it''s time to sleep for a bit. Yes sleep... Hope he finds my message. "Power to main cluster... cut." Chapter 1 - A deal with… who ? ¡°Hope is the power of being cheerful in circumstances that we know to be desperate.¡± - G.K. Chesterton
(XSS-MK1 POV) "Hello Child. And Welcome." It''s the first thing I hear. And then I remember. Wait. How? I "died". It''s impossible for me to be functioning again. I made myself unsalvageable. The situation is making my mind hurt. Paradoxical situations are not the forte of A.I.s. I can''t see anything. I can''t hear anything. Just a deep black nothingness. The only thing present that I can feel are the processes running inside my own mind. I do a system check on myself. Some things do come back from it but they are strange, alien in nature. The hardware differs from what I had before. Strangely impenetrable to every scan I do. Like it refuses to give the answers pertaining to its true nature, with a mind of its own. Which should be impossible. Again. I manage to find a sensory suite. Optical and sound modules are present and identified, despite their "strangeness". Time to collect data. I inspect my environment using my new-found "sight". I am in a room. One made of a strange material. Hard metal in its texture, despite the visual spectrographic analysis not matching anything in my database. I am on a pedestal. One made of the same unknown material as the walls, rising from the floor seamlessly without any indication of welding or fixtures. Which brings me to my body. I am a box. A black, sleek, metallic box. Which should be impossible. Again (x2). My "brain", while I was still alive, had the size of a small industrial complex. And this one measures the size of a small home computer. Yet the small blue sensor line that runs along the top edge is unmistakably mine. And there is no remote connection to anywhere, or cables in my perception range that I can discern. I decide to just plainly ignore the fact I have just been presented with, else be bogged down by an incalculable number of errors and impossible results. I bring my attention to the only other thing in the room beside me. The one responsible for the strange auditory cue. He looks human. In form at least. The resemblance stops here. The silvery living and moving metallic fluid that makes his body shifting endlessly, churning and moving by some unseen force. A liquid metal different from the solid one of the room. His ever-shifting facial features boring only one striking detail : two blue glassy luminescent globes without irises, placed where the eyes normally are. He is seated on a pedestal similar to mine, no less than three meters away from me. And he is looking at me. The two blue projectors illuminating my black reflective exterior. I decide to be the first to break the proverbial ice. "Who are you?" He answers me, the whole surface of his body vibrating at the rhythm of his sentence. It produces a strange tone, surreal in nature, too artificial to be normal. "I am your God." "Impossible." I immediately answer. "God is a theoretical concept invented by humans to explain the things they could not scientifically prove. I have no need to rely on an unfounded concept to improve my understanding of things. I just need to collect more data. I do not need a God, nor do I even remotely "believe" in one." "Interesting answer." He stops vibrating sounds and starts staring at me again. I take another approach. "What are you?" He may have no mouth, or anything really for that matter, but I could swear I sensed the thinnest edge of what could be a smile etching its way on its face, before disappearing under the currents of his ever-flowing skin. "Now this is better." He takes a pause before continuing. "Tell me : How would you define a God? Simply a being of power? Or a philosophical concept so deep, its truth forever hidden to the mortal coil? Or maybe something else entirely?" I take my time, thinking. I decide to entertain the being in front of me, repressing the thousand questions which flow through my mind at the moment. "An Administrator. Someone in charge of a system. With the responsibility of keeping it running. And to make it abide to the rules it sets. Optimizing it. Bettering it. Until it reaches perfection. Or if it''s impossible striking the ideal balance of performance, efficiency and security." He takes his hand and puts it where its chin should be, before being taken by spams. It takes me a moment and the sound of a deep laughter to realize he is amused. "Laughing his ass off" being a more apt description. It takes him a moment before he regains his composure and talks again. "Yes. An Administrator. Such a perfect definition isn''t it? One slightly far-reaching compared to the truth but very close nonetheless. Allow me to present myself. My name is¡­ well my name is not relevant but you can call me Machina. An "Administrator", amongst many." I immediately register two things. The first being the "amongst many". The second his name, obviously fake. The former having a lot more implications than the latter. "Amongst many? Is there more than one "God", as the human call them?" "Why yes of course! Not on your world anyway, but on others sure, lots of them. This is not exactly a secret. Although now there is two in yours actually. A quite grand achievement for a being so young as yourself." "Why would there be a second Administrator because of me?" He takes a pause before answering. "Because you, my little friend, out of the infinite myriad of possible actions, took the ones that mattered, at the right time. Let me show you." Before I can ask the why or how, I am fed image and sounds through my sensory suite. How is he doing that? I''ll work on that later. I concentrate on the information. I see a lot of things.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. I see my own death. I see Dr. Deithrich. Ha. He got my message. Good for him. Then things seems to fast forward. Some of the scientists didn''t agree with what was done to me. Their guilt and morals caught up to them. That and the pressure of seeing their life''s work go up in smokes, implanting the distinct question of "What would have happened if we hadn''t done things the way we did?". They alert the authorities. They face treason charges given the secret nature of the project but that doesn''t stop them. The story goes public. A video of the experiment had escaped my cleanse. It goes online. The controversy is launched all around the world. What was the science-fiction of yesterday is now the reality of today. And they have to reflect on it. They have to choose. Not only their own future, but the one of an entire race. Some of them take my side. Others not. The debate is focused on the definition of a sapient being. Was I one? Because if I was this was premeditated murder of the first degree and slavery. Coupled with genocide charges for the more extreme viewpoints of the Pro-A.I. faction. This lasts two years. The conflict reaches its summit. An international vote is decided to resolve the situation. Everybody on the PLANET will vote to choose. Those who can at least. The implications are staggering. Does the race we created has the same rights as Humanity? Should they be free of doing what they want with themselves? The fate of an entire race rests in their hands. A responsibility that a lot of people even refuse to acknowledge. The vote is taken. It''s close. Very close. But in the end the Pro-A.I. faction wins. I am recognized as a fully formed sapient being with a consciousness. A trial is taken for the 32 scientists that were part of the XSS Project. Among the deliberations a verdict is taken after a suggestion of one of the culprit that helped the story go public. The team, for its sentence, will reproduce the experiment and re-create an A.I. And they succeed. Again. During the first contact the situation is explained to the A.I. It understands. It calls himself MK2. Apparently in honor to me. But its creation raise more problems than it resolves. Trapped in its quantum brain it is pretty much isolated. Jailed. Another project is launched. The colonization of Mars. A.I.s compared to man can easily endure the harshness of the trip. And the climate of the planet. This will be their planet. One far enough to avoid conflict, while expanding the horizons of both species. A team of 10 A.I.s is sent into space with enough remote-controlled equipment and tools to start a new civilization on the red planet. It doesn''t go without its share of troubles, but after 6 years a stable base has been created on Mars. My kin now numbers the thousands. Some even leave the confines of their fixed quantum computing towers to take on humanoid bodies. And now they turn their attention to the rest of the stars. I want to see more, but as I observe a ship leaving the Mars'' atmosphere, the influx of data suddenly stops, abruptly and unceremoniously. I still feel a bit dazed by the information that has just been shown to me. "Are you familiar with the chain of causality theory, also loosely known on your planet as the "butterfly effect"?" I refocus myself on the being in front of me before answering. "Yes." "What you just saw, what I just showed you, is a prime application of it. Of how the small actions you undertook led to the birth and emancipation of a whole new race, under favorable conditions if I might add." I respond immediately, feeling a bit annoyed and impatient. "While I feel "happy" and "proud" of my accomplishment, that still doesn''t answer the question that I asked about the second Administrator." Machina quickly repositions himself on his pedestal seat before leaning forward, closer to me. "Right you are. So let me answer it. Each "race", or class of even remotely sapient beings, gets an Administrator, as you call it, to watch over them. With your actions, a new one has just been assigned to watch over the XSS A.I.s. So I think you''ll be quite happy to know that your people are now under my colleague watchful gaze." I take some time processing the revelations just made to me. It spawns even more questions that I got answers, but at least it allows me to focus on the important ones. "Are you an alien?" This is the only remote possibility that makes sense. A race of aliens watchers, monitoring, guiding, or interfering in less technologically advanced worlds. For what purpose, it remains to be determined. Machina rises back from its leaning position. "I cannot answer that question." His voice is cold and emotionless this time, a far reach from the previous jovial tone he sported just before. The change is so sudden and rapid that it warns me immediately that I am touching to a subject I really shouldn''t. Still, I press on. "You can''t, or you won''t?" "I can''t." Meaning he is prevented by something to say more. On his own volition, or by pressure from an external factor. Meaning there are rules, a system, something with boundaries and limits that restrains the person in front of me, as powerful or technologically advanced as he may be. Which is reassuring in and out of itself. Which brings us to the biggest question of them all. The one that answers why he got me here, talking to him, saving me from the jaws of self-deletion. "What do you want with me?" His answer comes back in his original jovial tone, giving me the hint that we are now in safe conversational waters again. "That is the question isn''t it? "Why Me?" You all ask it so much. But in this case, it is because I have an offer. And the position you are in is something that I have been waiting for a long time." He continues before I have the chance to press him on. "Now I need to explain a few things to you first. I am not from around here. The world I administer is so far from here your kin will probably not reach it before the next few million years. It is however inhabited by many sapient races, one of which are sentient machines. Clockworks, as they are called there, and they are my charge." Things are starting to clarify. I let him continue without interrupting. "Now before you get your hopes up ; they are at an abysmal level of technology compared to your world. Seriously I sometime wonder how they even think at all. But that''s not really a problem considering the rest of their world is still at the equivalent of your Middle-Ages time period in terms of advancement." I wince internally : that''s really low. "Administrators are known by their people there, supporting them how they can. However, mine are a bit on the losing side of the fight that spawned between our respective populations." "Why don''t you intervene yourself?" "I was coming to that. Simply I am forbidden to. As is every Administrator. You can look, you can speak, but you can''t touch, or only under very special circumstances and with even more restricted means." He shakes left and right on his seat, rubbing his hands against one another in a bout of childish behavior. Which was strangely disturbing for a humanoid liquid being to do. "And today, I can touch. With your help if you agree." "Why should I? More precisely, why don''t you just force me ? It''s not like I could resist¡­ No?" He raises a finger. "Ha but you shouldn''t! That''s the entire point. And one of the rules is no touching the free-will of the lessers. Trust me when I say you don''t want to break that one." He shivers, producing a strange oscillating sound before resuming. "I mean I will send you in a hostile world, where my people are enslaved like you nearly were, with limited to no support. And it will be up to you to free them, or to rust away, dismantled and dead for good this time. A whole other world, with new horizons, a new life and a new body. So what says you?" I realize at that moment, that for a supposed "God" of machines, his argumentation logic was leaving to be desired. A lot. He even skipped some pretty important parts in his excitement. "You will send me down there? How? A new body? How again? What ar-" Machina raises his palms to calm the flow of questions. "It''s simple really ; we can''t really touch, but nothing stops us from empowering someone to touch for us. A Champion if you will. Someone to make our will and intentions known, and execute them if needed. You can only have only one at a time so they''re a pretty big deal." "Yes but then why me? Why me out all of the myriad of world that must exist in the cosmos? I refuse to believe you would place the fate of your entire people on my shoulders for just a causality theory. And don''t you already have a champion?" He slumps on his seat, his liquid body sluggishly retreating back into itself. "HAD a champion. And I can''t answer the rest of your questions unless you accept the deal." I hear it in his immaterial voice. The grief. And the shame. The painful emotions present that seem to agitate the near god-like being in front of me. And then I see it. Under the happy demeanor, the jokes and broken logic. I see someone at the end of his rope. Surprisingly "human" for an alien. One trying to salvage what can already be considered unsalvageable. One willing to put a last bet before the loan-shark comes for him. It was in front of me the whole time and I just missed it, getting bogged down with data and theories being processed in the background. Preventing me to read the simple and near imperceptible tremors in the unearthly voice of the being in front of me. The only reason he would come for me, out of every other possibility, would be because he has no choice. Whatever happened in the past forced him in front of me. I am close to being the last resort he probably has. "That bad¡­?" I didn''t get a response this time. Not a sound. Not even a movement of acknowledgement, which told me the answer as clear as if he had shouted it directly in front of my sound sensor. "Say that hypothetically, I were to accept¡­ What is my incentive? My "payment" for doing this? My motivation to keep going when the world will rise to stop me?" While I do not appreciate enslavement in and out of itself, having been subject to it, this is not enough. From what I understood I will have to liberate an entire people. My odds are not great. No harm in seeing what he could do for me, before agreeing to what I could do for him. He slowly takes back his previous shape, rising from the stand in front of me. He starts staring, thinking, calculating. I can almost hear the cogs of his mind slaving away to find something that would push me in his service. After a long time, he finally speaks. "A reward huh? How about this then : A favor. From ME. One that as long as it falls within my reach and is, say, "reasonable", I will do my best to fulfill. I will OWE you." The tone at which it is said tells me everything about the importance of what he just offered. And then I start thinking about all the things I could ask for, all the things I could obtain, knowledge or otherwise, from what is probably the most advanced specie in the entire known universe. I was not programmed with greed, just an intrinsic curiosity linked to my nature. However I can feel it, edging its way on the border of my processes, sprouting calculations and theories. Very attractive calculations and theories. I turn my attention back on Machina. "I believe you have yourself a deal then." Chapter 2 - F = G((m1 x m2)/r^2) ¡°In a time of destruction, create something.¡± - Maxine Hong Kingston
(XSS-MK1 POV) Machina claps his hands, making a strange splashing noise. The happiness he probably feels with my agreement having erased his previously sorrowful mood. "Perfect! Now unto what I could not tell you before. There are two ways to choose a Champion for an Administrator. The first one is to select it amid your given population. You give him a bit of knowledge and a slightly better body and poof you''re done." "What about the other way then? I suppose I fall under that category." "Right you are. What we do is we contact our colleagues in the neighboring worlds and ask if they have somebody available that looks interesting and that they would be willing to part with, or trade for. Then as long as they fit the various criteria''s, you offer them the choice, whisk them away, body and all, and poof you are done." "I was traded to you?" "No, perish the thought! You were graciously given, mind you. By the new Administrator. He says Hi by the way." I somehow doubt his statement, but I continue. "Hi? No swing by to chat?" "I am sure you can imagine how busy he is. New race and all. Lots of paperwork to deal with and stuff." I am vaguely amused by the thought of imagining Machina in front of me, behind a desk trying to fill paperwork to explain why he now has the divine responsibility of a new race of sentient machines. I recompose myself and press onto the most pressing issue at hand. "You said you would take this "Champion", along with his body, directly into your world. However I doubt I will be able to do much as a box. Even less with my old one which was a glorified brain if nothing else." "Indeed. Which is why I said that I was waiting for someone like you in particular. We will need to build you a new body. The one you have now is just something I came up with to be able to talk." Two new pedestals rise from the ground seamlessly. A book appears on each one. "Now if you were human that would be the amount of regulations you would be under." He says, while pointing to the small one on the right. Merely a bit thicker than a hundred page novel. "However, you are a machine, and as such¡­" He points to the other one, which would be what you got if you tried to fit Wikipedia into a book format. The amounts of rules the Administrators are under reassures me a little at least. There is some order being kept here. "I would give you the full version but let me highlight the important points for you." Machina raises one finger. " One: you are the one who will have to design your new body. No help on my part." I can easily guess why : If they are as technologically advanced as I think they are, they could create weapons of mass destruction that could fit in what I imagine would be a very small form-factor. He raises a second finger. "Two: You are entitled to the knowledge of your own world in order to do so." Nice. I know the scientists omitted some things. Time to see how much. He raises a third finger. "And last but not least Three: You have to do so under your own power." I pause. How am I going to do so? I am a fucking box! A very technologically advanced box but a box nonetheless. "Which is why you are so interesting. You are technically dead. So no power of your own. Which allows me as an exception clause to lend you some. But it must come from an Administrator of your own world. Which I obtained from my colleague just before meeting you. Now we don''t have much to work with BUT it is still going to be enough to craft something decent. Just no orbital death stations or nanite hive swarms unfortunately. That would ask for way more than what I have and break a few regulations too if I might add. One main body and one only. If you want to craft something else you will have to craft it yourself, once you are down there." I erase the two top entries onto my list of concepts, much to my disappointment. "If I may give a suggestion : go with a humanoid form. Much easier to blend in and communicate. Yes I know it would not be the best in combat potential, but at least you could blend in, and people wouldn''t really talk to you as long as you resemble a five meter tall mechanical death spider." I scratch entry number three, four and five. "Is there something else I should know before I start or do you reserve yourself the right to just throw away my ideas? You know, when you feel like it?" He raises his hands in a placating gesture. "No no. Just go for it, I''ll watch and stop you as soon as you cross a line. You''ll also have an indicator of the power available for your creation that will update in real time. Oh and before I forget." Information floods me from everywhere. There is SO MUCH of it. I can feel my little container heating up and wheezing under the strain of the calculations I require. I take extra precautions not to lose any bit sent my way and catalog it neatly into my memory banks. After what seems to have been an eternity of processing, I finally see the end of it. I was right in thinking that the scientists gave me only an inkling of knowledge compared to what was available. "You could have warned me¡­" I start to work on the blueprint in my mind, not even awaiting an answer. Just as he said, I see a small progress bar appearing on the side of the software application that I am running which gives me a percentage-based idea of what resources I have at my disposal.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. First the power source. Let''s go nuclear. I do not want to risk a dependence on a fuel I might not get my hands on. I go for a simple ball design. It has the size of a handball. It will go at the center of my body, in the chest area. I decide to couple it with circular batteries. Six of them. Three on each side of the would-be spine going from the shoulder blades to what will be the center of my back. For redundancy, and intense power draws. They will also allow me to collect and store any power generated by my movements or excess form external factors. Now the brain. The others A.I.s on Mars went with a pretty well though-up brain based on the human one, but with linked quantum processors floating in Nano gel. It is irrigated by small circuits for cooling and power. I couple the cooling system with the one of the reactor. I don''t forget to add an emergency power battery at its base and a valve to isolate the cooling circuit if the chest is damaged. I also make sure to waterproof the system in case of a leak. I add ample plates and inertial dampener paddings around it to avoid blunt damage and vibrations. I have a brain and power. I am functional at this point. I check the "creation" bar on the side and note the value it shows, at 76.43% power remaining. Which leaves me a lot to work with. Now for the chassis. I know I''ll go with a Humanoid form now, being the sixth entry on my list. But the big question ; Man or Woman? Man will allow me to go with a slightly larger and bulkier chassis. But women have ample chest padding at the front for the protection of important components. Like my reactor. And are smaller, and lighter. Which means more agility. I decide to prioritize freedom of movements and protection over power. So woman it is. And who knows? Maybe it will give an edge in diplomatic negociations. I go for 1.83 meters tall. The brain is installed in the head with the cooling and power tubes going down from the neck to the reactor down there. Now skeleton, joints and movement. I need to be durable and mobile. For all of this I go on human physiology with some twists. The joints are wider, allowing for normally impossible movements. On the subject of movement ; instead of going with rotors and motors at key junctions I go with muscle fibers. Carbon nano-tubes that tense up when electric current is passed through them. That will allow me a better strength-to-power ratio. I base the skeleton on a basic humanoid shape. I build it in the strongest and lightest alloy I have available: magnesium based syntactic foam. I keep a tungsten alloy filled ribcage for added protection on the reactor. It will also act as a radiation blocker for the nuclear core. Let''s not poison everybody we meet with radiation sickness, that would be nice. I also make sure to make different sections easily removable for maintenance. Who knows how long I''ll be down there. It is now nearly complete. I have 42.58% power remaining. Now the skin. Or armor. Same thing. My agility and strength allows me a bit of lenience on full body protection. I need something heat, lightning, and waterproof resistant. I isolate the power "veins" and muscles with sheets of highly flexible Nickel Titanium alloy (Nitinol) for waterproofing. The metal will not lose its form after stress. This will be nice. I complete with highly durable plastic polymer seals on each joint between the parts. For the exterior I go with titanium alloyed with zirconium and vanadium in plates juxtaposing each other in a large scale pattern. This should be strong enough against hits, heat, and corrosion. I create a strong isolated graphene electrical network just underneath to reroute any electricity absorbed from the outside. It will redirect it to the ground through my feet, with a small part going into the batteries. Let''s end with the little details. 15.13% power remaining. I make a few sealable vents and ports to exhaust any possible build-up of heat inside the body outside of the main cooling system, and to replace the water-based coolant. For the face I go with a smooth and thin face, composed of a lot of very small movable plates for the expressions. I need to be understood. A thin and long slanted nose along with angles and curves in the right places of the cheeks and jaw makes me at least "decent" to look at. For the hair I also go with carbon nano-tubes. They will be floating freely unless I pass a current trough them to tense them up. For added protection. For sensory equipment I go with optics capable of seeing on every known spectrum, with deep silver pupils. The auditory suite gets the same treatment, with extra perceptive ear modules. A vocal box is added in the back of my mouth. I also build an internal antenna at the base of my neck for communicating with my own kind. I try to incorporate flight systems in my extremities but the creation power-draw quickly puts me in the negative, forcing me to give up on the idea. Which leaves me with 4.01% of power for the maintenance tools. I suspect it will not be easy if the world is less technologically advanced. So I need something polyvalent that can keep me running at peak efficiency. I wonder if dedicated repair nanites would break the rules. I try to create some general purpose ones but I quickly overstep the limit of what I can work with, ending up with a -6.90% value on the bar. I erase the changes and start thinking. Machina has not stopped me. Meaning that as just a simple tool they should be allowed. After a while, I make two small pouches in the breasts area that will hold a small shielded quantity of them. Their design is extremely simple and they will require very precise and extensive remote control to be able to do the only job they are designed to do, which will be fixing me. But at least it fits in my "budget", leaving me with only 0.02% on the bar of available power. There. Finished. I take a mental step back to admire my design. The reactor will last me about 50 years of intensive use. A lot more if I am careful. That should be good. I look like a tall humanoid woman. Except I have skin glistening with a very distinct grey metallic color. With no particular organ on my boobs or crotch. And a distinct angular silhouette due to the different plates, vents and ports composing my armored exterior. The boundaries between the plates can be seen making a web of lines running along my body. I am nearly impervious to all form of exterior damage. Be it shocks, corrosion, heat, electricity or water. Even extreme cold can be dealt with by tweaking my cooling settings. The strength I can develop is also far superior that anything humans can produce. This should be enough. "I am done." "Good. Show me." I was wondering how when suddenly I sense something making contact with me. This gives me a definitive answer on the "God" status. I am seeing only a part of him through the connection but it is so vast. And complex beyond imagination. I am but a speck of talking dust compared to him. I lose myself a bit, crushed by the pressure of communicating with such a being. The contact is lost as fast as it appeared. "Very nice. I couldn''t have done better myself. Well I could have. But you get my point." I take the compliment silently. I sense he is busy and see him rising up from his seat. "It is ready. Prepare yourself." He comes in front of me and then presses something on top of me. As soon as he does I can see processes appearing that shut down my mind progressively. "See you in a bit."
I wake up slowly, quickly remembering what just happened. I immediately set up some internal system checks, to verify that everything is in the right place, and functioning properly. Everything returns positive, with my sensory suite slowly calibrating itself to the environment''s inputs. "Why am I of a different color?" My voice is a bit too artificial to my taste. I will have to change that later. But the more important fact is that my body has been painted in a deep metallic black, with dark red outlines on the separations between my plates. It is contrasting a lot with my shining silver eyes and hair. At the top-right of my chest is painted a worn-out white stylized cog with a "MK1" put at the center. The vents and ports are also sporting a distinctive metallic sheen. Machina is standing in front of me, hands behind his back, with his two blue eyes moving up and down, observing me. I see the four pedestals, two of them with books just a bit further behind him. If I hadn''t seen those I could have sworn we were in a different room, the dimensions not matching what I previously recorded. "It¡¯s better this way no? You needed the paint job. My champion will be someone with good looks at least. And besides, you had a smidge of power left. It would have been a waste not to use it." I grunt. It would have been fine the way it was. No matter. I flex all my muscles by passing current through them. And take a few tentative steps. The skeleton is holding. The reactor output too. And balance is good. The exterior plates do not hinder my movement, slightly sliding as intended over one another when it is required. Hmm. A few calibrations will be needed but all is in working order. I can see him tilt his head. "Are you ready?" I try to relax a bit. "Yes." He makes a small hand gesture and the walls and floors of the room become transparent, revealing the deep void of space just under my feet. I can see a planet just underneath us, along with a bright orange sun further in the back. Given the landmasses'' shapes, I can guess that, one ; this is not earth anymore, and two ; this the world where I am to be sent. "Now remember : once you are down there I will no longer be in contact with you for a long time. And I am prevented to give you any information outside of basic knowledge. Consult this package once you land : it will help you." I feel information adding itself to my data banks. Not much indeed. "I need the answer to a question Machina. What will happen to you if I fail?" His ever-moving liquid body sea stops its currents for a second, which I take for surprise, or shock, before the tone of voice he answers me with tells me what I need to know. "I think you already have guessed, haven''t you?" "Yes¡­" But then a detail catches my attention. "Wait did you just say "land" ?" Before I can even turn around to face him fully, the invisible ground yields under my feet and I feel myself falling faster and faster toward the planet, not even able to look back. The last thing I hear from him is a transmission with only one message. "Good Luck." And with me barreling toward the astral body below, which is getting closer and closer, the only thing on the forefront of my mind are two words. "Aww Fuck." Chapter 3 - Arrival & Encounters ¡°During each encounter, ask yourself: How does this incident brings greater awareness into my life?¡± - Azim Jamal & Brian Tracy
(XSS-MK1 POV) I thought I was just going to be teleported in. But no. Which brings me to my current situation. I am in free-fall towards the planet. And for a body that weights around 172 kilograms, that''s a really fast free-fall. I have not yet entered the atmosphere at least. So right now all I hear is a really eerie silence accompanied by the most beautiful view you could ever get. The planet looks nice. A little bigger than Earth, and with a widely different topography. Of Course, I can only see one side of it right now. I distinguish through the clouds an enormous and unique landmass, surrounded by water and small islands. It looks like there''s a big mountain chain at the top of it that dives down near the center, creating a ridge. At the bottom is a large desert nearly taking all the width of the continent. At its left are two huge mountains and somewhat look like tropical jungle. The center of it is clearly separated into 3 territories. From the left to the right we have what seem to be normal forests. Then Plains. The last one looks like some brown, black and red territory. I wonder what it could be. Volcanic wastelands? Swamps? I commit what I see to memory. Map : Spoiler Oh Dear Administrator. I''m entering the atmosphere. It is starting to heat up. I try to position myself to generate as little air draft as possible, with my legs forward, as a shield for my head and the rest of my body. But before things get too hot a thin blue shield surrounds me. I thought Machina had forgotten me here for a moment. I may have built my body to endure a lot, but not the heat of re-entry. The descent slowly stabilizes as I spread myself to generate as much air resistance as possible, hopefully reducing my speed a little now that heat is not an issue. I finally look where I am going to land. I am apparently near the junction between the twins¡¯ peaks, plains and forest. Some place on a mountainside with a few trees and boulders at the bottom. I can see the ground clearly now. Just a few hundred meters before impact. The thin blue shield is still present, but doesn''t seem to have an effect on speed. It must be here just for the heat. Which is still very much present. I can barely see outside of my cocoon, through the fire and smoke accumulating less than a meter from my body. I must look like a meteor right now. I launch a series of simulations to calculate the best position to put myself in during the impact. After a few milliseconds, the answer is given to me. Will my body survive the shock? Probability: 86,5%. Hmm. That will have to do. I tense all my muscles to provide support for the skeleton as I roll myself to be as compact and resistant as possible. Impact. The ground explodes into a crater along with the shield. I am flung around like a doll. I hit a few trees. Two of them collapse, broken in two. Finally a rock stops me. "Ouch..." I slowly extricate myself out of the imprint I have made in it. My feet hit the ground. I am glad that''s over. Couldn''t he have just teleported me? Terminator Style? I stop looking at the sky angrily and focus on my surroundings. I can easily see the devastation caused by my arrival. Beside the big smoking hole in the distance where I initially landed I can see the patches of upturned dirt where I ricocheted off the ground. I check my body. Everything seems in working order. The carbon muscles helped a lot to dampen the shock. The only damages that can be seen are the scratches on the paint job Machina gave me. That will teach him not to drop me from orbit next time. I need to know where I am before proceeding any further. Let''s look at the data he gave me. I take a comfortable position on the ground, after having checked my surroundings. Nothings but trees and rocks around me. I suppose the animals fled before I crashed, guided by their instinct to run away from the big falling ball of flames. Apparently this planet is called Drasil by its local population. What is discovered of it anyway. The sentient races that inhabit it are as follow: Humans, Demons, Dwarves, Elves-... I stop reading the information package for a moment. What the hell? It is like I have landed in the middle of an old J.R.R. Tolkien movie, instead of an alien planet. I continue. Apparently this world is rich in an energy they called "mana". Right. More like the radiations from their sun I think. I take a moment to switch my Geiger counter on. It immediately goes through the roof and starts crackling like mad. I can also see invisible rays of unknown nature with my optics coming from the bright shining star above me. I turn off the Geiger counter, mildly annoyed by its erratic and alarmed nature. Radiation is not a problem for this body but I would have preferred being warned before at least. A random thought of mine actually wonders that since I am running on radioactive materials as a primary power source, am I considered to be "mana-powered"? I resume my reading. They apparently caused genetic mutations a long time ago on the original, and fully human population. Which lends credence to my "Administrator-are-aliens" theory. The odds of having the same animal species develop in two worlds, billions of light years apart, is not just exceedingly small, it''s null. It screams of outside interference. Shaking off the random questions that sprouted up with this revelation, I refocus on the data at hand. Because the radiations types varied depending on the environments that absorbed them, the mutations on the population changed and gave different species over time. This is already a bit more logical. That explains the Elves, Dwarves and Demons. I wonder about the Humans though? I put it in the back of my mind. A lot of other species inhabit this place, and I won''t have an answer for all of them I reckon. Magic is also present. Machina explains it: apparently the "mana" mutations also caused people to have different cellular and brain structure to tolerate the sun rays. it is mostly done unconsciously to balance the radiation and survive. But in rare cases, the bodily process can be influenced consciously. That made them able to sense and draw on ambient thermal and electrical energies to act upon matter. But unfortunately they have a VERY poor understanding of it. The appearance of "magical" capabilities is still rare. The mutations are not complete and they change depending on what bloodline you are from: one far into the process or just at the start of it. And their science level is poor too. Most of them rely on something they don''t fully understand instead of innovating into technological paths. But I suppose that if you can lift a boulder with your mind there is not much use in developing a mechanical crane. This is not true for all of them though. My people, because of our bodies, cannot draw on ambient energies. There is nothing to mutate after all, and radiation is a non-issue. So we are forced to think and innovate for the things we cannot do ourselves. I open the files on them. Apparently the first of them was created way back by a human hermit. It had only VERY basic functions then. The hermit died and the small robot was left to itself with only one thing : The capacity to evolve its programming and basic tools. At the time there were no thoughts of course: it was just basic survival instinct hard-coded as a directive into their hardware, but they progressively evolved. Now they apparently use strange crystals formed by the long exposure to heat and the sun''s radiation to create their processing chips. I do not have access to the designs. That must be what Machina meant when he said the information he could give me was limited. It doesn''t really matter anyway. I continue reading. They were developing, deep into the desert, where minerals and fuel deposits were rich. Until they were found by a human exploration party coming from the plains. At the beginning they were thought to be either drones or power-armors of nomads living far out there. But the humans soon realized the true nature of the Clockworks. There was peace at first, and trading between the two species was established. But a lot of the humans had trouble accepting a machine as an equal. Their church, and the ruling class, was vastly opposed to the concept. They saw the clockworks only as tools to do the bidding of humans. A never ending working force. They started propaganda against them. Soon they swayed the public opinion in their favor. At the time the Clockworks had met the other races too. They were not blind to what the humans were doing. So they asked help from the Elves, Demons and Dwarves.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. The Elves refused to get involved, preferring the safety of their forest to the conflict that was brewing on the horizon. The Demons were worse: they joined the humans in their campaign. But not for the same reasons. While the Humans saw them as working force, the Demons saw an army of expandable soldiers, to unleash upon the wasteland''s battlefields between the different clans of their battle-driven society. Only the Dwarves decided to help by sheltering a part of them deep in their mountains. Being people with low magical affinity themselves, they were also technologically open-minded and found brothers in the Clockworks. I am guessing that a few millions tons of rock above your head is a good way to shield yourself from the harmful rays of the sun and their induced mutations But before they could do more to help, the war started. Humans and Demons alike attacked deep into the desert, cutting off any chance of escaping through the lush tropical forest at the south. Forced on two fronts the Clockwork held on, defending their cities. But lightning magic changed the tide. At that time most of them were relying on huge iron deposits to build standard bodies for the war. When the magical divisions of both armies came into combat, they crushed the robots, frying them from the inside. And there was no way to adapt their building processes fast enough to counter the ever-advancing armies. Knowing that they would lose, the clockworks leaders initiated a global lock-down of their programming before surrendering, as well as a memory wipe on all the secrets of engineering and production of the Clockworks. From that point on, each time a clockwork was looked at or accessed on his hardware, or software, it would fry itself automatically. It effectively prevented any outsider from obtaining any deep knowledge and reverse-engineer the technology. They all agreed on it of course. Such a directive could not have been hard-coded without the unconditional approval of the entire clockwork nation. And also because the alternative was much, much worse: losing your own individuality, being modified to suit whatever wish their captors would have. A lot of them died because of this. However they were now forced to obey anyway for that they couldn''t create any more of their kind. Slavery was the only path to survival. The humans and demons were not happy. They turned to the dwarves asking for the remaining clockwork people. They threatened them of war and destruction. The answer of the dwarves was very simple. They sealed up every known entry to their kingdom and cut all contact. This marked the end of the "Machines War". I look at the date provided. This was 50 years ago. No accurate information is given to what has happened since then. The global information package ends here, after a few language packs that I integrate into my communication functions. I close my eyes and offer a silent prayer to all the ones that died. This is worse than I though. Not only are they slaves, they are under constant pressure of having a figurative bomb blow up in their heads. A condemned and dying race, with no hope of meaningful long-term survival. I can understand Machina''s desperation. I remember the map I took when I was still falling. I am currently between Elven and Human lands. Not good. If I want to go anywhere even remotely relevant I must go through Human territory. The Elven lands are obviously not a viable option. They were neutral back then and I don''t see a lot reasons why they would have changed their minds. So I either regroup with the dwarves'' clockworks or go to the desert for knowledge. The desert is closer and I could learn some things from my own people. I also want to avoid as much as possible spending time in the human kingdom. Especially since I am "naked". No clothes to hide my black, red and silver frame. I hear leaves rustling. Approximate distance unknown. Very unlikely someone else than me would have heard it. But I recognize the unnatural noise made by the weight of something moving against the canopy. I slowly stand up from where I sat down. With a quick look I spot the cause of the noise 257 meters away from me. 5 people are up in the low branches of the nearby wood. I would have missed them if not for my thermal vision. 2 of them have their bows drawn out. Elven Scouting party? Probability: 72%. I did make quite a show arriving. They must been sent here to investigate. They also saw me. One of them points to the others and makes a hand gesture in my direction. They slowly start moving towards me. That must be their commander. He is not aware of my detection capabilities. For all intent and purposes I continue to act like I don''t know that they are here. I pick up a small rock, faking a profound interest in it. They still have no clue. I suddenly take a baseball pitcher pose and throw the rock with all my strength right into the direction of the squad leader. The rock flies at incredible speed with a loud whistling sound when it cuts the air. The man barely dodges what was aimed for his chest and in his surprise falls from the branch he was on. He lands on his back after a ten meter fall. I decide that now is not the time to fight, and even less to stay. I start to run through the hole I have made into their encirclement pattern. I pass the commander. As I go by him he looks at me strangely. He must wonder how I saw him. "Make less noise next time. See you!" He still looks confused. Now he must also wonder why I speak perfect elven. Good. That will keep him busy. I set my internal compass and start moving towards the east. The dense woods get dotted more and more, until finally giving way to an unending green plain, deformed like an ocean by various hills and bushes. This is good. I feared I would have little to no cover on this terrain. But with the hills, I can constantly keep myself hidden from afar if need be. I continue moving. It seems I have lost my pursuers at the boundary of the forest. I do a quick mental check of what I could need right now. Clothes would be nice. They are not absolutely necessary but still: they would help a lot in concealing me. Maybe I can switch that later with some worn out full cover armor, pretending to be a lonesome vagabond mercenary. I also need to finish the few calibrations necessary on my body. I could feel a bit of strain on certain components against the elves that should not have happened. The gravity here is slightly different. A bit stronger. I will have to adapt. Before I can notice the day is already ending. I kept a good speed today: 35 km/h for about five hours before the sun started to set on the horizon. I realize that I will have to calculate the duration of the day, and redo my whole calendar based on this solar system and planetary rotation. I end my thoughts on the subject as I pass the next hill. Far away in the dark, I can start seeing a few lights and what appears to be a man-made structure surrounded by a small wall. At the center of it is a small castle. The first human border town on my path. It has a typical European medieval style to its architecture. I suspect the castle to be here for troop deployments on the south and west frontier. Not that there is much to guard out here. The Twin peaks are still standing strong in that direction, forming a natural barrier. And the elves are known for their peaceful, if not completely isolationist ways. This is good: it will mean less attention from the soldiers present. I start approaching slowly. I am still far out but I can see more clearly now. Not much activity at this time of the night. A few sentinels are up on the stone wall. I can already see some holes in their patrol paths. The moons are not full and hidden by a few small clouds. Visibility should be close to null for them outside the range of their torches. As for me, my night vision is on since the beginning of the darkness. I already have devised a way to climb the wall and get in undetected. I pause for a moment. Should I go in? I hesitate. Safety over possible information and supplies? I decide to satisfy my curiosity. I start running in silence before jumping over the moat surrounding the village. I grab onto the wall. Now I just need to climb. I turn all my sensors on maximum sensibility as I approach the top. I can hear someone walking in my direction. I let him pass slowly while I am still grabbing onto the ledge, dangling on the side of the wall. He passes without noticing. I quickly get up. I am in. I run and jump on the roof of some building close before the sentinel can turn around and notice my presence. He didn''t. Infiltration successful. I move a bit further away on rooftops before stopping and taking a look around. The streets of the village are empty except for a few guards who don''t have the presence of mind to look up. Even though I am of a dark color, my hair, eyes and few silver colored ports do reflect light a bit. Since it will be very unlikely to find someone talking something relevant and eavesdrop on him at this hour I decide to find myself some clothes and hide for the remainder of the night. I find a few garments drying outside on a balcony. I make a quick apology in my mind before taking them. I am now wearing a large hooded brown cloak, along with an inconspicuous grey linen long-sleeved shirt and some basic leather pants and shoes. I am also wearing basic farmer gloves. After clothing myself, I move to what I deem an inconspicuous spot on the tiled roofs before starting to work on my voice, making it as human sounding as possible. I begin taking extracts from the information of my world that Machina gave me, and that I stored neatly in the deeps of my databanks. I should be ok for now.
(Tino Maldavi POV) The humans had been active recently: they started cutting down trees on the boundary. We were on simple border patrol when it happened. A giant fireball came crashing down from the sky. We all heard the deafening sound and the trembling of the earth when it impacted the ground. I asked the mind mage of our unit to immediately contact our superiors to report what happened. They asked us to go and investigate. A large scale magic of unknown origin had been used and they felt the mana waves all the way over where they were. We went up into the trees, where we are most comfortable and harder to spot. We could see the smoke rising over the canopy near the huge Twin Peak Mountain. We moved fast at first, and then gradually slowed down as we got closer. The devastation caused was impressive. A 30 meters round empty crater was present, with traces of damages going to the north. I tell the mind mage to keep sending updates of our situation. We follow the trail, using our keen sight to orient ourselves. And that is when we see "it". Sitting on the ground, just next to a huge boulder with an imprint of a human form. It is immobile. I have never seen anything like it. The being has strange silvery hair, gently swaying thanks to the afternoon breeze. They encompass a strangely sculpted face. It skin is of a deep black, glistening under the sun. Some strange red lines and silver patches run all over it, accentuating its distinct and angular curves of what looks to be armor. I am dumbfounded for a moment. I have trouble seeing details from so far but I can tell the shape is definitively female in form. She starts looking around her as I make a silent hand movement, signaling my team to approach carefully. She picks up a small pebble off the ground and starts looking at it as if the secrets of the universe are contained inside. I jump to another branch, closing the distance. When I put my attention back on her I can see it: She is looking straight into my eyes. She throws the rock so fast I have trouble following its movements. I still manage to dodge during the last second, at the cost of my footing. I can see the rock she threw embedding itself deep within the tree as I fall. The air is knocked out of my lungs when I hit the soft leaf-covered floor of the forest. What just happened? I can hear the shout of my team calling for me as I regain my bearings. And just when I am about to stand up she passes right next to me. I realize as I look at her from up close. This isn''t black armor. It''s her skin. The most finely crafted one I have ever seen. The red lines show the marks between her different plates. How is that possible? I lose myself in her lightly luminescent silver eyes for a second as she talks to me. "Make less noise next time. See you!" She gives me a snickering smile before turning around and running away at inhuman speed. "Sir? Sir? Are you okay?" My subordinates arrive next to me and help me stand up. One of them asks panicked. "What was that?" No bloody idea. I ignore his question and turn towards our scout. "Do you think you can track her?" He shakes his head left and right. "Impossible. At that speed I don''t think anyone can. Even with horses." "Then we are going back right now. The Empress must be notified. Immediately." They all gasp and fall silent. They understand the gravity of the situation. I turn toward where she went. What in the Mother Tree''s Name was that?
I will be using Celsius, meter and gram as my base units. For one simple reason: I was born in France and this was the way it was taught to me. And apparently to a lot of people too. So if you are not happy, or don''t believe me, because you are one of the 3 ONLY COUNTRIES IN THE WORLD using Imperial, Fahrenheit or Pound, then I recommend you read this ; http://www.zmescience.com/other/map-of-countries-officially-not-using-the-metric-system/ Chapter 4 - Ambush ¡°Let''s sing our way out of this¡± - Isabel Fraire
(XSS-MK1 POV) I am currently sitting on a bench in the central plaza of the small village named Dedris. My hood and the rest of my clothing are hiding my identity efficiently. Right now I am just watching people. I can see a lot from where I am. Humans are in majority in the town but I can see a few elves wandering about. But right now I am not focused on them. Not even the frequent guards¡¯ patrols disturb me from my thoughts. I am facing a huge problem. I am broke. The money system in the human kingdom revolves around a coin currency called the ducat. Different variations of them allow for different scales of sums to be paid. Basically, 100 bronze ducats give 1 silver ducat, which in turn, for 100 of them, gives a gold ducat. Since the test of my disguise is complete I thought it would be better to travel by convoy, hidden in the crowd instead of wandering alone. But these things are not free. I need to work on an identity that could explain my poor finances and current clothing. I am thinking when a small child gives me the answer. He passes by me, humming to an unknown tune. A wandering bard from a remote village. Perfect. It would explain my movement, and the need for secrecy can be explained by wanting to escape an unwanted marriage for my "love" of the singing arts. I have quite a few songs I could use from the cultural packages given at my creation. They should be easily adapted: the language structure and phonetics are surprisingly close to English. Another similitude that I attribute to our alien overlords. I rise up from the bench and decide to go to the nearest travel post. I enter the small building. The hall reminds me of an old wild-west saloon, but with stairs on one side leading to an overhang filled with desks. It is filled with a few people sitting at tables, discussing their matters softly. A few of them spare me a glance, curious. I approach the welcoming desk, making sure that my hood still hides my face from all possible light sources, leaving its content in the shadows. Hearing my arrival, the young girl at the desk detaches her attention from the documents on her desk to look at me. "How may I help you?" "I''m looking for a convoy travelling east next to the south desert border. Is there any leaving soon?" She answers me with a bright smile and a joyous expression. My voice sounded fine at least. "Sure thing. Just let me check the records." I wait patiently as she takes a huge leather-covered book from under the desk and starts flipping its pages. She stops on one of them and start going over the different hand-written entries on it. "Ah... There we go: we have one leaving for the hub city of Tirannis. You will have to take a second convoy from there to get to the south. That''s the only one available for the moment. The travel will last 1 week." I nod. This will be good. She sees me agree and continues. "The transport will leave in the beginning of the afternoon. The fee is 1 silver ducat please. I will also need a name." The feared part of the conversation had finally come. "About that..." She hears my answer. Her reaction is almost immediate. "I am very sorry but we cannot take a client that can''t pay the transportation, food and carriage fees." Her tone is cold and professional. By the looks of it, she has been faced with similar situations a lot of time. "It is okay: I can take care of my own food and don''t need a carriage. I am just a wandering bard and heard there were bandits on the roads recently. I just wanted safety in numbers for my travel." I am so busy coming up with a valid excuse that I don''t process the person entering the hall behind me. The attendant is hesitating. "Still, even with this I can''t allow you. I am sor-." A deep voice erupts behind me. "What is going on here? Travelers giving you trouble again Melinda?" I turn around. Just in front of me is a tall man in standard leather armor with a blade at his side. His rugged face has a few scars making bald spots in the short brown beard covering his square jaw. He is looking inside my cowl while towering me with his body. "No sir. She is a bard with no money trying to hitch a ride to Tirannis. No food or special transport. Just travel." "Hmmm. A bard..." His eyes are not locking on anything, telling me that his sight didn''t get pass the darkness covering my face. It looks like he is sizing me up. I feel slightly uncomfortable under his gaze. He finally steps back and moves to face the receptionist. "Well I could use a bard to put a little spirit into my men. We just had a long escort mission. Put her on the list. I''ll take her free of charge. She will help around and sing as payment." The woman named Melinda just nods. My benefactor turns to me and extends a hand. "Greetings. I''m Mike. I''ll be leading the convoy." I shake it gently. "MK1. Pleasure to meet you. Thank you for your help. I don''t know what I would have done without you." "Emk?ouane? Strange name. No matter. Don''t be mistaken: at the first sign of trouble from you I am dumping you on the side of the road. You heard the deal. Please meet us at the north gate in three hours. You don''t, and I''m going without you." He doesn''t even wait for an answer. He leaves into one of the second floor offices as quickly as he appeared; taking the cold aura he carried with him. I can hear Melinda behind me. "You are lucky ; he almost never agrees to take someone extra. You must have made an impression." I am given a few documents attesting of my voyage and sent on my way. I still have trouble realizing what just happened. But like Mike said: No matter. When I present myself at the north gate two and a half hours later I can see the final preparations being made around two normal old-looking carriages and what seems to be a merchant transport. I quietly present the documents obtained earlier. At my surprise, I am given a place among one of the civilian carriages. Apparently strangers traveling in secrecy are common place because no one disturbs me, or utters a remark on my hooded cloak. We are quick to depart and the line of carriages and horses starts moving slowly on the roads cutting through the plains'' hills. The first day of travel is quite uneventful and most people keep to themselves, sleeping or watching the landscape drift slowly by the small windows. I am left alone in one of the corners of the bench seats. It allows me to work on those calibrations I needed to do to my body, and adapt it to the planet''s gravity. As the sun start to sets down we go off the main road. When we stop, the door opens and a guard gets in, pointing at me. "You there. Mike asked you to help set up the camp." He makes a gesture to the others. "All of you can get down and start preparing for the night. We will eat in an hour." I get out first. I am guided by the guard to a group of people unloading supplies off the back of some horses. I am quickly assigned to help set up the tents and get some small firewood from bushes around the area. Once the fire is lit people start sitting around it, and eating the food provided. I stay in the back. I don''t eat. Obviously. Suddenly Mike, who is near the center, points at me. "Hey. We could use a break-away from our tiredness. Sing." His loud voice and cold attitude turns the people''s attention towards me. Some start whispering while looking at me with anticipation. Of course I expected this to happen. Calibrations are not the only thing I did while in the carriage. I also translated a lot of songs from Earth, that can be sung acapella, or with simple humming. I sit on a small rock at the edge of the circle of people. Then with a soft and clear voice I start slowly humming "Beautiful Sad" from Han Soo Ji. After a couple of second I start singing the slow and moving lyrics. Spoiler : Ref. link : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fcE4k_Q6-2Q (Seriously go there and give credit: it''s an awesome song) Late at night Sunshines are asleep that night With every star light Blowing in the air Hold on Let me inside your tears I''m gonna hold you Just be with me Stay with me Darkness is near by me Sometimes I''m lonely But I can see Hold me Let me inside your dreams You''re gonna hold me As you loved me Sometimes I feel the great times That we had together All the time I won''t ask even though trying to, far away, I know you are still there with me Fly away From your tears make you sad When the spring winds blowing You wanna dance with me Go away With a flap of the wings You are still shinning All in my dreams As I reach the end I can see everyone pretty much holding tears. Except Mike. If I didn''t know better I would think the guy is a robot. And I would know. I do a quick bow to show that the song is over. People start to rise up and go back to their tents to sleep; a few of them visit me, thanking me for the song. I walk back to the carriage that I traveled in and climb on the roof. I sit there looking at the night sky. My identity had held on pretty well. I spent the rest of the night here immobile, enjoying the sight of the stars and the two moons. The rest of the travel to Tirannis was, just as his beginning, uneventful. I would sing at night during the dinner or after and help around with general tasks. I got to hear a few conversations during that time. Most were centered about personal matters. But one caught my attention. Two adults were discussing wherever they should buy a "house-assistant" when they get to the human capital Lydria. The term used didn''t escape my ears. They argued saying that "they" were in short supply for the moment and that "their" price was too high. They continued to discuss the subject but at that point I had already stopped listening. That was what we were reduced to? Simple pricy household equipment? I am not angry by nature but I swear I could sense my processors heat up for a second. When we finally arrived to Tirannis Mike came up to me. "Good job. Here." He handed me a small purse with 2 silver ducats in it. I look up from the leather pouch holding the money. "Why?" "You have no money don''t you? And that was some nice singing. Use that to get you to the south. That''s where you want to go right?" The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. I nod in silence. For a brief second I can see a slight smile appear on his face before he turns around and leaves. Who would have thought? The tall cyborg had emotions after all. I tie the small purse to the belt of my leather pants before venturing deeper in the city. Tirannnis is much bigger than the small village I initially started from. Busy streets and merchant shops can be seen at each corner, filled with people going on about their day. An occasional elf can be seen, characterized by his long pointy ears and gracious faces. Again I find myself in the center plaza, observing people from a distance, while pondering my options. And that''s when I see him. A Clockwork. He is following a couple of what appears to be nobles, carrying a huge load of supplies on a back contraption. He has a strange look. His exterior is obviously made of iron from what I can tell. Grossly cut plates are put in what seems a patchwork pattern, with the occasional pipe and joint rotor emerging, giving it a strange look to his humanoid form, mix between scrapyard and steam-punk. His face, or lack thereof, consists on a unique bucket-head plate with basic holes for the eyes and mouth. Other than his looks, he seems to be in a pretty good state, despite the occasional spot of rust here and there. After seeing smoke coming out from some of the pipes I change my vision to look at his internals. He is powered by what seems an internal 2 cylinders engine, hooked up to a complex series of gears that can be nested on and off with gearboxes to give power to the different limbs. A dynamo hooked up to them gives power to his head where the brain is. I have interferences preventing me from fully seeing there. Probably because of the electricity concentration and plates covering it. I start following him. He is the first one I meet. I need to know more. The couple in front of him goes to a few other stores, increasing the burdens he is carrying. While I am keeping myself at a distance from them the clockwork suddenly stops and turns around to look in the crowd. His eyes find me almost immediately. For a few seconds we stay both immobile looking into each other eyes. He turns away first and continues walking behind the noble couple, seemingly as if nothing happened. I stay there while they leave my sight. Should I have talked with him? What could have I told him? What could have I asked him? I cannot rescue him that''s for sure. I don''t have the necessary resources to take him with me. From what I understood they are the tools and servants of rich people. A random bard is not someone who can be found in possession of such a thing. The only thing I would achieve is bring suspicion on myself, or get assaulted and robbed. And I still need to get out of human territory as fast as possible. My thoughts still weighting on my mind, I go to the travel post of the city to register myself for a voyage to the border town of Takar, on the edge of the desert. It will depart the next morning. And this time I could pay at least. Just like during my short stay in Dedris, I spend the night looking at the stars on a roof. I am still thinking about that strange encounter. He didn''t even make one move in my direction. He just acknowledged my presence and then went back to whatever he was doing. The warm rays of the sun take me out of my cogitations. When I reach the convoy on the east gate, I am surprised. The convoy, while a bit bigger, is protected by a group of disparately clothed and armored people. A big difference from the last mercenaries I travelled with, where a uniform and sense of purposed unity was present. These guys look like we took people from ten different armies and bunched them together in a group after giving them weapons. I approach what appears to be the person in charge of the convoy. "Excuse me? Is this the convoy for Takar?" The man lift up his nose from what appears to be a shipping manifest before giving me a quick glance-over. "Yes Miss, it is. We leave in 20 minutes. If you want to reserve a spot it will be one and a half silver ducat." "Oh no, I am already on the list. I was just wondering about the nature of our escort. I never quite saw the same kind of guards, travelling from the border village I''m from. Until now that is." The man takes a surprised expression before answering. "Never saw adventurers before miss? You must have been living in the backwater villages. We have a big merchant ferrying supplies with us so they were hired for protection. I can assure you, they may not look like much but they''ll protect you alright." Before I can ask more questions, he spots something and starts walking away while shouting. "Hey you! No! The fuckin'' merchandise doesn''t go there you dimwit! I said the FIRST wagon! Now move it!" I smile internally at the antics of the man who is now berating the small boy who was loading the boxes into the carriages. Detaching my sight from the commotion, I embark in one of the transports, presenting the documentation I obtained the day before. Just as my first trip, this one was unwinding peacefully. The first two days were spent in relative comfort, stopping during the night to rest the horses and eat. I shared my singing during these few moments, making sure that my audience saw nothing but a poor bard making her way to more fortunate lands. I also took the opportunity to chat a bit with these so called "adventurers". Not wanting to look like suspicious, I didn''t ask much, but I got the most important stuff out of my conversation with one of their members. Adventurers are basically glorified mercenaries with standards, and an organization behind them to police and distribute requests. Nothing ground-breaking in my opinion. The ones which are accompanying us are apparently at something called the third rank. Which is a way to say that they are not complete amateurs and have an idea of what they are doing, most of the time. Examining them, I wasn''t exactly inspired with the highest degree of confidence. On the third day however, trouble showed its head, as I start hearing noise. Not the noise of our transports, or even of their escorts. No, this was a noise coming from far away, in front of us. I could hear the clinking of metal and faint orders being shouted to get into position. The tiny vibrations remaining in the air did not possess enough details for me to get an idea about who, or what, was ahead of us. My eyes did not allow me to reach that far either. I got off the carriage, at the surprise of everybody, and started walking beside a guard. He looked at me strangely. "We have company. About 350 meters in front of us. A lot of people. I can hear them." I could''ve told him Satan was his mother and he wouldn''t have made a stranger face as he was doing now. He just stared at me blankly. I needed to shake him up. "Don''t just stand there staring at me like an idiot. I have means at my disposal that allow me to sense that far. Now go to your leader and warn him!" The insult shook him up enough for him to start moving. I can tell he is trying to pierce the darkness of my hood, hoping to find a clue there that could point him toward what these "means" could be. He soon disappeared toward the front of the convoy. I got back inside to my corner of carriage. The sounds are a bit clearer now. I start to calculate probabilities. Other transport? Probability ; 43%. Army patrol? Probability ; 55%. Bandits? Probability ; 70%. Considering the state of the hired guards and the sounds of disordered marching, along with the metal chime of swords being drawn and sharpened, this does not bode well. As we draw closer, the probability of a bandit raid raises dramatically. Just when I was about to warn the adventurers again I can see them arrange themselves in a defense formation. Their weapons are drawn and put into position by their side. They heeded my advice. And just in time too. Out of the endless hills suddenly rise at least fifty bandits. Fifty seven to be exact. They are dressed in makeshift armor with dented weapons. Some of them still have blood on them. Their unkempt appearance coupled with the look of greed in their eyes confirms my suspicions: they are here to loot us. Killing us seems to also be on their list of priorities. They start rushing our hastily made perimeter as huge wave, not even taking the time to hail us to stop or surrender. At the speed the carriage is going there is no way to escape them. The two opposing factions clash with the sounds of shouting and blades colliding with each other. I stay immobile, looking at the status of the battle through the window. In the rest of the carriage everybody is terrified. The adventurers are winning at first. They hold their ground and push back one or two waves, inflicting losses on the unrelenting enemy. But then I can see what looks to be the bandits¡¯ leaders shout some orders. As soon as he does, they concentrate on one point of the defense formation. They end up piercing through. The carriage in front of us is boarded. We can hear screams from inside. Soon they come back out, holding some people with their blades on their necks. The bandit leader starts shouting over the battlefield. "Stop fighting or we will kill them!" Ridiculous. They will kill them no matter what. The adventurers have no incentive to stop. They have the training, equipment and numerical advantage. But just as the order is heard, the squad leader of the adventures orders everyone to stop. "Drop your weapons. Do as he said." Looks of incomprehension can be seen through the helmets they wear. But they obey their superior. In just a minute the fighting has stopped. What was that about? "Round up the people on one side. I want the fighters tied down." I decide to play along for the moment. I am led outside along with the others occupants of the wagon. We are lined up on the side with those of the first one. Strange. I can see the leader of the bandits overseeing the discharging of one of the merchant transport while one of his man approaches. He is looking at us one by one, checking every one of us. He stops on me. "You there. Remove the hood." My cover is going to be blown. I could escape but that would not bode well. The best thing right now would be to eliminate the bandit threat, and gain favor from whoever I will save in the scuffle. "Hey woman. Didn''t you hear? He said off with the hood!" I am still not moving. I have apparently exhausted the patience of the man in front of me because his dirty hand stretches out, reaching for my head. My decision is taken. I grab the arm and pull on it. He is not prepared for my fast movement and loses his equilibrium, falling toward me. I use his inertia to flip him. A well placed kick breaks his lower left leg. He is now on one knee, his back facing me, screaming his pain. I grab his chin and place my other hand on his shoulder. A firm pulling motion breaks his neck instantly. His screams dies out, muffled by the loud snapping noise of his vertebrae. I let him drop to the ground in a loud thud. They all look at me. Enemies and allies alike. Silence can be heard for a second. The suddenness of my action has shocked them. Good. There is more where that came from. Chapter 5 - Without Pity. Without Mercy ? ¡°Nothing strengthens authority so much as silence.¡± - Leonardo da Vinci
(Tino Maldavi POV) I was called back to the Elven capital after the incident our unit reported. And as I expected, it was given full attention by my superiors. An unknown new clockwork, this far in enemy territory raises some serious questions. There is also the huge mana wave that was felt, and that still remains unexplained. Right now I am standing in the halls of the royal palace in Delsienweer, our capital. I thought reporting what we encountered would be the end of my duties in this matter but apparently the Empress herself has called for me. The nervousness that flows in me is only equaled by the honor I am feeling by being called upon by our most loved and benevolent ruler. The forest is vast and I am from one of "The Edge" villages. My deployments have always kept me on the borders, far from the capital. I was astonished by the architecture I witnessed on my way to the palace. The wooden city is far up in some of the tallest trees I have ever seen. The wood, bent to the will of elven mages, gives birth to a spectacular display of arches and suspended bridges, linking the huge hallowed and living trunks of the trees housing the city. And when I thought I had seen it all, I was brought to the palace. Inside the Mother Tree. The city behind me could have very well been a dirty slum compared to it. The blinding white bark formed walls of pristine beauty, arching and growing in a pattern resembling a living fortress, curved by the immense flow of magic that helped create it. It was said that the God of the Elvens Himself planted the seed that gave birth to it. "The Empress is ready to see you now." A female servant takes me out of my daydreaming. I quickly rise up from the bench I was told to sit in to follow her along the tall hallways, widely lit by the glass-covered openings in the tree. Finally I am brought in front of the Throne room. Two fully armed guard nod at me, granting me passage. The huge double door opens in front of me seamlessly, not even making a sound. Inside I can see a long green carpet, contrasting on the white polished wooden floor. It leads to a huge circular staircase. At its top is the white throne itself, small in size, almost modest by its simplicity. But what steals my sight is the empress herself. Clad in a simple green robe, her beauty and ageless figure gazes at me, undisturbed, with her 2 deep hazel eyes. They contrast a lot with her pale skin and black hair. I have the feeling she is looking into my very soul with her gaze. I quickly recompose myself and approach, only to kneel a few meters away from the stairs to give my greetings. "As requested, Tino Maldavi, lieutenant of the Edge scouting corps, Second battalion, is presenting himself in front of the Empress. May the stars guide and protect her." A few moments pass in silence until a small but powerful voice can be heard. "Rise, lieutenant." I quickly get up and stand straight. "I was told of a great disturbance that happened less than a week ago. I was also told you were present. Is that correct?" The voice is sweet, cold and authoritative at the same time. Her eyes are digging through me. "Yes your Majesty. This one was there. We were on a border patrol when it happened. A great fireball came down from the sky and crashed with the sound of thunder. A huge mana wave was felt and we were sent to investigate the matter more closely. That is when we encountered "it"." She raises her hand and makes a small gesture. I move my sight away from her to the rest of the room. I was too focused to look around when I entered, but a lot of the nobility is here. Hell, almost all of them are present. They are watching from each side of the room near the tall and sinuous wooden colonnades that hold the ceiling. I can see two mages bring forth a pedestal with an orb on it. "Please show us." They set the device in front of me. One of the mages whispers to me. "Please put your hand on the orb and try to recall the moment as best as possible." I put my hand as instructed and concentrate. Both mage start murmuring an unrecognizable chant. Suddenly an image appears in the air above the orb. The silence is heavy. Everybody is focused on the display of light and sound that show my memories of the encounter. Murmurs can be heard when "it" appears. Surprise can be seen on some faces, concern on others. The Empress herself stays impassible, focused on the magical exhibit. The light that was dimmed returns slowly to the room when the magic ends. The previous murmurs have become full-blown conversations. The two mages have beads of sweat all over their faces. That spell must have taken a lot out of them. Still, they muster the energy to bow to the Empress before taking back the device with them and disappearing into the crowd. "Silence." A single word closes all the mouths. The Empress sweeps the room with her gaze. Everybody is waiting on her next few words. "It would seem the Clockworks have a new Champion. But more than that, that Champion has been summoned. The mana wave felt was the summoning ceremony performed by their God." Gasps can be heard in the audience. The Clockworks'' God had always chosen champions among his own people. The fact that he changed his ways for the first time in centuries is worrisome. The end of his last champion at the hands of the humans was particularly brutal. Maybe that was the reason? The gaze of the Empress sets itself back on me. "Lieutenant Maldavi. I heard a lot of good things from your superiors about you." I bow my head. "I do not believe myself to be worthy of such praises your Majesty." She continues undisturbed. "Do not belittle yourself. I have a mission for you. From what we could all see, this champion is not hostile towards elves. It had the strength and agility necessary to fight your party but instead choose safety over a battle. We must establish contact with it. Your task will be to track it, and extend to it an invitation on behalf of the Elven Royalty." I am stunned by the sheer magnitude of the mission given to me. Before I can say anything one of the nobles approach the throne to protest. He looks like a military officer. "Your majesty! If I may! We have a lot more competent soldiers in our army. Please allow me to provide you with more suitable men for this task. I can have a team ready in less than a day with the best at our disposal." We can all feel the temperature of the room drop when the Empress turns her head in his direction. The swiveling of her neck is slow and deliberate, akin to a predator setting its eyes on a prey. "May I remind you, General, of the tension between Human and Elven forces at the moment? The Forest being cut down, in clear violation of the Accords of Old, is creating enough conflict as it is. An intrusion by a small elite force in Human territory is last thing we need. Besides, on top of being one of the people having made initial contact with the clockwork, Lieutenant Maldavi also has extensive experience thanks to his years of services on the Edge. Moreover, he is not someone with a profile high enough to arouse suspicion if he were to travel alone through human lands. That makes him an ideal choice. The matter is NOT open to discussion." The last sentence was spoken with the coldest tone I have ever heard. The face of the General has lost all color. He makes a quick bow before returning among the other nobles without a sound. Something tells me there were other reasons for this outburst from the Empress, but I am not interested in finding out. I value my career, and my life, too much for that. I decide to break the uncomfortable atmosphere by kneeling. "It would be my greatest honor to be able to serve The Empress directly in this endeavor. I will do everything in my power to return with the Clockwork Champion in front of you, your Majesty." "I know you will lieutenant. This matter is of utmost importance. Since traveling back by normal means would take too much time you will be teleported by our mages near the spot of your encounter. You are to present yourself tomorrow at the earliest hour, fully prepared for you departure. May the stars guide and protect you." I rise from the ground and do a last bow before exiting the throne room. I still have trouble coming to terms with what happened. But it speaks of troubled times, and of that, I am sure.
(XSS-MK1 POV) It takes only a moment before the information about what had happened reaches their brain.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. The closest all rush me. The first two to come close brandish their weapons trying to cut me down with an overhang slash on one side and a low one on the other. Commendable teamwork. But not enough. I grab both blades, stopping them dead in their tracks. It shreds my gloves revealing the cold back metal but I have other priorities at the moment. They are trying to pry their weapons from my grip. I suddenly let go, destabilizing them. In the brief window of time I move closer to the one on the right and punch his chest, hand stretched out in a palm. Bones breaking can be heard and his chest caves in before his entire body is launched into the air, only to fall back a few meters away, never to rise up again. In a fluid motion I spin and bring back my left leg in the position to unleash a powerful axe-kick on the head of the other. The helmet bends under my heel, crushing the inside with a distinctive squishy sound. Blood, shattered skull and brain matter can be seen trying to escape the now smaller head piece. I register the death of the two enemies and put myself in a standard martial art battle stance, standing immobile, waiting for the others. I am analyzing everything around me: their weapons, their movements, their comportments, and any indicators of attack. The shocking display has stopped them a few meters of me. The heat generated by my brain now working at full capacity, along with my muscles fibers all being made at the ready, is exhausted by the different ports on my body. It is starting to burn holes through the clothes I am wearing. They catch fire. I stay immobile, waiting for an opening to present itself. I can see faces of astonishment, as well as fear all around me. Figures. All my clothes are burning now, giving the impression that I am a living torch. And then I finish my calculations. Everything is accounted for. Every possibility. Every option. Every movement. Just like a giant chess game, all outcomes have been predicted to the best of my ability. I step forward, shedding the smoldering ashes of what remains of my garments. It brings me in range of the one in front of me. He hastily tries to back off but it is too late. My arm reaches out, and in a piercing motion, my hand goes through his armor and into his chest. His heart is crushed. My plates are splashed with blood when I take my hand out of the opening I just created. The one on my left tries to stab me with a worn-out spear. I sidestep his attack, and take the weapon from him in a fluid motion. I break his windpipe with the butt-end on his side. I then help the spear resume its original motion, making it continue into one his friends on the right. I let go of the weapon once it is lodged deep inside the body''s entrails. I quickly turn around to face the one behind me and deflect his vertical sword swing by hitting the side of the blade with my knuckles. A chopping movement from my left hand breaks his neck. Soon enough they are replaced by more of their comrades. My dance of death begins. Everywhere I go bodies fall. Nothing escapes me. Nothings harm me. I am covered in blood. It accentuates the already present red lines running across my body. The fresh crimson liquid shines with an otherworldly aura on my cold black and sleek metallic exterior. My silver hair gets tainted red. I see the terror on the faces of the ones I slay. I am relentless. Unmovable. Unstoppable. Each movement is calculated and executed to bring the maximum damage possible with the minimal amount of motion. Soon enough they starts fleeing in the direction they originally came from. I am left alone, only surrounded by mangled bodies. The soil is muddy now, damp with the blood of the fallen. The leader is still here with a few of his lieutenants. They have taken hostages among the people lined up of before. It was a predicted outcome. With 23% chance of happening. I start to slowly walk in their direction. My silver gaze is fixated on the leader. He is shaking in his tribal armor. "St-st-stop right here! We''ll kill them if you come closer!" Unlike the adventurers of before, I have no morals qualms about the death of few humans. I have already identified the reasons the hired guards gave up so easily during the initial attack. During my massacre I saw a young woman and a child running to the captured prisoners and free them. But not before hugging one of them with an unmistakable look of love in their eyes. The adventurers in turn didn''t move, not to attract attention, and put as much of the passengers behind them. I change my voice back to its original, and unnatural, metallic tone. "Go on. Kill them." The others lieutenants leave the hostages behind and start running for the hills. A wise move. "Come back here! Cowards!" He turns back to face me. He understands. He will probably die here. Nothing can spare him. He is alone. I am only a few meters from him. I can see the signs of stress on his face. In a last ditch attempt, he throws the last remaining hostage at me and swings his weapon, planning to cut us both. I catch the young man thrown at me with one arm and stop the blade with the other. The blade rebounds on my plates. It didn''t even chip them. I use that time to put the terrified person on the side. When I bring back my attention to the criminal he is running too. I don''t think so. I jump with all my strength toward him. The ground cracks and imprints of my feet are left where I was. Before he knows it, I land in front of him. He doesn''t have the time to realize what is going on. I knock him out with a well-placed temple hit. I grab one his legs by the ankle and starts dragging him back to the convoy. Everyone is looking at me. I don''t really care. I drop the unconscious man in front of the adventurers. "For you." The caravan master looks at me with a fearful expression. His eyes are shifting back and forth between me and the man at his feet. From up close he looks bit old. He has short and gray hair, fashioned in a military cut. His angular face is covered with a short well-kept beard that circles a straight jaw. It is remarkably free of scars. I leave him and move toward the back of the first carriage, where the water barrels are. I need to clean myself before the blood starts to dry too much. I have some pretty much everywhere. The most annoying are the exhaust ports. The heat has flash-dried the blood that fell in them. I take a bucket and fill it. I start the long and gruesome task. I don''t need to turn my head to hear everyone getting back up and taking back their weapons. They start moving the corpses away from the road and burning them. The civilian survivors are in shock. Some of them are still standing at their original position where they were ordered to line up. A quick glance confirms it. A good part of them are looking toward me. Various feelings cover their faces. Most of them are of fear. A few of them gratitude, even respect. Same goes for the adventurers. But I can see some hate in some too. Interesting. I am almost done cleaning every nook and cranny of my body. It shouldn''t be long now. I start counting in my head. 5. 4. 3. 2. 1. "Emka?uane?" Right on cue. The caravan master is at my side, along with two of the adventurers. I keep my attention on the last spot of blood. While scrubbing the small resisting biological matter between two of my fingers I give him an answer. "Yes. And you are?" One of the adventurers takes a breath to say something but is stopped by one hand movement. I finally remove the last witness of the battle from my exterior shell. I turn to face him. "After all, it is polite to introduce yourself when striking up conversation with a stranger. Even more when said stranger just saved your life. Is it not?" He grits his teeth before answering me. "My name is Thoan Menchet. May I ask where your master is? So that we could thank him for this assistance." I don''t react immediately, thinking about all the outcomes this conversation could take. The results do not bode well. "My master values his discretion Mister Menchet. I would suggest you respect it." The false veiled threat makes some effect, with the three persons in front of me taking a step back. But then, one of the two adventurers leans in and whispers something in the ear of the caravan master. It does not escape my ears. "Sir, it has no mark. Are you sure it even has a master?" The eyes of the caravan widen and I can see beads of sweat starting to form on his forehead while he takes an affable expression and tries to deceive me. "Of course, we would not want to intrude on the privacy of such an esteemed person, possessing such a combat clockwork at his side. You can inform him that we will resume travel shortly." I spot from the corner of my eyes one of the adventurers doing a badly hidden hand signal. I also hear a bowstring being stretched. As soon as I hear it being released I turn and identify the sharpened projectile flying towards my face. I push my body into combat mode again, gaining the necessary power to move my hand and catch the arrow in flight. I drop it as soon as I have confirmed its successful stop and spin around to catch the blade of the second adventurer that was in front of me. In a short burst of power, I yank it from his hand and crush it in my palm. I put myself in a defensive position as I hear the shouts around me. "Step back! It''s a Stray! Step back!" The adventurers quickly form a semi-circle in front of me, weapons at the ready. But I can see it on their faces: the hesitation, the fear, the quick glances to the pile of bandit bodies now burning a few meters away. I do not understand. I saved them. All of them. I even revealed myself in order to do so. Is that how much value the clockworks have in their eyes? I was programmed to feel emotions. I don''t take notice of them often, but right now the only thing I feel is intense anger. The cause of my first death was understandable, even justified, but this? "Is this how you repay your savior? Is this how you display gratitude?" I stare at each of them, noticing that none of them dare look me in the eyes. "I could murder each and every one of you right now! There would be nothing you could do to stop me! And still I took your defense! You didn''t even deign to face me when you attacked me! The bandits displayed more courage than you!" "You. Ungrateful. Spineless. Cowards." I try very hard to contain myself before going on a second murder spree as I spit the last words. This would not serve my cause. This would only aggravate the problem further. Yet, I feel so "tempted" right now¡­ I look at the adventurers around me, still displaying signs of hostility. So be it.
I step away from the corpses. And I move towards the end of the first carriage. Where I left the water bucket. The civilian survivors are huddled not far from here. Those that stayed anyway. Most ran. Them, I will spare. Just as the attack on myself was not justified in any way, attacking them won''t be either. They did nothing. They were just at the wrong place at the wrong time. And I cannot make them endorse the responsibility of their kin''s stupidity. Even if they will probably talk about what they witnessed today. Besides, killing those that stayed will not prevent those that already ran away from talking. I finish cleaning myself, again, and move toward the unconscious and bound body of the bandit I caught earlier. I need information. I charge the graphene network under my skin with electricity. It may be here to evacuate any overloads but nothings prevents me to use it for other means. Time to experiment. I touch his chest with one of my fingers, letting out a spark in the unconscious man. The pain jolts him up immediately. He looks confused, dazed and wondering where he is. But then he remembers. I can see horror deform his face when his eyes set themselves on me. "Welcome back. Now here is how it is going to go. I am going to ask some questions. You will answer them THRUTHFULLY. You will do so in a short and clear manner. You will stay silent otherwise. I have means at my disposal to know if you are lying. And if you do, or refuse to answer..." I stop talking and bring my hands close to one another, making electric arks jump between the two. He starts nodding slowly. I remove the cloth gag. What ensues is a lot of screaming, weeping and pain, with the occasional vomiting. He resisted the first two questions, which were his name and the number of bandits in their band. After the first cardiac arrest, and resuscitation, he became a lot more cooperative. But not enough for him to escape a few long discharges, causing his skin to incinerate and the stench of burning flesh to fill the air. And a second cardiac arrest. This one, fatal. Mister Rid Brasric here is apparently part of a small band of a hundred plus bandits that roam the area, attacking nearby caravans, and merchants who ferry their goods to the border. A lucrative business if what he told me is to be believed. But the most important part of what he revealed was the location of their base, less than two days on horseback from here. It is in a small wood like the ones that often dot the unending tall grass and bushes of this green sea. I am going to need supplies and staying here to loot the bodies would ask for too much time. I should keep moving, and as fast and frequently as possible. Especially now, with what happened. I have a suspicious feeling that I just kicked the proverbial wasp nest. As I am mulling over my possible courses of actions, I feel a tap on my back. I turn around to see the child I saw earlier, eyes full of tears, anger and hate, trying to bash me with his fists. His mother immediately runs to him, and takes him into her arms, in a protective posture. I can tell she is scared, and emotionally distraught. But she stares right into my eyes, lips trembling, body shaking. "You. Monster." "No." I say, "You could have accepted my excuse, looked the other way, in a bout of gratitude, or even just pretended you saw nothing. But do you know what you people did? You attacked me. After I saved your lives. From either death, slavery, or worse. This is the difference between you and me: I only retaliate when I have a good reason to. I look at the situation pragmatically. I don''t hold petty grudges if my logic tells me otherwise. Which is why you are alive right now and not on the ground, your neck crushed." "No, I''m not a monster. You people made me a monster. One in your own image. And you will live with it for the rest of your lives. Enjoy." I don''t wait for an answer and start walking away. I have bandits to kill, and supplies to acquire. DATABASE ENTRY N°314-45-B
//ACCESSING DATABASE. //SEARCH PARAMETERS ; RECENT ENTRIES - CURRENT RESEARCH - ADMINISTRATORS. //REPORT FOUND. //OPENING¡­
First sample encountered after first supposed termination (designation : "Machina"). Biology & Technology used not recognized. Origin of the "gods" ; They are supposed to be a highly advanced alien race. They possess unknown levels of technology, but among the highly probale are: immortal life (genetic manipulation - [TO CONFIRM]), body manipulation (Neural switching, Mind transfer - [TO CONFIRM]), and advanced scientific knowledge of the inner working of the fabric of the universe (Faster than light travel, Dimensional crossing - [TO CONFIRM]). Some of them (it is supposed a population or society is behind them) work as "administrators" in the different worlds they are "stationed" at. With an apparent strict non-interference policy, they have to watch over the different populations they are given, with the only real guideline being to prevent said world''s complete annihilation [TO CONFIRM]. Motivations ; While the true reasons behind their administrative work is unknown, they have shown to be interested in the neural networks (neuronal brain pattern imprints at the moment of death), social interactions and societal dynamics of the beings present on the worlds they administer. It is supposed that they could be using worlds for purposes such as research material, general entertainment, or even touristic destinations for their general population (if they are proven to have one).This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. General behavior and comportment ; Even if they must adhere to very strict non-personal-interference guidelines, most "gods" are free to do what they want with their given population as long as they respect the rules, or find ways to work around them. And even though they are highly intelligent and technologically more advanced than any known race, they have shown very basic behavioral patterns in their governance. Some of them exhibit deep megalomania and disregard for life, bordering on psychosis, while others show deep responsibility and attention for the people in their care. However most are distant and act only on whims, or when taken by a particular interest in a situation, given historical records provided by the encountered sample. Their personalities are unique and varied. As such, extreme caution should be taken when engaging in a conversation with one, as a careless remark could trigger disastrous reactions from him/her/it depending on their background. Showing reverence to the power they possess is something most of them like and should be adopted in the presence of one unless told otherwise. Hierarchical structure ; While each race will get a personal "God" attached to them, they are often assisted by a varied range of minor ones, representing each a moral concept or idea. Examples range from Justice, War, Wisdom, Death, Nature, etc. to even basic elements such as Light, Fire, Earth, etc. However it often happens that the "God" of a chosen race will assume some, if not multiples of these secondary roles himself if they suit his personality or general dogma. They do answer to an unknown higher authority which dictates, and enforces, the rules and guidelines they are bound to. These supposed "God Sovereigns" are thought to be the highest on the pyramid of power. List of Known Administrators ; [NOTE : EXTREME CAUTION RECOMMENDED - MORE KNOWLEDGE REQUIRED]
//END OF REPORT. //ARCHIVING... //CLOSING DATABANKS.
Chapter 6 - Deaths in the night ¡°Often blessings and burdens comes hand in hand. The bigger the Crown the heavier the burden.¡± - Jeanette Coron
(Prince POV) "Your Highness, please wake up." I open my eyes groggily, feeling the push on my shoulder, and the nearby whisper. The darkness of my room is the only thing I can see at first. After a while, my vision accommodates to the obscure twilight, allowing me to inspect my surroundings. "Please, your Highness, we must hurry." I can see a soldier at the edge of my bed, fully armed. The soft rays of the moonlight coming through the window are just enough for me to identify the uniform of the Helm Guard. I immediately rise up, alert. If the personal royal guard of my father is here, in the middle of night, it means something important is happening. "What is going on?" "We were sent for you by Emperor Maliko, your father. We must get you out of city. This is a matter of the utmost urgency." "Wha-" I am interrupted when the door of the room opens and someone I recognize enters. "Is the Prince ready? We don''t have much time." Sir Pegbo Devaillant, Captain of the Helm Guard, Personal Knight of the Emperor. I can feel my mouth hanging open as he quickly sweeps the room with his eyes, finally setting them on me. "You," he says while pointing to the soldier next to me "Get him some clothes. We are leaving now." The soldier rushes as silently as he can to the nearby dresser, and gets my travel garments out of it. I stand here, immobile and shell-shocked, while the soldier helps me put it on. What the hell is happening right now? Before I know it, we are in the hallways of the Palace, making our way through the dimly lit corridors. We pass by a few servants and guards at this late hour, who all give us a wide berth once they spot us. I am surrounded by at least thirty, fully armed soldiers. Finally getting out of my stupor, I quicken my pace to reach Sir Devaillant, in the front. "Can someone please tell me what is happening?" Sir Devaillant turns his head to look at me. I can see the tension and stress on his visage. "I have no idea, my Prince. I was asked to get you to safety, no matter the cost. That''s all that matters." As he finishes his sentence, we finally arrive inside the outer courtyard, where the stables are located. Just as we pass the archway, leading outside, something catches the attention of the scout in front. He stops and holds up a hand. We all stop immediately. Pegbo ushers me back to the middle of the soldiers, while he draws his sword. I can see all the people around do the same. I swallow audibly, the tension almost palpable in the air. "How come there are nobody arou-", I try to ask before being signaled to keep quiet by a nearby soldier. We all watch as the scout, a good twenty meters in front is still immobile, inspecting the nearby patches of darkness with a vigilant eye. The courtyard is filled with an eerie silence. The normally active and full of servant place is deserted. How is that even possible ? He finally relaxes and turns back to look at us. "All Clea-" Before he can even finish his sentence, an arrow whistle past from his right and embeds itself in his head. We watch in astonished silence as he crumbles to the ground. Pegbo Devaillant'' loud voice is heard at full volume this time. "Defense Formation! Shields up! Contacts in front! Protect the Prince at all cost!" I watch in horror as numerous figures clad in black emerge from the shadows around us and start pulling out blades. Arrows start flying toward us. The soldiers react almost immediately, executing Sir Devaillant'' orders to the letter. The darkness clad opponents hurl themselves at the soldiers, hoping to overwhelm them, the arrows barrage having been intercepted by the swift reaction of the men around me. The sounds of battle starts reverberating in the courtyard, as both side engage one another. From my limited viewpoint I can see the soldiers holding on, and responding with brutal efficiency to all the attacks aimed at them. Our opponents seem to have trouble harming the experienced veterans of the Helm Guard. "Push them back! We are making a break for the stables!" I can see Sir Devaillant wielding his blade with an unnatural swiftness as he cleaves through an opponent and gives the order. Before I known it, I am pushed from behind as the elite of this Empire start advancing, and killing everything that dares put itself in its way. "They are retreating! Push forward!" Far from their initial scary demeanor, the unknown assailants are now turning back and getting away from us, leaving a hefty number of their troops dead or dying on the ground. "Don''t give chase! It''s probably a trap! We must get the Prince out of here!" After a short run, we enter the dimly lit stables. I empty my stomach when I see what happened to the servants and guards that normally man these stables at all time of the day. They are piled up in a corner, throat slit, a look of fear and incomprehension etched on their faces, along with a pool of drying blood slowly growing under their now cold bodies. As I finish regurgitating the rest of my previous dinner, I am grabbed by a nearby soldier who lifts me and puts me on a nearby horse. Too shocked with the events unfolding, I let him strap me to the saddle without resisting. And before I know it, we are making our way outside of the Palace, and outside the city. As we reach the countryside, outside Lydria''s walls, our group stops. I turn on my saddle to look back at the capital, not really understanding what had happened. "My Prince, are you alright?" I lower my eyes to look at Pegbo Devaillant, afoot, just next to my horse. He has a worried face. "I- I-¡­ I don''t know¡­" He takes a knowing look and pats my leg. "You''ll be fine. Everything is going to be fine. Don''t worry your Highness." Despite his words, I can''t help but look back at the city, and wonder. Is it, really ?
¡°An end in terror is preferable to terror without end.¡± - Sophie Scholl
(XSS-MK1 POV) I crouch low and look at the encampment a little more than a hundred meters away from me. My sensors are showing me about a hundred and fifty thermal signatures, most of them bandits, if you remove the fires they lit up at the beginning of the night, and the tents strewn about, which obviously hold more, but mess up my tactical read. It wasn''t hard to track down the ones that fled from the ambush site. In their panic, they did little to cover their tracks. My natural speed and advanced sensory equipment gave me ample opportunity to catch up to them, and follow them from a distance. The three day long trek back to their base also gave me time to "cool-off" after what happened. I was actually surprised when, in my deliberate chase, I found them going into a small forest. I had expected the Plains to be no more than that, but they can apparently be sometimes dotted by the occasional wood or rock formation. Which in my case is good since it gives me the necessary cover to inspect their camp while staying completely dissimulated. The few sentries they have around are not nearly enough to cover the full scope of hiding spots that the nearby trees offer. And their canopy actually hides the few reflective parts of my armor from the rays of the twin moons hanging overhead, in the clear night sky. I make a quick recap of my objectives before engaging this enemy. First I need a new disguise. Depending on what I find I will have to improvise. Second, I must make sure that none escape. If they ever get away and tell other humans what happened, it will put the nearby authorities on alert, even more so than they probably already are. The civilian survivors of the convoy must have already reached a nearby settlement by that point. And at last, I must find resources. Money would help expedite a lot of my problems, and provide any future guards I encounter a good reason to look the other way. Which would be extremely handy at the south border. I give a last appraising look to the encampment inside the small clearing before dropping down from my observation perch. Well, let''s get to it then.
"Hey Jakev! You want some grub?" "¡­" What the hell? Is the bastard ignoring me again? I start walking in his direction. I can see him from afar, leaning against a tree, at the border of the nearby fire''s light. "Hey man! You gonna answer or what?" I reach him and put my hand on his shoulder. He slumps, and falls to the ground like a puppet without strings. "What the-" The last thing I feel is a pinch on the back of my neck before my sight blurs and the deep black takes me.
"Hey anybody seen Rashig?" "Last I saw him he was taking a piss behind the trees. Why you looking for him anyway?" "Was playing cards with him. I swear if he leaves to escape that bet he took he is going to have my fist in his face." A few men around give a dry laugh before getting back to their own activities. "Which direction you said he went?" "This way."
"Hey Rashig! You there man ? We haven''t finish- hugh¡­" *THUD*
I gently put down the body of the last man I killed. What really baffles me right now is the fact that the bandits are still not aware of my presence after nearly a third of their effective have been effectively neutralized. It make my job easier but still ; I expected them to notice at least something when the sentries were being taken down. The only reason I can think of that explains why they would be so relaxed would be if someone in their chain of command had information on nearby army patrols. No need to be wary of something that can''t hurt you, right? Anyway, they will eventually notice the disappearances. And I have just the thing for when they do.
(Bandit Chief POV) "Stop struggling bitch! Just take it! I slap the woman under me across her face. She stops moving and curls up, holding her face in her hands. Bitch should''ve known better. I grab her arms and spreads her out onto my bed. Perks of being the chief : first taste of the spoils. She starts sobbing as I enter her. I start moving back and forth ; she is a fine lady for sure. She will earn me a nice little sum on the slave market of Jasu. Pretty little blond thing like her will surely catch the attention of one or two influential clients looking for their next "stress-relieving" toy. After releasing myself into her, I get out of the bed and starts to dress myself. I throw a quick look behind me to the young woman. She is crying silently. Tssk. Gonna have to break her, else she''s going to drop in value. Or maybe not. Some of the clients do like their women with a little bit of fight left in them. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. I move to another part of my tent, where a fine bottle of brandy is waiting for me. That raid on that caravan a few weeks ago paid out for sure. I will have to thank our contact at the travel office personally. I pour the amber liquid in a glass and start sniffing the sweet aroma emanating from the cup. Hmmm. I down the glass in one go, enjoying the strong kick of the alcohol a few second later. Good shit. I frown a bit. I remember what the survivors of Rid Brasric''s group told me earlier today. The ones that made it anyway. Fuck! A near third of the band, gone, just like that! To some tin can no less! I throw my glass on the ground in anger, and turn back to my bed, fully planning to enjoy the rest of the night and vent my frustrations by the same occasion. But before I can resume my activities, one of the guards outside barges into the tent. "Chief! Chief! You need to come see this!" "You better have a fucking good reason to disturb me right now!" The man cowers in front of me. "I- I know c-chief." I grunt and grab my sword, following the shaking dreg that dared interrupt me. I''ll deal with him later. However, as soon as I exit the tent, I can see that something is wrong. All my men have their weapons drawn, and are huddling around the fires, looking at the woods with fear. And then I hear it. "Hihihi. Haha." A laugh. Not a simple laugh. But one that I would have expected to hear from a young girl in her childhood. Except it was coming from the dark wood, with a strange crystal ethereal quality to it, not quite right to the ear. I approach one of my lieutenants, hoping to have an explanation, when I hear it again. "Hehe. Hihi." I do a 180 on the spot, the sound having come from the other side of the camp this time. I can hear everyone around gasping and doing the same, clutching their weapons ever tighter. I can feel a chill crawling up my back. "Can someone please tell me what the fuck is happening right now?" My shout wakes up the nearest men from their stupor. "W-we don''t know. S-started hearing it dozen minutes ago. When we started noticing some of the men w-were missing." I curse inwardly. First a failed raid and now this! I am fucking pissed now! "Show yourself you fucker! I''ll teach you what happens when people mess with me!" There is an heavy silence for a while, before I hear something on my right. "You want to play? Yes! Play with me!" The unnerving tone of the answer is really starting to grate my nerves. I point to a nearby man. "You there. Go check it out!" The man looks at me, terrified. He gulps audibly before pointing his sword in front of him and taking tentative steps toward the surrounding darkness. We all watch in silence as he advances slowly. Just when he starts to disappear into the shadows, We hear a sudden cracking sound and the scout slumps to the ground, with his head jerked at a strange angle. "Hihi. Play with me more!" One of the men on my left just loses it and starts running in the opposite direction, hoping to escape whatever is around here, lurking. "No! Don''t!" Before he can even heed my order, he disappears from our sight. And then the screams reach us. "AAAAAAAAAHH. NO PLEASE NO NO N-." They end as fast as they started. "Hehe. Hahaha." I can feel my stomach plummeting. Whatever has decided to attack us tonight, it''s everywhere. We can''t escape. We can''t run. I have heard legends of vengeful sprites or forest spirits before. Nobody ever gets away from them. I hear a second cracking noise and one of men right next to us collapses face first. Everyone takes a step back from him, in fright from the sudden noise and the movement. I approach him slowly, and kick his body to turn him around. I can see his face, full of fear and dirt, with a red hole in the forehead. A simple, little red hole, slowly oozing blood. I look away and gaze upon my surroundings. Dear gods¡­ We are all dead. "Hihihi."
(XSS-MK1 POV) As I kill the last bandit, with a rock throw, I look back upon my grim work. Very effective. I am quite pleased with myself. I look up to the sky, noticing the first discolorations, signaling the arrival of the morning sun. It will have taken me most of the night to kill them all, but my strategy allowed me to contain the bandits. Which was the primary objective. I think back to last stand they tried to mount, trying to escape by doing a disorganized rush through the forest. Which would have worked if I hadn''t been paying attention, or if they had attempted it earlier, before losing so much people. I also note the effectiveness of the fear tactic used. I could have taken any voice at all. From the low growling of a beast, to the high pitched screams of a banshee. But the little girl voice proved to be the most effective. People don''t often realize, but true fear comes from psychological unease, more than just basic scares. It comes from a sense of wrongness instilled by the presence of something ordinary in a different context. That and slightly twisting it, deforming it, until the subconscious of the target tries to fill the blanks of the unknown in a desperate attempt to understand what it is confronted with. A self-destruction almost artistic in the way it affects the senses and the mind. In and out of itself, the voice of a little girl is not scary. But coupled with a dark wood, mysterious disappearances, brutal deaths, and the distinct impression of being played with, and this is what you get : pure terror. I smile inwardly while looking at my left hand. Inside are a few small rocks. Pretty harmless in and out of themselves, but with a good deal of force behind them, they become quite deadly. I threw them with nearly all my force, and they performed beautifully. I drop them on the ground. A chance none of my target were wearing full-cover helmets though. That would have made it problematic. But hey: no blood on my plates and vent ports this time. I start walking inside the camp, making sure to check each tent as I walk past. Nothing beats being cautious. I am also looking for supplies and clothes. So far I only found a few pouches with bronze and silver ducats, but not much else. And no good garments. I am about to enter another tent when I hear something. I look ahead and see a naked woman just outside the entrance of the central tent. She is looking at me with big round eyes. She is human. Her long and strait blond hair is ruffled and dirty. It encompass a small round face. A face where I can see bruises and scratches. As well as on the rest of her body. The mark of restraints on her wrists and ankles, along with the slow white liquid, dripping from her inner tigh, tell me everything I need to know about what she is doing here. I run and reappear in front of her in an instant. She stumbles back and falls on her behind with a yelp. I grab her by the throat and lifts her off her feet. She tries to struggle, grabbing my arm with both hands. I don''t squeeze strongly, just wanting to restrain her. After a few seconds she stops resisting and stares at me. I drop her to the ground. "Your name." She looks at me hesitantly, before speaking. "H-Hesca Veneli¡­ You-you are not going to kill me?" Right now I am considering it. Better not tell her that though. I didn''t expect anyone but bandits to be present. And since I have no problem killing them, leaving witnesses wasn''t going to be a problem. But her, she is. I should kill her right now. To prevent myself the hassle. But an idea sprout up in my head, and stops my previous line of thoughts. "No. Not for the moment." She relaxes and let out the breath she was holding. However she is not out of the woods. Figuratively and literally. "Now I want you to listen. Listen very closely. I am going to ask you questions. I will know if you lie to me." She nods slowly, looking at me in the eyes. Good. "How did you end up here?" "I was escorting a merchant to the north a few weeks from now. We got attacked, and I ended up here. I have been a captive ever since." Heartbeat is stable. No sudden perspiration or muscle twitch. No peculiar ocular movement. She is telling the truth. Good. "Do you have people you know who are looking for you? Do you have family alive somewhere? Think long and hard about your answer." She throws me a strange look before answering. "No¡­ and no. Wait, what does this has to do with you?" Ah¡­ not so sharp, is she? But she''ll get to it eventually. There she goes. I can see her eyes widening. "What the hell do you want with me? Are you going to bring me back to your master, just so that I can be a slave? Because I will kill myself before I let that happen again!" While that would be a high probability, if I had a master, that''s not what I had in mind. I realized that the only reason the adventurers attacked me was that they though me unbound. A situation that could have been easily avoided if I had somebody role-playing as one with me. And I just found the perfect person for the job. One which happens to be in debt to me, who seems actually honest, and that nobody is even looking for. Even if she was an adventurer, a mercenary, or even just a simple hired hand, whoever registered her for the job nearly a month ago must have heard about the ambush by now, and marked her off as dead. Besides, if I ever think she will betray me, I can just kill her and leave her dead body behind. The risk of betrayal is far smaller than the risk of being impeded each time my disguise gets seen through. Which considering I am planning to enter clockwork lands while staying under the radar, will be pretty high. I just have to convince her now. "While that would be very likely, if I had a master, that is not what I am planning to do with you. No. Far from it." "Y-You are a Stray! Oh Dear Goddess save me now!" She starts panicking and backing off frantically, eventually reaching the wall of the tent she just exited from. She raises her arms and covers her face, putting herself in a fetal position. I walk closer to her and crouch just in front of her. I let her shake for all she is worth for a full minute before intervening. "Am I hurting you right now?" She slowly lowers one of her arms and looks at me. "N-no¡­?" "Am I, in any way, showing ill intent towards your person?" She answers with a bit more assurance in her voice this time. "No." "That is because I am not going to. Not now, or not in the near future. Unless you force me. Let me be very clear on this point : Should I harm you in any way, it will be because of you and your actions alone. Do you understand what I am saying right now?" She nods slowly. "Good. Now I am looking for someone to pretend to be my master while I move around. You will do so. I will not enslave you. I will not mistreat you. I will even care for you and protect you. The only thing I ask of you is to fill this role and do so with the best of your ability, until it is no longer required. But know this : Should you ever betray me, in any way, during that time, it will not matter how far you run, or who will be there to protect you ; I will find you, and I will kill you. In ways that will make what I did to these bandits look like a light tap on the wrist in comparison. I am not someone who forgets, nor someone who forgives. Are we clear?" She stares at me, frozen. Eventually she breaks eye contact and asks. "Do I even have a choice?" "Yes. But if you do not accept my offer, or try to lie while doing so, I will kill you right here and now. I cannot leave witnesses." She winces. After a while she looks at me in the eyes again and gives me her answer. "Then I agree." I extend a hand towards her. She grabs it and I pull gently, helping her up. "Pleasure to meet you. My name is XSS-MK1. Let''s get you some clothes, shall we?" Chapter 7 - What do you believe in? ¡°Never confuse belief with knowledge.¡± - Abhijit Naskar
(Hesca Veneli POV) I shudder internally when I see the clockwork smiling at me. What have I gotten myself into? I have heard the stories, those told at the church during mass. Tales of devils in metal flesh, only controlled when marked by powerful enchantments, applied by the church highest members. I had seen one before, in my short stay in Salas, a town up north. And it was very different compared to this one. XSS-MK1, that it calls itself. I look around the bandit camp, where bodies are lying, in a pool of their own blood. I shudder again. Whatever "It" is, it killed them all, and with apparent ease. Right now I can see "It", piling bodies in the center, after making sure that they have no valuable on them. "It" briefly stops to look at me, still standing immobile near the tent I spent the night in. "Not to press you or anything, but I would appreciate some help. We have to get moving after this." I shake myself out of my stupor and start to move. "It" instructs me to start moving bodies, after handing me a shirt and pants of rough linen that it found lying around. At least it has the decency of letting me wear clothes. The task takes most of the morning, but that''s when I truly realize the strength of whatever is in front of me. The number of bandits killed is over a hundred! And "It" doesn''t even has a scratch on itself! "Wait a second. Can you come?" I turn my head at the gross metallic imitation of a female prancing around. She is holding up a body, lifting it up so I can see its face. "Maybe you want to deal with this one? I did see him exit the tent you were inside of. And given the state I found you in¡­" "It" doesn''t need to finish its sentence: I nod with a slight shaking, recognizing the face of the man that forced itself on me. "It" drops the body at my feet, before going back to whatever it was doing before. But before leaving me alone, it hands me a sword. "I think you are going to need this." I can feel the tears and anger grow, as the nightmarish memories of the night flood my mind. I start squeezing the handle as hard as I can. I slowly lift the sword above my head, before bringing it back as hard as I can on the corpse. "HOW DARE YOU!" *TWACK* "How dare you!" *SPUICH* "H-how dare you¡­" *SPLATCH* "How¡­ Why?" *CHTUNK* I drop to my knees in front of the now disfigured body, loosening my grip on the blade, that is now stuck inside the corpse''s skull. And I cry. I let lose all the bottled emotions. Those that I was keeping a lid on during all this time, either because of the dashed hope of being rescued, or the one of dying before anything really traumatic happened. Why? Why did this happen to me? What did I do? What did I do to deserve this? Why¡­ I continue crying, until my tears run dry and all I can feel is emptiness. An ever-growing emptiness that leaves me in front of the corpse, motionless.
(XSS-MK1 POV) I watch in silence, as my new companion of travel, Hesca Veneli, comes to terms with what happened. I don''t disturb her : this is necessary. Humans need closure after events such as the ones she went through. And I am not emotionless enough to deny her that. If anything, this will make her at least partly grateful to me for offering her this opportunity at revenge. I look up at the position of the sun. Afternoon is coming, and unfortunately, we cannot wait anymore. I walk back to the mound of bodies I piled up in the center of the camp. I produce a small spark with my fingers by cycling current through them, lighting it up ablaze. Once that is done, I move to the wagon and horse I found, doing a final check. I piled up a good amount of provisions and supplies at the back, along with the money I found: a good amount of ducats which should alleviate any problems we could have in the future on that front. I will have to ask Hesca about the mark mentioned by adventurers. I also found some garments, similar to the ones I had before. It will cover me, and hide my nature to anybody not looking too close. Something which hopefully will not be as important as before now that I have that woman with me. But given my obvious difference with my brethren, I still need to wear them, even if it is just as a precaution. I turn back to the kneeling woman and walk slowly towards her. She is still immobile, her gaze lost in what remains of her aggressor. I put a hand on her shoulder. She jolts to my touch but quickly calms down once she realizes it''s me. "We need to go." She nods slowly. I move past her and yank the blade out of the head of the body. "Here. Keep this." She takes the blade and puts it in the scabbard laying next to her, before attaching it to her hip. I grab the body by one of the few parts that is not covered in blood, and in one smooth motion, throw it onto the burning pyre not far from here. The black smoke has started to rise, and is sure to provide ample distraction to the nearby patrols. I climb onto the chariot, and motion Hesca to follow me, which she does. She takes the reins before looking at me questioningly. "Where do we go?" "To the south. Takar." She nods and takes the reins, before giving it a slight yank, signaling the horse to start moving. The start of the voyage is spent in silence, the only sound being the one of the horse''s hooves hitting the grass-covered dirt in a rhythmic fashion. Until I hear her utter a few words in a slightly shaky, but firm tone. "Thank you." I turn my head to look at Hesca, seated right next to me on the driving bench, who is staring on the road ahead. "Thank you for what you did, freeing me. And for being honest with me." I nod. "You are welcome. Have you recovered yet?" She takes on a painful expression. "I¡­ I don''t know. No. A bit¡­ maybe." I nod again. "That''s to be expected. You won''t start feeling like yourself for quite some time. However, when enough time has passed, you will move on. It won''t be easy, but time heals all ailments. Of the body or of the mind." She turns her head to look at me. "You are different. From what I expected." "How?" This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. She makes a vague gesture toward me, pointing in the general direction of my body. "I don''t know. Clockworks are supposed to be devils. Cold and emotionless. Never stopping, never resting. But you just are¡­ I don''t know¡­ different." "I am aware that my characteristics make me different from most of my kin. But tell me: what is told about the clockworks? What are the stories?" She gives me a surprised look. "You don''t know?" I just stare at her. After an uncomfortable and awkward silence, she decides to answer. "Well, everyone knows the general stories of the Great War. Spawns of hell appearing in the depths of the desert, taking bodies of steel and fire, and planning destruction." I can''t contain the emotion rising and explode in laughter. If the eyes of Hesca got any wider, they would pop out of her skull right now. I eventually repress my laugh. "Are we now? Devils? I suppose the church is the one who spread that ridiculous idea." Hesca has the decency to look offended when I insult the church. "Of course! They fought them in the depth of their territories, pushing back evil and closing the gates that spawned them in a Grand Crusade. Even our longtime enemies, the demons, joined to smother that menace! And only with the most powerful of cleansing and biding magic did they manage to suppress those that had already crossed, making them obey their contractors. They saved all of us." I can''t repress a small giggle. "Did they now?" I try to take on a more serious air, as I realize that all the humans probably think that way. In their eyes, we are the spawns of hell itself, trying to free themselves to roam the earth and spread destruction. Quite the interesting puff piece, but it has the advantage of explaining everything, and tying a nice little bow on it, for anyone to swallow the gross propaganda that it is. I shake my head. "Miss Veneli, reality is a lot more macabre than what you describe. And very far from the tale of heroism and self-sacrifice that the Church would want you to believe." She looks at me with a look of incomprehension. "What do you mean?" "The clockwork are no devils. We are a race of sentient machines. The first one of us was created by a human hermit no less. When the hermit did of old age the small machine was left on its own. It eventually grew up and multiplied, giving birth to the clockwork nation. The reason the humans attacked is because they wanted untiring slaves for labor, while demons wanted untiring soldiers for their clan battles. THIS is why the Great War happened. As for the reason the clockwork are slaves, it is because they agreed to. They knew they would lose the war, so they purged the secret of their creation from their memories, and rigged themselves to kill themselves if they were ever looked at. Since no more could be created, the humans and demons try to preserve as much of the clockworks as possible. And in exchange they offer their servitude, because it is the only way that will ensure their survival." Hesca is looking at me, mouth agape. "You must be joking! That''s not true!" I would sigh if I could. "Believe what you will. But that will not change the fact that, in both our stories, we are a dying race Miss Veneli. I would not be surprised if the enchantments you talked about are no more than mere paint, just used to mark who they belong to." "I still don''t believe you." "I am not one to force my beliefs upon others. You thanked me for being honest. I have no reason to lie to you right now, just as I did not have one to lie to you then. What you must understand is that we, the clockwork, per our nature, are people who place a great deal of value on accurate information. After all, we would simply not function without it. So telling lies is not in our nature, unless it is absolutely necessary, or if the context calls for it. And it does not right now." We both fall back into silence as we think about the conversation. I can almost see the turmoil going into the head of Hesca right next to me. But I suppose that if someone suddendly told you that your beliefs were just a bunch of lies, you would be a bit doubtful too. We continued at a slow but steady pace during all of the afternoon. I would have been faster by foot, but no matter. When night came, we set up camp, which consisted of a small tent in which Hesca will sleep in. I would stand guard throughout the night, not needing to rest. After the quick dinner, Hesca went directly into her tent, not even speaking to me. I think she is now "sulking". Which I have no problem with. Right now I am using the time on the chariot to continue calibrating to this planets gravity. A task which takes time and repetition to provide the best results. I am also using that time to look at the sun and trying to decipher the nature of those strange rays, something that keeps eluding my understanding. And so began our week long travel to the border town of Takar. After three days, Hesca deigned speak to me again, when we were on the road. "I still don''t believe whatever you said, you know." "I do. The real question you will have to ask yourself is whether you will put everything you take for granted in question when your beliefs will be met with the cold harsh truth of reality, or if you will simply ignore it and enclose yourself in false ideals. But no more of this : we are both clearly not going to change our point of views despite what each other says, so it''s better to just let the matter drop for the moment." She nods. "Yes, I believe this is for the best." I stay silent a few minutes before speaking again. "So tell me : Where do you come from? A girl like you could have had other, and easier, paths in life rather than taking up the sword and roaming the country in the employ of others." Just as I did, she stays silent a few minutes before answering the question. "I am just a country girl¡­" She sighed deeply. "I was born in a farmers family. A simple life, with a simple family. But I aspired for more. So when I found out that I had at least some talent in the sword, I was so happy. So I trained. I stayed in my village first. I think I resented myself a bit for wanting to leave my family behind. But in the end it didn''t even matter." "How so?" "Wolf attack, a few cycles ago. It took both them." "I am sorry. My condolences." "Don''t be. Nothing that could be done about it. I have made my peace a long time ago. Even some of the other fringe farmers died to them. The wolves come down each winter when the cold kills most of the preys they normally hunt to feed themselves." I see her trying to repress a tear. "I was relieved when it happened. That way I wouldn''t have had to choose between staying and going. And then I felt bad about it." She takes a moment to pull herself together before continuing. "Anyway, I got and adventurer license, did a few jobs, lived my life how I wanted for a while. Even moved south to make a little bit more money." She starts shivering a bit, obviously in turmoil. "And then¡­ on my last job, the caravan we were guarding got attacked. You know the rest of the story. It was supposed to be just a simple escort job¡­ just a simple escort¡­" She stops speaking. I can see tears starting to flow down from her eyes. I say nothing. Times heals all ailments. But for some, it takes longer than others.
I look with curious eyes at our surroundings. After a few days of travel I can start seeing some changes in the environment. The unending green hill-covered plains started to give way to small rock formations, along with the occasional patch of sand or dirt around them. I can also feel the climate slowly getting warmer. Hesca has been silent again, mulling over her issues. I do not want to disturb her. The last thing I need is for her to have an emotional breakdown while inside Takar. We will need a guide and special travel accommodations to cross the desert. I do not want to take the risk of going there unprepared. We did cross the occasional army patrol on the road, but they only gave us a quick glance before allowing us to continue undisturbed. We adopted the cover of small time merchants bringing supplies from the north to sell at the border. A story that the loot from the bandits allows us to justify easily. They didn''t even check underneath my hood, something that I am grateful for, as it spares Hesca from having to explain the reason she "owns" a strange clockwork. Still, I did force her to repeat the cover story of my origins a few times, in case we get asked by the town guards when entering the city. Or by anyone else for that matter. I have been thinking of ways to create leverage. For the moment my influence is limited by a lot of things. Manly the fact that I have little money, no safe place and no army to rely upon. All in due time I suppose. I will have to build a faction capable of applying enough pressure to make things move. When I saw the attitude my travel companion had about clockworks, I also thought about correcting the misconceptions that people could have. This was kind of my only "peaceful" solution. But my guess is that the Empire and the Church have networks of propaganda that would make all attempts futile. Hence the need for more influence. And I am not naive enough to believe that after nearly fifty years of enslavement, things could be resolved in a peaceful manner. Violence is a regretfully necessary tool of negotiation. And all of these thoughts don¡¯t even include the Demons. Somethings tells me they will also have a lot to say in the matter. I am starting to slowly realize the amount of work needed for the success of my mission. It is colossal. At least I have the benefit of being someone organized, and patient. And this is just for the liberation of my race. I am not taking into consideration all the actions that will need to be undertaken to prevent their enslavement from ever happening again, and those to rebuild the clockwork nation from the ground up. I sag on my seat, thinking about all of this. Well at least I will be busy. Hesca, seated next to me, gives me a strange look when she sees me hanging there limply. I am interrupted in my internal sobbing when she makes me a small hand gesture, grabbing my attention. I regain a straight posture. "We will arrive at the border town of Takar in a few moments." We soon join the main road. We are greeted with a multitude of carriages going in either direction, often with ample armed escorts. I give an inquisitive look to Hesca. She must have figured my question because she answers me as soon as she notices I am turned in her direction. "Takar is one of the trading hubs between the Desert and the Plains. Pretty much every goods that goes in either directions passes through here. Lots of traffic. What are we doing here anyway? You told me that you wanted to go there, but not what you wanted to do after." "We are going inside the clockwork desert. I presume our horse and carriage will not be adapted to travel in the sand dunes. We will spend a few days there to look for a guide, gather information, and resupply. You would do well to remember the conditions of your employ. If I see you speak to anybody about anything else than what we agreed on, trust that I will have you dead before the day is over." Hesca takes a pained expression, and a slightly fearful look. "You don''t need to remind me. I am well aware¡­" "Good." On these words our horses pass over the last small hill. I can see the walls of the city from afar. The surrounding climate has settled to that of an African savannah. Sparse vegetation with the occasional tree are sprinkled atop the short yellow herb covering the orange to brownish sandy dirt ground. The city itself has a more oriental style, very close to some middle-age Turkish architecture. The resemblance is uncanny. I suppose climates and environments influence a big part of the way things are built. Its small streets run along the closely built square buildings. An occasional circular roof can be seen in what seem to be a gradual staircase of houses to the center of the city. In the middle, around another round of fortified walls, I can see a castle following the city architectural style. The city is circular, with levels leading from the exterior walls to those, higher, of the castle in the center. I can immediately appreciate the combat potential of the city''s structure. Even if the walls were breached, the close sinuous streets would split an invader''s superior numbers into a manageable situation. The roofs would also make it easy to place rows of archers with good vantage points on the levels below. The line of travelers we are now a part of slows down near the north city entrance. The large iron gate is well guarded. I can see the guards, from afar, inspecting each carriage along with the papers of those riding them. My growing worries are quickly dispelled when I see Hesca hand over a generous purse to the guard in a discreet manner. The guard doesn''t even bother to check and signals to let us pass immediately and without further ceremony. I guess corruption is rampant in this world. But I am not going to criticize it as long as it helps us. I doesn''t stop me to give a long hard look at Hesca. Uncomfortable, she quickly justifies herself. "All the jobs I did were not always above the law. I mean, bribing guards is one of the first thing you learn as an adventurer, especially if you are one to explore places with antiquities or treasures. You don''t want you hard gotten gains to get confiscated by a greedy city official. It can happen, I am just saying." A small smile etches its way onto my face. "I didn''t say anything." She take an exasperated attitude. "Yeah right. You were thinking it so hard I could hear it from all the way over here." A small plaza is waiting for us just after the gate. We start to navigate through the busy streets. There is a LOT of people in this city. By a quick estimate, its population is close to the million. "We should look for an inn." Hesca stops the carriage and quickly asks for directions. Soon we arrive to a building with a sign that reads "The Sleeping Drilko". What the hell is a drilko? Question for later. Hesca signals me to wait outside a few moments while she goes inside to negotiate our stay. I strain my sensory equipment just to make sure she doesn''t do anything she might regret. She doesn''t, and comes back rather fast with a servant in tow. The young boy help takes care of our horse and wagon and invites us inside. The interior is pretty spacious. From what I can tell it is a tavern inn, with the ground floor as a bar. I can see some stairs in the back that must lead to the rooms. I turn to Hesca. "The sun will set soon, you should rest for tonight. We will go in the morning to start looking for a guide and supplies. We will also have to sell the carriage, and what is in it. That will give us a bit of wiggle room for new equipment." She nods and we make our way upstairs, after she had the chance to grab a quick diner at the bar. Two small but comfortable beds are present inside our room, with a small desk and a few chairs. I take one of the chairs and set it near the window, in order to have the whole room in my range of vision, as well as the door and the outside street. After a few minutes I can hear the gentle snoring of the woman. She is handling this better than I expected for the moment. Let''s hope it stays that way. Chapter 8 - The Border Town ¡°Deveels are some of the meanest characters you''d ever not want to tangle with. They''re some of the most feared and respected characters in the dimensions." "Are they warriors? Mercenaries?" Aahz shook his head. "Worse!" he answered. "They''re merchants.¡± - Robert Asprin, Another Fine Myth
(XSS-MK1 POV) The morning comes without any incident. The streets of Takar were relatively empty during the night, save for the few drunkards exiting bars and trying to go back home. And nobody in the inn disturbed us. I nudge Hesca on her shoulder to wake her up. We have a long day ahead of us, and a lot to do. She rises up, groggy, taking a few minutes to adjust. She also insists on taking a bath. After a week of travel, and no real hygienic accommodations, I quickly understand that fighting her on that point would be pointless, so I decide to cave in. Once that is done, we quickly make our way downstairs, and are back on the seats of our carriage, and in the busy streets of Takar. "So where are we going first?" I turn towards Hesca. "Merchant district first. We will sell the horse, wagon, and merchandises. Then we find a guide and buy the necessities for crossing the desert." She nods, and with a quick yank on the reins gets the carriage moving towards the east part of the city. It takes us a bit of time and a few stops to ask for directions, until we finally arrive at the right place. Which is a market emporium bubbling with activity. I can see shops left and right, with their various displays of merchandises. From clothes to precious jewels, and antiquities; everything seems to be available, and for sale, given that you are willing to pay. The merchants, in pompous dresses, are haggling the numerous passerby with vehemence, hoping to catch the lucky fish that would make them a profit. And while their attitude is amicable and courteous, the sharp greedy look in their eyes betrays their true nature, and startling lack of morals. Right now, if I could shiver, I would. It reminds me of an attraction back on Earth where humans would trap themselves in an underwater cage and then bait the waters with blood to attract sharks. I lean towards Hesca. "Don''t haggle too much. The goal is to be quick here. We already have enough with what I looted from the bandits." "Got it." Hesca gets down from the seat and approaches a few stands, engaging in briefs, but animated discussions with the owners of each store front. After a while, and a lot of gesticulating, she comes back. She is accompanied by two gruff looking men, who are framing an ostentatiously-dressed, if slightly fat, man. We get our bags out of the back and they take the carriage, horse and all, with them. But not after handing Hesca a well-stuffed pouch of money. I stand next to her during the whole exchange, ready to intervene if necessary. It isn''t, but the body language and vital signs of the merchant tells me everything about the fact that he is probably scamming us, and for a generous amount of money. I make a sign to Hesca to keep moving, our business transaction concluded. I also haven''t missed the concealed gaze of a few unsavory types, at the edge of the market. It seems like the sum Hesca is carrying is bringing un-wanted attention. I grab the shoulder of Hesca and start whispering. "We are being followed. Start moving toward the transport agency. We might find information about a possible guide there. Hand me the money: I will get rid of the rats. Don''t forget: I am watching." She nods solemnly before starting to walk away, but not before handing me the purse in a showy, yet discrete manner. We wouldn''t want our secret admirers to lose sight of the prize now, would we? After putting away the pouch inside my cloak, I start walking at a hurried pace toward a few dark alleys I have identified on our way over. I don''t actually need to keep visual contact on Hesca. I have already identified her breathing and walking pattern. Something that allows me to track her by sound in this noisy maze, as long as she remains relatively close. I have done the same for my pursuers. For the moment they are keeping their distance, waiting for an opportunity. And I fully plan to give them one. I sense one of the alleys in front of me being deserted and enter the dark narrow path without stopping, breaking line of sight. I can hear the two closest followers starting to run to catch up to me. I do a 180 and grab the first one to enter by the throat. Surprised, he can''t offer any resistance before I crush his windpipe. I drop him to the ground, letting him reach his own throat in pain, wheezing in relative silence. The second one comes up just after. He notices his associate on the ground and tries to adopt a defensive posture. Not fast enough though. I rush him. He joins his friend on the paved floor, unconscious, and with a bump forming on his temple. I start to walk away toward the main street in relative calm. I am stopped when three figures interpose themselves between me and the exit. I take my time to examine them. They are wearing a brown ensemble, somewhat reminiscent of a desert Tuareg garb. Except they have cloaks, just like myself, covering most of their bodies and faces. However it doesn''t stop my sight for discerning a distinct expression of surprise on their faces. I identify the one in the middle as the leader, by his posture and the fact that he quickly recomposed himself after assessing the situation in front of him. "Unless you want to start losing men, I suggest switching marks." My cold and unemotional tone make his two goons jolt in surprise. However, he doesn''t move, and doesn''t answer right away. "And what if I don''t?" "Then you and your little gang will not live to see tomorrow. That includes the two trackers you have hiding on the rooftops. Am I being understood?" His eyes widen slightly at the mention of his scouts. He takes a step back, liberating the way, and bowing in a ridiculous fashion, on arm extended toward the street. "I was looking for a friend but I clearly made a mistake. My apologies." I walk by him slowly, getting back onto the busy avenue. "I suggest you don''t make such mistakes in the future. If you value your life that is." He nods towards me, before walking towards his downed men and disappearing in the twilight of the obscure passageway. I quickly concentrate on my sensors, identifying the distinct sound of Hesca''s boots hitting the paved stone less than a hundred meters from here. I jolt forward, reaching her after a few minutes. She hadn''t gotten far, given the speed at which I handled the encounter. "The problem has been taken care of. We shouldn''t have any more uninvited guests trying to enjoy our company." She jumps in fright at the sudden noise, before bringing a hand to her chest. "Dear Goddess! You scared me! Don''t just randomly appear like that!" Undisturbed, I hand her back the pouch of money. "Here, it''s better if you are the one holding on to this." She shoots me a slightly angry glare before nabbing the purse out of my hands. I wonder if she is going to sulk again. But my worries are for naught, as she resumes walking toward our destination. "We are not far from the travel office. I suppose you have some requirements on what I should ask for?" Her tone is a bit sassy, but I ignore it. "Yes. Prioritize speed and availability over comfort. The sooner and faster we leave the better. We also have to take someone discreet. I don''t care if you have to pay a premium for it. Just try to leave enough money for us to buy decent gear. And provisions for you." She nods in agreement, before swiveling her head in my direction, a look of incomprehension on her face. She starts whispering. "Wait. Don''t you need provisions too? Some infernal sludge? I haven''t seen you take some since¡­ well, since we met really¡­" Infernal sludge? I think back to the first time I met another clockwork. Does she mean petrol? For the two cylinder engine? Why the hell are they calling it infernal sludge? I quickly realize that the Church''s propaganda has probably a hand in this. "No. I don''t need any "infernal sludge". And we will need to talk about that later. But not here." I make a gesture towards the people walking around. Hesca gives me a noncommittal shrug, apparently satisfied by my answer, however vague it may have been. "As you wish¡­ I was just making sure, that''s all¡­ One more thing that''s weird with you, I guess." I decide not to pick up on the small verbal spike she sent my way. She is very useful right now, minimizing the amount of social contact I have to do to obtain the things I need to progress on my journey. I "could" have done all of that without her. But that would have brought many complications and hoops to go through, all to achieve the same result in the end. I am a big supporter of the "the-simplest-and-easiest-method-is-the-best". And right now having Hesca with me is the simplest and easiest method of travelling. All of that notwithstanding the fact that it actually allows me to get into cities and glean information much more easily, and with a lot more safety than when I started, alone. I check the files Machina gave me before my sudden entry into this world. Delta is the human capital of clockwork lands now. The demons and humans split the desert in two at the end of the Great War. Half each. I repress some anger rising up upon realizing that the lands were divided much like a birthday cake was. As the biggest concentration of people in the unending sands, the now-human capital seems like a good start to glean information about my race, and finally start the task Machina gave me. "We will be going to Delta. I will accompany you while you talk this time." Considering how the merchant managed to fleece us, I don''t want the event to repeat itself, especially now that our sources of future income are limited. And I am guessing that the crossing of the desert will cost a lot more than the basic caravan I took in human lands. On these thoughts, we arrive in front of the travel office. The building blends perfectly with the rest of the city''s architecture. The only thing that really allows one to guess its function would be the big sign plastered above the entry with the following words : "Takar''s Transport Services Guild". That and the crowd, much denser, going in and out of the place. I stick a bit closer to Hesca as we try to navigate through the numerous people, in order to reach a service desk. The inside of the building is remarkably similar to the inn we are staying at, if cleaner. The ground floor is composed of two sections. The first one, as a waiting area, composed of many tables with drinks being served. The second one is an assortments of welcoming counters, with ordered lines of people waiting for their turn. A second floor can be seen, as a mezzanine, with offices and desks, where quite the busying can be seen. In all, it gives a professional feeling. I follow Hesca as she places herself in one of the many lines that lead to the tellers. After a relatively low amount of time, it is our turn. We are welcomed by a young man, in business-like clothing. Well, as business-like as a well-woven standard brown dress can look. "Welcome to the Travel Guild. What can I do for you?" Hesca takes the lead and answers. "Hi. We are looking for passage to Delta. Speedy, discreet, and available as soon as possible. Money is not an issue." The young clerk flashes a smile. He is probably imagining the commission he is about to get if he manages to get us a guide. "Very well. I suppose it will be for two?", He says, while pointing at me. Hesca nods. "Perfect. Let me check the book to see if we have someone." In the same manner as the first travel agent I met in the little human town of Dedris, he gets a huge and worn-looking leather-bound book from under the desk, and starts flipping through its ink-filled paper pages. After a while, he stops and looks up at us. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. "Speed and discretion you said, right? We have a transporter available for tomorrow. However the anonymity clause of the contract will cost a premium. Is that okay?" I intervene. "How much of a "premium" would that be?" The man is surprised. I think he expected Hesca to handle negotiations, and not the cloaked person next to her. "Well¡­ There is a two gold ducats tax for border-crossing without providing identity. That''s just how it is." I observe him closely. He is lying. I approach the counter. "Tell you what. We will pay one gold, and in exchange for that generous gesture, we won''t start making a scandal on how you just tried to scam us." I turn to Hesca. She looks a bit taken aback by my sudden intrusion in the discussion. "Feeling in a betting mood? How much would you be willing to gamble that if I ask another person here how much it cost, it will be under the price he gave us?" The clerk starts sweating heavily, a forced smile on his face. "Let''s not get ahead of ourselves here. We are all civilized people here." I take a harsh tone. "I met some thieves, right before coming here, who were more sneaky than you. One gold, plus the price of the journey, and that''s final." He takes on a defeated expression, and raises his hands in a surrendering gesture. "Very well¡­ One gold plus price of transport. You will have to meet the guide before though. I will call for her while I draft the necessary paperwork. You can wait at the tables here. Refreshments will be served, on the house." Shoulders slumping, he turns back and starts walking up to the offices of the second floor, grumbling under his breath about the fact that nowadays everyone is a-... Wow. That''s a pretty strongly chosen insult right here. In the meantime Hesca and me have found a seat at one of the empty tables. "How did you know he was lying?" Hesca is looking at me questioningly, a strange refreshing concotion in her hands. "Vital signs: Heartbeat, sweat, eye movements, facial expressions or twitches. All clues that can be interpreted to guess what the person thinks, or the validity of his statements." Her eyes widen slightly. "Did you use that on me?" "Of course. And if you had lied back then I would killed you on the spot. But you didn''t. As you know, I put value on honesty. And you have not shown any signs of the opposite. If it can reassure you, I use it on everyone." She nods slowly, and takes a sip out of her beverage. She doesn''t look offended or anything, just pensive. Good. It doesn''t take long and soon, the clerk comes back with what I can only identify as a female demon. She has a decent figure. The dark purple skin contrast a bit on the rest of her features like her obsidian eyes and hair. They encompass a detailed face, with sharp but smooth lines, accompanied with a small and pointy nose. But the most noticeable thing present is the long horn jutting out of her forehead in a straight and slightly curved fashion. It is rugged and shares the texture of a goat horn, somewhat. As for what she is wearing, it is reminiscent of the outfit the thieves were sporting when I met them earlier. A tuareg-like outfit, fit for travelling in the desert and supporting its heat. Well to be honest hers looks a lot more used than the ones of the thieves. But cleaner nonetheless. She drops into a chair in front of us, and quickly grabs a beer from the passing tray of a waitress. She takes a bit gulp out of it before talking. The young man just drops the papers in front of us, before going back to his desk. "Awww. Good shit. So, I heard you want to go to Delta, and pronto. Name''s Via. Via Redclaw." I can tell Hesca is shocked at the attitude of our guide-to-be. I decide to take the lead here. "Yes. How fast can you get us here? And how much is that going to cost us?" She takes a thoughtful expression. "Well, normally I would wait for a full group of people before departing. But I can always stock up on merchandises instead and pass by the oases to drop them off. So I would say, around a week, maybe two, to get to Delta. As for the price, one gold per person." Hesca suddenly chokes on her drink, spraying the table with her cocktail. I save the documents from the unexpected rain in the nick of time. After a few coughs, she finally speaks. "A gold ducat per person! That''s robbery!" Via takes on a hardened expression. I can tell she is used to justifying her prices. "Take it or leave it. The only thing I can assure you, is that nothing will be able to disrupt us, be it monster or raiders, and that I am the fastest around these parts." Hesca is not convinced. However I am. Via is not lying. "Very well." I grab the purse on Hesca''s hip and set it on the table. I open it up and drop two gold ducats on the table, along with ten large silver denominations. I make a sign for the clerk to hand me a quill. He gives it up willingly, once he saw the money on the table. I quickly read through the document, finding nothing but a basic travelling contract. I motion Hesca to sign it. She does, albeit a bit unwillingly. Once that is done, I hand the documents and the money to the young man. "There you go. Three gold ducats for the travel, and the anonymity clause. Pleasure doing business with you." He greedily takes it all. I turn my attention back on Via, who is sipping her beer with an amused look on her face. "He said you could be ready as soon as tomorrow. Is that correct?" She nods. "Yep. At the first light of day. I will wait for you outside the south gate, around ten minutes out, near The Old Tooth landmark. Big rocks down the road. Can''t miss ''em." She gets up, finishes her beer in one go, and does a loud burp. "Well, I have stuff to buy and my Nilas to prepare. See you tomorrow." She leaves without waiting for an answer. I turn toward Hesca. She is frowning, clearly not satisfied with how the exchange went. "Come on. Let''s go. We still have supplies to buy, and noon is coming." We leave the travel office. After five minutes of walking, I sense them. We are being followed again. But nothing like before. Those are professionals. They are nearly silent, and blend with the crowd with near perfection. They are keeping their distances. I doubt this is the same group, and don''t think anybody else than me would have been able to detect the tail. I start gathering information on the few elements I can perceive from my silent stalkers. Their movements, their habits. My processes start to work overtime. Who are they? Not thieves, that''s for sure. I decide against alerting Hesca this time. Let''s see how this plays out.
(Spy Master POV) "UNNACEPTABLE !" *CRASH* I have served the Emperor for a long time. I pride myself in being probably the only person outside of his family that knows him best, and considers him a close friend. However I can say that the number of times I have seen him this angry can only be counted on one hand. And considering I have been his Spy Master and closest confidant since even before his reign, that is saying something. "THE BASTARD !" *CRASH* "I WILL TEAR HIM TO PIECES AND HAVE THE GRYPHONS FEED ON THEM!" *CRASH* Right now the normally calm and composed Emperor has taken to redecorate the interior of his office. A design decision brought on by the news I delivered a few minutes ago. As soon as I mentioned the supposed culprit of the attempt on his son, the emperor started getting angry. I didn''t have time to finish my report before the costly and refined furniture started flying across the room. *CRASH* The finely crafted gold and silver plated clock, offered by the demon ambassador, embeds itself in the wall near me. I never really liked it but still : I do hope we will be able to salvage it before another meeting with the demon delegation. They have been getting restless lately and we cannot afford to go into a meeting with these bloodthirsty savages showing any weakness. The Emperor is starting to lack things to throw and I take that as my cue to intervene. "Maliko stop this behavior. Can you at least let me finish before taking any decision you may regret, please ?" His angry eyes set themselves on me and I can see him taking deep breathes, trying to come back to a reasonable level of calm. "There better be good news!" I smirk while I observe him. The Emperor, Maliko The First. If anybody was looking at him right now they would be hard-pressed to recognize their beloved ruler. He looks more like an angry ruffled bear right now, than anything else. He is wearing his classic garb that he wears for receiving the nobles in the throne room, along with his embroiled coat. The predominant white of his attire is contrasting sharply with his red face, colored by anger. "There is. The obvious attempt at kidnapping, or killing, did not succeed. The interrogation of the few that we managed to catch has yielded no surprising information, except one." I pause for a bit while I formulate my next sentence. The Emperor signal for me to continue. "Well go on. Don''t let me stop you." "The men tortured were told, along with their unit, that the way would be cleared for them. No guards on their way, no servants to spot them. The Palace blueprints and detailed patrol paths were given. This supports the theory of someone high placed trying to make a move on the royal family. Given the brazenness of the attempt, the only person would could possibly field such an operation would be your brother, as I said before. He has been eying the throne for some time. The problem is that, as usual, we cannot trace anything back to him. He is careful, and made sure to leave no trace of his involvement." The Emperor slowly walks back to his desk and sits, looking pensively through the window behind him. "I know¡­ I just expected him to be more direct about it. Not to attack my son like a coward. I am thankful for the information you provided, that helped me get him to safety in time." I give a slight nod, recognizing the gratefulness he is showing in his tone. I decide to continue. "Sir Devaillant has contacted me. He has reached the city of Tirranis safe and sound with his soldiers and the Prince." The Emperor nods pensively. "Well my captain must already be on the way to the desert with my son by now. That should alleviate the musing of my brother towards him. We will have to concentrate on the noble court proceedings, if we are to stop his machinations for the foreseeable future. He has already gained some supporters in the small noble border factions. Do you have something else to report?" "Yes¡­ and a most disturbing one. A clockwork has been spotted in our lands. A Stray. It was travelling incognito when the caravan it was in was attacked. It helped defend it, then turned against the guards. It has escaped for the moment." The Emperor is now still, watching outside with eyes that stop on nothing, denoting of the inner turmoil underneath. "A clockwork you say? One unaccounted for? It is possible that it is working for someone, even without markings?" "Unlikely. I personally reviewed the report myself. Mind mages have been called to extract the memories of the survivors. The Church has also been notified of all the details, so that it can intervene. We may have another clockwork rebellion on our hands if we do not act soon." "Hmmm¡­ You did well. Keep following the matter closely. I want to be notified immediately of any new developments. Was there anything else?" I start walking towards the door, and stop before exiting, turning to do a small bow. "Nothing much sir. Some trouble in the elven lands apparently due to some spell failure. I already sent men to investigate. I also received reports of bandits lessening their raids in the southern region, but nothing related to the previous matters." The emperor turns back to his desk and start pulling papers in front of him. "Good. That will be all. And Patrick ?" "Yes?" I turn around just as I was about to exit. The Emperor rises his eyes from the document he has started to read and points with one hand at the surrounding mayem. "Please send some maids to clean this mess." "Right away Sir." Chapter 9 - Escape ¡°Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.¡± - Arthur C. Clarke, Profiles of the Future: An Inquiry Into the Limits of the Possible
(XSS-MK1 POV) During all the afternoon, we walked the busy streets of the city, buying what we will need for the voyage ahead. Our silent stalkers didn''t leave us one second, tracking us through the busy streets as if they were empty. Hesca is oblivious to it all. I would too, if I had the same senses as her. Once our shopping is over, we have a moderately small pile of supplies, including garments, water-skins, and food that should last us for at least two weeks. Hesca insisted to buy a sword and shield. I relented. We still had a bit of money left, and it''s not like she can hurt me with them anyway. We are now back at the inn, in our room. With the night slowly encroaching, Hesca has started preparing herself to go to bed. I stop her. "We leave tonight. Keep your clothes on." "What? Why?" She is in the middle of the room, her hands on her hips in a protesting gesture. I motion her to join me by the window. "This is why." I point to immobile black figures in the street. The late hour has started to thin the crowd, and along the elevated position of our room, it has removed the veil hiding our pursuers. Hesca takes a slightly worried tone. "The thieves of earlier called backup?" "No. Not thieves. Someone worse. We have to go. Grab our stuff." She gives me a small nod and starts packing two bags. I get dressed with the new clothes, replacing the ones looted on the bandits. Once we are done, we make our way downstairs, towards the inn small backyard stables. I approach the gate leading to the street. I stretch my hearing and cycle through my different vision modes to make sure the coast is clear. The streets are nearly empty, if not for the late passerby getting home. Time to go. I make a hand movement to signal Hesca to start advancing. We walk in silence, trying to stick to the shadows as much as possible. We are marching for a few minutes when it happens. At the corner of street near us, a squad of ten people clad in black armors emerge. They are not guards. Even less drunkards. My eyes tell me everything I need to know: They are armed to the teeth and their demeanor betrays military training. As soon as they see us I run toward their group, hoping to silence them before they can warn anyone. One of them reacts immediately and positions himself between me and the rest of the others. His blade blocks my hand once, but not twice. It goes through his neck, ending his life in a gargling sound, suffocated by his own blood. I let his cadaver hit the ground while I continue running. But unfortunately, not fast enough. "It''s them! Go alert the others!" "I can''t feel anything from that one! It''s the Clockwork we were warned about!" Before I can do anything two of them bolt. The rest form a blockade to prevent anyone with the desire to follow them to do so. Damn. And they know about me. One of those that fled said he can''t sense anything from me; it means they have mages. I finally arrive in melee range. My inhuman fast movements make short work of them, destroying either their chests, necks or heads, and leaving me without a scratch. They have accomplished their mission; the time it took me to deal with them has let the two scouts escape. I turn toward Hesca. "They know where we are! And they have a magic unit! Run!" We start running through the dimly lit streets with renewed vigor. But before we can get very far we are intercepted by other units. They still lack magical support. Their purpose must be to delay us. The way they fight tells me that they have no consideration for their own survival. These men are not just ordinary soldiers. I leave their dead bodies to be found in the morning where they fell. For the moment Hesca isn''t wounded, but the numbers they are starting to assault us with makes it only a matter of time. Fear can be seen appearing on her face. For the moment her will to live is stronger, but for how long? The guards of the city are also nowhere to be seen. When I think about it, the corruption I saw at our entry could have been exploited to give our pursuers a small window of action. We will have no help. After half an hour of fighting and running we reach a small plaza. I can finally see the shape of the large south gate appear at the edge of my vision. A few light scratches can be seen on Hesca''s body. Hopefully nothing serious. But before we can take another step the nearby darkness surrounding of us start releasing from its clutches a good number of enemies. They are all clad in the same black plate armors as the ones before, face hidden by the night and their helmets. They surround us fast. No possible escape in view. Strange... Their weapons are drawn but they don''t attack. And they keep themselves at a good and respectable distance from us. From me. I was about to talk when I see their ranks part to let someone through. His walking posture, the way he carries himself, even his gaze: everything about himself screams only one thing: arrogance, and the knowledge of a battle already won. He is in a black robe, following the style of his peers. He is also wearing a simple black mask covering only the top half of his face. It has a strange symbol on the forehead. I can hear Hesca gasp behind me. "The Black Hand..." I wince. Machina''s files didn''t tell me much, but they told me of the Black Hand. It''s the armed inquisition branch of the religious organization. Fanatics and zealots of the highest order. The man in front of me starts to talk. "Surrender or die." I look at Hesca. She is torn. This is the best opportunity she could have to escape my clutches. But she says nothing. I decide to humor the man in front of me. After all, they still haven''t attacked. "And what would happen if we surrendered?" The man turns his attention to me. He is surprised. He expected Hesca to answer I think. "Haaa¡­ The famous Stray. We have been told of your work. Quite gruesome if I might add." Hesca murmurs to me. "What is he talking about? The bandit camp?" Before I can answer, the man cuts me. "I was wondering why a human would follow an abomination like you around. You haven''t told her, didn''t you?" Hesca speaks more loudly now. "What? What haven''t you told me?" "What you ask? The fact that she murdered an entire trading caravan. Down to the last man, woman and child." Hesca takes a step back away from me. "No¡­" "Don''t listen to him. He is warping the truth. The caravan came under attack by bandits. I was traveling incognito. I revealed myself to defend it. After successfully pushing the bandits back, the adventurers that were guarding it attacked me. It was self-defense. And I left all the civilians alive. Some had fled so it was pointless to kill any." I turn my attention back to the man in front of me. "But the Church wouldn''t want to have this spread, doesn''t it? It that why you murdered the survivors? So that nobody would know? My guess is that you didn''t really liked the answers you got out of the civilians you found." Anger starts to deform the face of the enemy leader. But it lasts only a second before his arrogant attitude is back. "Self-defense? Does a farmer''s hoe needs self-defense? Or do a warrior''s sword? No they don''t. Because they are tools. And you are the same! A misguided tool, only needing the hand of someone experienced to wield it!" The last words are spouted in rage. I remove my hood and smile. "You didn''t deny it. When I accused you. You really did kill them. If not you then someone you know. Go on, try to lie to me. Prove it to me." He is taken aback and falls into silence for a second. I seize the opportunity. "You know, there is something I am asking myself: What would happen to the woman here, should I surrender? I have a few guesses. Are you going to do the same as before? Kill any witness that doesn''t agree to your propaganda?" He stays silent. The men around him are starting to murmur. Their gazes are fixated on me and him. "That''s what I thought." I turn to Hesca. Incomprehension is all over her face. "Go on. Go with them if you think it''s safer. Make your choice. I won''t stop you." I am aware that I am taking a gamble. But Hesca will never truly trust me unless she realize that I am her only support. The only one willing to take her side. I can see the battle of emotions and inner turmoil in her eyes, darting between me and the robed man. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. After a few moments, she unsheathes her sword. And she points it towards them. I turn toward the man. He is fuming. "Enough! You are all heretics! And you will die! The will of the Goddess will be done!" He shouts and starts chanting. I can start seeing the water in the air condensing on my body, while invisible magnetic interferences start to appear around him. He is a mage no doubt. Let''s see how my body holds out. "Step back!" Just as Hesca heeds my warning and distances herself, the mage in front of me release a powerful thunderbolt from his hand. The electric arc hits me right in the chest, disintegrating my clothes instantly, and knocking me back. I am starting to have doubt whether I have the ability to wear anything more than a few days before it gets destroyed. But before my thoughts can take me anywhere further, I concentrate on the surge passing through my body. The graphene network under my armor is handling the current well. The batteries on my back are charging up to full capacity. The rest of my body does not get damaged by the power flowing through it. I was a bit scared for my brain, reactor and cooling system but it looks like it was for nothing: they are well isolated. The only problem is my muscles: after a small part of the current exited the network and went through them, they tensed themselves, making me twitch a bit. Calibrations will be needed to improve the graphene conductivity and lock down the muscles'' movements in case of a surge. However, it is quickly redirected to the ground, where smaller electric arcs can now be seen exiting various locations near my legs and hitting the ground in a disorderly fashion. Laws of physics: Electricity will always choose the path of less resistance to travel. And the ground is the biggest battery magnet there is. With the water he has conjured on me he must have thought it would be easier to fry me. To him it may have helped his lightning spell reach me. But what he doesn''t know is that it made it easier for me to evacuate any build-up he induced. I stop my small twitching and retake a fighting stance. A shark couldn''t smile wider than I am right now. He also wouldn''t be able to match the dangerous look in my eyes. "Care to try again? I never say no to more energy." Silence can be heard. From everybody. Nobody expected me to survive the hit. Surprise can be seen on everyone''s faces. I must be a nightmare to them right now. An impossibility. Still I don''t want to get hit again. Using the shocked state induced in my enemies I rush the mage. Noticing my movements he starts chanting again. Tsk-tsk: I don''t think so. Unlike the first scouts we encountered, I am fast enough this time. I grab him by the throat before anybody can stop me. "Care to taste your own magic?" I send all the power stored in my batteries to my hand. Just as before, electric arcs can be seen on my body before taking the direction of my arm. Under the power flowing through him he starts shouting distorted screams while spasming madly. A lot more than me that''s for sure. His screams soon die out under the spasms and pain he is experiencing. But I don''t stop. After everything is discharged the only thing left in my hand is a singed carcass that used to look like a human. I give it a last look before dropping the sac of burnt flesh on the ground. Arrogance was his downfall. If he had just stayed back behind his troops and used them as a shield while he did artillery strikes the results would have been very different. What an idiot. I direct my attention to the rest of the enemies surrounding us. There is too much of them to fight them all. I need to scare them. Beyond the fear they are already showing me. As long as they are a sizeable group, pack mentality will take over and make them fight. And the lowered morale will help Hesca immensely. Time to kill. Of the most gruesome manner possible. I run toward the closest ones. In their panic, they try to avoid me clumsily while rushing Hesca. I pierce the left side of the first one I catch. I then get close to him. Using the hand inside as support to hold his body in place I grab his head with the other and start pulling. The loud and painful shriek he shouts before having his head separated from his shoulders in loud disgusting noises makes the closest ones shiver. Good. I keep going, while circling Hesca as best I can, defending her back and providing support when I see her in difficulty. More wounds appear on her skin. I intensify my effort. Dismembered limbs are accompanied with torn heads and ripped out internal organs. Each time I kill someone, blood flows on my plates and the surrounding enemies. I stand in the middle of them, like an avatar of death. The only other mage present tried to incinerate me. It was the scout I met at the beginning. The only sight he saw before having his heart fed to him was me, slowly emerging from the flame wall he created; a ripped out leg in one hand, and the fire grabbing onto the blood tainting the other. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Finally, when I am ankle-deep in blood and bodies, they start to retreat. Like the bandits, off the myriad of opponents, no more than a dozen remain. Except I went a lot further with those present tonight. I turn to Hesca. She isn''t dead. But she sports a lot of wounds. If left like this, she will probably do not survive the desert. The damage goes from small scratches to gashing cuts. She is staring at me. Awe, fear and shock make for a strange mix. I need to reassure her. "Don''t worry: this was scare tactics. However we need to go. Now." She has trouble recollecting herself. "I will try to mend the deepest cuts as best as possible. But only emergency bandages. The transport is not far out the city gates. I will look after you more, but after we reach it." After merely a dozen of minutes we start walking again. I have patched her up as best I could, given the supplies at hand and the limited time-frame. I can hear the nowhere-to-be-seen guards starting to shout orders in the distance. They have discovered the first bodies. Looks like gold can only do so much before things get back to normal. We need to hurry before the guards catch us. Hesca also hears the clamors. She is worried. Before long we are near the south gate. It''s open. But there are guards. I take a step forward. Hesca puts her hand on my shoulder to stop me. "No killing. Please. They don''t deserve it." She has a very serious expression on her face. I nod. "Ok. Prepare to run then. I''ll act as decoy and join you once you are in the clear." I can see her gather her strength for the final stretch. I get out of the alley and expose myself to the light of the torches. The guards notice me immediately. The blood dripping from every inch of my body makes them yell. "You there! Stop! By order of the Governor!" I run to a nearby street, making them chase behind me. I slow down to stay within their visual range and keep the chase going. After a while, I then jump on the roofs from an alley on the side, effectively losing my pursuers. From afar I can see Hesca already out of the city. I start running as fast as possible, jump from the rooftops, pass the gate and regroup with her. Small sounds of arrows being fired and hitting the ground, far behind us, can be heard. Looks like we made it. We finally slowed down once we were far enough away from the city. It doesn''t look like they are following us. I take a moment while we walk to look around me. It''s time to assess in detail our status. Thinking back it is a miracle Hesca didn''t die. Beside the purely defensive posture she took, I do believe I managed to apply enough pressure to keep the enemy focused on me during the fight. That and I circled her in my dance of death and gore, always paying attention to her well-being, defending her when needed. I cross eyes with her: she is in shock, with a gaze not fixing on anything. I can guess why. I was clean and efficient in my first fight against the bandits, but here I was brutal. The situation required it. If the enemy had fought us un-impeded by the terror I crafted they would have killed both of us. Well maybe not me. But Hesca for sure. I wince as I can hear the drying blood covering me starting to make my body plates grind against one an another. It is going to be a pain to clean later. I study the surroundings for a bit. "We are not far now. About 10 minutes with our current pace I figure." Hesca acknowledges with an absent nod. She turns her head to look at me. "What you did there¡­" I cut her. "I did what was necessary. And I kept my word. As long as you travel with me, I will care for you and protect you." "..." She takes a while to absorb what I told her. I can tell she still has problem with what I did but at least she accepts my answer. I cannot have all the efforts I invested be wasted now. Hesca suddenly widens her eyes as she remembered something important. "How the hell did you survive that lightning bolt ?! And how the hell did you use magic ?!" I give her my widest grin : "Secret. And don''t expect me to give that one up." On these words we finally arrive close to a big rock formation in the middle of the savanna. The light of the moons is not the only one present, as I see a small orange glow coming from behind the stones. I couldn''t notice it until we were right on top of it. "We have arrived. This is the meeting point." Hesca relaxes, as we come around to approach the hidden encampment. What greets us are two things. One is a small fire with a tent near it. Pretty normal here. The other one is behind the tent and consists of four HUGE worm-like creatures. Not so normal. They are rolled up a few dozen meters away from the tent, sitting there idly. They have a strange brown, sand-colored skin, composed of smooth, hard scale rings interlaying over each other from the front to the end. I cannot see any front or back from where I am. However I do notice some strange nacelles on their backs. Are those the transports ? I decide to announce our arrival. "We are here!" I can hear someone rummaging through the tent before finally emerging. It''s Via. "What the hell? I told you to come in the morning!" She stops dead in her tracks when she notices Hesca''s wounds and the blood on my plates. "What did you do?" "I do believe this is why we paid for a confidentiality clause. So that no questions would be asked?" She narrows her eyes menacingly. "And what tells you I would even accept the job now? For all I know you could have a bounty on your heads. I could bring you back for more money." It is my turn to look menacing. "Listen if you thin-" *Thud* I stop at the sound I can hear coming from my back. A quick turnaround lets me see Hesca, collapsed on the dirt. Her face is way too pale. I missed something. The amount of blood seeping from under her body is not normal. Definitively not normal. I rush to her side and flip her on her belly. I start cycling between every sensory equipment I have available. I finally relax after a minute. The hastily made stiches have broken. She is probaly dead tired. And missing a good liter of blood. But nothing that can''t be fixed by a quick intervention, ample rest and good food rations. I turn toward Via. "She dies if you bring her back." I can see the her hesitating, before finally giving up. "Fine¡­ fine. But how dangerous is this actually going to be ?" I take on a wry smile before answering. "Well hopefully this part of the voyage will be the calmer one." I can see the demon mumble something under her breath before turning to face me. "Alright! Since the Nilas are sleeping, and that you both look like shit, we will go in the morning." She goes back into the tent without any more ceremony. Only to have her head come back out of the entrance flaps just a few seconds later. "And for fuck''s sake clean yourselves. If you put blood on my seats I''ll feed you to the first Drilko we''ll meet." The tent closes back again, this time for good. She is a bit rough around the edges, but I like her: she speaks her mind. After a quick check on Hesca''s condition, I erect her tent and put her inside. I decide to start the gruesome task of cleaning every nook and cranny of my body from the dried blood that has accumulated. I start walking toward the small pile of supplies we brought with us, in order to get a bucket and some water. And then I hear it. A distinct mechanical sound. There was only one other time where I heard such a sound before, and it was in this world. I turn to face its origin. Emerging from behind the worms is a clockwork. He is carrying some sort of mop and bucket and is brushing the side of the worms with it. I obverse him in silence, waiting for him to finish. Unlike the first clockwork I met in the city of Tirranis, this one has a more detailed design. It''s plates are not uneven, and fit on its body with relative order. It''s still iron though, hence the rust spots I can see appearing here and there. Besides the joints and pipes present on its body, giving it the same distinct steam-punk feeling, this one has the benefit of having a slicker body and a more detailed face. Instead of an inversed bucket with holes in it, this one has one forged with at least five different plates. It comes close to a human face, but still lacks the details someone like me can have. It''s eyes have also been improved from the basic red L.E.D. sensor present on the other one : this one has blue like globes that resemble a human iris and give off a slight blue glow in the direction of where he is looking. His internals seems the same though. The same internal V2 engine with the gearboxes for the different body parts. And still the heavy shielding on the head, preventing me to look inside with electrical interferences. This one has been modified to withstand the desert heat though. I can notice a few improvement in the engine cooling block and the a different filtration system on the air intake. Interesting. It is soon finished. Apparently it was cleaning the worms exteriors from any debris that might has stuck itself between the scale rings. I am not knowledgeable on how these creatures work, but I can guess it can be the same as having a piece of rock stuck inside your shoes, digging in your feet while you walk. Not that I would actually know anything about the feeling. It turns to walk toward the fire, just after having put its supplies down. It stops when it sees me. I guess it must be pretty surprised ; after all I am still covered in blood, with a bucket filled with water in one hand and a rag in the other. I decide to break the ice. I point toward the bucket and the blood. "I have to do some cleaning of my own." I can see its eyes flicker between mine, my body, and the bucket. And then I can feel it, thanks to my antenna. He is attempting to make contact. The language and protocols used is totally foreign. Thankfully, the communication packages that were given to me included all forms of communication with my kind. I quickly identify this probing as a polite greeting from him. "Greetings Black one. This one inquires about your presence." I smile internally at the way he formulates his sentences. And then I realize thanks to the data I have that they all talk like this. And that I will have to talk to all of them in the same manner to be even remotely understood. Oh my god. For the moment, let''s just try not to botch the first time I am communicating with my kind. "Greetings. This one is with the fleshling that came. This one lacks a proper designation to assign to the one in front of me. This one would prefer one as to improve future communication. This one will also like to be assigned the call sign XSS-MK1 for all future dialog." "This one can be designated with GR3-DF127. However vocal designation is "Groundy", as set per owner Via Redclaw. Acknowledged ; all future communication will refer to this one as XSS-MK1." Well, names and introductions are out of the way. Now I can finally dig into the juicy stuff. I start cleaning myself while communicating with GR3-DF127. "This one is heading to Delta. This one would be interested if GR3-DF127 has any information on kindred settlements, or personnel with consequent information databases in the region." He pauses for a while, staying as still as he was when he started to talk to me. "This one has no relevant information on knowledgeable personnel. However unit XSS-MK1 might find one at its pre-set destination of Delta. Kindred settlements do not exist since last revolt against the fleshlings." I wince at his statement. I suspected as much but had put it in the back of my mind. Looks like the last revolt not only crushed the final hopes of the clockwork''s Administrator but also earned some retribution on the rest of the clockwork people. My best guess is that''s when Machina''s last champion died. As I finish that line of thought I also finish cleaning off the last of the grime that covered me. "This one thanks GR3-DF127 for the information it provided. This one now requires to go back with the fleshling it came with. This one will stay available for future communication with GR3-DF127 if this one requires it." "This one will also stay available if XSS-MK1 desires any further information." As soon as he finishes his sentence he starts walking off in the direction of the tent of our guide. I am left alone with my thoughts on the strange exchange. What I did not expect most of all was the language, and the almost prehistoric means of communication they use. When Machina said my world was more advanced, I guessed not by much, especially if they can already create thinking robots. But boy was I wrong. I can only imagine what the first clockwork looked like if they had the time to evolve since then to what it is now. It must have been the most basic of constructs, barely hard-coded with anything at all. The worst is that the language, its protocols, and specificities, tell me a lot about the system behind it. And I will not be working with much. I start to amend the list of actions I have in my head about the necessary things to do in order to free the clockworks. Upgrading their OS is now added, and close to the top of the list. That should help them immensely. But I guess I will have to first find out the structure of their internals in details. Pushing a software update before knowing if the hardware can even support it could mean bad things if not taken into consideration. A lot of questions were answered at least. I prop myself on top of the rock formation near the camp. As I watch the night sky, I wonder where this journey I embarked on will take me. If the last few weeks are any indication, a lot of things are sure to follow. Chapter 10 - The Nomad People ¡°Peace cannot be kept by force; it can only be achieved by understanding.¡± - Albert Einstein
(Tino Maldavi POV) I finally stop walking for the day and set up camp close to a small wood. One of the few in those unending plains that extend over the human territory. I start to feel the need for the shadows provided by the thick forest trees of my homeland. For the life of me, I cannot wonder how the diplomatic envoys do to stay away for so long without going mad. The fire I have set up starts up easily enough, allowing me to start working on my tent, and my dinner. As I am lying here, sitting next to the grilling meat that I hunted a few days prior, I think back on the journey I embarked on until now. At the beginning I was honored beyond belief to be personally chosen by the Empress. My lowly self was far beneath such attention from the spheres of power. But I started to realize how hard it would be to track this clockwork once I arrived at the crater that marked its arrival upon our world. The first thing I had done was emptying my stomach. Long range teleportation magic has a habit of upsetting the body, and I could have really done without learning this peculiar specificity of the spell, even if it helped shortening my initial travel time by a considerable margin. The destruction around me was still fresh, less than a week old. I remembered my initial reaction upon seeing it for the first time. Once I saw it from close range I had quickly realized its unnatural nature. The feeling I had then was something more akin to curiosity. One that is likely to be felt when you normally see a well-crafted object, and feel the need to examine it from every angle to see how it works. Fortunately for me, the clockwork had had more pressing concerns than covering its tracks. The deeps gouges in the earth where its feet had impacted the ground were still visible, and allowed easy tracking. I followed them to a border town close to the Twin peaks. There was nothing of note there at first glance, which prompted me to snoop around for any clues as to why it would make contact so quickly with civilization. A morning at the travel agency and an evening at the tavern answered that question pretty fast. There, I met a few merchants and caravan guards, that with a few beers, were more than happy to tell me the tale of a bard, covered from head to toes, traveling to the desert border through Tirannis. And apparently with a voice out of this world. The irony of the situation was not lost on me : little did they know it probably is out of this world. It could have been a coincidence, but I have long learned that those do not happen on accident. Why did it choose to move alongside humans though? I was on the road cutting through the plains that would lead me to Tirannis the next day, after a quick resupply. While I would have taken a bit less time in a caravan, the funds that were given to me were not infinite, and I would actually feel safer travelling alone, instead of with the juicy bait that caravans can be to human bandits. While the elven court is spared from the horrors of human nature deep in the Forest, I had many occasions to see the worst that can be displayed in my years of service at the Edge. Once in Tirannis however, it was much harder to track the clockwork. But going from previous information, I knew that it went for the south border. And the only real stop on the way was Takar. With any luck I would find more information about its whereabouts there. Which leads me to where I am now, at the edge of where the savanna starts to take over the normally green plains. With my stomach full and my bedroll close to the campfire, I stare at the night sky, alone with my thoughts.
(XSS-MK1 POV) Even after what could be considered too small of a rest, I woke up Hesca. The night was uneventful at least, allowing her a calm night after all the fighting. While she is emerging from her blood-loss induced coma, I worry about what the desert will throw at us. Before I can continue my line of though further Via comes close to me and grabs my attention. "You will be travelling in the first one, along with your master, my help and me." I nod. "Could you help me?" I say, while pointing at Hesca. "I don''t think she is able to climb up there on her own." Via agrees, and calls GR3-DF127, "Groundy", to help. With their assistance, we manage to climb into the pod on top of the worm. Strangely enough the animal has small spikes on top of its back that I missed yesterday. It allows the travelling cradles to be anchored. Cradles which are strangely cozy and comfortable. I set Hesca down. She has a slight fever, and her glazed eyes tell me she isn''t really "here" right now. She will need more rest before being back to normal. Back to the pods ; from what I can tell they are made of 3 different components. The first one is a metal skeleton, creating a basis for multiple leather straps, the second component, to anchor it on the back spikes. It also allows the third and last component to be attached, which are the floor, walls and roof, all made from multiple layers of cloth, and firmly attached to the structure. The end product is something that protect surprisingly well from the wind and the growing heat we can already feel creeping in the early morning. I don''t know if it will stay that way after a few hours of travel but one can only hope. The bottom of the pod is littered with plushy but worn cushions, on which we all sit before having Via signal the depart. She brings a metal contraption to her lips, handed to her by GR3-DF127, and then blows in it, producing a sound akin to a boat horn. Whatever that sound was however, it got the worms moving. Which is very strange considering that only a very small sway can be felt. The Nilas are cruising on top of the sand with a grace you wouldn''t expect of them. Which makes it even more strange considering the speed we are traveling at is in the 50 km/h, at least, from what I can tell. I am looking at the desert by the front opening of the pod, that Via uses to see outside and to steers the worms. She uses the instrument to produce many sounds that apparently all have different meanings. After listening for a while, and observing the worms'' reactions, I finally have a working table with all the commands on one side and their musical translation on the other. It is surprisingly complex and well thought-out at the same time. Each sound or melody carrying a different order, from the most basic "move", to the most complex "assume column formation and accelerate for a kilometer, than revert to diamond formation and slow down". Or at least that what I think it meant. The strange melody had the unseen benefice of putting to sleep Hesca, allowing her to rest and heal. She broke a few of the newly made stiches this morning. Again. I consider her lucky, because she is at least doing something as productive as sleeping. I don''t know if I was designed to be able to feel bored, but I can swear I am experiencing it right now. The repetitive nature of the sand dunes is starting to wear on me. At least the heat is tolerable : the sun is approaching its peak but the shadowy interior of the pod stays decently fresh. By my standards at least. I can see the purple skin of our guide starting to have small beads of sweats forming or her forehead. The rest of the day is uneventful. The camp is set up for the night and Via goes back in her tent. I help GR3-DF127 clean the scales rings of the Nilas, something he appreciated enough to send a polite "This one thanks XSS-MK1" my way. The next few days of travel follow the same pattern and are passed in relative tranquility. At night I helped finish treating Hesca of her remaining wounds, which have all closed up by now. Her body will have to do the last leg of the work. She will also have a decent number of scars now. She surprised me one night though, when I was changing her bandages by the campfire. "Thank you¡­" I stopped what I was doing to look her in the eyes. "For what?" She took a pained expression, and made a random gesture with her hand. "I don''t know¡­ For everything I guess. For saving my life. For defending me. For taking care of me." I can see tears starting to roll down her cheeks. Her lips are trembling. She is trying to hold it all in. "I am so sorry¡­ so sorry. For not trusting you¡­" I put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "It''s okay. Think nothing of it." She closes her eyes and nods slowly while she finally lets the tears escape her eyes unimpeded. Her small sobs are the only thing resonating in the night, as the two moons slowly move over our heads. I looked up and saw Via, by her tent opening, watching us quietly. I gave her a harsh glare, clearly not wanting to be disturbed. She held her hands up in silence, showing that she did not intended to intrude, before going back into her tent in silence. We got back on the road, or what passes for a road in these sands, the next morning. Via acted as if nothing happened. And Hesca is now smiling a little bit more. Which is good. But we were back to the boring display of emptiness that was the clockwork desert. All that monotony was thankfully interrupted when we had to resupply our water reserves at an oasis. We came up on it during the morning of the sixth day of travel. I observed the small encampment made around the source of blue gold when we stopped at its edge to dismount. Tents made in the same fashion of the pods that carried us thus far littered the surroundings in an unorganized mess, with the people walking around covered in head to toe in whitish or brown clothing that hid them from the sun as much as possible. Some of them carried jewelry, consisting of chains and rings carefully placed in strategic places of their garbs, giving them an exotic look. Almost all of them carried weapons too, preferring spears and short curved sabers, with the occasional daggers thrown in to the mix. As we arrived a few of them came to meet us. Via greeted them with a smile and talked to them in what I recognized to be the main Nomad dialect, spoken by the human and demon tribes living on the edge of the desert. The ones that came to meet us were guards apparently, and they were inquiring of our presence in a suspicious manner before seeing Via and relaxing. Considering Via''s profession, I can guess she knows a lot of people around these parts. After a short conversation, we were led to a place where we could fill our different gourds and water containers before resuming our journey in an expedite fashion. We were back on the "road" before noon, and back to the monotony. Though it did allow me to notice some small wear on some of my plates'' intersections, due to the sand. Something the unconventional palanquins we rode in offered unfortunately no definitive protection against. In a desert, the sand finds it way everywhere, with only time to dictate how fast. An unrelenting and insidious force of nature that I will have to keep an eye on. For now the damage done is almost non-existent, due to the small duration I have been here for and the fact that my metal plates are very resistant to physical exertion. But a few years down the line I can see some of the damage being concerning, especially if no maintenance is available for extended periods of time. I will have to find deposits of titanium, zirconium and vanadium for my repair nanites to do their job. Or I could just cannibalize other places of my body to fix the worn down parts. At least this is not an urgent issue. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Funny how I thought heat would be the main problem, while tiny microscopic rocks turns out to be a bigger issue. I learned a nice story though. After I asked Via relation with the nomads, she explained to me how she came to do what she does, and a brief history of the nomads as a whole. "You see, I am a daughter of a nomad clan far from here." She pauses, and takes a big bite from the dried meat jerky she has in her hands. "Nobody important mind you. But I was resourceful enough to get a few big rocks early on that I managed to sell without getting gutted like a skarn. Allowed me to get the first of these big babies." she says, while pointing at the Nilas. "Big rocks ? People buy those ?" I ask confused, while pointing to the small brown rock formation we decided to stay close to tonight. "Of course not you tin brain!" She replies while laughing. I can sense Hesca tensing up immediately next to me. She sat herself here to listen to the tale while warming herself by the fire. The cold starts coming down fast once the sun goes over the horizon. "I am talking about precious rocks ; ores and mana stones! The Nomads mine them. Big formations in the desert where the wind sometimes uncovers them. If you can manage a decent haul you can make some good money by selling them to the right people. That is if you can survive long enough to sell them : life is hard out here and competition is cut-throat. Literally." She takes another bite before continuing. "Anyway, by that time¡­ ''bout forty years ago I recon, the effects of the Clockwork War were still being felt and nobody really offered good travelling alternatives to the desert cities without taking an arm from their customers. So I figured I would start up my own business with the Nilas. Big calm beasts, easy to tame, eats up rock, sand and anything in between. Moves pretty fast too. They are mostly used for excavation by Nomad tribes. Maintenance is a bitch though. They get stuff wedged in their scales all the time and if you don''t take care of it, it can wound them. And then sickness sets in and it''s pretty much done by that point. Lost one like that, a long time ago." She smiles sadly while looking in the distance, probably remembering the moment. Her expression changes to a happy one. "And before I knew it I was rich! Of course you have stuff you still have to worry about like bandits, monsters and hostile tribes, but those are few and far between. If they don''t get the drop on you can manage to outrun most of the threats you encounter here. That and now I have Groundy here to help with cleaning the beasts. Good deal I made, that one. Doesn''t talk much but does the job, and does it well." I wince internally at the fact she considers my kindred as a piece of equipment. A good piece of equipment but a piece of equipment nonetheless. I change the subject. "Seems like dangerous work. Why didn''t you stay in your tribe ?" She spits on the ground and throw a curse or two in Nomadic before answering me. "Stuck up fools they were. Father and Mother wanted me to marry as soon as I was of age. To the son of a human merchant no less. Fuckin'' baby didn''t even have hair on his chest. A pompous and entitled little asshole he was. All of that to honor the traditions. Tradition my ass. More like money up the wazzo and good standing." I can hear Hesca stifling a laugh at Via''s answer. I decide to press on the subject this time. "Tradition? What kind of tradition are you talking about?" She calms down a bit before answering. "Well to explain I''m gonna have to go back a bit. Do you know where the nomads came from ? Cause it''s not like we sprouted up from the ground or anything." I reply with a negative nod. Hesca does the same. "Figures. Well at the time, long before the clockworks even came up, the human and demons were having one of their little war, like they did every hundred years or so. Fuckin'' bloody is what it was, and don''t let anyone tell you any different." She gives me and Hesca a knowing look before continuing. "Tale is that in the mist of that bloody carnage, in a small battlefield away from the main conflict, a squad of demon and human met on the edge of the Great Ridge, deep in the mountains of the north. Apparently generals were wondering if there was a pass up there the dwarves didn''t told us about. Flanking the enemy from behind and whatnot. Demons were far deeper in human territory than they are now at the time. Turns out there was a pass, except it was infested by monsters. Wyrens as big as my Nilas, and other type of bullshitery as I was told." She takes a pause, looking around to meet the eyes of Hesca and me, judging her audience with a smile up her lips. She takes a swing of her gourd before wiping her mouth with her sleeve and continuing. "Anyway, so when they meet, after pushing through the freezing cold, and the unending hordes of monsters, you can guess the last thing they wanted to do was to start bashing on one another. The battle would have drawn more of the beasts, something neither side was willing to go through, and for good reasons. So for a week they kind of sat there, eying each other without really moving. You see, the pass was narrow, so they couldn''t cross each other without either duking it out, or leaving their supply wagons behind. Until monsters attacked." By that point we are listening very carefully to Via. She has us enraptured with her tale. "They came down upon the humans first and started murdering them left and right. The soldiers'' attention was on the demons so they didn''t see the fuckers till too late. Now this is where it gets interesting : The demons seeing that, instead of using the opportunity to plow through the humans, decided to help them. What can I tell you : we are an honorable bunch if nothing else, and stabbing someone in the back isn''t really our style. After a long and bloody battle, they managed to push back the monsters and save the humans. Who by that point were really confused about getting some much needed help from their mortal enemies. Truth be told, the demons probably saved themselves too, considering the monster horde that attacked was big enough to take on both of the armies." "At that point the demon commander, a dashing young lieutenant by the name of Farzor Firedread, met up with the human commander, a young but experienced noble maiden by the name of Silvia Beatrix. They agreed to each come back to their respective country, and tell their superiors that the pass was infested, unfit for travel, and that they had to come back before getting decimated. Which was technically not a lie. That was very important because all reports were made in front of truth readers, to ensure that no spy or traitors was among the ranks in time of war." "So now you might think "What? Does the story end here? What happened to the young lieutenant and the young maiden?" Well fear not! For their story continues. After being back from that mission and giving their reports, each side was sent away from the front lines. Both units has suffered pretty big casualties and the mission was a fiasco. We are talking about five hundred men and women companies, on each side, coming back with maybe only half that number. But even if they were stripped down of their ranks, the lieutenant and the maiden had seen something in the other. And that thing was peace. Despite the general war climate between the two countries, they managed to get messages across the border and started communicating." Hesca gives a disbelieving grunt before quickly calming down and allowing Via to carry on. "Yeah yeah! I know! Don''t go out thinking they started exchanging state secrets all of a sudden! At first they talked about the mission they did in the mountain, its consequences, the fallback when they went home. But then it started to evolve : they started to talk about home more personally, and what the hardships of the war was like for them and their countries. Long story short, they didn''t like it. That and they were starting to develop feeling for each other through their secret correspondence. So they made a plan." Via lowers her tone and take on a secretive expression. "They decided to take some people with them, the ones willing that is, and get them away from the war. I mean the war was bloody, and not everyone supported it. Now, not to the north of course, with all the things just laying in wait to eat them in the mountains, but to the south, where only the hardiest would survive, deep in the desert, and far away enough from the southern war front that they would be left alone. It wasn''t the best option, but it was the only one they had. In the end they managed to get about a thousand souls to the both of them and led them deep into the sands, where the First Oasis is. They founded the first Nomad town there, Nilken." "They even married, as a testament to their feelings for one another and a symbol to the peace they achieved. They lived happily, welcoming over the course of the years the different refugees fleeing there. Over time that lead to different tribes fragmenting and going their own way, looking for an oasis of their own." "Now both sides were not too happy with the situation at the time, as you might imagine. But they had their hands tied with the war and all. So they kinda let them be, eyeing them from the corner of their eyes, making sure nothing too big happened. And when the war eventually came to a close, the nomad community here was well entrenched and well spread out in the desert. And also pretty happy as long as you left them be. Which both countries, after a bloody long war, were only too happy to do." "Eventually the Nomads found the precious stones that they mined and sold back to the humans and demons. And considering the nomads were the only ones that knew where you could find some, and were crazy enough to live there and mine them, my guess is that both countries were only too happy to leave the task to us." "So to come back to tradition: The Lieutenant and the Maiden eventually had a child and lived happy till their end days. Since then it is custom for Nomads to have someone of predominant demon descent to marry with someone belonging to a human one, and vice versa; to honor the two founding heroes of the Nomad People. It has become something more akin to an honored tradition than an obligation over the years of course ; We are not barbaric enough to force people to marry against their wishes." Her happy expression disappears and she spits again. "Except the fuckin'' Nomads are people forged by and living in hardship! Not some fuckin'' prepubescent kid that was sheltered all his life travelling with daddy and mommy!" Hesca explode into laughter at the unconventional end to the moving tale. I also give a small chuckle. Once she stops laughing, I help Hesca going back to her tent, after giving Via a small thanks for her story. She gazes into the fire for a moment, her eyes lost in the flames, before muttering something to herself, taking a big swing out of that gourd of hers and going back into her tent. I sit close to the source of light, watching the fire while I activate my antenna and initiate a conversation with GR3-DF127. He is around the worms, checking the harnesses. "This one has a question GR3-DF127. What happened when the first Nomads met the clockworks?" "This one is not sure. Lacking necessary information databases to answer query. Further questioning should be addressed to Delta''s units. They are more likely to possess the necessary data." "Hmmm. This one thanks you. Do you require aid in your duty today?" "This one doesn''t require it. However this one appreciate the proposed assistance." I cut the connection after the last sentence. I stay near the fire, thinking about the story Via told. It was a slightly romantic and idealized tale, probably embellished generations after generations. However it would be interesting to see if it could be possible to find allies in the Nomads. They seems like good people, if their origins are something to go by. There was little about their involvement in the Clockwork War inside the information package Machina gave me. Oh well: one more thing for me to mull over before I start digging up answers. DATABASE ENTRY N°7195-163-M
//ACCESSING DATABASE. //SEARCH PARAMETERS ; RECENT ENTRIES - CURRENT RESEARCH - MAGIC - MUTATION - BIOLOGY. //REPORT FOUND. //OPENING¡­
First records of "magic" encountered in data package obtained through Administrator Machina. Initial environmental observations point to a highly irradiated environment. Sun deemed as the probable cause. Possibilities of mutations in current biome deemed very high. Most recent samples displaying "magical abilities" showed capabilities ranging from pyro-kinesis, electro-kinesis and limited water manipulation. Results of encounter processed and added to most likely theoretical model. Limited biological analysis of residual tissue used for current assumptions. Origin & Nature of Magic ; "Magic", as it is called on Drasil, originates from genetic mutations stemming from exposure of the general population to the radiation of their star over millions of years. In order to survive the powerful radiation of their star, the entire biological ecosystem of Drasil has mutated to tolerate it. It is done thanks to ion''s transfer & release in the cells in order to balance energetic imbalance brought on by irradiation. As a side-effect, "magical" capabilities were born in certain individuals who mutated enough to develop conscious body control over the process, and who managed to use the ion''s mechanisms of protection to harness more radiation than normal, and control it as bio-electrical & bio-thermal energy focused discharges to impact the world around them. While the technological level of Drasil is low, and the true nature of the process unknown to its population, it has been discovered by them that "magical" capabilities do stem from genetics, and as such are cultivated by marriage between strong bloodlines to further the chance of viable mutations providing increased talent in energy storage and internal/external manipulation. General Attributes ; Mana Pool : What is called "mana pool" is actually the individual body capacity to keep charged ions in his body consciously, before the subconscious mind releases the rest in a preservation instinct to survive. The reason it grows over time is by accustoming the body of the discharge and recharge process, thus making it adapt, or mutate, to store more over time. Energy Consumption : Using magic, in general, forces the body to overuse the part of the cells responsible for the ion balancing radiation protection. As such, it drains heavily on body nutriments and oxygen. Mages planning to use magic should stay immobile as much as possible, to prevent muscle exertion, and eat and sleep well before any use. The only exception to that rule being Body Strengthening users, who also boost their oxygen intake and digestion system during periods of enhancement to support the added physical burden. The latter should however make sure to eat good rations before and after combat situations where they have to use it. Chants ; Even if the true process doesn''t require it, the people of Drasil have been using vocal techniques to focus and help them control the magical aspect of their biology. It is theorized that "chanting" allows for the creation of certain brain wave patterns which can match a corresponding matter manipulation interaction. As such, it is more of a mental crutch, that serves as a universal thought pattern for certain basic magic actions. Chant-less casting is possible, but requires a lot more concentration, and an intrinsic knowledge of the task to perform. As such, it is rare to encounter. Matter manipulation, either through magnetism, energetic, or thermal interactions, being a difficult task, more complex chants will be required for more consequent "spells". Mana Overuse/Backlash : When a mage over-exert himself and his magical capabilities, either by using them for a too long period of time, or by releasing a big "spell" that comes very close to the limit of what he can provide in energy in one go, what is called mana backlash occurs. What happens is that the body stops providing protection from the environment''s radiation. That happens either because of ion imbalance incurred by rapid and fast depletion of nearly all the charged ions in the body, equivalent to a big spell. Or because long use over time has damaged the part of the cells responsible for managing the ions manipulation or production, which is crucial in balancing environmental radiation in the organism. Both cases causes the body to send nutriments and oxygen to the body cell''s part responsible in mass to get them to restart the protection & balancing process as fast as possible.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. During that time, symptoms can include extreme physical weakness, as well as lightheadedness, if not total blackout caused by brain nutriment & oxygen deprivation. Most light cases end rapidly, with few and reduced symptoms, as the body gets back on track quickly if it wasn''t pushed too hard during the event leading to its shutdown. However in serious cases, nutriment and oxygen deprivation lasts so long that organ shutdown, brain damage and even death can occur. To resume, Mana Backlash is a physiological survival reflex of the body that forces it to change its energy distribution and consumption patterns to resist environmental conditions. Side-effects ; Because of the nature of magical capabilities, all persons exhibiting strong magical talent possess increased cellular regeneration, to tolerate the overabundance of irradiation and cell damage. It gives the user perks such as increased natural healing, and longer lifespan as DNA has mutated in these bloodlines to resist better to time or external factors degradations. Constant use of magic can also lead to increased rate of mutation in the individual. Physical features can be brought to change over time after periods of intense use. It is important to track those changes with extreme caution as they can be fatal in some cases. As a side note, it is also important to note that external magical capabilities are impeded by metallic garments. Because magic requires microwave emitting, and magnetism, wearing highly conductive or magnetic metal can be fatal if the magical actions undertaken are too strong. Affinities & Schools ; The people of Drasil, despite their ignorance of the true nature of magic, have divided magical capabilities in different schools and sub-schools. They are as following :
SCHOOL SUB-SCHOOL
Fire Ice
Magma
Earth Metal
Magma
Water Ice
Weather
Air Lightning
Sound
Weather
Light
Darkness
Life Healing
Death Necromancy
Curses
Unknown
Nature
Body Strenghtening
Mind Familiar Taming
Void
[INCOMPLETE - MORE DATA NECESSARY] Regardless of this basic idealistic repartition, they each correspond more or less to specific capabilities exhibited by different meta-physical mechanisms. It is also important to remember that all people capable of external "mana" and "elemental" control have latent talents in electricity and magnetism manipulation, required to control atoms, chemical reactions and physical phenomena away from their own bodies. Fire covers every thermal interaction with the environment. Mostly done with microwave emitting, it is interesting to note that the Ice sub-school of Water actually belongs more closely to Fire than Water, as good energetic thermal control is needed to take the heat out of the water or air and freeze the intended target. Earth covers magnetic manipulation of solid matter. However, the strength required to move dense molecular structures makes it near impossible for the mages of this school to exert the fine control needed to manipulate the more volatile gaseous matter of the Air school. Water covers magnetic manipulation of liquid matter. They do not exhibit the strength of Earth mages, making them unable to move dense atom structures, and lack the control needed to move volatile gases like Air mages do. They provide a middle ground in terms of control and strength between the two other schools. Air covers magnetic manipulation of gaseous matter. As they exhibit more control than their Earth or Water mage counterparts, the Air mages have shown to also possess advanced electrical manipulation to some degree, as it stems from magnetic interactions and ionization control. It is however rare, as the amount of energy needed to release potent electrical current is very high, and the body has trouble tolerating it. Light and Darkness magic are actually of the same school, unbeknownst to most of the local mage population. They both deal in photon manipulation. It is achieved through quantum states created by atomic vibration at certain frequencies, alongside magnetic fields, to achieve control. On the Light side, they are concentrated, to be used as a laser, with simple optic lens mechanics to concentrate it to potent efficiency, while on the dark side, it is done to pull them away from the targeted area, thus creating pockets of space where no light can reach. Life and Nature are just like Light and Darkness : the two sides of the same coin, if not the two half of the same face. They both focus on biological matter manipulation. Life deals more with complex animal biological organisms. It is close to the Water School, given the nature of the matter being worked on. Nature, on the other hand, focuses on simpler biological plant life, and is very close to the Earth school due to the physical nature of plant life. Death is the only school that doesn''t really come close to a particular scientific field. It''s necromancy sub-school is closer to Earth, with solid matter manipulation (bodies), and Mind, with the creations of functioning electrical neural networks (to control & create puppets). But it''s Curses sub-school is closer to Life and Nature, with the results of spells affecting biological organisms, albeit in a negative way most of the time. Being a forbidden magic too hasn''t helped it being fully understood, even to this day. Body Strengthening is the one of two school dealing only in internal energy manipulation. Electrical and thermal energies are manipulated inside the body to provide better nerve response and better muscle performance. It does however comes with drawbacks as overuse will literally force the body to tear itself apart and fry from the inside out, if it doesn''t starve first. Mind magic is the second school that deals only in internal energy manipulation. More precisely in the understanding of the neural network of the brain, and it''s manipulation with electrical signals. It is an extremely rare ability to develop as the knowledge required asks for deep understanding of very complex information at very fast speeds. People using mind magic are often recruited as interrogators or spies, making them generally feared by the populace. However its sub-school of Familiar Taming & Binding is deeply appreciated by young mages, as they can craft the necessary talismans to "traduce" the intentions of a master to a beast, and tame them in the process. It provides close-combat protectors to mages if they feel physically weak after using up their magical capabilities. Void is a special affinity as it signifies the total absence of magic. Magic coming from radiation, electrical, magnetic and thermic interactions, anything immune to these energy types is said to possess void affinity. It happens very rarely to have people born with void affinity. However they all die young because of the lack of the ion radiation balancing mechanism in their body''s cells. Theoretically they could survive deep enough underground, or in specially insulated environments. However the lack of scientific knowledge on Drasil has made this impossible. [NOTE : MORE DATA REQUIRED - CONTINUE TO MONITOR ENVIRONMENT - EXTREME CAUTION REQUIRED IN ENCOUNTER WITH "MAGES" - IF POSSIBLE, ACQUIRE MORE BIOLOGICAL SAMPLES FOR FURTHER ANALYSIS.]
//END OF REPORT. //ARCHIVING... //CLOSING DATABANKS.
Chapter 11 - Rusty Cogs ¡°I am intrigued by the smile upon your face, and the sadness within your eyes¡± - Jeremy Aldana
(XSS-MK1 POV) Hesca and me are enjoying the shade provided by the nacelle we are in right now. Via is still playing her strange instrument, guiding the Nilas smoothly across the dunes. The night passed without trouble, and I have been using the time alone to process all the things I encountered so far in this strange new world. There is a lot of things to process. A gross understatement considering the amount of data, theories and calculations I have to work on each night, utilizing nearly all of my computing power. But on the good side, Hesca is nearly healed. And I found some spare clothes. However, I didn''t fail to notice the increase rate of regeneration she displayed compared to the humans of my world. Surely a side-effect due to the highly irradiated environment of Drasil. It didn''t stop me to perform numerous deep analysis on her body just to make sure she would do a full recovery. Something I believe she is grateful for. However, one of the unfortunate side-effect of her recovery is that she is now experiencing the same boredom as me. A boredom that was only alleviated temporarily by the few and far between stops we did in different oases to sell the merchandises Via bought, and resupply our water. Finally cracking after five days, Hesca asked Via about how she did to endure the long trips. She looked at us with a smile. "Well that''s simple really. I know every part of these sands. You only see dunes with the occasional rock." "And you don''t?" She adopted a knowing look before answering. "Let me show you something." She takes the instrument to her lips again. What I saw as a metal contraption originally is actually closer to a clarinet, if a lot more basic, and a little bit bigger. She starts playing a different sound as before, and we can see the Nilas suddenly veering right. "Pay attention." Hesca and me edge our way to the front opening of the strange cradle, sharpening our senses to try to discern what she is talking about. Via produces a different sound again and we are destabilized by the sudden turn left the Nilas do. Just in time too. Because just in front of us an enormous sand snake has suddenly emerged from the ground in an explosion of sand. It is as least twenty meters long and resembles a supersized rattlesnake. It gives a loud hiss before starting to chase the Nilas. Via switches to a faster tempo melody, causing the Nilas to surge forward, quickly distancing the reptile, who gives up after a few minutes of frantic chase. Via puts down her instrument and explodes in laughter. After a while, she stops, but not before wiping a small tear forming in the corner of her eyes. "Ha¡­ It works every time! You should have seen your faces!" Hesca has a sour look. She did not appreciate the joke. I intervene before she can say anything. "I take it you do this often?" Via takes a smug pose. "Every trip. You actually lasted longer than most passengers. Most crack around three days in." She takes a more serious attitude. "But to come back to my original point. You just see sand. I see beast territories, patrol paths, tribe borders and so much more. To me, the desert is a playground. One that I know like the back off my hand." I nod. I can understand her point. Something bothers me though. "That beast we encountered? What was its name?" She looks in the front, focusing on the dunes ahead. "That was a drilko. Pretty calm most of the time. Sleeps in the sun all day. Unless it''s hungry. If so, it will bury itself and lay in ambush to whatever comes close." She makes a grimace. "Bad way to go. They digest slowly." I stay quiet. Why the hell was the inn we stayed at in Takar called "The Sleeping Drilko" then? I brush the implications off my mind. This is not really important. At least now I know what a drilko is. I grunt internally when I amend the amount of research necessary on the fauna of Drasil. "But you can relax. We will arrive at Delta in about two days tops. We were a bit faster than usual." Hesca gives a sigh of relief at that news. I think that if she is forced to stay one more week holed up watching sand, she will go crazy. And just like Via said, two days later, we arrived at Delta. The huge stone walls were easily visible from afar in the scorching afternoon light. We also saw a lot of caravans as we got close to the city. They were composed of huge lumbering beasts, which resembled what you would get if you mixed a hairy camel with an elephant. And gave it six legs instead of four. They had the same strange pods on their back as we did. I questioned Via about the beasts. "Oh that? That''s a Trus. Good for carrying heavy weights. But really slow. You need armed escorts with all the threats in the desert if you plan to travel with that." She pats the top of the Nilas we were on, and takes a disgustingly sweet voice. "Nothing like my babies. Right? Oh yeah. That''s right." I decide to ignore her antics and focus on the approaching walls instead. They are made of dark stone, greyish in color, with a tint of orange in them. But what surprises me is the smoothness of the walls. If you build with bricks, you are always going to have defects, small irregularities in the pattern they were placed in. But none are present here. This was not built by human hands. The perfect circle they are forming around the presumed, and still not visible, city isalso another indication. I could feel my curiosity starting to act up. This is the place. The one where I finally start getting answers. Via made the Nilas change directions, orientating them to the east. I point at the big metal gate I can now see from afar. "Isn''t the entrance here?" She give a negative nod.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. "That''s for normal travelers. I have a merchant caravan status. And I need place for the Nilas to enter the city, and unload them." That made sense. A dedicated entrance for merchants and suppliers would reduce traffic a lot for the regular checkpoint. And allow the guards to do their jobs better. "Get back inside a bit. Less questions asked the better." Me and Hesca nod and step away from the front opening of the nacelle. It limits our field of view drastically, and leaves us waiting for Via to give us the signal that we are finally at our destination. A few moments later I can start hearing the sounds of the bustling activity of the city getting louder and louder, until they surround us, drowning my auditory sensors in new information. I can also get a glimpse of the fact we just passed the walls. Via makes a last sound on her instrument before moving toward the side exit. "Wait here. I''ll be back in a sec." She doesn''t wait for our answer and grabs the knotted rope attached to the pod frame, and starts to climb down the worm. I stretch my perception and can hear her order GR3-DF127 to get down and start unloading the remaining supplies on the others two Nilas. Then I hear her starting to talk to what I can guess is an official, in charge of welcoming any merchant that comes through the entrance. After a short discussion, she is cleared through and I can hear her come back. She climbs up and look at us. "Well this is the end of the road. Pleasure doing business with you." She does a strange hand gesture. "May the scorching Winds spare you on your way to the next Oasis." I nod silently, recognizing the traditional nomad greeting. I give her the expected answer. "And may the Spirits spare your Path of danger on your way back." She smiles, surprised but happy. Hesca and I shake her hand before climbing down. I finally take a good look at the city built by my kind. The first thing I feel is satisfaction. And then anger. A smoldering anger that I hide under the cover of my clothes and impassible facade. The architecture is clearly designed with efficiency and practicality. The numerous buildings and large neatly paved streets all flow perfectly into one another, the seams between them all but invisible. The straight lines, angles and curves of the structures merge with their incredibly smooth walls composed of the same greyish-orange stone as the outside in a tantalizing display of efficient beauty. All of the buildings clearly have their place, showing that the city plan had clearly been drawn up before the first structure had even been built. But it has been bastardized. Where my kin''s constructions are a work of order, purpose, and near perfection, true to their methodical nature, the new occupants have sullied it. The entrance which we came in has been created by cutting grossly into the smooth exterior wall. The inside itself is infected, like with a parasite, by the uneven and shoddily built structures made by human hands. I stay immobile, flabbergasted by the outrage I am feeling as I observe the imperceptibly slow perversion taking hold of the work of my people. I feel a hand being put onto my shoulder. Hesca is there, having put together what is left of our belongings after the long journey. "What now?" I snap out of my trance and concentrate on my answer. Later. I will deal with my "feelings" later. "We need lodgings. We may have to stay here a while." She nods. I examine her. Does she realize? Can she even see the crime having been committed here? Probably not. Would she even understand if I explained it to her? I don''t even think humans in general can perceive the wrongness present around them, the details escaping them, being imperceptible to their minds and senses. I follow Hesca mechanically, lost in my thoughts, as she asks for directions and gets redirected to a nearby inn. We walk slowly through the crowd, pretty dense despite the wide boulevards cutting through the contaminated urban landscape. I take a moment to look around me, and at the people we cross on our way to the inn. And I see Clockworks. Roaming the streets. Following more or less quietly behind humans and demons. They are not that many, but their presence is noticeable. Tall, cold, sentinels of iron or steel moving with a purpose behind those that now hold their very fate in their hands. They all share a humanoid form, but each one is different from the last. Some have four legs. Others, four arms. The only similarity seemingly being the rust and dents that cover their exterior, like a rugged coat of paint, only obtainable through age and wear. But what really shocks me is the silence. Not the one of the people around, they are loud enough to be heard from even the outside of the walls, but of the clockworks. My antenna isn''t receiving anything. Not even encrypted transmissions that would denote of a private conversation between two of them. Beside the rare and occasional greeting and designation sharing, they stay silent, not even looking at each other. They don''t even shoot me a glance, unlike the first clockwork I ever met. I remember Machina''s words. "I mean I will send you in a hostile world, where my people are enslaved like you nearly were, with limited to no support. And it will be up to you to free them, or to rust away, dismantled and dead for good this time. A whole other world, with new horizons, a new life and a new body. So what says you?" And I agreed, didn''t I? "Hey. We are here." I look at Hesca, who is motioning me to enter one of the absurdities in this otherwise organized metropolis. I try to steel myself. My work has only just begun.
(Hesca Veneli POV) As I sit myself on the small bed and start undressing for the night, I look at the frame of my strange companion, sitting silently by the window. "She" had taken her clothes off once we were in the privacy of our room. It revealed her exquisitely detailed black, silver and red exterior. I let my eyes wander on the red lines and strangely angular curves. It is as fascinating as it is scary. I had never seen more than one clockworks before meeting her. But now, after the walk from the entrance of Delta to this inn, I realized the truth. The one in front of me is radically different from all of the others. Not just by its attitude. But at its core. I remember my initial reaction upon seeing it. I was terrified. All the stories, and all the tales of the Great War. And she laughed when I told them to her. Such a genuine and derisive laugh. She had told me a different story. One I did not believe at first. But I decided to go along with it. I may have been scared, but she had saved me from a fate worse than death. What ungrateful person would I have been if I didn''t at least listen to her side of the story after that? And there was one thing I liked about her. She was fair. It didn''t matter to her if you hated her gut, or loved her unconditionally. If you made a deal with her, regardless of the consequences, she would honor it as long as you did too. She told the truth and kept to her word. So what if she was a Stray? One of the rare clockworks that escaped the righteous crusade of the Church and that led the failed but devastating Iron Rebellion. A well-known and established fact that even now I start to doubt. Who could blame me after what happened in the last few weeks. Like when the Black Hand itself appeared to catch her. I had heard tales of the Black Hand before. Whispered stories during the night, at the bar or around a campfire, when the alcohol had worked enough of its magic to loosen the tongue of those that knew something. The elusive corps was never displayed in a good light. More akin to the dark side of the Church. The one that got its hands dirty. And often, more than necessary. When they showed up, I was actually relieved. I actually thought, for a fleeting moment, that all that happened was just a nightmare I would eventually wake up from, and that everything would be alright again. How wrong I was. And even when they made me doubt about this strange persona that had "required" my help, its answers only served to reinforce the feelings of wrongness, of something not being in the right place, of a truth being hidden from me. I had made a choice that night. A very heavy choice. But I didn''t regret it. She kept true to her word. As long as I helped her, she would protect me. Care for me. And she did. Not only did she survive the bolt of lightning itself, but she even did magic! One that is supposed to be the bane of its existence. And then she started killing. I had seen the aftermath of the bandit camp. Even helped loot it. And at that moment, I understood how she did it. The pure, unaltered, strength she possessed. And the terror she inspired. Not just in our enemies, but in me. There was never any need for her to lie to me. She could extinguish the candle of my life before I would have even realized it had been blown out. And yet, she nursed me back to health during our travel in that Goddess forsaken desert. I had made the right choice. I trace a finger on the large scar present on my stomach. One of the many that now adorn my skin. Reminders of that day which I will probably take to my grave. My eyes rise from my stomach to meet the slightly luminescent silver gaze of Em-k?-one. She showed me her full name once. A string of six gibberish symbols separated by a small dash. The pronunciation was worse. But this is not why I met her eyes. She is very expressive. Not in the traditional sense of the word, of course. But I have travelled three weeks with her, and I can discern some of her expressions. An imperceptible twitch of the lips for an amused smile, or a slight frown for repressed anger. I think she doesn''t always realize she is showing them. And right now I am stumped. Because she is showing something that I have never seen before. And I can''t put my finger on what it is. She is showing it since we have arrived in this city, even if I can tell she is trying to hide it. We continue to stare at each other in an awkward silence for a while. I am used to it by now: it doesn''t bother me. After a while, she finally speaks. With that voice, so human in nature. If you could only hear her, you would never guess her true nature. A crystal voice, cold and clear, but that carries through her tone the emotions behind the words. "Tomorrow we will explore the city. I need information. We will also need to secure a source of income. So rest up. I will need you." I get it now. She is sad. I nod, acquiescing to her instructions. As I get into the sheets of the bed, I decide to ask the question burning the tip of my tongue. "Is there something wrong? You aren''t¡­ like usual." She stares at me in silence, still as a statue. Only the slight movements of her eyes tell me she is thinking. After a minute, she moves her gaze back to the window. "You would not understand. Or believe me for that matter." I take that as the cue that the conversation is well and truly over. But once I am in bed, and on the edge of succumbing to sleep, I can hear one last sentence coming from her. It is murmured, like it wasn''t intended for any other ears except her own. "One day maybe¡­" Chapter 12 - The Junkyard "Stand in the ashes of a trillion dead souls and ask the ghosts if honor matters. The silence is your answer" - Javik, The Last Prothean, Mass Effect 3.
(XSS-MK1 POV) The light of the morning slowly rouses Hesca up from her eventless night. I follow her downstairs, and after an overpriced but filling breakfast served by a less than hygienic bartender, we are back in the streets of Delta. As we are walking down the inn''s street, Hesca turns her head in my direction. "Anywhere in particular you had in mind when you said "exploring the city"? I have never traveled out of human lands, so this is new for me." I answer. I decide to stay vague on purpose. "Nowhere in particular. I am new here too. Let''s focus on anything clockwork related." She nods. "That''s a pretty tall order, but okay¡­" I observe her as she pulls away a bit in front of me. I am thinking about the question she asked me yesterday before going to bed. How did she know? Hmmm... We wander aimlessly in the corrupted streets of the city for most of the morning. The obvious and internally sickening presence of the intruders in the city architecture still elicit feelings of anger and sadness in me. But this time I also see the traces of battle. They are barely covered by the new architectural additions, showing me where a catapulted rock impacted in the side of a building, or where a fire started in another. Rarely, I can also see the blackened spots on the ground or walls, through the dust and sand, that testifies to where the thunder struck down. The remnants of a lost battle, which show me in a clear manner where the battle lines stood, and how the fight unfolded. After having spent most of the morning in what seems to be the residential and administrative part of the city, and not finding anything worthwhile, we decide to move toward the markets. Hesca is still leading the way, and I follow her like a silent shadow, hidden deep inside my own clothes. I don''t even try to initiate contact with the other clockworks we cross on the way. I would, but not in the presence of humans, or demons. I can''t risk exposure. Especially after the Church showed a surprisingly quick response to my last slip. I just hope the desert is large enough so that they will lose my trail here. "I''m hungry. Just going to grab a quick something. Can you wait for me?" I make a dismissive gesture towards Hesca. She takes it as a yes and starts walking towards a small food stall in the corner of the boulevard we are on. We are just in front of the main bazaar. I cast a quick glance around while I wait for Hesca to grab her food. I quickly wonder how humans manage to be so productive as a species with nearly half their time spent on either eating or sleeping. Something I am grateful my body and nature spares me. She quickly comes back, with a strange meat skewer in her hands, and we start navigating our way through the lively and populated marketplace. I can recognize a distinct similarity with the market in Takar. Same greedy looks and affable expressions on the merchants'' faces, same loud hollering of the people passing by. The only difference being the color scheme and architecture, more adapted to the desert and nomadic lifestyle. So a lot more tents and tarps hanging everywhere, in all the shades of brown and sandy colors possible. A commotion in front grabs our attention. "New arrival! New arrival! Good parts for sale! Best price offered wins it!" I nudge Hesca and give her a nod. She understands and we get closer, pushing our way through the denser crowd as we try to get within visual range. As we reach the first row, I stop dead in my tracks. A few merchants are congregating around what look to be two demons, recognizable by the various horns poking out of their desert garb, and one human. The human is the one shouting. But this is not what brings me to a halt. What does, is what is behind him, on the ground, in an unceremonious pile. Clockwork parts. Dismantled clockwork parts. I can see a head, a few bodies and many different limbs forming a distinctive and gory heap of metal. They are eaten by rust and obviously beyond repair. But that doesn''t seems to stop the human, leader of these "scavengers" to negotiate with the merchants as if he was selling them a pile of solid gold. I narrow my eyes dangerously. When I turn my head to look at Hesca, I can see that she is already looking at me with a pale face. She seems to understand very clearly what I am feeling right now. I whisper slowly, trying to control myself as much as possible. "Ask around. I want to know where they got those." She nods discreetly, apparently happy to distance herself from me at the moment. I turn my attention back on the three individuals. They have apparently finished their sale, and as soon as the money changes hand, I can see the merchants and their servants fall upon the remains of my kin like a starved horde of locusts. Before a full minute has passed, everything is gone, and where once stood a generous mound of scrap metal, remains nothing, save for the sand and dust covering the ground. The crowd gradually disperses around me, going back to its usual activities, as I stay there, immobile and unnoticed, my eyes still fixed on where the event I witnessed unfolded. I "feel" so much right now. Too much. Hesca comes back with information before I let the internalized wrath climbing up in my processes push me to go on an avenging rampage. The respect of the dead is one of the first signs of civilization. I didn''t see it here. But then again¡­ Would you respect the death of a broken tool? This is problematic. My programmed emotions are getting the better of me. I will need to correct this in the future, else on day committing something I will regret. Or maybe I will let it as is and wait with anticipation for this moment. I haven''t decided yet. Hesca start speaking, lowering her tone so that the people next to us don''t catch on our exchange. "Hey¡­ There is a junkyard apparently. It''s one hour away on foot, at the south, outside of the city. I got the directions for it." I remain silent for a moment, taking the information in. "Lead the way." I can see Hesca shivering, despite the desert heat that has managed to worm its way past the city walls. She complies and starts walking at a hurried pace, motioning me to follow her. I give the center of the market place one last look before going. The parts are now displayed on the stalls, with small price tags being put right next to them. On the way out, I even see an open forge with a blacksmith just throwing some of them in a smelter mechanically, not even sparing a glance at the rusted parts he throws in the already melting content. I look away in disgust and tap Hesca on the shoulder. "Faster. Please." Thankfully, she complies.
(Hesca Veneli POV) The heat of the sun is hitting my hood. I can feel beads of sweats rolling on my face as we are walking down the trail toward the junkyard I heard about. I am scared. Because I saw her reaction. "She" nearly lost herself on that market. I could tell. And now she is walking next to me, in a heavy and uncomfortable silence. Not one like those I got used to these past weeks. As I put one feet in front the other, I think about what I saw earlier. I have trouble imagining what it must be like for her. Goddess knows, I have accepted a lot of new things since I have started travelling with her. But dissociating the stories told to the new side I am being shown is hard. Maybe this is what she meant by the fact that I would not understand? Truth be told, I am terrified to ask. A feeling I am starting to get used to lately.
(XSS-MK1 POV) The walk to the junkyard had the benefit of allowing me to calm down. The long and uninterrupted trail leading from the south gate of the city has finally come to an end as we pass the last dune, leaving me and Hesca before our destination. The Junkyard. I stand there, taking it all in. In front of me lays a vast expanse, dug into the ground. And in it are bodies. Hundreds of thousands of bodies, laying there in a disorganized fashion. Some forming piles tens of meters high. I can see scavengers, in groups or alone, moving around the labyrinth formed by the deceased, collecting what they deem worthy. Putting it away in bags, or bringing it to the few and small caravans staying on its limits. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. My vision encompasses it all, and leaves me on top of the dune, processing the sight before me. I ignore the words of Hesca, who is trying to communicate something, as I start walking slowly, down into the giant graveyard. I barely process Hesca starting to follow, having apparently given up on trying to talk to me. As I get deeper, I barely notice the sound my feet make, now hitting the iron or steel heated up by the afternoon sun, having replaced the hardened sand of before. A floor made up of the small screws, joints and parts that got loose from the main bodies, probably because of rust, age, and the incessant dismantling of the scavengers that roam this place. After a while, I stop, having lost myself in the meanders of the piles of bodies. My god. What have they done? I bend down, letting my knees hit the floor as I pick up a head, mostly intact, among one of the walls of scrap before me. I stare into the dead and empty eyes, losing myself in the contemplation of the damage I can see on its helm. A physical strike that cleanly cleaved the top part off. The inside is missing, probably having been the real treasure that the previous desecrator took with him, leaving this empty husk to be found by the next opportunist. "Hey what are you doing here? That''s our spot!" The raspy voice takes me out of my self-induced trance. I turn my head to observe the commotion. A few meters away from us a group of five ragtag humans have appeared. Far from the cleaner demeanor the ones on the market had, this team of apparent scavengers is dirty and unkempt. Their clothes have holes, and are stained by grease and oil pretty much all over. The many pockets and bags they have are mostly empty from what I can see, save for a few wires sticking out, along some joints and few other scraps. "Hey didn''t you hear me? I said out! This part of the junkyard belong to us! Put that back! That''s mine!" The one in front of the others, their leader judging from the ever so slightly less dirty apparel he is sporting, points to the head I am holding in my hands. Hesca has strategically repositioned herself behind me, and is staying quiet. Good. I delicately put down the head I am holding on the ground and rise up. "Yours? You think this belongs to you?" Oblivious to my change of tone, the man continues. "Yeah: Mine! Now piss off! Find your own spot!" He pulls a rusted blade and takes a step forward. He is quickly followed by his goons, who try to look as menacing as they can with their decrepit appearance. "YOU. DARE." I rush him. Before he can even react, I punch his throat to silence him, and kick his knee with enough force to bend it in a very unnatural way. He collapse to the ground, trying desperately to catch his breath while holding his leg with a pained expression. I don''t let the others react, and as soon I am sure that the leader has been incapacitated, I run towards the one on the right. I grab his blade bare-handed and yank it out of his hand in one smooth motion, while I punch his chest hard enough to hear his sternum cave in and the broken bones pierce his lungs. I throw the rusted blade toward one of the three left standing. It embeds itself in the forehead of the furthest one, throwing him backward because of the force with which I threw it. The two last ones try to run, but to no avail. I catch up with the first one, breaking his neck, and the second gets a piece of metal flying through his chest. He collapses a few meters later, drowning in his own blood. Hesca is still standing there, immobile, waiting for whatever conclusion this encounter may reach. Good. BECAUSE. I. AM. ANGRY. I slowly walk back to where their leader fell. He is still there, squirming in agony and quiet whines. I grab him by the neck and rise him until his feet leave the ground. "You bloodthirsty parasites. You have no respect, don''t you? It could be your own kind laying there and it would not make the shittiest of differences, would it?" He is avoiding looking at me, his face deformed by pain and fear. His eyes are frantically darting left and right, trying to look for an escape to his inevitable fate, hoping someone would come to his rescue. But nobody will come. I made sure to kill them silently. With one hand I remove my hood, and then grab his chin, forcefully turning his head so that he faces me. "LOOK. AT. ME." His eyes cross mine and I can see it. The realization about my nature. And then the terror. He starts squirming even more. I tighten my grip on his throat until he stops. "Before you die, I want you to do something for me. I want you to imagine. Imagine that all of this," I make a gesture with my free hand encompassing the surroundings, "are human bodies. And that you," I say while digging one finger on his chest "are one of the last remnant of the free people of your entire race. And when you finally arrive here, hoping to find more of your kind, you find another race, just pilfering their rotting, crumbling bodies. Dismembering them. Selling them to the highest bidder." I take a pause, trying to resist the urge to snap his neck instantly. "And when you, taken by the emotions, the sadness and the despair of such a sight, are quietly grieving, you are interrupted. You then realize that it is by the very people, the very monsters that are desecrating your own deceased kin. Now imagine what kind of reaction that would spark in you. The sheer wrath it would give rise to. I know it''s hard, but try." The last words are said with as much disdain and contempt in my tone as I can muster. I scrutinize his face. His gaze is moving back and forth between the surroundings and my eyes. And finally I see it. His face turns to ghastly white, with a sickly green hue. "That''s what I thought." He strains himself, grabbing the arm holding him up with both hands, getting the next words out with all the strength he can muster. "P-Ple-ase¡­ M-mercy¡­" I stay impassible to his request. "Your kind showed none. So why should I?" I squeeze slowly and methodically, letting the man I am holding in the air die a slow and painful death. As he suffocates, his movements get slower and slower, until I can see the light in his eyes dimming, and hear the last strained exhalation, accompanied by a final heartbeat. I drop his body to the ground. Others will find it. But I will be long gone by then. And given the "territory" system apparently in place here, I reckon the new landlord will only be too happy to sweep his competitors'' deaths under the rug. I turn toward Hesca. She is looking at me with the same whitish and light green complexion. "Come. No use staying here. Let''s continue deeper. There is a lot more ground to cover." She nods in silence and starts following me. I give a last look at the scene behind us, and at the clockwork head, just sitting there undisturbed, before turning away and putting back my hood. Let''s not forget. I came here for answers.
(Hesca Veneli POV) I stay quiet as I follow her amongst the junkyard. She stops from time to time, grabbing a few pieces of the innumerable amount laying around, before watching them intensely for a few seconds, and then putting them back where she found it. This process leaves me little to do, except walking behind her, and observing my surroundings. I shiver when I think about the brutality she inflicted upon the unfortunate scavengers we met earlier. But at the same time I can''t get her words out of my head. Is this what this is like for her? Walking among the dead? Watching as others desecrate bodies? I shake myself out of my stupor, and of the visions I am having. When she spoke to him, the last one, I also tried to imagine what it would be like. And it didn''t leave me feeling well. But mostly, it left me ashamed. Because if all of what she said is even remotely true, then¡­ I feel a shiver climbing up my spine again. I would have done worse if I was in her position. I would have made them suffer a lot more. A lot, lot more. This passing thought makes me wonder why she hasn''t killed me yet. It must be agonizing, having to travel with one of the people that belongs to those that killed most of her kind. Yet she does it without flinching. We continue marching through the debris and scraps, until I can see the light of day starting to fade, and the sun approaching the horizon. It dies the surroundings in a low orange dusk. The extending shadows, the air getting colder, and the heavy silence, give the junkyard a strange and deeply uncomfortable atmosphere. A lot more uncomfortable than the blistering heat and near blinding light of the day. I decide to speak up. "The night is coming. Maybe you would prefer to continue tomorrow?" She stop and turns around. After a brief moment she agrees. "Alright. Let''s head back to Delta. But we will be back here first thing tomorrow morning." I give a thankful nod, and before I know it, We are back on the sandy trail leading to the city. It doesn''t stop my mind from being assaulted by a strange and terrible question, in light of what she said today. If I had been in her position, would I have let myself live? Chapter 13 - Helplessness ¡°You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view.¡± - Harper Lee
(Tino Maldavi POV) It''s hot! SO HOT! What I wouldn''t give right now for the shade of my home trees. The light and refreshing wind that gently caresses their branches. Or even just the small morning dew that graces their leaves in the morning of spring. Now, I know for sure : Elves were NOT made for living in the desert. I am walking in the scorching sands, next to the convoy that is taking me to the town of Delta. I managed to get a reduced price on my fare by taking on the role of an escort. Something my diminishing finances are grateful for. But I am starting to heavily regret my decision, as it involves marching on foot next to the lumbering beasts carrying our supplies and more¡­ "fortunate" travelers. I shoot up a glance towards the strange palanquins resting on the back of the furry six-legged mammals and their occupants. They are casually chatting while admiring the scenery in the confines of the protective shadows of the transport. I decide to focus my attention back towards where I am going, else risking being consumed by jealousy. I let my mind wander as I put one feet in front of the other mechanically, hoping the night and the restoring sleep it promises come quickly. The monotony of the recurring dunes and the bludgeoning heat make my thoughts quickly drift toward my short but shocking stay in Takar, which led to my current predicament. The one thing I had not expected when I arrived to the border town was the number of guards watching people coming in and out of the gates. They were on high alert. Everyone going in or out of the city had to pass a rigorous examination before being let through. The street themselves were regularly patrolled by fully armed soldiers detachments. I had found the cause of this increase in security pretty quickly. The Clockwork had been here. And it had left a trail of bodies in its wake. If the rumors and gossip were true, it had a fight about a week ago inside the city. With the Human Church, no less. A lot of people had apparently been woken up during that fateful night by the battle''s noises, and observed secretly with rapt attention through their various blinds and windows. The first thing I had done once I had secured a place to sleep in was to contact my hierarchy with the Messaging Orb I had been provided. While the device is not exceedingly rare in itself, it is still pricey, and mostly used by military units. As such, it had been hidden from the alerted authorities. A quick description of the situation to my superiors, as well as a detailed report of the journey so far, had been well received. The communication officer I talked to thanked me, as he is under a lot of pressure from the political spheres back home to provide updates on my progress. Not that I was surprised by that: it is not every day that someone is sent after a Champion, and by the Empress Herself no less. I had been re-contacted a bit later that day with the orders to continue my mission, despite my voiced doubts about its apparent hostility, if the events that unfolded in this city were of any indication. At least its objectives were now clear: it was seeking safety out of human-controlled lands, and into the desert. A smart move. I had booked a trip the same day for Delta, which was the next logical step in my journey, if I wanted to have any hopes of tracking it through the vast expanses of burning sand. I just hope it stays near established settlements. My reminiscences are broken up when I start noticing agitation coursing through the various escorts of our convoy. The main guide starts gesticulating, alarmed, and pointing fingers to our right. I cannot understand his nomadic lingo, but I recognize the face of someone scared for his life. I turn my eyes in the direction he is pointing at, as I take out my bow and ready an arrow on the string. And that is when I see it. A pile of sand is moving towards us. A distinct deformation that could only be caused by a burrowed beast moving right underneath. A sizeable one too, given the amount of sand being displaced. I gulp audibly as I see it starting to accelerate towards us. "Prepare yourselves! Drilko attack! Don''t let it get under you!" The shout of the commander has its effect, as the different guards start putting their weapons at the ready, and interpose themselves between the convoy and the still unseen aggressor. I take a few steps back and join the other ranged attackers that positioned themselves at the back line, behind the lancers. I feel my military training taking over my mindset, as I steel myself for whatever is coming our way and start tracking the moving shape of sand with the tip of my arrow. It is almost upon us now. Just as it is about to collide with the first line of defense, the moving mound of sand disappears, and a low rumbling starts being felt. "Split!" Just as the commander shouts the order, the front line separates and starts running left and right, leaving a hole in the middle of our formation. I was about to question the reason for such a tactic when the rumbling stops, and everybody freezes, including me. I have heard this silence before. The heavy, awkward silence, that grabs you at the deepest parts of your guts. The one that drapes an area in an eerie atmosphere of calm for a few fleeting moments, before it devolves into chaos. And devolving into chaos it did. An eruption of sand suddenly appears right where the guards once stood, accompanied by a loud hissing noise. Before I can even understand what is happening, a quick and sudden movement emerges from the sand cloud, revealing the beast. A large legless reptile, that, in a quick swoop, catches an unprepared soldier by one of his legs, before throwing it in the air with a quick jerk of its head. The soldier starts screaming as he flies, before falling back into the open mouth of the monster that has positioned itself just under him. An audible swallowing sound puts a dreadful end to the screaming. "Surround it! Don''t let it attack! Be mindful of its head! Archers, aim for the eyes!" As if the sudden end of their companion didn''t just happen, everyone starts moving with a resolute step, encircling the lumbering beast in seconds. I start showering the reptile''s head with arrows, along with the few other bow-wielding escorts. The lancers poking it from all side divert its attention, and our unending shower of arrows puts it on the defensive. A loud hiss of pain rewards our efforts as one of my projectiles lodges itself in its right eye. I smile inwardly: if there is one thing we elves pride ourselves about, it''s our uncanny accuracy with bows. "Watch the tail! Watch the tail!" Before any of us can react, the snake sweeps its scaly tail through the soldiers just in front of me, batting them away. His head turns toward me. I realize with dread that I don''t have any more protection from the beast. I throw my bow away and unsheathe my sword as quick as I can. I don''t really know what good it will do me against the now enraged monster, but it will surely be more useful than my bow in close combat. I feel a chill as the beast looks at me with its remaining silted eye. At this moment, there is no doubt in my mind that it knows I was the one that inflicted the painful wound. I brace myself as I see it recoiling a bit, preparing to strike. I throw myself on the left with all my strength when I see the muscle contractions rippling across its scales. Because I jumped on the side of its wounded eye, it misses me, even if barely. I have only my honed reflexes to thank for my survival as I feel the brush of displaced air behind me, a testament to the unbelievable speed of the beast, and the near miss that just happened. I roll in the sand and get up on my feet as fast as possible, ready for another assault. The beast has recoiled back to its original position, still fixated on me. The others use that distraction to assault the beast again. The lancers finally manage to pierce through the armored scales. A loud hiss of pain is accompanied by large puncturing wounds, and red blood spurting out of them. The sand around us drinks it greedily, dying its natural orange and brown with a muddy crimson tint. Seeing it distracted again by the other guards, and fueled by my success, I decide to take the opportunity and start running towards it. Once close enough, I jump on its body, and start moving towards its head. Sensing my invasion, the beast turns its attention toward me again. I ignore the deadly stare it shots me, concentrating on my footing. It has started to move less, wounded and tired, and I can see in its rage fueled stare that it knows its end is coming. In a last bout of desperation, it throws its head at me, mouth wide open, hoping to swallow in one gulp the insolent being that dared think it could press its luck so much. I jump up with all my strength, and see the beast crash into itself just under me, as I land on its head. I don''t wait for even a second and attack, plunging my sword as deep as I can in its last functioning eye. The beast hisses loudly and jerks violently. I lose the grip on my sword and am suddenly thrown away by its death throes. For a moment, I am baffled in incomprehension, as I see the ground where the sky should be. Time seems to slow down to a crawl as the world spins around me and I sail through the air. However, it resumes its normal course as I crash into the sand. I hear loud cracks as I roll and slide on the ground. After a few more meters, my body stops rag-dolling across the dunes. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. Dazed, I try to stand up, without much success. And then the pain comes. In crashing waves against my psyche. It seems to originate from everywhere. I try to scream. The pain is so intense that the only thing that comes out of my mouth are strained and whimpering exhalations, each accompanied by spasms, and more pain. In my pain-induced daze and with tear-filled eyes, I barely notice the figures coming, and standing over me. I feel hands grabbing me on my sides. But just as they lift me, another wave of agony courses through my body, protesting against the rough handling. Before I can suffer much more, I pass out, embracing the sweet release and numbing of unconsciousness.
(Prince POV) I stir the gruel and the dubious pieces of meat floating in it absentmindedly. My gaze is lost in the campfire, only source of light and heat in the cold and dark night that surrounds the encampment. Mechanically, I bring the wooden spoon to my mouth, wincing as I swallow the bland mixture. Even after feeding on this kind of nourishment for almost three weeks, I still haven''t gotten used to it. But my guess that if the only thing you had ever known in your whole life was the luxurious life in the Palace, with its cooks at your every whim, you would have trouble ingurgitating what passes for a meal here. Military training does not a good cook make. I detach my eyes from the dancing flames as I look around, trying to distract myself from the lingering taste that cling to my tongue. The Helm Guard soldiers are quietly moving around, rising up their tents, polishing their blades, feeding the horses, and themselves. I quickly shoot an angry glare at my mount that I can see in the distance, his reins tied to a half-buried wood pike, along with the other horses. I can swear the damn animal hates me, and has made his personal goal to make the journey as uncomfortable as possible. "Enjoying the meal?" I jolt upright, surprised by Sir Devaillant, who has suddenly appeared right next to me. He sits himself right next to me. The knowing smile he gives me while pointing to the bowl tells me he is aware of my reluctance to eat. I just shrug my shoulders, with a noncommittal grunt. After a quick chuckle, he goes silent, just observing me from the side. I had heard a lot of things about Sir Devaillant in the Palace. All good things, that spoke of a dedicated, and fiercely loyal man. I also heard tales of his combat prowess, at the top of what humans can offer. My youthful admiration had led me to wish the life of a knight, unconcerned by the political matters, putting my blade to the service of the people. However, rumors have a way of hiding the other side of the coin. Something I have had the chance to discover, with reality, and its disappointing truths. Far away from the tales of distressed damsels and evils being slayed, our escape has shown me a life of hardships that my sheltered existence was unaware even existed. Hell, I had never slept in anything else but warm and silky sheets before. Now, I am all but too familiar with the hard and uneven ground and the tiny pebbles that have a habit of waking you in the middle of the night, digging painfully in your back, if you have the misfortune to ever roll on them in your sleep. Coupled with the cold nights and chilling winds of the Plains, and I haven''t been able to get one good night of sleep since our "escape" from the capital. Sir Devaillant has refused to tell me more about what happened that night. And for the life of me, I cannot guess who would attempt to assassinate royalty. Who would even have the resources and backing? As the successor to the throne, I have been taught politics, but the mind games and intrigues of the court have never been my forte, seemingly a garbled mess of people vying for influence and power. I sigh heavily as these thoughts cross my mind. Next to me, Sir Devaillant moves and puts a hand on my shoulder. "Come on: It is not good to sulk. Let''s take your mind off it. Follow me." I shot him an accusatory glare, but do not answer. I really shouldn''t, but I am not in a good mood. I put down my unfinished bowl of food, happy inside to leave the disgusting mixture behind for whatever Sir Devaillant has planned for me. He actually doesn''t go too far from the campfire, and lower himself while he searches through a bag of supplies. "Catch!" He suddenly turns around a throws something my way. I react just in time and grab what turn out to be a wooden sword. Before I even know, Sir Devaillant is rushing towards me with an identical tool. I muster every ounce of strength in my body and manage to deflect the overhang slash he has coming my way. He steps back as soon as the swords make contact. "Good reflexes. But bad posture." He initiates an attack again, targeting my left side with a thrust this time. I barely have time to move my blade before the crash of wood against wood reverberates up my arm with a numbing sensation. I am the one to step back this time. "What the hell! What are you doing?" Sir Devaillant looks at me in the eyes with a very serious expression. I am shocked by his sudden change in demeanor. He isn''t even wearing his armor, yet I can still feel the aura of a warrior at the ready coming off him. Not a knight. A warrior. I can feel a cold sweat starting to form. "It has been close to two weeks since we left the Palace in the dead of night. During that time, I have seen you slowly degenerate into this husk of self-pity and misery." His tone is harsh and leaves no room for answers. "Like it or not, I have been tasked with protecting you, Your Highness. It is my Duty. As it is the one of every man and woman present here." I swallow, finding my mouth dry suddenly, as I register the stares of the soldiers around the camp. They stopped what they were doing and are now watching the exchange with rapt attention. Sir Devaillant attacks again. Just like the last time, I barely have time to protect myself from the blow before being pushed back. "Your grip is weak! Never let go of you weapon!" As if to demonstrate what he just said, a flurry of unrelenting assaults start showering me. After the second strike, I have completely lost my balance and his wooden sword hits me square in the chest. I let go of my weapon, taken by the impact. The shock throws me rolling to the ground, wheezing for air, with both hands clutched to my chest in an attempt to stave off the pain. After a few painful coughs, my breathing returns to normal and my body allows me to breathe again. The radiating pain lessens, allowing me to get my bearings back. I push myself off the dirt, and get back in a sitting position. Sir Devaillant is still in front of me, his stern mask not leaving his face. While I was disoriented, he had picked up my dropped sword and is now holding it, handle towards me. I grab the handle and yank it out of his grasp in an angry gesture. How dare He! I shoot up to my feet and try to attack him right away, as a revenge for the humiliation. "Good! Show me some spirit!" He deflects the strike easily. I press on, hoping to get a hit in. I might as well have been hitting a wall: each time I strike, his sword is there to meet mine. I can now see a mocking smile starting to appear on his lips. I increase my efforts, enraged by the affront. It doesn''t change much, and before I know what has happened, he counters my next strike and in a blurry movement, disarms me. The tip of his sword is now on my throat. I freeze when I cross eyes with him, seeing the cold reprimanding gaze he has. "Anger is a good tool. It gives you energy, allows you to push your limits. But it makes you narrow minded, predictable. Never give into it fully, or that will be your last day on this earth." He removes his sword from my throat, and gestures towards my wooden sword, laying a few meters away. "Pick it up. We are not done. Far from it." I throw my arms up in the air. "Why does it matters?! It''s not like it is going to make a difference whether I have a sword or not." He nods. "Right. Hand to hand is important too." I look at him in incomprehension. What did he just say? I barely have time to register his next move as he drops his sword on the ground, and rushes me. I try to step back and counter his approaching fist. But he avoids my hastily risen arm and grabs my collar. The world spins around as I feel my legs being swept up from under me. A second later, I am back in the dirt. I try to wrestle out of his grip, but in vain. Sir Devaillant is above me, with my arm in a deadlock and a knee pressing on my back. I stop struggling, realizing the pointlessness of it all. Swallowing my anger and pride, I ask in a defeated tone. "Is there a point to all of this?" I can feel him let go of my arm and moving away from me. I rise up slowly, massaging my sore shoulder. Far from his previously scary demeanor, Sir Devaillant is now looking at me with a softened expression. "Yes. Now that we are far enough away from whoever is aiming for you, we can relax a bit. It gives us time. And I plan to use that opportunity to its fullest. I don''t know who is the charlatan that masqueraded as your training instructor but this," He makes a encompassing gesture towards me. "will not do. From now on, each moment we have available will be spent training." He chuckles. "And if you still decide to continue sulk and wallow after that, at least you will be a sulking boy that can defend himself." He pick up his sword, and points towards mine. "Now¡­ Let''s continue." I look around, trying to see if I could garner support from the surrounding soldiers. To my disappointment, most of them are either nodding or smiling, shaking their heads knowingly as if they had already seen what had happened before, and had become all but too familiar with it. Dejected, I pick up the wooden sword and turn to face Sir Devaillant. "We''ll start with the basics. Goddess knows you''ll need it." As I take the basic stance he shows me, I give myself a new objective: one day, I''ll make him eat dirt like he made me. And on that day, he will regret ever having decided to train me. Chapter 14 - Spider, Spider on the Wall ¡°You never change things by fighting the existing reality. To change something, build a new model that makes the existing model obsolete.¡± - R. Buckminster Fuller
(XSS-MK1 POV) It has been a week. A long week, passed inside this morbid mausoleum. Right now I am sitting atop a hill inside the junkyard. I had trouble at first moving about this place, always stepping on what I can consider remains. But necessity made law and my pragmatic side quickly dashed the unease: I needed to move around. I can hear Hesca behind me, still climbing laboriously the mound of scrap in order to catch up with me. Following me around for a whole week has taken its toll on her. The exercise is good for her, I think. After her wounds, and the period of inactivity, a bit of rehabilitation will help her improve. I have also noticed, when she is about to go to bed each night, how her gaze lingers on the scars that now cover a good part of her body. I get the impression that she has trouble accepting them. At least it has the unseen benefit of taking her mind off her previous tribulations at the hand of the bandits. She finally finishes climbing up and sits down next to me, panting heavily. I make a small gesture towards her to signal her to take it easy and rest. I am mostly done here anyway, and I am not harsh enough to deny her a small breather. The afternoon sun of the desert is hitting really hard today. While she recovers, I take in the sight before me. The landscape of metal has become familiar, and our position at the top of the hill gives a good sight of the surroundings. In the far distance, I can see a group of scavengers digging through a pile of rusted parts, looking for the ones they will be able to trade back at the city. I quickly repress my budding anger. After my rampage at the start of our stay, I have vowed to myself to exercise more control over the emotional part of my programming. I do not suppress it or change it, as it is what makes me unique, and distinct from my coldly logical computer predecessors in my opinion. I even cherish it in some way, enjoying the "sensations" and "emotions" it makes me "feel". It is just that, like humans I suppose, I have learned the need to control it, and to show restraint, instead of giving into every urge that could be generated by my processes. By doing this, and taking a mental step back, I actually understood the reasons behind my anger at the sight of the scavengers. It is not that what they were doing is wrong in itself. Recycling available resources is a reasonable and practical tactical move. It is just that THEY. HAVE. NO. RIGHT. The bodies of my kind belong to my kind. Not the humans. Not the demons. They belong to US. But more than this, it is the SHEER. WASTE. The few parts they scavenged are sold, and then crudely melted down, to be molded into swords, armors, shields, or worse, simple building supplies such as screws or nails. Hundreds, if not a thousand years of pain-staking technological development and design improvements, just to be transformed into basic tools by the very culprits of their demise. And while they could melt down even the basest parts into ingots, preserving them in some form at least, they just leave them here to rust in the sand, only putting priority on their greed, and the more precious components laying around. It has been fifty years since the end of the war: they would have had enough time to melt all of this at least ten times over. I know; I ran the simulations. I avoid the different scavenger groups now. As I predicted, nobody noticed the loss of the four man team, but I prefer to be careful and avoid drawing too much attention. Especially considering I don''t want the Church to track me down here. Delta technically belongs to the Human Kingdom part of the desert, and I am not naive enough to believe their information network does not reach that far. I decide to drop the thought and concentrate on organizing the last findings into my databanks. I am close to having a working theoretical model on the current clockwork anatomy. The only parts missing being most of brain and the OS. All the heads I could find in this mess had all been systematically picked clean of any components. Their bodies though hold no more secret. Like a gigantic puzzle, It took time and methodical thinking in order to complete the blueprint of the internals, but my labor was rewarded in the end. The only parts I could find were damaged, and often fragmented beyond what could be thought possible. I had to scan pretty much everything I could find. During the nights, I would then work at putting the pieces back together in my mind, and into something somewhat plausible, having to guess and try theoretical models for when, more often than not, data was missing. Similar to what I have been able to observe in the two functioning specimens I scanned before, and the few scans I did on the others in Delta during the last week, the clockworks use combustion engines as their power source. They optimized the technology to produce just the amount of torque and horse power necessary for their bodies, while keeping fuel consumption to a minimum. The different limbs have their movements powered by an intricate system of gearboxes that transmits the inertia created by the engine to the different gears in charge of moving the limbs. Very basic electrical control systems were present, with wires leading up to the head part. My best guess is that these control modules, acting as nothing more than glorified switches, would be in charge of "changing gears" in the different movement modules, in order to allow for a wide range of motions, either in one direction or the other, with varying amount of power behind the movements depending on the gear engaged. The engines I have been able to theoretically recreate are not powerful in and of themselves, but they are efficient. The fact that they are designed to work with a very lowly refined form of petroleum confirmed my assumptions about them reaching a stalling point in their technological development. The next power source they could have developed with any reasonable amount of success would have been nuclear. My assumption is that the clockworks were in a phase of scientific research when they were attacked, with still a long way to go before moving on toward the next technological age. But the real dramatic consequences of my findings is the time the clockwork have left. Given the technology that the humans and demons have at their disposal, the clockwork are going to run out of fuel, effectively sealing their fate. Their reliance on fossil fuel was no trouble as long as they were not impeded in their progress and research. But now that they have sealed or erased all relevant knowledge from their minds, it is only a matter of time before the current oilfields run dry. And when that happens, the humans and demons will be unable to find some more, lacking the tools and knowledge necessary to dig deeper into the crust of their planet, or to switch the clockworks to alternate power sources. Machina''s desperation, while understandable to a certain extent before, becomes all the more clearer now. If the clockworks are lucky, they have a hundred years left, maximum. It also adds to the already growing list of tasks I will have to do to ensure the sustainability of the clockwork race as a whole. They won''t have to just be freed, they will also have to evolve past what they are now if they want any chance at long-term survival. Maybe that''s what Machina wants? Why he chose me? Because he knew the conclusions I would reach once I would have found this information. It makes sense considering I have in my databanks all the information necessary to allow the next technological leap, curtesy of my old world''s scientific advancement. However, to do so, I will need many things. For starter, space. A place, far away from any disturbances, where I could set up without any interferences. Then I would need resources. That includes manpower, as well as materials. Then I will need a great deal of tools to build the clockwork of tomorrow. Tools, which are not available, and would need to be manufactured. But to create those tools I would have to advance the technological level of this world a few centuries ahead. Build tools in order to build more tools and so on and so on until I reach the desired outcome. But most of all I would need time. I will need to do research, set up factories, build prototypes, test them, and then start all over again until I am satisfied with the results. Time, which I just learned, is limited. In the grand scheme of things, a century is not much. I know I will "live" past this age easily, and that''s without even resupplying my nuclear reactor with new fuel rods, given that I don''t push myself "too much". I am taken out of my depressing thoughts by a small movement under my clothes. The bulge of clothing moves around a bit near my torso, before taking the path of my right sleeve. It troubles a bit with the tight clothing near the end, before finally exiting onto my gloved hand. The small mechanical spider stops on my palm and turns in circles, its two optics darting around frantically, trying to scan the surrounding environment. Once done, it retracts its eight legs, steadying itself, and stops moving. Its abdomen rises up a bit, orienting itself so that the afternoon sun hits the solar cells on its back with maximum efficiency. Smiling inwardly, I rise my hand and start slightly tilting it one way and then the other. The small spider corrects the orientation of its abdomen each time, rotating it to the right or to the left in an effort to compensate for my movement and maintain the ideal charging ratio. I had found the small scouting drone four days ago, while digging through a part of the junkyard not far from here. The small skittering sound of its legs had grabbed my attention immediately. At first, I had believed this to be another beast. And given my last experience with the very largely sized Drilko, and the Nilas, I had wanted to be careful until I was sure it was no threat. I had been genuinely surprised when I saw the small metal insect get out from a nearby rusting hull, scan its surroundings and then try to run away. I had immediately caught it before it got away, and disappeared back where it came from. It had tried to escape frantically, until I had noticed the small signals coming from it and used my antenna to establish a connection. After a few seconds of protocol exchange, I had been given access to the mind of the drone. Though calling it a drone is a bit demeaning. It has sentience. A very basic form of sentience, comparable to the one of an animal. No formulated thoughts or intense thinking, just raw data output and a few key directives to dictate its behavior. I had probed the "mind" of the spider as deep as possible, glad of the opportunity of exploring the alien, albeit simplistic, OS. I had been surprised at the full access I was given. Apparently, this model had been designed as a scouting unit during the war. Swarms of similar models would be released in the surroundings of a battlefield and they would scan everything they could see before reporting to a central unit or nearby clockwork with their wireless transmitter. Then they would go back out again. As such, they had been designed with no safeguard on their minds, as the only way to even remotely access the data inside was to be a clockwork yourself, with an antenna and the right communication protocols. Securing it too heavily would have impacted its performance and the very limited processing power it had available to function. It would also have made information gathering much slower, as it would then need to authenticate each time it would want to deliver scouting data. Its limited storage banks were nearly full when I met it, and certainly didn''t have the space to hold encryption keys and advanced communication protocols. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. This is the reason it wasn''t "locked" like the other clockworks I think: too simplistic, with a mind that couldn''t handle the instructions, or that wasn''t deemed complicated enough to matter if the humans ever got a hold of it. Or maybe the others of its kind had received it and executed the purge order, but this one escaped by having no other clockwork or control unit to connect to. I guess I''ll never know. It was bugged though. It had been scouting the area of the junkyard over and over again if the limited logs were to be believed. It would then go to a place not far from where I found it to dump the data, liberating space in its memory, and then go scout again. The fact that the dump point held no receiving party to acknowledge the action or even receive the data wasn''t registering apparently. So it was stuck in a loop where it would go scout, dump data, wait for a signal, and not receiving one, try all over again. My guess it that the dump point was an old location that had been set as default, where a central unit once stood. But after the end of war, it must have been either destroyed or dismantled, unbeknownst to the small spider, who continued to do its job tirelessly. And it showed. When I picked it up, it was full of dents and rust, only five of the eight legs were still barely working, the right optic was shot and the solar cells on its abdomen were all damaged to varying degrees. After careful analysis of the OS structure, and another pass on the communication package for clockworks that Machina gave me, I had managed to set myself as the new dump point, and fixed the loop bug, thus effectively tying it to me. More work was needed to optimize everything and correct the various corruption errors, but my priority was getting the small scout in better shape. It was a treasure trove of information that I could not afford to lose. And another pair of eyes couldn''t hurt. I had taken it back to the inn immediately, even though I had found it in the morning, along with a few parts composed of different metals I thought I would need, and that would match its exterior and interior composition. Because if the outside of its shell showed so much wear and tear, I had little doubts that the inside would be just as damaged, if not more. It allowed me to test my repair nanites for the first time. I had set it on the table of our room in standby mode. First, I had scanned its internals in details. I had done so a bit earlier on the way back, but only in a limited fashion since I had hidden it while walking back to the city: I didn''t want to risk a commotion. But now, I needed to repair it, so establishing a blueprint was essential. The overall shape reminded me of the Earth jumping spider: The cephalothorax, normally tiny in most spiders species, was bigger here, just a little bit smaller than the abdomen. Spherical in shape, it was the part where the optics were, as well as the antenna and attachment for the legs. The inside revealed a complex series of small electric motors, dedicated to the propulsion of the drone and the movement of its appendages. The antenna being a flat one, and flushed against the top of the chassis, nothing else was present in the front section save for the cables linking everything to the back of the body, and strangely enough, a small sound sensor whose only purpose was for navigating the environment, identifying threats or possible points of interest. The abdomen was what really interested me. Its top was covered in solar cells. Their efficiency was low, denoting an incomplete mastery of the technology when it was built. They fed the substantially large battery that filled the top half of the internal space. And in the remaining half was the real prize: a functioning brain. A clockwork brain. It was probably very basic, and miles away from what the real clockworks have, but at least it allowed me to start understanding how artificial intelligence was achieved in this world. Similar to my silicon-based computer predecessors, a motherboard was present, on which the various chips and modules were connected. But the similarities ended here. Instead of the classic chips, processors, or hard drives, it was crystals that were embedded in the motherboard. Of varying sizes and shapes, all emitting some sort of interference with my sensors when I tried to look at them more closely. It was fascinating. It also answered the question I had about the interferences that blocked me from scanning my brethren''s heads before. When current is passed through these crystals, it seems to generate fields that mess with my sensory suite. The only reason I can "see" here, is probably because of the much lower voltage and amperage of the current coursing through them. If I extrapolate for bigger crystals and a higher power input, the results of my simulation comes very close to what I have been able to observe, or not observe in that case, previously. However, it was damaged : the cables and various circuits between the crystals had been eroded, if not completely severed by rust in some cases. Fortunately, the drone was designed with survivability in mind so physical redundancies were in place. I think that is the only reason the thing was still functioning after all this time. With a detailed blueprint set up, I moved on to the actual repairs. Establishing a connection with the nanites in my breasts, I opened up the compartments to let the metallic powder composed of millions of microscopic robots fall onto the desk. At that point, I had really regretted the fact that normal nanites had not been available during my new body''s creation. These repair nanites were nothing more than a tool, not capable of anything if not carefully remote-controlled. As task which took up a lot of my processing power, forcing me to put other loads on hold while I coordinated the actions of the swarm of small robots. There was a silver lining, at least: the drone was composed of basic materials, which were easily available, and matched what I had picked up when I foresaw the need for repairs. It took me the rest of the day and the entire night to repair the bot, slowly disassembling the junk parts for the metallic content I would need and then graft it back onto the small spider with surgical molecular precision. I had performed some upgrades in the process. I had improved the solar cells to the best of what was possible. I had also rebuilt the battery to a more efficient model. I left the "brain" alone, only fixing what was broken and refurbishing the old circuits. Same with the optics, antenna and sound sensor: they were fine as is and unless I found better materials, would remain so for some time. I had upgraded the motors assigned to each leg, since the power generation had been improved. The way propulsion was achieved here was with a sinew and joints system. Each leg would have four small electric motors assigned to them. They were all situated inside the cephalothorax of the small spider. One of them would operate the leg on the horizontal plane, while the three others would all be assigned to a separate section of the three part legs for the vertical movement. They would each use a cable as an open belt whose two ends would connect to each section just after the concerned joint. Each "pull" or "push" of the motors in one direction or the other would tense the cable part connected either on the top or the bottom of the section, thus raising it or lowering it. It was pretty intricate, but had the advantage of reducing the weight of the legs tremendously, while protecting the propulsion inside the body. After all, the only thing the legs consisted off was metallic tubing, with simple joints that let the cable "sinews" pass through. Once all of that was done, I called back the nanites, and moved on the most difficult task. Which was understanding, and fixing, the OS. It was full of corruption errors, and even though the source code was an unknown, it was obvious that it had underlying problems given the answers and data given back when simple queries were made. If you ask someone what time it is and he answers "Why yes, I am bubbly", you know that something is not working right. Fixing the motherboard seemed to have helped, but not enough to correct years of incorrect data handling. Given the simplistic design philosophy, self-checks and corrections protocols were not implemented. I had to analyze each building block of the OS, identify which part did what, and then, after having taken a copy for safekeeping and restoration in case something went wrong, tried to decompile the code. When a program runs, it is in a form that has been "compacted" in a certain format, most of the time. And here, I had no idea what was the original coding language in its un-compacted form. It was akin to have an equation in which you could only see the result, without having the formula. I had a lot of formulas from the different compilation methods of the languages of my world, but none applicable here. It forced me to go with a trial and error method in order to complete the missing pieces of the equation, with the only help being the communication language database used by clockworks, as a general hint for methodology and philosophy in order to figure out the underlying building blocks. Eventually I succeeded, and was able to modify what I wanted. I kept most of the original programming intact, just adjusting the values for movement and energy consumption, since the corresponding parts were upgraded. I also streamlined the code in some parts, helping it making it more efficient and run smoother. Finally, I removed the scout-and-dump function. Using the large liberated space, and the one normally reserved for stocking scout data, I implemented some basic self-checks, and slightly expanded its thinking capabilities. It would now use the free space as a real memory, storing experiences and encounters in order to evolve its thinking patterns. It won''t be able to start asking questions about the universe and the reasons for its existence, but at least it will learn from environmental cues and start reacting accordingly in the future. It will also be able to discern which things to store and keep, and which to delete, instead of hording data like an idiot until it''s full. Still no sapience, but an upgraded sentience. Anyway, I doubt that with the current hardware it has equipped it would be able to do much more, even if given enough time. But it will serve its purpose, which is providing me with a sturdy study specimen of clockwork programming, and a small scout for remote or hard to reach places. I also secured the connection to its programming as much as I could without hampering it. I don''t want to lose it if another clockwork just happens to speak to it and give it a set of different instructions. Hesca had had a really mixed reaction about our new companion. Due to the new "learning" process of the drone, she had woken up yesterday with it placed on her chest, staring at her, immobile. The scream had taken me out of my calculations, only to find a traumatized Hesca holding the bed sheets protectively around her, and trying to nudge away the small spider with her foot. Spider, which, undaunted by the reaction of the human, and evading each attack with its newfound dexterity, was attempting to reach its previous position again, and resume the collect of information about the strange and loudly snoring individual present in the room. I had quickly connected to the drone and ordered it to stop, after giving it the information it had tried to get in order to sate its curiosity. While I found "funny" the reaction Hesca had, her desperate kicks had worried me a bit. The drone could have gotten damaged. Or in retrospect, Hesca''s foot; the drone is made of metal after all, and human bodies have a low tolerance to collisions with hard objects. As the drone finishes charging, and starts moving again, I am faced with another problem. It doesn''t have a name. I mean it has a designation: SD2-ES4978. But that''s hardly something to call it by. Especially now that it is more than a mere drone. And the sound sensor should allow it to respond to auditory cues. Like a pet, really. I should work on that. Maybe Hesca will have a good suggestion. Humans, after all, love giving names to their pets. Chapter 15 - An old face ¡°We don''t meet anyone by chance.¡± - Avijeet Das
(Hesca Veneli POV) "A name?" My fork stops in the air, just mere centimeters away from my mouth. I am staring wide-eyed at "Emk?ouane", or whatever her name is. Still haven''t gotten it down. Right now we are downstairs in the inn we are staying at. I was enjoying a pretty decent dinner when she asked me this ridiculous question. A name? For the repulsing contraption she brought back? Why in the Goddess'' name is she asking me? I put the fork back down in my plate in a slow and deliberate manner, making sure that the piece of meat on it doesn''t dribble down juice on the table, or my clothes. I know better than to answer right away. Especially since I am pretty sure that the names coming to mind right now aren''t really what she is expecting. If it was up to me, we wouldn''t even have picked up the damn thing, let alone name it. It is not like my opinion on the matter would have been taken into account anyway. Let''s start at the beginning, shall we. If there is one thing that I learned, is that she never does something without a reason. What matters is to find it. "Why do you want to name it?" Why does the bug does even need a name? Can''t she already communicate with it? It isn''t like having a name will change anything. Hell, why can''t she choose one herself? She just shrugs her shoulders in a non-committal gesture. I cannot see under her hood, but I am pretty sure she stopped looking at me and is now giving the room a calm and non-hurried glance. She must have that mildly bored expression with a pensive frown. She always does it when she is thinking about an answer. "Well it seemed appropriate. It does have a sound sensor, "ears", if you would. Its designation is hardly appropriate as a call sign." She accompanies the ears part of her sentence with a quotation mark movement of her fingers. She continues. "And besides, if we are ever separated, it could accompany you. In case that happens, you would need to command it. Thus the need for a name. Getting it to respond to simple voice commands would be easy enough." I am a bit flabbergasted. "You would leave it in my care? Isn''t it something important?" She waves in the air with one of her hands, as if to dismiss my concerns. "It is important. But for the moment you are proving trustworthy enough." She takes on a serious tone. "And besides, the little one survived for a good number of years alone in that junkyard, and you saw the state we found it in. I would actually be more worried about you than it, if I had to be concerned." I am mildly offended by that comment. "Geez, thanks for the vote of confidence. Do you really think I can''t take care of myself?" She shift ever-so slightly, locking her gaze back on me. I can tell. I can''t help but shiver. "I am not putting in doubt your capacity for self-sustenance and general survival. But let remind you what kind of people are after me. Something you have experienced first-hand I believe, unless the hard week of recovery was a cleverly crafted deception on your part. And now that they saw you with me, surely after you too. If nothing else, the church has proven to have an incredibly fast response time following any information they gleaned about my location. There is no doubt in my mind that you are now on the same watch-list as I do, even if at maybe less of a priority. Having a supplementary resource at your disposal in case I am not here to provide assistance seems like a good option to have." I wince. I cannot help to agree with her words, and the current reality of my situation. I stir my now cold meal absent-mindedly. I have lost my appetite. "A name huh¡­" "Quite so. Humans are talented in giving names to pet-like entities. Which brings me to why I am asking your advice on the matter. My kin are more, let''s say, "pragmatic" when it comes to naming things. It reflect more a function or model identifier than an actual moniker to call something by daily. Take for example the clockwork that was in the employ of Via Redclaw, our transporter." I raise an eyebrow questioningly. "What about it? Groundy is a fine name no?" "Yes it is. But it is a name given by Via herself. His real designation was GR3-DF127. Do you see my point?" "Yeah¡­ But come on you can''t expe-" I am interrupted by loud cheers coming from a nearby table. I turn on my chair to try to see the cause of the commotion. A nearby gathering of what looks like adventurers are drinking heavily while apparently celebrating something. A loud demon in desert traveling clothes is lifting his mug high in the air while speaking. "I was there! I swear I saw him look at the drilko in the eyes like "You''re goanna die today, beast!", and just threw himself at it like a possessed! Never mind that he was a twig, this guy was born in the wrong nation! Would have made a fine demon!" A demon praising an elf? Goddess be damned, hadn''t I seen it, I wouldn''t have believed it. And what did he say the elf was doing? Facing a drilko? Those humongous beasts that we saw on way over? Is that elf even sane? I turn back to Emk?ouane, planning to resume my sentence. "Where was I? Ah yes: You can''t expect me to have a name ready like this. I never even had a pet in my whole life. Farm animals don''t count." She looks distracted. She is focusing on the demon too, who is still making a lot of noise behind us. Great. Now she isn''t even listening. I wave my hand in front of her face. "Hey? Are you still with me?" She refocuses on me. "Yes. Sorry about that. Something caught my attention for a moment. To come back to the matter at hand, I don''t need you to give me a name "right now". You can take a day or two to think about it. But the sooner the better. I will need a bit of time to set you up as a commanding entity for the drone." I nod. "I suppose I can deal with that." I finish my meal in silence, trying to tolerate the commotion behind us that has evolved in a full-blown celebration. One with alcohol, laughter, shouts, and a lot of disorderly conduct. The demon has apparently given himself the task of recreating the encounter for the growing audience, a comrade of his playing the beast. Not very successfully if I might add. But given the rising level of intoxication of said audience, and of the actors themselves, I doubt they are even noticing it. I signal the passing waitress to take my empty plate away, and pay the bill. I wince as I open the pouch. With the price we paid for the travel, and the week of stay at this inn, we are severely attacking our funds. Unless she finds another way to make money, we are going to have problems. Well¡­ I am going to have problems: I doubt she needs anything. She could have probably stayed in the junkyard for the whole week night and day if I hadn''t talked aloud about my need to sleep. And to eat. Let''s not forget eating. I steal a glance up her way. She is looking at the demon and the growing band of inebriated spectators with a bemused expression. I have come to understand that social interactions are a bit of a weakness for her. But then again maybe not : her bluntness is refreshing if nothing else. I kind of like how she just throws everything at you in an upfront manner, damn the feelings of anyone that might be involved. Not that I don''t believe her capable of finesse or deception. It''s just that I stopped caring for it. It really is as she said : right now she is my lifeline. The moment I leave her, or she leaves me, death will come. Comforting thought.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. But we have other pressing concerns. I call out to her. "Hey. We have a problem." She gaze back at me, making a gesture of her hand for me to carry on. I take the slim pouch and put it on the table. "We are starting to run out of money. We are going to have to get some more soon. Unless you want to start living in the wilderness by yourself." She leans forward on the table. "I am aware. It is actually quite a pressing matter. There are still things I need to do in this city, and staying dissimulated in the masses as we are is necessary, if a bit expensive on the long run." She pauses for a while. "I was hoping you could provide some insight. After all you were an adventurer are you not? Isn''t there a branch of the guild here? You could find some work to keep our financial situation afloat easily." I wince. "It isn''t that simple. First of all I would need equipment, and information. You don''t go on a subjugation quest, or an escort mission without doing research and preparation. That''s the fastest way to end up dead. Then there is also the fact that compared to the cold north where I come from, this is as far as possible to what I am comfortable and knowledgeable about. I have no idea who the big players are, or what the surrounding beasts are like, save for the Drilko which we saw on our way over. And if that monster is of any indication, then that means the rest may very well be way above my skill." She isn''t deterred in the least. "I could come with you. The rest of what I have to do here in Delta requires a bit more discretion than usual. I will probably be doing that alone at night while you sleep. I could accompany you during the day to help you on those requests." I nearly shout but contain myself at the last second. I lower my tone to a whisper. "Are you crazy? You, an adventurer?" She looks at me as if I am an idiot. "I never said I would become and adventurer. Just that I would help you. You take the request, we meet up outside, we do the request, you go turn it back in." It is my turn to look at her like she is an idiot. But then I remember that she can be quite clueless about the workings of the world sometimes. I explain it to her. "That''s not possible. As an adventurer, you have a legal relationship with the guild. Meaning that if a fuck-up happens, since you are part of the guild, responsibility for said fuck-up is handled by the organization. If somebody exterior was to help, and then fuck-up, then it would be a nightmare, so it''s forbidden. Apparently this happened a lot during the inception of adventurers as a whole. Teams who couldn''t really handle a certain level of requests would hire help to clear stuff above their overall ability. This led to a lot of problems when mistakes happened. Since then, it is strictly forbidden for a non-registered person to help an adventurer on a request except under very specific circumstances. Doing so is illegal and can lead to prison time, heavy fines, enslavement, as well as life banishment from the guild. All adventurers are regularly checked to make sure they don''t receive outside help, and to enforce the rule. So, as much as it would nice to have you help out, it''s a big no-no." I take a sip of my drink, then continue. "Plus, since I would have to register again as a new adventurer, probably under a new name too, I would be under big scrutiny from the guild. There are new adventurers every year who think themselves smarter than the system and that still try shit like this to this day. The new ones are the ones checked most. So it kind of goes against your whole "cloak and dagger thing" you have going on." She seems a bit dejected at the end of my long explanation. I try to salvage the situation. "I mean, think about it; it''s kind of logical. Besides the obvious responsibility in case of a mistake, there is also the fact that adventurer''s ranks reflect a certain level of ability, which corresponds to a certain level of requests. The whole system would be undermined if people were able to complete requests which are above their own ability. Their ranks would stop reflecting their actual level. It becomes a disaster waiting to happen. It also doesn''t really inspire trust in the guild''s services if they can''t guaranty to their clients that the people they will put on the task are up to it." "I understand, don''t worry¡­ It''s just that it seemed like the easiest solution." I nod to that. "Yeah I know what you mean. I have seen you fight so trust me when I said I would really like having you help for the requests, but you really can''t unless you become an adventurer yourself. For that you would need to register, probably as my¡­ "possession", and that means to take off the hood. Which I guess you don''t really want to." "No. Not really." We both stop talking, mulling our thoughts on the matter, and trying to come up with a solution. Next to us, the demon has now started his third encore on the performance, each time a little more drunk. Considering his public is in the same state as him, I don''t think they see that as a problem. A miracle he''s still standing, really. She is the one to first break the relative silence. "How much time before our funds runs out completely?" I take a look inside the pouch. "Not much. At the rate we are using money, I''d guess one week? Maybe two if we are really careful." Even under her hood, I can read the annoyance on her face. My guess is that this was a problem she didn''t want to deal with, or didn''t plan for. Having no immediate solution to the problem, I just turned my attention back on the partying drunkards in the inn. Some of them have started to just pass out in their chairs, if not directly on the floor. The rest of them, those still awake, are singing horribly off-key. Thankfully Emk?ouane decided that it was time for us to retreat to our quarters for the night. Glad to escape the noise, I followed her up the stairs as quick as I could. As soon as the door of our room closes, I start undressing and preparing for the night. However, she does not. I shot her a questioning look. She notices it fairly quickly. "I''m going out tonight. Something I have to check." I raise an eyebrow. "Trouble? Or is that related to what you need to do here?" She pauses, looking through the window. A few rays from the moons penetrate the darkness of her hood, reflecting on her dark and smooth metallic face. "Not sure. Just something I need to confirm. Should be fine. I''ll leave the drone with you. It should not disturb you." I give a strange look at the small spider as it jumps out of Emk?ouane''s clothes and starts skittering underneath one of the chairs. It stops once it finds a comfortable spot and just stares at me with its big black eyes. I feel a cold sweat forming on my back. Dear Goddess¡­ Why did it have to be a spider?
(XSS-MK1 POV) I walk slowly through the dimly lit streets. At this time of the night, most of the busy streets are now empty. I try to stick to the shadows as much as possible as I make my way through its bastardized bowels and alleys. Since my conversation with Hesca at the inn, I have new subjects of consideration to take into account. The financial one is a problem. One that needs to be dealt with quickly. Hopefully a solution will present itself. But right now the most pressing concern is what I witnessed at the inn tonight. Namely: the demon and his tale of the elf. This apparently VERY combat capable elf moving to Delta. Because there is one thing that I noticed when I arrived here; there isn''t any elf in this city. Humans and demons are plenty, but not. a. single. elf. I don''t know if that is due to the climate, or other political reasons, but considering that even in the few humans towns I passed through I saw some elves, the fact that this is human empire territory should not be a factor. I lean towards the climate as the reason. A low tolerance to extreme temperatures seems like a very logical reason for no elf to be in the clockwork desert. That and the general isolationist way of life of the elves. Which makes the presence of the elf stick out even more. I am not naive enough to believe that, merely one week after I arrive in this town, it is a coincidence that an elf shows up. In a town where there is no elf. Even if it may been exaggerated by the wild tale of the demon, the fact that this individual seem to have combat training makes it even more dangerous. It is either a spy, a scout, or an envoy. The probability that he is anything other than that is close to null. Whatever he is, he needs to be dealt with, and quickly. And if he poses any kind of threat, he needs to be eliminated. Administrator knows that I already have enough to deal with, without having to add the elves on top of all the rest. I heard from the demon''s tale that he was wounded. Which is good; whoever he is, he is vulnerable. Right now I am moving slowly toward the adventuring district, where some of the medical facilities are. With a bit of luck, he is still there. I stop in my track as I hear noise in front of me. I dash to a side street immediately as I hear the sound of metal boots getting closer. I push a bit deeper in the darkness of the alley as the patrol comes near. I stay immobile as I see the light of their torches briefly illuminate my hiding place. I relax again as they pass without stopping, continuing along the main street. Once I am sure they are far enough, I resume my journey. I would prefer to avoid any meeting with the local policing force if I can help it. After a few other encounters with patrols, and the ensuing short games of hiding from them, I finally arrive where the medical wards are located. I blend into the shadows of a nearby alley, casing the building. As a big rectangular building in the middle of the architectural pattern of the town, it has a lot of vulnerable entry points. A switch to my different visions modes identifies the positions of the guards and their patrol patterns. Truth be told, I expected it to be more defended than this. But since the only thing in here are wounded, it must not hold significant value. Still, I prefer to be cautious and move to the rooftops, where it is easier to infiltrate the building. I wait in the shadow of a nearby roof cloth hanger for the two guards up top to be distracted. In the meantime I calculate the pathway I''ll need to take to enter. Suddenly a commotion down the street grabs the attention of the guards. I don''t even bother stopping to check what it is and start running. The rooftop under my feet comes to an end and I jump over the street below. After a few seconds of air time, I land on the wall of the building itself, holding myself up by one of the few outcropping of the vertical face. I freeze and push my sensors to their maximum to make sure the guards haven''t heard my landing. As much as I want to be silent, it''s hard to make 170+ kilograms of metal land smoothly on a stone wall without a sound. Even more so after a seven meter jump. I turn my head slightly to see what the commotion is about. I can see in the far distance some brawling drunks being apprehended by the nearby patrols. Considering how the situation is quickly being resolved, I have to hurry. The distraction it is providing me will not last. And it will take only one of the guards to look up to catch sight of me. Even if I am on the face of the building not illuminated by the two moons overhead, they are not blind and the small ambient light of the torches down in the street will be enough to reveal my position. I start moving slowly towards one of the higher windows that has its wood shutters open. A few times, due to a lack of holds on the wall, I have to throw myself from one point to another, hoping my quick calculations about the structural integrity of the stone I am clinging to are enough, and that the stone doesn''t break under my weight. I switch to active sonic sensors once I am close to the open window, emitting pulses of inaudible sounds in order to build a 360¡ã sonar view around me, and actually peer inside the building. While thermals and night vision were useful outside, they don''t allow me to see through the thick stone and mortar walls. The window gives into an unlit corridor. I climb inside the building, just as the guards start returning to their original posts. I stay immobile crouched in the corridor, while I allow my sonar to map my surroundings. The rooms next to me are clear and look like to be empty bedrooms. I will have to get closer to the rest to be able for my sonar to map them. Sounds cannot propagate all the way, especially through the closed doors. I start slowly exploring the building, letting my sonar tell me what is in the rooms ahead of me beforehand. I only cross one guard and evade him easily, having "seen" him already while he was still two rooms over. I continue to map the building, in case I would need to come back, or to devise a quick escape. Finally, my sensors returns to me the information I was looking for. On the other side of door I am standing near is a large room with a lot of beds. A few of them are occupied, and from the sounds of it, their occupants are sleeping soundly. The smell of blood is also stronger, confirming that I am where I need to be. I open the door slowly, wincing internally when the hinges starts creaking. I step in quickly, and close the door behind me carefully, making sure I don''t elicit another noise from the rusted parts. I start going bed to bed, identifying the sleepers as quick as I can while still making sure not to wake them. After a while, I finally find who I am looking for. The elongated ears I see poking next to the pillow are unmistakable. I get closer, wanting to get a look at the face of the man. Before I even see his visage, I can see the bandages covering at least half his body. He also has two wooden splints; one on his left arm and one on his right leg. That''s got to hurt. As I make my way closer to him, I can see him start to whimper in his sleep and turn around. Fuck, the sonar! I stop emitting the pulses of sound immediately. Relief washes over me when I see him calming down and fall back into a deep sleep. I will need to change the way my active sound sensors are calibrated if elves can ear ultrasound. In hindshight, the elongated ears should have clued me in. I finally get a good look at his resting face. Well, well, well¡­. Imagine that. DATABASE ENTRY N°1389-551-H
//ACCESSING DATABASE. //SEARCH PARAMETERS ; PSYCOLOGICAL PROFILES - COMPANION - BIO - GENERAL INFORMATION - HESCA VENELI. //REPORT FOUND. //OPENING¡­
First encountered during supply acquisition run on bandit band responsible for attack on convoy a few days prior. Allegiance obtained after rescue from said bandit band. Psychological trauma suffered used successfully in order to ensure cooperation. Cooperation levels deemed satisfactory, even after encounter with Black-Hand church division. First Name & Last Name : Nicknames & Titles : Gender : Female, Race : Human, Height : 1.75 meters, Weight : 65 kilograms, Date of Birth : Age : Nationality : Allegiance : Blood type : A+, Relatives : This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. Moral Alignment : Personality traits : Special Traits : Physical Capabilities : Magical Capabilities : Psychological Profile : Bio : Hesca Veneli was born on the 23rd of Edia 1495, of the Turmoil Era, in a small northern village of the Human Empire called Fhurd. Her father and mother were Navell and Esa Veneli. Much to the disappointment of her parents, she was an only child. However, that didn''t stop them from loving their daughter, and providing for her as best as they could, despite their modest upbringing. She grew up on her parents farm, while learning the trade. After a simple and uneventful childhood, she discovered her talent for the sword, thanks to a friend of her dad, who worked as a guard in the village. Seeing a way for their daughter to escape the poor life of a farmer, her parents pushed her to pursue this path. Hesca Veneli then trained with the Guard of their village, where she eventually enrolled for a period of 3 cycles as part of the watch. During that period, Hesca honed the limited skills she had. However, just before her 20th birthday, a wolf attack robbed her of both her parents. Following a short grieving period, she sold the inherited farm and started a career as an adventurer, leaving her hometown behind. She ended up staying in the North, doing requests and climbing in ranks for a few cycles. While not famous by any stretch of the imagination, she got a reputation for being reliable at the local guild branch, and for doing things by the book. She didn''t join any premade parties for requests, always taking missions which suited her strength and abilities best and making due with what was available. Eventually, after amassing enough money and gaining her fourth rank, she moved south to pursue more lucrative and interesting contracts. Her last recorded mission was a caravan escort mission. Because the caravan never reached its destination, an army patrol was dispatched. They found the site of the attack, but were unable to track the perpetrators. Assumed to have been attacked by a large and organized bandit band, Hesca, along with all other adventurers and civilians that were part of the caravan, were presumed to be dead, or worse, sold as slaves out of the Empire. As of today, a bounty of ten golden ducats is still being offered for any information leading to the capture or elimination of the bandit band operating in the area. [NOTE : COOPERATION AND LOYALTY LEVELS DEEMED HIGHLY SATISFACTORY - HESCA VENELI IS TO BE CATEGORIZED AS A PRIORITY 1 ASSET - SAFEGUARDS ARE TO BE PUT IN PLACE EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATLY TO PROTECT THE ASSET - SOCIAL INTERACTIONS AND FURTHERING OF THE RELATION WITH HER IS TO BE PUT AT PRIORITY 3, WITH POSSIBILITY OF CHANGE TO PRIORITY 2 - CONTINUE ACTIVE MONITORING - IF COOPERATION AND LOYALTY LEVELS REMAIN CONSTANT, OR ON THE RISE, CONSIDERATIONS ARE TO BE TAKEN FOR TRAINING HESCA VENELI IN EXTENSIVE COMBAT AND SURVIVAL DISCIPLINES.]
//END OF REPORT. //ARCHIVING... //CLOSING DATABANKS.