ã€ŠRedoubt: Killing Intent [Crafting, Fantasy]ã€‹


 CH.01: Black Tulip

    ¡°Alone, again?¡±

    Covered in crimson snow to my left, a face of shock. What once was a man young enough to be my student, is now a stiff corpse forever clawing at the shard embedded in his throat. Extinguished, like the dozens of frozen and forgotten corpses around us.

    Aside from the white armband, he shared a uniform similar to me and the buddy to my right ¨C whose expression of resignation made me consider how his friendly warmth might¡¯ve all bled away by now. The pain in my leg worsened as the adrenaline wore off.

    Dozens of other drones whirred into the horizon as they sought more targets. I applied pressure to my leg wound and grabbed the pocket multitool knife from my vest. It was my father¡¯s gift to me when I turned fourteen. It was also my gift to my late husband back when I got licensed to teach, just before we were married.

    My quivering blood-soaked hands struggled to find the knife among the myriad of tools on the device. I straightened my arm to slash the sleeve off between my yellow armband and where my blood type was written, sliding it off to begin improvising the sturdy fabric as a tourniquet over my right thigh to deal with the injury.

    My heart raced after the initial sight, but the blood stopped pouring as I tightened the tourniquet using a small flashlight as the tensioning rod. It wasn¡¯t perfect, but it worked, and I¡¯d already used my Individual First Aid Kit¡¯s gauze on my comrade prior. Once I secured the tourniquet in place with a paperclip and a cable tie, I checked my friend¡¯s faint pulse.

    An echo of artillery tolled in the distance, but my ringing ears can¡¯t tell from which side. My old rifle works better as a crutch to help me limp over the frozen bodies littering the ruined trench. Slowly I stand, and glare at my friend who¡¯s never been paler. We¡¯ve barely slept in days. I then move the multitool''s blade to his neck, and carefully snap off his identification tags.

    ¡°Fuck, I¡¯m sorry I can¡¯t carry you anymore ¨C but I can go get someone to come back for you. Don¡¯t you dare die on me, too.¡±

    Shells began to sparsely land one after another, obliterating the barren fields behind me. I helped haul those two for too long. Fatigued, I fell to a crawl over the disgusting mush of decomposing cadavers as the bombardment crept closer. Just a bit more and¨C

    A shell detonates beside my trench. Muscles seize-up. Tons of blasted dirt instantly shroud the view ahead of me with soil. Frozen and heavy; all that solid mud piled over my tired body with no room for light, or air. I tried to move, but all I could muster was to squeeze the multitool in my hand which barely stuck out the dirt. The ringing in my ears hadn¡¯t waned, yet I could now hear my own pulse. Nonetheless, my body had finally given up, and so would I.

    The scorching sensation in my suffocating chest intensified, reminiscent of the day a rocket strike destroyed my apartment ¨C and my family, during the invasion¡¯s first week. I¡¯ve never felt so alone since that day, two years ago.

    I choked every time I saw the kids in my classes at the university, constant reminders of losing my own. Fuck it. So I chose to enlist. Though they wanted reservists, the recruiter gave me a pass after seeing the loss in my eyes. I begged my sister not to tell mom and dad that I¡¯d join. Yet I bet they already knew I would, and that they couldn¡¯t stop me.

    Faced down with my head slightly lifted, I opened my eyes to nothingness. My lungs are ravenous, yet I must scream. This is it. Burning stiffness reverberates; a numbness slowly creeping through me. Seconds? Minutes? Eitherway, this war killed me an eternity ago and the void can¡¯t take what¡¯s no longer there. My racing mind ends with my failing grip over the beloved tool in my hand that stuck past the dirt. My sullen, weary eyes slowly ease themselves shut as I bade farewell to this sick joke of a conflict.

    Darkness overwhelms ¨C yet a warm breeze crosses my cheeks. It kinda tickles.

    Delusions of death? An odd brightness seared past my eyelids somehow. The caress of such gentle winds have always been rare to this region, let alone the season. I felt light, and the numbness wore off. Paradise, perhaps?

    My eyes flash open to a shimmering lake under a lavender sky, bordered by towering grass that glistened under a setting sun that crests over distant mountains. A faint beam shot across the sky. In my hands were the same bloodied multitool knife, and the two colorful beaded bracelets I made for my kids. Anton, and Anya. I stumble to the lake''s edge to wash the dirty tool. Behold, a rippled reflection of a freckled, dark-haired toddler with amber eyes. But the ears looked off ¨C and the truth dawned on me as I slowly reached for mine. Who, and where the hell am I.

    Trotting on my short legs to sit by the silty shore, I basked in its tranquility. From the vibrant sky to the warm winds, it¡¯s all a far cry from the constant snow and frozen breaths I¡¯m used to. I haven¡¯t sat to watch the sun set in ages. Last I remember doing something like this was when we went camping as a family years ago. I can still smell the charred barbecue we had; my husband Viktor wasn¡¯t the best cook.

    ¡°..Forlasita?!¡±

    A stern voice ambushed me during my trance, causing me to drop the multitool into the water. I turn around to see a brawny woman with a dark red ponytail in an oddly tattered hand-stitched tanned leather outfit; the kind I¡¯d only ever seen in my great grandparents¡¯ closet. Before I could even reach into the lake for the tool, the woman grabbed me with both hands and hauled me away. She kept muttering foreign sentences in a reprimanding tone, probably because a toddler ventured out alone. But somehow I couldn¡¯t get rid of the scent of meat ¨C it only got stronger.

    I discreetly took off the bracelets, and hid them in my small dress. The lady kept complaining in her peculiar language while occasionally giving me intense stares. Her short-sleeved garment of rough textiles with thick thread for cross stitching the hems and seams, didn¡¯t reek as much as it looked like it would.

    I¡¯m cradled in a bed of scars, as countless marks riddle her crossed arms where the sleeves can¡¯t cover. Her face also ran a distinct scar from her upper lip to her right ear, and her pupils are a shade of gray that gleams under the sun¡¯s rays. There¡¯s only one building, a two-story wooden farmhouse with a thatched roof ahead of us. That ought to be where the growing fragrance of food is coming from.

    The sun had now sunk behind the mountains, faintly glowing over that side of the horizon ¨C and stars flickered on the opposing end, through the darker hues of the purple-indigo gradience. The thin glowing beam brightened, perhaps spanning east to west.

    Creaking open, the front door slowly swung to unveil a lean and elegant warm-eyed man with faint silky blonde hair swept over a pair of pointed ears, donning a faded green set of robes. His golden eyes sparkled, almost glowing. The woman spoke with him as she lowered me down to standing height, sounding a little exhausted from her own complaints. The man knelt and whispered something to me with a smile and patted my head to ruffle what little hair I have.

    He noticed the traces of blood still on my hands from the tool, and he gave her a grim look while changing his tone to a concerned inquisitiveness. He scrutinized all over my body to investigate the source of the blood, only for nothing to be identified. He let me go and began mumbling some sort of chant, then soon enough his palms began to glow. I felt no change, and by the look of his face, he didn¡¯t either. This fueled an argument between the two. This toddler has a ton in common with them both so I¡¯m guessing this is my new family now. The aroma of some sort of stew filled the rustic lantern-lit wooden room.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    The tall man knelt forward and raised my stained palms to the lady. She gestured her hands away and raised her eyebrows, clearly as baffled as him.

    Their tone got louder. He stood up and pointed at her, accusatorily. Harsher, as she rolled her eyes away and pressed some fingertips to the side of her temple to ease the stressed gaze she had for us.

    The intensified bickering slowed to a pause as the man grew silent and crossed his arms in a sassy yet stern manner. She turned towards him to clap her hands together in front of her lips once and in silence, before pointing the whole gesture towards him as she then explained something thoroughly, down to each syllable.

    Within this entire ordeal, only one word was repeated enough for me to grasp ¨C and it was Forlasita; likely my new name since they¡¯d gesture to me with it.

    Going further, the burly woman raised her hand back for a slap as she growled. But instead of hitting him she reached for his cheek and began to caress it before pinching it as hard as she could while pulling him closer to herself.

    ¡°Ahhh, ahh a-aah!¡± the towering, pointy-eared man grunted, playfully. A healthy relationship, it seems.

    Remembering the days when my husband and I would argue over the most minor things. Then came the days when I¡¯d be routinely suspicious of him when he¡¯d be out with his buddies as our children were asleep. I¡¯d give an arm and a leg to go back to those times, hell I¡¯d give both my legs for that again. Their absence has been an ache I could never get used to. It didn¡¯t take long for these two to notice my laughter. They noticed before I did.

    Too busy in my own mind to notice the expressions they gave each other, or the fact that they¡¯d stopped arguing entirely. A moment passes before they kneel beside, offering hugs so snug that I¡¯m mentally brought back; almost to tears. They squeeze my small frail physique tighter while whispering words I¡¯ve never heard before. They ran their fingers through my hair with utmost care.

    Their skin on mine comes with a kind of warmth and care I haven¡¯t experienced in ages. Though the shock of losing my beloved husband and children all at once had dulled my ability to cry, my tears refuse to stop, and I don¡¯t want them to ¨C at least not quite yet. Let me savor this.

    Their words sounded like how silk feels on skin, or how tea soothes the soul. I held them tenderly, and they embraced me tighter. Time didn¡¯t matter to me ¨C only the warmth of these strangers did. Reasonably, they eventually let me go and continued to pat my head with kind smiles as they cleaned me up.

    It soon passed. That happy moment. They offered each other a kiss or two, before lifting me onto a tall chair by the timber dining table. The quality of the furnishings are questionable at best, and I have to be a bit cautious of splinters. But finally, food. Two bowls of watery porridge filled with cut up vegetables and some kind of meat. There were sides of poached eggs on rough bread, with two mugs of some sort of rough and flat alcoholic beverage.

    The man lifted a spoon from the stew but the woman stopped him. ¡°Arsalan!¡± she called out while extending her hand. He smiled and put the spoon down, reaching forward with his other hand to hold hers. She began reciting a prayer in the strange language for a bit. Arsalan, I¡¯ve heard it at least twice before in an addressing manner. It¡¯s probably his name. He chows dinner down as soon as they finish praying.

    It¡¯s going to feel odd calling either of them mom or dad out here, but we¡¯ll see. I hope my parents back in the old country (or world for that matter) are doing fine. I doubt they¡¯ll ever find my body. Still, I don¡¯t know the striking woman¡¯s name. After a short while of watching her lover heartily eat up, she turns her silvery eyes to me. Shit, I should act like the toddler I am to draw less suspicion.

    ¡°Awww, ¡®Lasita!¡± she exclaims, scooting her seat closer across the aged plank flooring. She held up a spoonful of soup for me and gave it a gentle blow. I cooperated by adjusting myself accordingly to any rough usage of the spoon ¨C but she¡¯s been delicate so far. One warm, savory spoonful after another, I could tell how much care and dexterity she¡¯s putting into this. This went on, and I got the idea of saying something.

    ¡°Mama!¡± I said, for my first utterance in this world.

    Her eyebrows raised for a moment in some kind of confusion, with a slight tilt of the head. She continued to feed me as normally, while also taking bites out of her coarse bread. I repeated it. No attention. Maybe they just don¡¯t use that here? I¡¯ll try for the elf.

    ¡°Pa.. Papa.¡±

    They both paused, with a half smile, expectantly. Their eyes met for a moment before looking back to me. The woman joyously pointed at herself and said ¡°Panjo! Pan-jo!¡±

    ¡°..Panjo?¡± I responded. Is that her name?

    The man gave a soft laugh, and the woman stood up in the biggest cheer. They exchanged a few comments, and she called him ¡®Salan¡¯ twice, perhaps omitting the ¡®Ar¡¯ at the start of his name. She then pointed at him. ¡°Patshjo.. Pat-shh-jo!¡±

    Perhaps her name isn¡¯t Panjo, but it might be their equivalent of ¡®mama¡¯ here. I guess I¡¯ll slow down and stumble a couple of times before getting this new ¡®dad¡¯ word right. ¡°Pat, pat-jo.¡±

    This went on for a bit longer. Even the elf seems intrigued now. I took a somber moment to remember when my children said their first words; if their voices filled an ocean I could drown in, I¡¯d dive and die countless times over. I miss Anya and Anton so much. Still, ecstatic would be an understatement to describe the brawny woman. I¡¯ll surprise her again soon.

    She tried to teach me other words, and I¡¯d follow a little if she repeated the syllables enough times. After a while, I learned the words for mom, dad, eat, drink, say, you, me, yes, no, and a couple more ¨C but I didn¡¯t make it clear I got them. That¡¯s how I tried to teach my kids, but if I learn suspiciously fast here I might cause trouble for myself. She paused in thought. The elf yawned, got up and waved himself away.

    She slowly pointed towards me, going on to explain my name to me. ¡°Forlasita, for-la-si-ta.¡±

    I mumbled fo-fa-fi-ta over and over as minutes pass.

    She laughed, waving to herself, ¡°Kaaan-tax.¡±

    ¡°Kantax, huh?¡±

    ..!?

    That was an accident. I spoke my mind out, as effortlessly as I¡¯d thought it up. I also didn¡¯t notice that I¡¯d reactively covered my mouth like anyone who¡¯d said something wrong would ¨C anyone but a baby at least. Kantax gave me a look of shock. Her face had been flush red since earlier, and when she reached for her empty tankard, I understood why.

    Still in disbelief, she gave me a pat on the back and hoisted me over around the kitchen, and up the creaking wood staircase. Walls of lightweight wooden construction between sturdy masonry pillars. Their bedroom upstairs is a humble, dimly lit room. A window sat on the bedroom¡¯s ¡°front¡± with rough linen curtains and hinged shutters. A large thinly-padded fur bed, with a bedside table on one side aligned under the window. A wooden bowl topped by a small knife sits on that table. The room gave the scent of sandalwood.

    Arsalan is sound asleep on the side of the bed away from the table. Strapped over the corner of the bed is an ornately engraved horn bow, with a quiver of arrows at its side. Some shelves line the wall, sparsely occupied with various mementos and pouches around a hefty wooden lockbox. Hanging on the wall is a battered steel kettle helm, and some sort of quilted coat of padding ¨C I think Viktor called these coats gambesons? A polished round metal shield rests on the dresser alongside a sheathed sword.

    This is actually not that bad, even if you consider the fact I don¡¯t have diapers. Or any running water out here. Or electricity. Or a lot of things. Damn. At least I have warm bedding and caring people around. I¡¯ve got lots of time to think things through. First, I¡¯ll need to learn the language. Thoroughly. And probably try to get that pocket tool back while I hide these bracelets away. My pillow is a bit rough, but it¡¯s soft enough.

    Kantax pinched the wall candle and left only the moonlight to paint the curtain. She walked over and carefully kissed my forehead in the dark, softly caressing my cheeks like any caring mother would. I¡¯d know. She whispered something soft before heading to bed herself.

    ¡°La vero estis ¨C mi amas vin, mia kara.¡±

    I don¡¯t know those words yet, but I already get you.

 CH.02: Come Undone

    The next day came. Sunlight beamed through the gaps of the curtains, straight into my slumbering eyes. Arsalan and Kantax were already up early, as I could hear them bantering downstairs. I climbed up their bedside table, careful not to tip the bowl and knife. I slowly swept the curtains aside.

    Verdurous and green ¨C a handful of nearby trees dotted the nearby locale. It¡¯s not quite as lush as I¡¯d thought. Past the unpaved road ahead laid several prairies and golden plantations, whose grains reminded me of the early August wheat fields I¡¯d drive by on our yearly visits to my grandpa¡¯s workshop.

    Things got even more blurred onwards. I could see the lake from here too, and a couple of hovels dotting its shores. Further out, I could see a cart being wheeled across a muddy path towards an orchard. The blurry mountains staggered the horizon, with soft streaks of mist that drift around their glacial peaks and jagged crests.

    Laughter caught my attention. I moved closer to the window to peek down below. Kantax wore the same outfit as she did last night, plus a hat of woven straw. Arsalan had raised the hems of his green robe from his knees towards his waist, tied together with a sash and a quiver for his bow. Is he going hunting or something?

    They walked over to the edge of our fence, hand in hand. He leaned in to kiss her forehead, after which she yanked his hair down to get a more tender one on the lips. They waved as they parted ways. Kantax marched over to the closest fields while Arsalan headed around to the other side of the house where I couldn¡¯t track.

    She approached a group of men and women in peasant outfits, all with woven hats over their heads. I¡¯d seen a few of them arrive from outside the vicinity but a good number of them came from the lakeside hovels. As soon as they noticed her, they immediately began organizing into a few rows with about a dozen people in each. They were aligned, but left gaps perhaps to account for absentees. Sheaves of grain stalks were strewn about.

    They¡¯re so blurry from here, but I pinched my fingers to form a pinhole for a clearer view. Kantax began barking out orders or complaints so audibly that if I knew the language, I could probably make out every other word with ease. The last time I¡¯d heard that kind of yapping was when a guy in my platoon lost both his ballistic helmet and his armored vest just before a routine inspection. Kantax did one slow lap around the group, and singled out the two who didn¡¯t have their straw hats with them. That¡¯s familiar.

    She pulled the two to the front ¨C a man and a woman. A moment passed. Out of nowhere, the two began articulating some sort of dramatic play? The man pretended to have a heart attack as the other started a slow dance with an invisible partner. Kantax and the rest laughed as the two returned to their spots.

    Kantax gave them a couple more lines while repeatedly raising her straw hat a few feet into the air to emphasize it, before dismissing them to their assigned fields. The clear sky was almost searingly bright, but the cold winds made up for it.

    She then walked over to a man roping something from a large shed. He tugged on it and out came a.. bug? A whole beetle the size of a small car, lumbered out.

    The bug was almost as tall as they were. It looks pretty round and has a small horn. They both gave it a few pats on the shell before rigging a harness onto it.

    They hauled up a clunky large wooden thing and latched it onto the beetle¡¯s chained harness. The guy mounted the saddle on its harness and rode it off. Kantax had continued heading over to separate fields to assess the other workers.

    I kept watching the man sitting on the insect. Honestly, its size doesn¡¯t warrant calling it one. I can¡¯t make out most of its details, and I doubt I even want to see it up close. Are bugs just massive here?

    He dismounted and lowered a portion of the wooden machine. Truly a beast of burden, and you¡¯d think it¡¯s sluggish or slow but if it wasn¡¯t harnessed it¡¯d be able to kick harder than a mule and run pretty fast. You could tell by how quickly its massive legs repositioned.

    Two hands suddenly hoisted me from behind, it was Kantax. Her brows furrowed in confusion. I didn¡¯t even hear her come up the creaky stairs, let alone open the shoddy bedroom door.

    ¡°Tio ne estis sekura, Forlasita!¡± she nurturingly reprimanded me as she cradled me. No toddler should be on a window¡¯s ledge, or near a knife. She gazed towards the bedside table and the window. ¡°Kiel vi etch supreniris chi tien? Chiuokaze, mamnutri tempo?¡±

    She sat down on the bed and began unbuttoning her vest. No. I¡¯m not going to breastfeed from her. I don¡¯t need to nurse, I can probably eat anything at this point. I¡¯m still mentally an adult, who was recently a mother of two. Breastmilk may single-handedly be the most nutritious thing I could take in, I¡¯d rather make do.

    Kicking and yelling, I pushed her away. It took a while, but she understood and brought me downstairs where she cooked up a warm stew for us both. She spoke throughout the process, fairly upbeat in tone ¨C I¡¯m guessing she¡¯s happy she doesn¡¯t have to nurse me anymore? This body¡¯s old enough to bite and wean. I still remember how sore it often got when I had to breastfeed my kids, but it was always endearing.

    Hours passed. We had supper together at sundown, as Arsalan brought home a package of meat tied up in leaves. They had some small talk in the unfamiliar language, and we went upstairs to rest. At least I thought we were. After I got quiet in my crib, their whispers slowly turned to giggles, and later into moans.

    I took occasional peeks. These two are actually kind of lovely while they¡¯re at it ¨C save for the fact Kantax was always on top and was much more forceful over Arsalan¡¯s dainty posturing. Damn. The bit of light from the window highlighted their toned, muscular bodies. Kantax had scars and tanlines, while Arsalan was both pale yet flush. Anyway, today was also a lot to take in and I just wanted to sleep.

    They came, and so did the sunrise. And then the next. A week passed. A month, and then two, followed by more. I took their language seriously enough to gradually piece it together with all of its rules and customs. There¡¯s some unnatural aspects to their tongue, but maybe I¡¯m just biased; I had to be multilingual back then, and it was never this easy. But this language has a lack of nuance and complexity, in a way I find kinda annoying. It doesn¡¯t even have gender distinctions.

    ¡­

    About half a year passed and I could more or less understand most of what they¡¯re all saying by translating it in my head, and I¡¯m only getting better at that. To celebrate the second birthday of ¡°Forlasita¡±, the original owner of this body and whose identity I¡¯ll keep having to assume, we had a feast. Kantax proudly brought her friends over from town. Apparently, child mortality rates are fairly high here, and having a kid reach this age isn¡¯t that common.

    ¡°I¡¯ve never seen a half-elf before! So cute!¡± said one.

    ¡°Oh, she has your hair!¡± exclaimed another.

    ¡°Ah, but she has her father¡¯s charming eyes!¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s so few of them around. Last time I¡¯d seen one of his kind, I was still a little girl too.¡±

    ¡­

    More time passed, and me talking in short simple sentences was something they got more accustomed to. Kantax told me more children¡¯s stories (verbally of course, since we couldn¡¯t afford books and I doubt children¡¯s books exist here). But I was more invested in Arsalan¡¯s retellings of this world¡¯s history and the distant lands he journeyed through in his long life. This mildly irritated Kantax so she talked about her time as a sword-sister for the crumbling Marbordo Empire¡¯s foreign legions.

    Arsalan¡¯s stories were always so rich and vibrant, spiced with his flawless charisma; I had a hard time noticing which of his embellishments were total bluffs. There¡¯s giant bugs out here, I¡¯m listening to an elf, and I¡¯ve died once before. Anything could happen out here. At least there¡¯s a good number of Earthly creatures here I¡¯d recognize ¨C plants as well.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

    ¡°Okay, princess. You see, the Nine Celestials had blessed the old elven lands. But during the rule of Champion Vaios ¨C blessed by Vess the Goddess of Justice, demon-kin stormed and plagued The Great Forest. The defeated Kosmikos scattered after Emperor Elutan¡¯s demise. Dwarves and their allies betrayed us by taking most of the ships and cowering to the islands of Ischyros to the west. My fellow Elves had then, mostly, gone into hiding.¡°

    Kantax, however, mentioned to someone else at one point how she practiced vocalizing a bunch of children¡¯s stories for when I¡¯d be able to talk ¨C but my boredom must¡¯ve been so evident that she caved in and opted to talk about the gritty work she had to go through. Hell, I also remember reading out all the bedtime stories for my own kids. Viktor always avoided it, even if he clearly enjoyed it so much.

    ¡°My squad shared the same tent, and we would set up near the other squads that made up the whole brigade after a long day¡¯s march. There was ¡®usually¡¯ enough food rationed out for us, but the northeastern winters made it impossible to forage for anything more. Don¡¯t get me started on the mud, which swallowed carriages, supplies, and people whole. At one point we tried to hunt down a Pantera for its meat. We spread too thin, and I ended up having to fight the massive cat myself.¡±

    She gestured to some old arm scars. ¡°Of course, I won.¡±

    ¡­

    Many more quick years flew by, and I¡¯d spent a lot of time taking in their stories. I say quick because ¡°years¡± here are only around 232 days instead of 365. I¡¯ll call them cycles, and I¡¯m 9 cycles old. They taught me to read, as we managed to buy an in-depth tome on farming. I¡¯ve read it over and over. Though I only had surface-level understanding on agriculture in my previous life, the way this book refers to practices like crop rotation, irrigation, and the various plants cultivated across the realm is pretty neat.

    Kantax was more than happy to read the farming book to me, and sometimes it felt like I was teaching her back. She always took my questions seriously and with a scar-ridden smile.

    ¡°You¡¯re such a fast learner, my dear. I couldn¡¯t read properly until half a decade ago. I¡¯m still learning, so let¡¯s continue.¡±

    I grew up poor in my last life. Upward mobility was rare under our communist party. My family only had one book; a warped chemistry textbook my father picked up off the street. My mother back then also taught me how to read at an early age, and I learned to love chemistry at the same time. But, I later pursued Political Science in hopes of getting a government job to find us a way out of poverty.

    My general science class teacher asked if I wanted to take up chemistry since I had good grades in his classes, and the best essays. I told him how most people said it was difficult. My old professor patted my head and changed my life with a few words after that.

    ¡°Sure, it¡¯s difficult for everyone else ¨C but it won¡¯t be for you, because you¡¯re already a chemist. In both heart, and mind.¡±

    I shifted, pursuing my passion. I met a lot of wonderful people after that, like my friends, and even my husband. Viktor worked as a well-off patent officer inspecting the plant I first worked at, and we hit it off well enough to have and raise two kids for over a decade.

    Kantax and Arsalan took me to the nearby town of Trezoro a couple of times now, where the aroma of fresh bread lingered; a testament to the town''s well-fed citizens of colorful garb. Streets bustled as skilled artisans plied their trade, and children played around the square. Some of the farmers¡¯ kids would play here, too.

    Sometimes I would watch the checkpoints where even from afar, the hopeful faces of newcomers spoke of the town''s reputation as a haven for those seeking their fortune. We sold our harvests at the markets here to pay out the workers¡¯ wages.

    ¡­

    It wasn¡¯t long until I began taking lessons. Kantax gave me the basics on defending myself, and knowing when to run. Her reputation as one whose skills were second to none seemed real from the practical ways she¡¯d stage my learning. She also got me a lovely pink hooded dress, several sizes larger.

    Arsalan tried over and over to teach me healing magic and plant manipulation spells, but no matter how hard I tried I just had no aptitude for it. This was extremely disappointing. He told me stories of how sorcery operated through divination and blessings back in the Kosmikos ¨C but after ¡°Finjugio¡± which was a huge catastrophe, magic could now only be done through the value and sacrifice of willpower, emotions, and even memories.

    This sucks ass, getting sent to another world yet having no magical powers. Ugh, I¡¯ll mend and make do like I always have.

    Instead he tried to teach me archery which was all about consistency, but I couldn¡¯t see the blurry target due to my apparent nearsightedness. A trait Kantax handed over to me, unfortunately. Myopia isn¡¯t anyone¡¯s fault, probably.

    I begged Arsalan to let me do whatever with the youth bow. He begrudgingly agreed, since he¡¯d have no other use for it. Still, his stories and hunting lessons were always insightful. I¡¯d like to go on hunting trips with him soon ¨C I might have a solution in mind.

    I¡¯d spent a couple of hours every week near the lake trying to find the multitool but I just couldn¡¯t find it. I¡¯ve been careful to not accidentally bury it but there¡¯s no way I could¡¯ve dropped it anywhere else. I have no magnets and definitely no metal detectors. After a few months of trying and getting caught covered in mud a handful of times, I¡¯ve decided to stop.

    All I have left are the two bracelets I¡¯d braided for my son and daughter. I¡¯ve kept them somewhere obscure, but Kantax is pretty thorough with cleaning so I¡¯ve chosen a dry corner outside the house to bury the bracelets in a small wooden box.

    I shook my head to avoid thinking about the day I had to watch all three caskets lowered together.

    I dug it up today to check its condition. The box had rotted over a few cycles, but it¡¯s still serviceable. I took the two upstairs and dismantled Anton¡¯s bracelet and unhooked Anya¡¯s so I could put his beads there instead. I placed their combined bracelet into a pouch. After inserting the pouch into the box and burying it again, all I had left was a black thread and a chrome paperclip.

    The nylon thread was in perfect condition after unbraiding. But the most important part was the fact that I remember cutting this to a rough length of 30 centimeters unstretched, confirmed in comparison to the 33 millimeter paperclip I used as lock hooks. I tied it to my wrist as an inconspicuous keepsake.

    Wanting to mess with the bow Arsalan gave me, I went to the shed where they kept farm equipment and the huge beetle. They named it Bestatzo, after the patron god of war and craftsmen. Of the nine deities, Bestatzo was the one Kantax liked the most. Apparently she¡¯d gotten it as a pupa during one of her campaigns on the continental mainland where The Great Forest once stood; the miasma-ridden realms of demon-kin. Some call it the ¡°plaguelands¡± as if plagues don''t happen everywhere anyway.

    Hell, last week I overheard one of the guests sobbing downstairs when I was reading by the bedside window. It was one of Kantax¡¯s friends, and she¡¯d just lost her first firstborn to an epidemic that ravaged the southern fishing towns. It¡¯s numbing to me.

    Regardless, I''ve decided to do a bit of woodwork at the stable where they¡¯ve kept Bestatzo. There¡¯s no shortage of dried lumber, so I got a plank around the size of an arm and carved out a slot for the youth bow to slide into. I smoothened the top and cut in a groove.

    Another hobby my husband had was crafting projects out of plywood. He¡¯d even recreated stuff he¡¯d seen online. After Viktor let me and the kids plink a few cans with him in the woods using a slingshot, I understood his love for crafting; I made both bracelets the next day but Anya and Anton didn¡¯t really like them. Of course.

    After carving out a makeshift 30cm ruler into the flat underside of the crossbow, I finished polishing the stock and assembled the bow to the front with some cordage to fasten it in place. The thumb-trigger resembles a tiny seesaw which would push the cocked bowstring out of its seat when fired. There¡¯s also a leaf spring to keep the arrow in place when ready to fire ¨C and behind the leaf spring was an aperture peep sight that was simply a tiny hole which made seeing with my myopic eyes easier.

    It¡¯s nowhere near the lever-action magazine-fed rapid fire crossbows Viktor prototyped in his garage with professional tools and aluminum fittings, but I bet he¡¯d be proud of me regardless.

    Arsalan, however, wasn¡¯t pleased with the development. Kantax loved it though, specifically the aperture sight ¨C my son Anton needed glasses at an early age, but before that he actually had a habit of pinching a small hole with his fingers to look through. This focused a smaller amount of light which helped sharpen his sight.

    Kantax enjoyed it so much that on the next day she prepared some straw targets for us to shoot. Arsalan warmed up to the idea after listening to Kantax explain how she could actually see clearly through the pinhole in a conversation during supper. His healing wasn¡¯t able to fix her myopia, so I hope I can get her a pair of glasses someday.

    This led Arsalan to happily supervise us the next day, but the truth seemed like he just wanted to grope and ¡®hold her steady¡¯ with the crossbow in public. I¡¯ve heard them vividly describe exhibitionism in bedside whispers before. Great. I barely got to train with the crossbow after that. He called her ¡°Anne¡± more often too, omitting several parts of her name; a cultural form of endearment here.

    I logged countless hours in that shed working on stuff and occasionally fixing the farm equipment that often broke, to the point where Bestatzo the beetle is technically who I talk to the most now. I barely played with the other kids, but I did my best to stay active.

    Arsalan and Kantax later got me a specially crafted mini-machete with a saw on the rear edge for wood, alongside an informative guidebook on carpentry and general woodwork. Knives are the typical utensil, and are customary gifts here. Hell yeah.

    This knife¡¯s pretty neat ¨C I could take on the world with it. There¡¯s so much I feel I can do here, and bit by bit I think I¡¯m falling in love with the world of Mondo. Despite the plagues, and so on.

 CH.03: Break My Stride

    Some more time passed. I turned 11 cycles old yesterday. Arsalan was summoned by the regional court last month to discuss the export and import tariffs of our island province, Rokmuro. It literally means Rockwall ¨C a name it earned for its impassable mountain ranges. There are several large settlements here, with Trezoro being the sixth most populous.

    Kantax has had a coughing fit recently, yet she started rambling mere moments after Arsalan left.

    ¡°Ugh. He¡¯s probably seeing other women, I swear. I¡¯m busting that bark-sniffer¡¯s knees if he comes home smelling like skank.¡± I get her. She¡¯s so real for that, as my kids used to say.

    Rokmuro is one of the biggest islands of the Marbordo archipelago which is aptly named after the coastal empire that encompassed it. The empire barely hangs on in the northern mainland, and it had recently seceded along with the other island states of the Fekunda strait which runs from Rokmuro¡¯s northwest to the southeast. These islands are among some of the most fertile in Mondo, perhaps due to the volcanic activity across the strait.

    Additionally, Kantax got a worrisome illness a week ago. I¡¯ve been taking care of her every day since. I also felt that I at least owed this body a healthy state of being, so I maintained a wonderful diet and heavy exercise. Today I¡¯m retrieving the invoice for the varied livestock we¡¯ve recently invested in. Going on my own, this time.

    She stayed at home this time to get more rest, and spend time polishing her old Marbordian segmented armor. Reminded me of what Romans are depicted with. Crazy how often Viktor thought about the Roman Empire; daily. Damn, are all nerdy guys like that?

    The walk was uneventful ¨C until I came across a bunch of kids by the groveside road. Seven of them, all slightly older than me? I think they¡¯re the farmhands¡¯ kids.

    The one I didn¡¯t recognize was the tanned blonde one curled up on the floor. His affluent clothes were muddied and soiled with piss, and probably not just his own. There¡¯s already so few kids out here, and I hate seeing them make each other suffer. Though I really should just let this be, I¡¯ll at least try to talk them down.

    ¡°Hey! What¡¯s going on over there?¡± I yelled over.

    One turned to me. ¡°Oi! Stay out of this, halfie.¡±

    ¡°Huh? I¡¯m just checking in on you guys.¡± I replied.

    ¡°Are you deaf? What¡¯re those long ears good for?¡±

    The older kids stopped kicking the downed one, and turned their attention towards me. There¡¯s two girls and four boys standing around the kid, giving each other bothered looks as they whisper to each other; mouths covered away from me. The tallest one, a somewhat skinny lad with his hair trimmed down to the scalp, took a few steps towards me with his arms crossed.

    ¡°This kid is the caravan merchant¡¯s boy. His dad wouldn¡¯t buy the harvest at fair prices and now we can¡¯t get white bread. Hell, this runt had more pocket money than what our folks see in months!¡±

    I took a step back. ¡°Still, isn¡¯t that a bit-¡±

    Pipra, an older girl in tattered clothes rushed in front. ¡°Oy, Jac, isn¡¯t that halfie the Kantax¡¯s? That prude hag! She might have some on her too!¡±

    A shorter kid, Ouro, chimed in. ¡°Yeah! Both your parents got a lot to do with how little ours are paid!¡±

    Jac uncrossed his arms and got even closer. ¡°Well then let¡¯s get a little justice and maybe a bonus with it too, yeah?¡±

    ¡°Hey guys come on now, I was just passing-¡±

    He pushed me over, into the edge of the dirt road. The abrasive pebbles grinded across my elbow and hips as I fell over to my side. Having regained my bearings, it seems that my favorite pink dress got scratched up with a hole or two. I¡¯ve always done my best to keep it spotless. Motherfucker.

    ¡°Hand us whatever and we¡¯ll let you go, halfie.¡±

    I slowly got up ¨C but not before I¡¯d found the largest stone that could fit in my palm. I held it in my right hand behind my back, and I used my left to clasp some fine dirt while dusting off my dress.

    ¡°Sure. C¡¯mere real quick. I¡¯ve got something for you.¡±

    Jac and Ouro got closer, stopping within punching distance. I tilted my head and gave them an unsettling, deadpan look.

    ¡°Well then little halfie, what¡¯ve you got for us?¡± Jac asked.

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t you believe it. I¡¯ve changed my mind.¡±

    The contempt the two expressed grew more evident. Ouro cracked his knuckles but Jac wasted no time, winding his right fist. ¡°You little bitch!¡± he yelled.

    My blood had been boiling in wait. Sheer focus slowed time down enough. I sidestepped to dodge the blow, all while swinging the stone in my right hand. I slammed the rock right into Jac¡¯s abdomen.

    Ouro shuddered for a moment as he saw Jac instantly fold and collapse. I gave Ouro a glare before dropping the stone. Now, he had the resolve to stand his ground. He unsheathed his dining knife.

    After an initial sense of shock, the other four began hurling insults at me while cheering at him to ¡°give it his best shot if he isn¡¯t a coward.¡±

    I freed my leather waistbelt and wrapped it around my right hand, nodding him a warning. My own knife remained in my dress¡¯ pocket sheath.

    Ouro screamed as he clumsily dashed to me with his blade up. I swerved aside again, and tripped him onto the gritty road as soon as he lunged. The abrasive road fueled his anger like it did mine. He got up and tried to steel himself for another attempt. However, I wouldn¡¯t give him that chance ¨C I¡¯d already closed in.

    His eyes widened in surprise as I swiped to unleash a cloud of fine dust from my left palm. Ouro began swinging the knife blindly, then I caught and clamped it with the belt wrapped in my right grip. This gave me the opening to kick him square in the groin and disarm him, and I took it.

    I haven¡¯t played soccer since college but I was recently trained to kick down doors, so I knew my strongest kick in this small body would cripple this kid for life. I toned it down enough to merely leave him rolling in tears. I¡¯m sorry, Ouro, but you pulled a knife on me.

    Now I eyed the other four, whose silence I bought with the unexpected display of unbridled resistance and violence.

    ¡°Look. Look at what you made me do. Did I look like I wanted this? You should all be ashamed.¡± I yelled at them.

    Jac groaned and looked at me as he drooled in pain, hunched over; a little like the merchant¡¯s kid. ¡°You-¡±

    ¡°Stay down, Jac.¡± I commanded, glancing over my shoulder. ¡°Or you¡¯ll be drinking your food for a month.¡±

    I approached the standing four, who began backing up from the kid they were beating earlier.

    ¡°I just wanted to go run a couple of errands today but the first thing I have to do is defend myself? Listen. If you don¡¯t show me what you stole from that kid, you¡¯re next.¡±

    A staggering quantity of small silver coins came up in an embroidered pouch. That¡¯s actually a huge amount, almost more than I¡¯d ever seen all at once here.

    ¡°Don¡¯t act like brigands if you don¡¯t want to be punished like them. Hey, I get how rough things have been with the poor harvests all across Rokmuro. We¡¯re in this together.¡±

    I asked, but none of them knew math so I did a quick count and divvied a little more than half of the purse¡¯s contents to be split among these six kids ¨C roughly 4 small silvers, or 4 ¡®Sesteroy¡¯ for each of them. That¡¯s enough to buy a half month¡¯s worth of rations for a family of four, on a good season. I had them help Jac and Ouro stand up, still reeling from the pain. I passed the knife back.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    ¡°Look, I¡¯m going to hand out four Sesteroy to each of you and give the rest back. But before I do, promise me that you won¡¯t try stunts like this again? If merchant caravans don¡¯t find this place safe, or find their children getting mugged, what¡¯ll we do when traders don¡¯t trade? What if it lures actual bandits?¡±

    All of them, except Jac, nodded.

    ¡°Here. Take these, and hide them properly at home. Trust me when I say that you don¡¯t want your folks finding out where you got this. And if they do ask, just insist you recently saw someone drop it. Save it for when you really need it, okay? Now head home. I¡¯ll escort him to Trezoro so he gets home safe, too.¡±

    Pipra asked. ¡°Wait, why can¡¯t we have the rest?¡±

    ¡°Because it isn¡¯t yours, and I still need to convince his parents he rolled off a cliff or something and not this mess. Leaving him with a good amount saves us the suspicion. Just go.¡±

    Their faces turned a little sour, again.

    ¡°I¡¯m doing this for all of us, trust me. And don¡¯t you dare give me that look. I¡¯m not taking the rest of his money. I just want this resolved peacefully. Clean up and go, let me smooth things out.¡±

    And so they headed home, both Jac and Ouro still hunched over from the pain. I tidied the kid up the best I could near the lake and got him walking again, albeit his legs were still shaking. His skin tone seems naturally tanned; rare here, and almost exotic.

    ¡°My name is Mateo, thank you. For that. Saving.¡±

    After some talking on the road, I¡¯ve found out he¡¯s new to the language and he turned 9 cycles old last season. I gave him a rundown on what made them gang up on him, and why I did what I had to.

    We finally got to Trezoro. I had to explain to guardsman Rovan that Mateo ran into an accident and I was escorting him home. He was already familiar with our relatives ¨C either by seeing us with them or simply gossip. He¡¯s a kind yet vigilant man.

    Mateo knew the paths home from past the gates, so we didn¡¯t need Rovan or another guard to escort us. They did, however, notice the dried-up stench that reeked from him.

    There aren¡¯t that many cities around that I¡¯ve heard of, but towns like Trezoro are all over the place. Towns would often span between several hundred souls to a few thousand. Trezoro is definitely growing.

    The smell of freshly baked bread never gets old, and is always a welcome delight when I visit. They even have seriously delicious pastries now, often made with a kind of brown sugar imported from the southern isles which typically have better climates that permit sugar sources to be efficiently cultivated.

    We finally got to his place ¨C an elegant rowhouse thrice the size of my home. It¡¯s merely a stonetoss away from the market district where I was already headed.

    Maids bursted past the door, tending to him. A bespectacled busty maid asked me for what happened. I gave her a confusingly muddled alibi. She raised her glasses to get a good look. I¡¯ve never seen someone with glasses here before. Her large glasses were round with a thin bronze frame; a little crude but still bespoke and expensive. I should get a pair someday, and get Kantax a set too.

    After some rumination, she asked me to come by again in an hour or two ¨C this would give me enough time to deal with the errands in the bazaar I came here for in the first place.

    And so I did, and returned a bit later. The maids ushered me upstairs to an office where a tidied-up Mateo sat in one of two chairs facing an ornate desk with bronze lining. An unusual glass bottle filled with a clear liquid, rested there with countless stacked documents.

    Mateo requested I sit, but that was a hard ask when I¡¯d also been greeted by the largest stockpile of books I¡¯ve seen since I entered Mondo. Shelved all over the wall behind the desk, I got closer and skimmed their titles. Hell yeah.

    ¡°Ah, little lady. Finally.¡± An older man called. ¡°Sit.¡±

    Cutting off my attention to the books was the head of the caravan. Though I¡¯d only seen him a few times before, his beautifully-embroidered clothing and curly blonde hair gave it away, not to mention the gilded monocle on his left eye. I took a moment and bowed, before taking the seat beside Mateo. The man¡¯s skin was light like most nobles here, so I¡¯m guessing Mateo¡¯s mom is foreign. The man walked over to look out the large windows with thin wooden blinds and silken curtains draped aside.

    ¡°Tell me what really happened.¡± the man asked.

    ¡°Oh uh, sure. You don¡¯t look like someone I¡¯d like to lie to so I¡¯ll tell you what happened, if you can assure me that you won¡¯t take it out on the common folk here.¡±

    ¡°Is this a negotiation?¡± he asked vulgarly.

    ¡°No. I don¡¯t think it is. But it may be in everyone¡¯s best interest to let this one slide. Just, don¡¯t let him play in the forests unattended.¡±

    ¡°Correct, but still ¨C do you have something I want?¡±

    ¡°Well uh, is there anything you need help with? Some fresh eyes on those stacks of paperwork might help lessen the load.¡±

    This took him aback, not having expected any proposal let alone a sound one from a child at that.

    ¡°Wait, you can read?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. And I can do arithmetic.¡±

    ¡°Smart AND lucky, aren¡¯t you? My scrivener had recently quit in protest and none of the maids can write or compute to the extent I require. Help me sift through all this, and I won¡¯t ask about where Teo¡¯s allowance went. Besides, if you¡¯re smart enough to convince my son to lie to me, then you¡¯re probably more useful than my last aide.¡±

    I gave Mateo a raised eyebrow, and he raised both back. Thankfully it was only his allowance in that ¡®loose purse¡¯ of his.

    ¡°Yes, sir.¡± I paused to compose myself.

    ¡°You may address me as Mikhailo Taido. Your father is Arsalan Lunarka, yes? Most people here know of his exploits, and I too have heard of his only daughter. Let us all hope that his insights can help resolve the taxation issue currently overwhelming the regional court. Tell me, do you have any sort of opinion on those matters?¡±

    ¡°Oh I uh.. maybe tariffs should be primarily drawn from land values, and should be progressive in taking in more from those of high-income and less on the poor while non-luxury trade should be taxed less in order to help stimulate the economy?¡± I rambled on, twiddling my thumbs. ¡°All while uh, agriculture should be protected with progressive subsidies in place. Something like that?¡±

    ¡°Absolutely phenomenal. Arsalan must¡¯ve done a wonderful job in explaining the state of post-Marbordian penny-pinching, and our reliance on Ischyrosian imports. Fascinating!¡±

    Arsalan didn¡¯t explain shit, I¡¯m just spitballing out here. Mikhailo began sifting and scanning through documents from another cabinet. His son Mateo stared at me like I¡¯m from another planet ¨C and I guess I am. Mondo isn¡¯t Earth after all.

    Mikhailo responded in a low voice. ¡°Albeit forward thinking, it upends the feudal systems of the last half century. The banks stand to gain the most from how things are now, but I am still unsure how privatizing land will affect them.¡±

    Man. I have no clue, and I kinda don¡¯t care anymore. I¡¯m beat; exhausted. I just want to go buy fresh bread and go home.

    ¡°Say, come visit every other day and help me deal with these papers. And on days with smaller loads, I¡¯d like you to tutor my son.¡±

    ¡°Will I uh, get paid?¡± I stammered.

    ¡°Of course. You will be paid much more than the typical farmhand you¡¯re familiar with, assuming you do a decent job here. And as a bonus, you can peruse my personal library. You seemed interested, and I think Arsalan bought a carpentry journal from me before. I cannot quite recall.¡±

    All of that had me on the edge of my seat. ¡°Deal.¡±

    I bought bread and soup before waltzing home with a good amount of what was paid for the livestock. I¡¯d also gathered information on different popular crops being sold now, even the tall hardy Whispergrass we have all around the lake contains flammable sap ¨C a competent lantern oil and a component of expensive long-lasting candles. We usually do rotations of Gorosi, an unexceptional yet reliable golden grain that thrives in most climates, and then Brila whose uncommon cream colored grain has longer growth periods and (I assume) has the necessary gluten content responsible for Trezoro¡¯s wonderfully puffy pastries.

    Hopefully we can get substantial imports of ¡°Dreamweaver¡± poppies, which can induce all sorts of interesting and creative thoughts. I remember Kantax talking about its pain-relieving properties, but Arsalan also warned about having ¡°seen entire communities fall into ruin¡± due to Dreamweaver tea. Additionally there¡¯s ¡°Spicemoons¡±, whose glowing crescent pods burst with intense flavor and aroma to add a potent kick to any dish. Kinda like yellow chili peppers. It still upsets my stomach, and we only import it dried from the isles far south.

    Arsalan had brought up other interesting plants whose names roughly translate to Emberberries, Silkvines, Okoma Stalks, and a virtually extinct grain called ¡°Satiyye¡± or ¡°Sunspears.¡±

    It¡¯s always exciting to get the chance to learn and experience things that would¡¯ve been absolute make-believe back on Earth. Nonetheless, I¡¯m nearing the end of my trip home.

    Kantax was slumped near a bedroom window upstairs, waving at me once she¡¯d noticed me on the moonlit road. Stars glitter across the clear sky over the farmstead. We only have one moon here, but the thin glowing beam across the sky is probably a ring and Rokmuro¡¯s just on Mondo¡¯s equator. I should ask them.

    The way the lightbeam cuts out when the planet blocks the sunlight is surreal. Nobody seems to ever talk about it, except for religious romanticization. Anyway, astronomy isn¡¯t a known field here just yet, but maybe I¡¯ll find a book here written about it.

    I explained today (except the silvers I¡¯d handed out) and how I was offered work at the Taido trading house directly under Mikhailo. Kantax stopped meeting my eyes for a moment to say ¡°that sleazebag¡± under her breath, only to return to a more positive and excited demeanor. She¡¯d only learned to read in her 20¡¯s so her daughter getting secretary work at this age is just wild to her.

    We decided to heat up the soup and have the soft bread together, but she insisted on doing kitchenwork.

    ¡°Lasita, my dear, let me be your mother while I still can.¡±

    I wouldn¡¯t deny her that. I couldn¡¯t.

 CH.04: Come and Get It

    Clack, clack. Wooden swords and boards clashed like music amidst the waves of wind patterned across the dancing Whispergrass and Gorosi stalks around us. Kantax and I paused our footwork to breathe. At least I needed to, but she hadn¡¯t broken a sweat.

    I turned 19 Mondonian cycles last week ¨C but on Earth I¡¯d be a little over 12 years of age.

    ¡°Kid, real fights don¡¯t just stop, y¡¯know.¡± she said.

    ¡°Then why¡¯d you stop?¡± I complained back.

    Kantax smirked, blindfolded as she was. She dropped her shield and gripped her wooden sword with both hands. She took a few steps aside, then forwards.

    Time slowed. The gap shrunk. I backed up against the side of the house, cornered. Sensing this, she lined up her classic overhead strike feint which could be followed up with any move. One of many lethal longsword maneuvers that Kantax has mastered.

    I¡¯ve had my ass kicked this way for ages so I preemptively dashed forward, reinforcing my shield arm with my right, and bashed Kantax¡¯s raised sword as hard as I could before the feint could begin ¨C clotheslining Kantax right in the neck with my wooden sword.

    ¡°Ahhck- you little shit!¡± she uttered with a gag.

    ¡°I did it..? I did it! I finally scored a hit!¡±

    ¡°You sure showed her, princess!¡± Arsalan cheered.

    ¡°Shut it, leaf-lover!¡± Kantax erupted as she took the blindfold off. Both of us took a real breather.

    ¡°Good hit kid, from now on the blindfold stays off. You¡¯re good at dancing dear but that was the first time I¡¯ve ever seen you push it. Not that I saw anything, actually.¡±

    ¡°What if you didn¡¯t hold back anymore?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Hah, you wouldn¡¯t wake up tomorrow, dear.¡±

    ¡°What if I scored without your blindfold on?¡±

    ¡°Nah, I¡¯d win.¡± She said, in full confidence.

    We laughed and called it a day, heading back inside for an early dinner and some of the usual catching up. While preparing something special for them, I talked about how wonderfully my tutorial sessions have gone as of late. Mateo has been thorough with the essays that I asked him to review.

    He¡¯s also teaching someone else; Rozabela ¨C a quiet girl who helped in bullying Mateo the day I confronted their shenanigans years ago. She¡¯s close friends with Pipra. I told him that if he could teach, then that meant he understood his assignments.

    I¡¯ve had years to read their entire library, so I did. Mikhailo would almost always bring a new book or text for us to engage with whenever he got back.

    For my other personal projects, I¡¯ve used that machete with a saw on the spine to great effect in my woodworking. I think most woodworking projects boil down to either cutting and fastening. Nails are a little expensive and you can¡¯t buy screws, but it makes sense considering it¡¯s all handmade. I typically do various reliable wood joints and reinforce them with hand-drilled holes which I¡¯d plug with wooden pins and dowels, generously applying resin throughout.

    Both Arsalan and Kantax actually found joy in occasionally joining me in the equipment shed where Bestatzo was kept. Arsalan roughly explained the refined recurve bow crafting techniques he saw a few centuries ago in the northern mainland. Useful techniques, but difficult to mass-produce I think.

    Kantax told me she wanted to see me improve, so she surveyed a lot of the workers and helped me design new ploughs and seed drills to help improve crop yields.

    I myself have iteratively crafted several repeating crossbows, and even a few prototype magazine-fed bows too. Shorter bolts were easier and cheaper to make, too. They¡¯ve made hunting much easier even for me, with the sights and consistent draw. But it wasn¡¯t strong enough to take out big game like Arsalan¡¯s elven bow could. I remembered how Viktor loved watching a ¡®slingshot channel¡¯ that featured an older guy making weapons out of plywood and rubber.

    But, things have only worsened for Rokmuro. Trezoro is now the third most profitable town on the island. It might even be classed as a city now. But considering how unsafe the other ones have become, it¡¯s no surprise.

    Finally, I¡¯ve ground up a large amount of Gorosi into a coarse flour, and it¡¯s time to get cooking. Arsalan just finished washing himself, and Kantax simmered down by working on some embroidery on linen sheets people called ¡°sudariomo¡± which are thin face towels. She rarely sweats during our spars, which almost always looked effortless for her ¨C except today.

    Hm, perfect. I know what dish I¡¯ll serve this time, maybe it¡¯ll brighten their week up! They¡¯ve seemed a little worried, lately.

    I started with rendered fat into a seasoned cast iron pan, and added some lean cuts of meat from the market. The meat isn¡¯t pork or beef, though pigs and cows do exist here. I¡¯m using rabbit meat today, and it was my suggestion years ago for us to invest in starting a rabbit farm, on top of various livestock.

    They¡¯re much more economical than the skinny local chicken breeds, and they¡¯re easier to rear. Rabbits need less infrastructure and are quieter too. I brought one to the butcher¡¯s earlier, and the leftover meat is what¡¯s cooking on this pan.

    Now it¡¯s time to add some butter for flavor and to help make sure it doesn¡¯t stick, along with some salt. The savory aroma fills the room, with an audible sizzle. Using a large wooden spoon, I stirred the meat as it fried in the fat ¨C along with some chopped mushrooms. The lovely Maillard reaction browned the buttered meat beautifully.

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t that smell good?¡± I asked them.

    They ignored me, as their eyes locked onto the stovetop. Doubt they can wait much longer. Kantax hasn¡¯t moved an inch and her sewing project sat still on her lap. Arsalan hasn¡¯t finished putting on his clothes, and remains shirtless with all of his lean, stunning muscles in full display ¨C his eyes closed to better experience the scent. Kantax would normally holler at him and gush about his physique, but I can see the hunger in her eyes; a hunger that wasn¡¯t for him.

    ¡°I¡¯m almost done, just hold on!¡± I assured.

    I strained the first batch and began the next. Lovely cubes of crispy meat. From my satchel popped out a jar of goat¡¯s milk, and some goat cheese which I¡¯d cut into strips for frying. Some minced vegetables, followed by chopped onions all sauted to perfection.

    When it was all finished, I set aside the iron pan and took out a small copper pot. Milk poured from the jar into the pot, and began bubbling fervently. I remember cooking for my family in the old world, the kids always loved deep fried stuff and Viktor always enjoyed the heartier yet fattier meals.

    ¡°Mhmm, hm-hum hum, la hum dum..¡±

    It¡¯s going well. While the coarsely ground gorosi was poured and stirred into the boiling milk to create a kind of porridge, the two got up and stood over by my shoulders to inspect the process of adding various herbs. I¡¯m thankfully taller than most kids my age, but these two still cast some fairly intimidating shadows.

    ¡°..Quite an odd song you¡¯re singing.¡± Arsalan said.

    ¡°Yeah, never heard anything like it, dear.¡±

    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s nothing!¡± I deflected. ¡°Enjoying yourselves?¡±

    Kantax was frozen, seemingly numb. Arsalan leaned over the pans I set aside and gracefully wafted the aroma onto himself.

    ¡°Looks, and smells incredible, princess.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, never seen this dish before, dear.¡±

    I tapped the wooden spoon onto the edge of the pot.

    ¡°It¡¯s a recipe I uh, read about! It¡¯s called Banush.¡±

    ¡°You already cook better than your mom.¡±

    ¡°Nah, I¡¯d ¨C actually yeah, honestly. Both of you do.¡±

    They¡¯d caught me humming one of my favorite 80¡¯s songs. I didn¡¯t notice myself. I¡¯d sing while I cooked back then, so I need to keep that in check. Maybe. I mean, as long as I don¡¯t sing the lyrics then it¡¯s probably safe enough, right? It¡¯s only music.

    ¡°Yep, it¡¯s ready!¡± I announced, proudly.

    The porridge thickened enough, so I split it into three wooden bowls. Outstanding. The crispy meat went on top, and the goat cheese added a tangy tartness in place of the sour cream I normally used in this recipe back then. Man, I loved making Banush for my family.

    We paired it with some light beer in some cups, and took our first taste test with slices of Brila bread. Kantax took one spoonful and took it in silence. Arsalan had one bite, and then started quickly gunning down the rest, only pausing to savor and express things.

    Kantax took her second spoonful in, and gave me a glance before peering away out of the window.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    ¡°Mhm, this turned out alright.¡± I said.

    Her voice shook. ¡°Alright? Dear, this is lovely.¡±

    ¡°Thanks, but you should eat before it gets cold!¡±

    Tears started rolling down her cheeks, and her voice began to crack. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for always cooking bland meals. This isn¡¯t even expensive to make. Other than Arsalan, nobody has ever really cooked nice meals for me. And now, to think my little girl would make something this wonderful.¡±

    She told me about her rough ascetic diet during her service, they only ate what little they could forage and what they could loot or bring along. Kantax took some more endearing bites, while Arsalan leaned back satisfied with his fare.

    ¡°Great. I had a feeling you two¡¯d like it. I made more for us to have tomorrow. I¡¯ll save the rest in a jar so it doesn¡¯t go bad. We can heat it up later. I¡¯m happy you guys like it.¡±

    Kantax bashed the table, and stood.

    ¡°Listen! We need to open up a place that serves stuff like this. It would blow all those alehouses, taverns, and inns away! Our farm could supply it for the most part. Sal, hear me out!¡± she rambled.

    ¡°Only if Lasita oversees the cooks, then maybe.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d love to, if you think it¡¯s all feasible.¡±

    I took away the bowls after they finished eating, and placed the remaining Banush into a large jar for tomorrow.

    ¡°Seriously, imagine how popular it-¡±

    ¡°Anne, hold on. Wait.¡± Arsalan stopped her.

    ¡°It would sell better than fresh bread!¡± she insisted.

    ¡°No, literally shut up for a moment.¡±

    Arsalan dragged Kantax to the front door. The excitement from the room sapped away as everything grew still and quiet. Faint footsteps from a large group outside, began rumbling ever closer.

    ¡°Hear that?¡± he whispered to her.

    ¡°Uh-huh, it¡¯s gotta be him again.¡±

    ¡°Might be those from last week. Seylas, right?¡±

    ¡°Uhh, the jar¡¯s sealed now. What¡¯s up?¡± I asked.

    Kantax ran up to me and ushered me further into the kitchen, all the way to the pantry. She opened the cellar hatch and forced me down. ¡°Stay quiet and stay there.¡± she ordered, firmer than anything she¡¯s said in recent memory.

    It¡¯s more like a basement rather than a cellar, but we do keep barrels of whisky and began distilling some ourselves last month. It¡¯s cold, dark, cramped, and a little bit damp in here. Candlelight seeps through the cracks between the floorboards above.

    ¡°Anne ¨C tax.. Kantax, wait!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m getting the fucking kit. Buy me time.¡±

    ¡°Please! Ugh, they¡¯re here.¡±

    I knocked onto the trapdoor from below.

    ¡°Who? Hello? Who¡¯s here?¡± I begged to ask.

    Excuse me? Did something happen while I¡¯ve been out? Is this what they seemed so worried about for the past few days? I heard more footsteps outside, on top of Kantax moving frantically upstairs.

    ¡°You must stay quiet, princess.¡± Arsalan urgently whispered as he began pinching out all the candles. ¡°Let us handle this.¡±

    The house grew dark, and Kantax began walking down the staircase. I could hear the jittering of gear. It had to have been more than just the messer-style sword and shiny shield she kept upstairs. Her heavy footsteps echoed through the planks above ¨C whereas she was always light on her feet. Normally, you could only ever hear her steps when she intended for you to hear them.

    Ponderous stomping from her boots paraded from over the basement entrance near the pantry at the base of the stairs, straight towards the entrance. It was dark, so I decided to climb up the ladder and carefully raise the trapdoor slightly, barely enough for me to get vision towards the front door. Arsalan waited for Kantax there.

    ¡°Please love, let me handle it this time.¡± he begged.

    ¡°Yeah, try it again. We¡¯ll see.¡± Kantax cynically replied.

    Kantax stood by the door inside, leaving it open enough for me to see the torchbearing group outside. Several armed and armored individuals led a group of dozens, with some horse-drawn carriages following behind. This angle made it difficult to see.

    One man in a bright purple outfit with a white sash going diagonally across his body, was mounted on horseback at the very front. They¡¯re far enough to be blurry, so I pinched my fingers into making a pinhole shape for some focused visual clarity. The setting sun gradually darkened the view outside.

    He had a burgonet helmet clutched under his left arm, while his right hand rested over the pommel of his sheathed saber as his horse galloped towards us. He had a few scars on his left cheek.

    ¡°Lunarkas! Out. Now.¡± The man called.

    ¡°What do you want with us, Seylas? We¡¯ve already given you tribute last week,¡± Arsalan replied. ¡°There isn¡¯t much left to offer.¡±

    Seylas nodded. I couldn¡¯t see clearly but I could tell he wasn¡¯t smug about any of this, as he kept his skittish mount in place.

    ¡°Ah yes but, there¡¯s been a change of plans. So. You¡¯re all coming with me. You know your farm isn¡¯t worth the trouble, and we¡¯re moving out. It¡¯s finally happening.¡±

    ¡°Please!¡± Arsalan cried, walking over. ¡°Is there no other way?¡±

    ¡°Take your kid too. Heard good things, and frankly I¡¯m jealous. Both my wife and son are sickly, and care not for me.¡±

    ¡°I am sorry to hear that, friend, but please recons-¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Kantax scorned. ¡°I know exactly why they don¡¯t.¡±

    Seylas turned to her. ¡°Kantax. Always nice to see you.¡±

    ¡°WELCOME, captain!¡± she thundered as she opened the door to step out and push Arsalan aside. With both hands on her hips, Kantax stood in stalwart opposition. ¡°I see that your fancy warband has grown, Seylas. Nonetheless, leave. Before I make you.¡±

    Seylas flinched for a moment and pondered.

    ¡°Lady, do NOT try to intimidate me. You¡¯re no farmer and you know it. I know you better than anyone here, you¡¯re a beast of war.¡±

    ¡°Then you should know you¡¯re on our property.¡±

    ¡°Rokmuran breaches of contract have caused all this. We have no choice. Bands are springing up everywhere, and sooner or later others will sweep you off your feet. You¡¯re better off with us.¡±

    ¡°Nah.¡± She taunted. ¡°You¡¯re the reason I retired.¡±

    ¡°You couldn¡¯t even read until I taught you. I know what you do best. This false life you¡¯re living can¡¯t go on. Where¡¯s your daughter?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s in Trezoro doing real, honest work. Unlike you. Leave.¡±

    ¡°Not without you two. A real healer is virtually impossible to come by anymore, and your reputation as a master swordstress precedes you. Real talent. Real talent that I need.¡± Seylas said.

    Kantax hissed. ¡°I¡¯ll shove this real talent right up yours if you don¡¯t leave by the count of five. And I¡¯ll make you remember exactly why that reputation exists, too.¡±

    ¡°Five? Fine then. Five of you, go get ¡®er.¡±

    Seylas waved over to a small group beside him, and ordered them forwards. The shortest one, a stocky young man, seemed a little familiar from here.

    ¡°Madam Kantax, please!¡± the man pleaded.

    ¡°Ouro..? Where¡¯s Jac? And your parents?¡±

    ¡°No, they all refused to join and ran off.¡±

    ¡°Well, I¡¯ll refuse, but I¡¯m not going anywhere.¡±

    Captain Seylas¡¯ patience grew thin, and waved his saber forward, then directly at Kantax.

    ¡°Time to wake up, Kantax! Take her down, or die with her.¡±

    ¡°Sending whelps today, are we?¡± she replied.

    She got in a loose, carefree stance. Ouro readied his farmer¡¯s sickle in fear, and the other brigands moved up; slowly encircling Kantax. Two spearmen, and two swordsmen. The spears began probing and poking towards her, keeping her at a distance.

    Both swordsmen tried to come in for an attack. Kantax dashed to one and parried his blade with her shield, before bashing his face in with its rim. When he¡¯d hit the ground, she already struck the next swordsman behind her with the opposite edge of the shield. It was just Ouro and the two spearmen left.

    They backed off in fear, and she just walked up to each one of them. For the spearmen, she whacked one spearhead aside and clobbered him up close now that they were separate. The other spearman made a run for it. Ouro raised his sickle, shaking. She raised her sword arm for a strike, but just busted his belly with a shieldbash. He crumpled instantly.

    Arsalan took a moment to check up on all the downed brigands for any serious injuries, but Kantax left little worth casting healing spells over. She took a pose and did a hair flip as a taunt.

    ¡°Eschaton, you¡¯re up. Earn your keep.¡± Seylas commanded.

    ¡°With pleasure, captain.¡± a man with a stick and a wolf-hood revealed himself. His silver white hair, smooth pale skin, and bright red irises stuck out even from this far. Kantax mentioned such wolf-hoods before; Marbordo¡¯s mage corps.

    His walking stick suddenly stretched up into a full-length staff with a yellow crystal cresting its top end. The fields of Gorosi began to shake and glow as several fireballs began popping up over the mage.

    ¡°Steel yourself, peasant!¡± the spellcaster yelled. ¡°Die.¡±

    Kantax weaved and danced between the fireballs. Using her sword, she sliced some of the fireballs into smoke, and parried a few others towards the sky with her shield. Some of those she dodged ended up hitting the broadside of our home. I lowered the hatch to keep myself hidden better as the scene lit up.

    Kantax fumed. ¡°Watch where you¡¯re firing that, you wolf-headed bastard! You might hit something, or someone!¡±

    ¡°Oh? Right, right.¡± Eschaton smirked, as he charged up more fireballs, but this time merging them into one large incinerator. It was slower, but would devastate anything it hit. Kantax saw him winding the aim of the spell with his hand movements, and acted.

    She quickly changed her grip on the sword, now one-handing it by the crossguard ¨C and she propelled it forward like a javelin.

    But it was too late. Eschaton had already fired the spell. She was prepared to deflect the massive fireball into the sky by angling her shield. However, the spell wasn¡¯t aimed at her.

    The large sword flew right past Seylas and hit Eschaton in the shoulder, causing him to shudder and scream. But before his blood could pour, the spell rolled out and barreled straight towards Arsalan who was in the middle of treating Ouro¡¯s bruising.

    ¡°No!¡± Kantax cursed, leaping into its path.

    She caught the enormous fireball with her shield tucked over her chest. With no ground to brace herself onto mid-jump, she couldn¡¯t deflect it away. The spell carried so much force that it pushed her towards our home. Embers spored all over the fields.

    Her approaching body eclipsed the blast as the explosive pressure shattered her shield, slamming her into the half-open front door ¨C ripping it clean off its hinges. Flames spewed all across the kitchen. Her body flew further, landing right on my trapdoor.

    The hatch struck my head, causing me to fall down the ladder. The impact left a crack under the door. I got up and tried pushing against the trapdoor but Kantax was too heavy. It became still and silent, as blood dripped between the boards, and onto me.

    ¡°Anne!¡± Arsalan shrieked, almost choking.

    His footsteps raced above towards us from the front door. I tapped the boards to let him know I was safe. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± I whispered.

    Arsalan fumbled his hands over Kantax. ¡°She breathes. Thanks be. I will get them to leave, but you must then run as far away as possible. Stay quiet.¡±

    ¡°What? Where to? Please, please don¡¯t leave me, too.¡±

    ¡°..too? Anywhere away from here. Leave Rokmuro if you can. We¡¯ll find you someday, I promise. We love you, princess. Now, I must get them to leave before the flames trap you here.¡±

    For a moment the panels under Kantax glowed green ¨C a healing spell. He raised her body and walked off. I propped up the hatch and watched him carry Kantax over to the door. She was slumped over his arms, but I could see tears streaming down her cheek, lit the scattered flames like how her red hair glowed. A trail of blood was left in her wake, as shards of metal from her shield had razored up new wounds over her arms, only barely sealed by Arsalan¡¯s healing magic.

    Kantax slowly opened her eyes, and began twitching her fingers. She painstakingly turned to me, revealing a part of her face that¡¯s freshly burned. She mustered a bit of strength to wave. Her teary eyes met mine, and then she quietly mouthed a few last words.

    Mi amas vin, mia kara.

 CH.05: Into The Fire

    The flames leapt eagerly from one object to another, turning fabric into fuel and chewing away at all the wooden frames and furnishings. I peered out of the hatch to see them head off, and closed it before any burning tendrils made it in.

    Arsalan walked over to Seylas, with Kantax in his arms. The other soldiers behind Seylas moved to gather the wounded and haul them over to the carriages.

    ¡°We will both go with you and cooperate,¡± said Arsalan.

    ¡°..eat a foot, you noble prick.¡± Kantax coughed.

    Seylas gave them both a look of contempt. ¡°Move out.¡±

    ¡°Captain, we should hurry if you wish to enlist our daughter too. She may still be on the road home!¡± Arsalan lied.

    The fires grew too strong for me to keep peeking. I couldn¡¯t see them anymore. Seylas¡¯ nervous tone probably meant he didn''t want more trouble, especially since he had his way. Soon, the roaring flames grew loud enough to drown their voices.

    The group could no longer be heard. Either they already left, or the fires drowned out any voices they had left. Still, every moment I spent waiting, things only worsened. It got swelteringly hot in the basement. I really don¡¯t want to get caught by those assholes.

    Thud, thud, and thud. Several crashing sounds throughout the kitchen. The structure¡¯s starting to collapse. Shit.

    I got up to the hatch again, but it barely budged.

    What? Is this some kind of sick joke?

    The ceiling on the opposite end of the basement caved in too, heralding a wave of burning rubble flooding the room with smoke and dust. No fucking way. I should have left earlier. The whisky barrels are starting to catch fire ¨C and when they do, it¡¯s so over.

    Why? What was the point of all this?

    I should have stayed dead.

    Alone, again. Bleeding again.

    Buried alive, again. Stupid.

    I sat beside the barrel closest to the ladder and grabbed the tasting cup here in the basement to tap some whisky for myself. I¡¯m going to die, again. Right here, beneath the surface again.

    One cup down, and another moments later.

    He promised he¡¯d find me? What, my ashes? Stupid.

    To make things worse, my monthly bleeding had come again. And it was much worse this time around. I had a college friend that suffered something she called ¡°anal zaps¡± ¨C a severely painful tingling at the asshole. It¡¯s a rare disorder that causes periods to include rectal cramps. I can¡¯t believe she put up with this shit. It¡¯s exactly as she described it ¨C bloody hell. I drew the short straw this time.

    More whisky followed. A feeling of warmth caught up to me as smoke piled up in the basement. Another part of the ceiling collapsed, dropping a countertop straight onto the furthest barrel, rupturing it. Whisky spilled, immediately catching fire. Embers danced over the burning puddles.

    Stupid.

    I looked at the trapdoor hatch one last time, and noticed the crack where my head was struck. ¡°Fuck it,¡± I said to myself. ¡°I can¡¯t get any more screwed than this. Might as well try.¡±

    I hacked away at the bottom of the hatch with my woodworking blade, and the crack got wider and wider. Smoke made breathing and seeing much more difficult. I¡¯m going to pass out soon at this rate, and probably not from the whisky.

    The fissure on the hatch cracked open, exposing a charred end of a wooden beam. There¡¯s no way I can lift that ¨C so I¡¯ll just bring it down entirely. I started prying my blade into the frame to loosen it.

    ¡®Pak¡¯ it went, something snapped in the frame. The whole wooden beam came rushing down ablaze, breaking open the remaining planks of wood from the hatch. A gust of blistering air poured in from the hatchway, as the whisky-fueled inferno on the other cave-ins began siphoning air up the other direction.

    The trapdoor¡¯s ladder is still intact, but the burning beam is still a glaring threat. It¡¯s scorching in here and I¡¯m running out of options. The torrent of scalding air brought some extra items down the hatch, one being Kantax¡¯s sudariomo. It¡¯s just big enough to tie around my head to filter the smoke as I breathe. I need to get up there.

    My dress.

    I took off my pink dress and tore the hood off, leaving me with little more than underwear. There¡¯s nothing else left to use. I sheathed my blade and picked up the jar of Banush, then tucked them into the detached hood.

    The majority of the dress went right on the smoldering beam. Finally clearing a path up the ladder from flames, but only for a moment as the pink dress itself began to catch ablaze. Adrenaline masked my hands¡¯ searing pain from gripping charred surfaces. It felt like an eternity in there, but I got out of that fiery alcoholic prison.

    It seemed no better.

    The relentless heat pressed against my skin.

    Much of the kitchen had already been set alight at this point. I could see the whisky inferno twirling out of the collapsed flooring near the front door. The burning carpets and floor planks peppered my legs with searing embers.

    I crawled towards the relatively unburnt staircase; its load-bearing walls made of stone masonry. Following the smoke upstairs to the bedroom, I¡¯ve found it¡¯s already begun to burn here too. I¡¯d give it half a minute before the bed starts.

    With the bedside window open, smoke billowed out and I prepared to escape. I took a quick pass to loot the room, grabbing their fur blanket and tucked the jar of Banush into it. The wooden lockbox went in. Dad¡¯s sketchbook journal, and mom¡¯s sewing kit. Some of her clothes and mine. I couldn¡¯t see that clearly ¨C so I got whatever my hands could reach. The fur bedspread wrapped easily around Arsalan¡¯s hornbow and quiver.

    Hanging on the wall in the smoke was the shine of a steel kettle helmet over a quilted gambeson, which I also took. The curtains easily came off by the window. I used the edge of the helmet to pry off a loose nail from the bed table.

    The thin primitive mattress burst into flames; I only had seconds if I didn¡¯t want to be devoured with the rest of the room.

    I hammered the curtain onto the windowsill using the helmet, and rappelled out. I¡¯m so tired. The adrenaline¡¯s wearing off and the whisky¡¯s kicking in much worse than I thought it would. While descending along the lowered curtain, I looked out for the bandits.

    But it still seemed no better.

    Infernos in every direction. Most of the gorosi fields had also caught fire from the stray fireballs. They weren¡¯t mature but it¡¯s still a sore sight. We¡¯re in poor luck with the recent dry season. Their torches were near the lakeside and I¡¯m not sure if anyone saw me leave the window. Our thatched roof burst into flames.

    I ran to the forest opposite of the lake. Where Arsalan would go hunting. Occasional peeks back show they¡¯re searching all over the lakeside hovels. Some are busy taking the rabbits and other farm animals we reared. Some of them are busy fighting off Bestatzo, and others are looting the shed. My tools ¨C hell, my crossbows too.

    ¡­

    ¡°Hah, holy shit. I think I¡¯m far enough. I¡¯m beat.¡±

    I took a breather near a clearing across a stream and washed all the soot away. My hands are still painful and trembling. It¡¯s quiet and behind a mound; I¡¯d hear anyone coming. Especially if they haven¡¯t crossed yet.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    The glow from the farmstead is still visible from here. The highlighted stacks of smoke are worrying, but I¡¯m sure everyone¡¯s left by now.

    Rinsing my steel machete-saw-knife in the stream, I figured I¡¯d need to call it something better? Guess it¡¯s pretty much a survival knife? Yeah. I also survived that basement because of it, maybe. It¡¯s my beloved survival knife. That Kantax and Arsalan got for me years ago. That my new folks got for me, years ago. Shit.

    Clouds started layering under the full moon. There isn¡¯t much moonlight left, but it¡¯s still enough for me to see my reflection on the side of the polished knife. Disheveled, wet hair. Sullen, puffy eyes; choked, held-back tears.

    I¡¯ve been holding them back. I really am alone again.

    And since I¡¯m alone, I can cry all I want. But I don¡¯t want to. Not now. Time is a luxury I don¡¯t have and I have to hurry to Trezoro to weigh my options, before that warband gets there. With a bit more stream water, I washed away all the remaining soot along with all the alcoholic tipsiness.

    I untied the fur sack and picked out a new set of clothes ¨C a tattered brown dress with several deep pockets. Some of the other outfits weren''t ideal at this time. Hell, I even got one of Kantax¡¯s woven mesh lingerie sets? The pink dress I loved was almost too small for me, so it having helped save my life is a sweet deal. The Banush? I¡¯m still full. Arsalan¡¯s sketchbook only has a handful of works in it. His older ones must¡¯ve been in the bedside table drawer, I forgot. There¡¯s a sketch here of all three of us.

    A couple of other things, then the lockbox. My hands are still trembling too much to even consider lockpicking, so I¡¯ll just pry and bust the metal fittings using the helmet and knife combined. I¡¯ve always wondered what¡¯s inside? Treasure? Junk? Mementos?

    The lock creaked, splintering the wooden casing. Oops.

    Tucked away are 4 gold Vaiosy coins, and exactly 51 silver Sesteroy coins. I already had 18 silvers in my coin pouch. I better find a way to hide these gold ones. In the corner lies a pipe with a small pouch of dried herbs tied to it? Keeping that.

    There¡¯s one odd white coin inside, it¡¯s way bigger than a silver, but smooth and light kind of like, plastic? Maybe ivory? It bends a little and goes back to shape. It has some faint engravings on one side, almost like an eye with a spiral in the middle. A small boring disc. I¡¯ll leave it in the lockbox. There¡¯s a few other things inside not really worth taking along. I looked for a large cluster of unassuming bushes and left the sealed box hidden away with some rocks.

    It¡¯s time to visit Trezoro, through the shortest path in a forested valley so I could get there before the others. The thick canopy of leaves above makes moonlight scarce on the floor, but I do have a bit of Arsalan¡¯s low-light vision so it¡¯s probably fine if I exercise caution. Overgrown roots, barbed vines, giant insects, and the occasional predatory beast. Arsalan must¡¯ve led the bandits to the longer dirt road instead, this¡¯ll buy me some time at Taido¡¯s.

    ¡­

    Rain began to pour as soon as the town¡¯s walls were in sight.

    Two guards sat by the east entrance. One was asleep with his helmet tucked down as he sat there, and the other was Rovan standing at ease. He saw me approach ¨C bewildered, he interrogated me.

    ¡°Forlasita? What¡¯s going on? Why are you carrying so much stuff, and what happened by your farm? I saw tons of fire and smoke from here before the rain put it out.¡±

    ¡°Seylas took my parents and burned the place down.¡±

    ¡°What..? You don¡¯t look like you¡¯re kidding. Have you been crying? Should I send help?¡±

    He reached around my cheeks and checked my arms, then he saw the burns in my hands. He looked me in the eyes in worry.

    ¡°It may still be dangerous, don¡¯t let anyone go.¡± I said.

    ¡°I- okay, just get in here and talk to Mikhailo, you¡¯ll want to let him know what happened. Go, hurry!¡±

    ¡°Thanks, Rovan.¡± I said as I walked through.

    Before making the turn towards the Taido household, I turned to look back at the gate. Rovan was looking outside, holding his head. The ¡®sleeping¡¯ guard however, met my gaze with a side-eye as he pretended to be asleep with his helmet tucked down forwards.

    After a short walk, I got up to knock on the door.

    Numerous footsteps began crowding behind the door, and before I could knock it had opened up. Mateo stood in front of me, backed with a series of maids behind him. Pipra had told Rozabela what happened, and still with tears in their eyes, they had come before Mateo to inform him. The maids pulled me into the building away from the rain and began tending to me. He peered outside left and right, then closed the door and locked it several times over.

    I explained my situation to them.

    Pipra and Rozabela nodded, before adding in their ends of the context. Apparently a large mercenary warband had been put together to fend off some brigands but weren¡¯t sufficiently backed which caused them to break apart and some banded together against the other groups for survival as southern Rokmuro fell into disarray. Other islands had already fallen into ruin.

    The maids applied an ointment to my hands and bandaged them up, leaving a bit of room for dexterity. Mateo¡¯s father, Mikhailo, is out of town and the decisions fall onto him. He isn¡¯t quite sure of what to do, but the head maid proposed he¡¯d let us three stay over until his father returned. The middle-aged head maid added that Mikhailo would probably not be opposed to adopting us should the situation worsen.

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound so bad, for Pipra and Roza.¡± I said.

    ¡°W-what about you?¡± Mateo inquired.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure, but they¡¯re looking for me. I can¡¯t stay.¡±

    After a pause, their voices began mixing up to suggest different things in opposition to my decision. They want me around, perhaps because they attribute Taido¡¯s recent economic success to me. The maids also love the recipes I¡¯ve taught them.

    ¡°You guys will be fine without me. Especially you, Teo.¡±

    He looked away for a bit, then back to me.

    ¡°Wait! If you need anything, let me ¨C let us know. We.. we want to help you too!¡± he said, endearingly.

    That might be useful. I didn¡¯t get to prepare, but I plan on heading to the mainland. Alone if I have to. I¡¯ll need to set a few things up for myself so I can safely get away.

    ¡°Actually, could you guys help me with a few things?¡±

    I had the maids re-fit and tailor the gambeson to my size, with some allowances. They stitched in some pockets on the inner black side to help me carry more, and the outer red side got some new collar buttons to mount the hood I¡¯d brought. They spared some extra clothes for me, including an old maid¡¯s dress which once belonged to the head maid with glasses. I¡¯m barely tall enough to fit these.

    Mateo also got me one of his dad¡¯s old leather three-way bags, which could be worn as a messenger bag or as a backpack using the extra strap. They provided me with all sorts of extra provisions from their large pantry, and even a small partitioned box of various seasonings ¨C primarily salt. The head maid also filled up a small jar of butter, she knew how much I loved it just from how often I had some when I visited. They also gave me a small kit of mixed copperware.

    We went downstairs to have a late dinner, just the two girls alongside Mateo, and Edith the head maid. I shared the remaining Banush with them as they offered me something a fair bit more lavish ¨C a local twist on the garlic bread recipe I gave them before, served with a platter of roasted pork which is a rarity here

    We enjoyed it all together, and I left a recipe for what I¡¯d made as well just in case they¡¯d like to make it themselves. I hugged them farewell and let them know my plans of taking a boat from the northern coastal town of Lumoriva.

    I copied detailed Rokmuran maps, compositing them onto a large thin canvas while we ate. I wrote down any bits of information I needed. I divided my large map into four quadrants, each with four sub-quadrants. 16 sections. But, what I¡¯m about to do will turn this massive canvas map into a sixteenth of its original size and still be just as handy and while being more convenient to use.

    ¡°That¡¯s such a nice map you made, but why are you cutting it along the middle like that?¡± asked Edith, who was helping me fill in the territorial details she knew about.

    I don¡¯t know what this method is called, but it seemed to be why many of the military maps I picked up in the war were cut this way. My best friend in the war taught me how to do it, and even he didn¡¯t know what this map hack was called.

    ¡°See? I can see any of the 16 sections when I flip it over like this, and that. I¡¯ll need it to be small when I travel. I hope it makes sense, I figured it out a while back.¡±

    Edith took off her glasses and blinked in disbelief.

    ¡°It does! It seems so, convenient. I wish I knew that trick back when I.. nevermind. May Armonio bless you.¡± she said.

    Mateo and the others also gave me a pouch of 40 silvers, along with some other useful parting gifts.

    ¡°Will we ever see you again?¡± they asked.

    ¡°Stay alive and we¡¯ll find out, eventually.¡± I replied.

    Edith patted me before I left. ¡°Please take care, miss Lunarka. You¡¯re as strong as you are brilliant, young lady.¡±

    ¡°I just wish I didn¡¯t need to be. Thank you all for everything, for being here when I needed you guys the most. Until then. And tell Mikhailo to give the maid restaurant thing a try.¡±

    The door opened. Rovan was standing in an alley across the street. He immediately crossed and urgently told us that armed scouts were looking for me, and that I should go with him to the east entrance to escape. The head maid tightly gripped my shoulders.

    ¡°Rov, I will escort you both,¡± said Edith. ¡°I have to.¡±

    ¡°Edith, there¡¯s no need!¡± he responded with unease.

    Her grip tightened. ¡°I insist.¡±

    And so we went. Her suspicions grew onto me too. How¡¯d he know I was planning to leave? Before we made the last turn towards the gate, I asked him about how his ill daughter is doing. I offered him a dozen silvers to help ¨C but Edith opposed this.

    We stopped as he turned around. He couldn¡¯t bear to hand me over to ¡°them¡±, thanking me for always being the kindest kid at the gates. He led us to a hidden exit up north. I said farewell, for now. Fuck, I really hope I see them again someday.

    ¡°Thanks, Rov. Glad I didn¡¯t have to gut you!¡± she said.

    ¡°Eh, my drinking¡¯ll get me soon enough, ¡®Dith.¡±

    The gates locked up behind me, and I was soon marching on to Lumoriva on my own. I have to keep going.

 CH.06: Nothin At All

    ¡°That¡¯s it, I gotta rest. I need to; I¡¯m losing it.¡±

    The skies have been clear, so I¡¯ve been mostly able to keep my bearings during the dozen hours of walking. I avoided the roads to forage, save time, and evade patrols. I climbed a large, neat-looking tree and set aside my stuff for a long rest. And though I don¡¯t roll in my sleep, I¡¯ve decided to fasten myself to the trunk just in case.

    It¡¯s roughly mid-day, and I¡¯ll wake up by sundown. As a half-elf, I haven¡¯t needed to sleep for as long as others, but damn am I exhausted. It¡¯s been about a day and a half since my last wink.

    Even then, this really isn¡¯t the worst I¡¯ve experienced. In the war, I had to occasionally go days on end without water, food, and sleep. I think the longest I¡¯d stayed up for was about 48 hours under constant shelling, and I knew people who¡¯d been up for over twice that long under fire. I¡¯m just glad I don¡¯t have to worry about explosive drones here, those damn birds.

    I wonder if they¡¯re alright. If Kantax¡¯s wounds seemed stable. She was alive enough to tell Seylas to piss off. Maybe Arsalan¡¯s negotiations to buy me time all worked out. Perhaps the others at Taido¡¯s will be fine. Hopefully my folks in the old world are doing well. I wonder if my sister¡¯s kids have grown strong and healthy back on Earth. Maybe I¡¯ll be fine here, maybe I¡¯ll survive.

    ¡­

    ¡°CAAAWWWW¡± a cacophony of birds screeched.

    And MAYBE I can sleep undisturbed?!

    A hefty bird of various red hues dropped from the branches above. Redwings! I waved my hand and smacked it away from completely landing on my face ¨C the bastard was going for my eyes because it JUST clawed a line through from my nose to cheek open.

    Blood dripped, stinging ¨C but I had to get ready; I¡¯m surrounded. Hell, do I have to wake up to airborne pieces of shit trying to kill me HERE too!?

    Damn birds! I¡¯ll fucking kill all of you!

    I quickly unsheathed my survival knife just as the other shin-sized Redwings dove. Three of them dug their claws into my gambeson¡¯s sleeves, and I flourished my knife to fend them off.

    In the corner of my view, a fourth one tried to swoop in ¨C and I caught its legs with my bandaged left hand. With one quick and forceful swipe, I severed the bird in half. More of the black-and-red bastards began diving in.

    ¡°You little winged shits! C¡¯mere!¡±

    I screamed and groaned, shifting my grip from that of a hammer¡¯s to that of an ice pick¡¯s ¨C with the blade pointed downwards.

    Just what I needed, an outlet for my rage.

    Upon jamming the dagger into every avian asswipe I could, dozens of corpses began littering the grass by the tree. Blood and entrails spewed all over; violence aplenty.

    And then, a snap.

    Shit! My sudden movements and shifting alongside the added weight of dead birds stuck on my vest caused the branch to snap. Slammed down to the side of the tree, I dangled by the waist with a rope fastened to the trunk.

    ¡°Dickheads!¡± I screamed.

    I found my footing onto the walls of the tree, hanging as I cleaved through each of the birds. Some of the other ones remained screeching on the other branches, to which I ran around the trunk to cut them too. I reached for my bag on the remaining base of the branch, and lowered myself as the frequency of attacks lessened.

    One of the Redwings suddenly struck the back of my head where my hood covered. This threw me off-balance, but the bird¡¯s claws got caught on the pink fabric. I grabbed the pest with one hand and beheaded it with the other, almost like how someone would lop off their own ponytail.

    I¡¯m covered in so much blood, of which I couldn¡¯t even tell was mine. Blood now impaired my vision ¨C I began swinging frantically; accidentally striking the rope.

    I cursed in my native language from the old world, as I slammed onto the bed of leaves and corpses below. The remaining flight-worthy birds fluttered away, forsaking the limping ones behind.

    ¡°Fuck you, and you, and you! Pricks.¡±

    A large shadow approached. I was too busy cleaving the survivors in half ¨C their weak breaths and glassy eyes meant nothing.

    I got up and wiped whatever I could, off. After clearing my face, I turned around to see a fucking bear glaring right back. My fingers flinched as I reached for Arsalan¡¯s hornbow. The bear wasn¡¯t too skinny or weighty, it¡¯s the middle of the season after all.

    ¡°Oh? WHAT? Do YOU want a piece too!?¡± I yelled, as I pointed my knife at the bear.

    We shared a pause, allowing me to regain some steady breaths and realize my injuries. I took a sack from one of my gambeson pockets to pick out the cleanest kills I made, storing them for later.

    I hastily picked through the bodies and the bird¡¯s nest that was crushed by the fallen branch. Several speckled eggs were buried in leaves ¨C perfect for a quick breakfast. I placed them into a pouch.

    ¡°Pests.¡±

    The furry beast watched me finish up. I tossed a few dead birds towards the bear, leaving a lifeless trail between us. And so I walked off alive, but I can¡¯t shake off the feeling that a part of me didn¡¯t.

    I hope this onslaught, my first, would also be my last.

    ¡­

    ¡°Ah, ah that stings SO much. Fucking birds.¡±

    The cut on my face and the cuts across my hands radiated a raw kind of pain that stung with a throbbing, burning sensation. The lacerations weren¡¯t deep but, god damn. I could barely grasp anything without wincing, as the combined suffering from the burns, slits, and splinters fucked me up real bad.

    With the help of my now blood-stained folded map, I found a river just a little bit wider than the creek from the other day. So much blood to wash off. They¡¯d also given me a small but expensive salve for my burns, and any additional injuries I may accrue ¨C but I wasn¡¯t expecting to make such good use of it so soon. Ouch.

    The small river ran red. I wrung everything off, using a bit of lye soap to clean off some of the stubborn bits left. I started a small fire by the river to dry my stuff, with four birds roasting as I tended to my wounds. After plucking their black and red feathers, I skewered them with shaved sticks to set them aside.

    It¡¯s not often I get to start fires in the wild, but rain hadn¡¯t passed here lately so everything seemed dry. I had asked for a handy piece of flint along with the copperware, and got one. This worked on the back edge of my knife ¨C and though the sawblade occupied most of that edge, enough flat parts remained. Arsalan had some firestarting cantrips, but Kantax taught me to struggle by hand when he was out. I used a bit of sack cloth for tinder. It¡¯s way harder than it looks, I really should have built mom a firestarter.

    ¡°Finally ¨C just took seventeen tries. Stupid.¡±

    My knife still retained its sharp edge after that fight, and after a quick rinse I could use the broad side as a mirror again and examine the gash on my face. By the time the four birds had cooked fully on one side, I¡¯d finished half of the tiny jar of medicinal ointment. I flipped the skewers for a more even roast. I prepared large leaves and stripped Whispergrass for packaging.

    The healing poultice was a thorough mixture of Okoma stalk extracts as a base, with mild tinges of Spicemoon and crushed Emberberries. Rarities, as we don¡¯t grow any of them here. Rokmuro¡¯s fertile grounds are largely untapped, unfortunately.

    I¡¯d only gotten about three hours of sleep up there, and the sun¡¯s finally gone down for the day. I boiled some of the eggs in a hurry before leaving. Lumoriva¡¯s a day away, and I¡¯m not waiting for Seylas¡¯ mounted scouts to come find me.

    The clouds obscured the stars and the beam across the sky, which had now shifted south just enough for me to see the planet cast its shadow on the ring at night. I marched along the path running beside the river ¨C it was the fastest route. I was on the last leg of the road connecting Trezoro and Lumoriva. Soon enough, a carriage caught up to me.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    ¡°Hey, need a ride to town?¡± the coachman asked.

    ¡°How much?¡± I replied, with half a mouthful.

    ¡°No payment, sir. Just keep the others in tow some company for the rest of the trip.¡±

    I hopped on back, and the carriage moved over twice my walking pace. A lantern lit the wagon. Seated across, an elderly couple and a little boy. Their attires were plebeian at best, and tattered at the worst.

    ¡°Mister, mister! What¡¯cha eating?¡± he probed.

    ¡°Roasted redwing.¡± I replied, my voice still hoarse from all the screaming I did. Maybe that, and my large amount of baggage, made them confuse me for a guy.

    I unfurled a leaf pack of poultry skewers, and offered the other three to them. The boy¡¯s eyes lit like bright, lovely jewels under the lantern light as I handed him a whole skewer of smokey, unadulterated meat ¨C still warm to the touch. The elderly couple gave me a soft smile, saying they don¡¯t mind sharing just one. I gave the last stick to the coachman, who received it happily as he didn¡¯t expect to be offered any at all.

    The time this ride saves me is worth more than the pests I slaughtered hours ago. Ganging up on me out of nowhere was uncalled for.

    ¡°Where did you get these?¡± asked the old lady.

    ¡°Honestly? I got attacked by a whole bunch of them.¡±

    The man with her, a blind and old in monastic clothes gave a puzzled look. ¡°How odd, normally Redwings shy away from people. Are you hurt?¡±

    ¡°I- well, yes. I am. They¡¯d cut my face and fingers up.¡±

    I lowered my hood, and the blind man didn¡¯t react. The boy froze as he ate, giving me a stricken glare. The old lady raised her eyebrows, astonished.

    ¡°My, my! You¡¯re quite a lovely lady, half-elf as you are. And, why so much armor? Your eyes also remind me of an elf my brother and I knew when we were much younger!¡± she said.

    ¡°Was his name Arsalan, by any chance?¡±

    The old man lit up, ¡°Arsalan! I haven¡¯t heard that name in ages. He taught me healing arts when I was an apprentice at the Sonyan monastery. Carefree and kind, he was.¡±

    Sonya, the goddess of healing. He¡¯s probably referring to the famous cloister near Sonorakvo ¨C the wealthiest settlement on Rokmuro, a rich coastal town. It got its name allegedly from the sirens of old that sung by its lovely coves; their melodies reverberating across the waters of its coast. I learned much more about it from Taido¡¯s company dealings in that area than from Arsalan.

    ¡°Yeah, he mentioned the vast city there in his stories before. He¡¯s my father.¡±

    They gasped in joyous awe. The boy¡¯s cheeks however, had grown a rosy red. The old man raised his hand to shake mine, ¡°Zarelli. I find it is truly an auspicious day to have met you. Are you versed in the healing arts? My sister and I are on the way to provide care to some nobles that have called upon us from such a distance.¡±

    ¡°Forlasita, nice to meet you. Unfortunately, I have no aptitude for any magic, and even Arsalan gave up on trying to teach me. He was hoping I was a prodigy he could send off to Royaume¡¯s prestigious magic academies. My mother was fervently against that idea as it meant I¡¯d spend decades away from her. But I have studied a little bit on the effects of various medicinal plants and herbs. Still, I¡¯m afraid my wounds may get infected if I¡¯m not careful.¡±

    Zarelli¡¯s face soured, then shined.

    ¡°Well, it is good knowledge to have. I can smell the scent of southern herbs. An Okomic mix? I do not bear Arsalan¡¯s immense talents, and if I did I might not be blind today! If you would allow me, may I please assist you with your injuries?¡±

    We worked it out further, and I didn¡¯t feel like making him work for free so I offered to pay ¨C he refused. He was happy enough that I shared my meal with them. I looked to his sister who was more than happy to quietly receive the 10 silvers I offered. She gave me a heartfelt smile, and I clasped her hands knowing it would go a long way to help them.

    Zarelli hovered his palms over my hands ¨C with a steady prayer, the calm white glow gave way to sealed wounds and slight scarring on my fingers.

    His breath hastened; he heaved as his palms ran up my cheeks. He groaned and continued his prayer as the itching on my face mellowed. I ran my fingertips across the gash, now a stinging scar.

    He almost collapsed, but his sister had caught him. That¡¯s all he could do, he said. He has to preserve the rest of his strength for the nobles, and especially for a noblewoman¡¯s son who is awfully ill. I thanked him for what he¡¯d done for me and I asked if there was a way I could repay him.

    Zarelli asked for a shoulder massage, to which I obliged and found all sorts of knots and tense spots. Viktor always appreciated a good massage so I have a bit of experience there. Kantax appreciated my massages, too. I mirrored what I could for his sister ¨C his traveling companion.

    They allowed me to get some steady sleep on the trip. The remaining ride was bumpy and noisy, but I had a much needed rest.

    I woke up to the boy sweeping my hair off to the side of my forehead. The elderly pair were sound asleep. The boy froze from my sudden awakening, and gazed into my eyes for more than a moment.

    ¡°You look strange. But pretty. And tall.¡± he said.

    ¡°Thanks, kid. Grow up strong and tall too, yeah?¡±

    ¡°Kid? But you don¡¯t look much older than me.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m, a lot older than you might think.¡±

    ¡°..hm.¡±

    We eventually arrived near Lumoriva. Coastal birds soared over us, as the sea¡¯s salty scent felt full within walking distance of the port. It dwarfed Trezoro, at the cost of seeming sadder overall.

    ¡°This is my stop.¡± I said.

    Zarelli smiled and bowed. ¡°Have a safe journey, and be well. Sonya¡¯s blessings be with you, Forlasita.¡±

    The old lady pointed towards the wharf. ¡°Go find the port authority and ask for which ship¡¯ll get you to where you need to go. Sonya guide you, little one!¡±

    Lastly, I waved farewell back at the boy.

    I weaved through the busy streets, avoiding carriages and pedestrians alike until I got to the port. The complex smells of various trade goods and peddlers overcame the salty air. Wooden ships of every size moored across, some rickety and old, while some seemed like the pinnacle of the age of sail. Except one.

    After squeezing into a dense crowd of gawkers, I got a good view of a huge sailing ship with paddle wheels. It was painted black with some brass metalwork emblazoned over wooden panels. It had no cannons, but it did have several large ballistas and one massive slingshot. The stocky crew were almost a foot shorter than the average man here ¨C this is a dwarven ship from Ischyros. They were loading supplies onto the ship in a clear hurry to leave.

    ¡°The great Theseus.¡± an old sailor muttered.

    Yet, the most alarming part wasn''t even the smoke billowing out of the short smokestacks as its boilers began to steam. Nor the rows of malnourished pale-yellow-skinned prisoners strewn about the deck. But the fact that the ship had cannon-ball sized holes, and scattered burn marks of some kind. Its sails were scorched and in the process of being replaced.

    ¡°Now THAT''S a ship!¡± another man shouted.

    One of the prisoners managed to free himself of his shackles and make a run for the ramp, and he was immediately struck by two large crossbow bolts. The dwarven mariners felled the Jader, and his body rolled off the side of the ship leaving a skidmark of blood.

    ¡°Poor bastards, the lot of them.¡± a passerby said.

    I had only ever heard of the Jade, a faction from the opposite end of the mainland¡¯s continent ¨C somehow at constant war with the island nation of Ischyros and the demon-kin that occupied most of the central continent. Marbordo took up the west.

    Eitherway, I have to leave. I spoke to several dockshands and found the ride that''s about to head to the mainland. It''s an old ship, but rather large compared to the others here. The Sojourner leaves tomorrow, and could possibly take over a week to arrive. It¡¯s my best chance out of here.

    I went shopping and stocked up on all sorts of stuff. Dried meats, a pouch of salt, more butter, and cheap wines, with whatever longer-lasting fruits I could bring. The ship would have provisions, but I won¡¯t compromise my diet just because of that.

    More and more people crowded the portside for their various businesses. Bumping into people was unavoidable, but the most interesting one had to¡¯ve been the blonde, skinny, well-dressed lady who lost her child in the crowd after we collided.

    Soon, I found him standing by an ongoing board game between a guardsman and a sailor. They called it Might & Magic ¨C something a bit like chess but with gryphons and wyverns in the mix, using pieces you can tailor based on the factions you chose from.

    ¡°Skip! Hey, Skip!¡± I called out to him, and he slowly turned to me with a lethargic gaze. Pale and frail, but clearly not poor enough to be starving. I couldn¡¯t quite read his emotions.

    He had unnaturally white cheeks. With a caress, I noticed it left a silvery powder on my fingertips. I see. I gave him a fruit and led him to his mother, whom I had a word with.

    ¡°You have to lay off the white powder.¡± I said.

    ¡°Hmm? But he must look as lovely as me!¡±

    ¡°Seriously? You two are the sickest looking people I¡¯ve met all month, and you¡¯re the only ones using that stuff. Ruin your own health, sure. But you have no idea what¡¯s in there, so don¡¯t jeopardize your son¡¯s life with what you don¡¯t understand.¡±

    ¡°Excuse me? You are simply too young to understand a lady¡¯s needs. And too poor, obviously. A butcher¡¯s stench. Covered in scars; like my damn husband parading with ¡®his boys¡¯ and playing hero.¡±

    With a sigh, I waved the moronic woman goodbye. Good riddance, but I still feel bad for that kid. I also bought a couple of other things to keep myself busy, such as a bit of canvas and leather. The extra supplies and improved fare set me back about 25 silvers.

    I boarded the ship with everything packed up.

    Evening arrived, and an officer gave me a long appraising look, before telling me where to set up. I''d be sharing a tiny room ¡°with the dwarf¡± apparently. Fine then.

    I knocked and entered. A scholarly man with small, round spectacles sat busy by a desk under candlelight. A hooded black robe draped over the wall, with insignias similar to those on the dwarven ship ¨C but with a compass instead of an anchor.

    ¡±Hey. What¡¯re you gawkin¡¯ about for, child. Settle down and don''t be a nuisance, maybe go play outside.¡±

    Great, an asshole with brown swept-back hair and a big braided beard. He looks like a tool, using drafting tools laid across his desk alongside several maps. I made a guess.

    ¡°Well, are you a cartographer or something?¡±

    He raised his head and turned to me. ¡°Yes, kind of.¡±

    ¡°What is Mondo¡¯s circumference?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Our best guess is about 13000 leagues. Least y¡¯know that we live on a ball. The name''s Inkunzi, the youngest Grand Geodesist of the Ischyrosian Adventuring Council. How about you?¡±

    ¡°Mondo¡¯s just a marble with a ring. Forlasita, at your service.¡±

    We shook hands. ¡°Heh, not bad for a little knife-ear.¡±

    I settled my stuff onto a corner of the room, and he tossed me a small brown bar. It smelled like dark chocolate, and it tasted like it. Not a bad bribe ¨C I¡¯ve missed this. I think I¡¯ll like this guy.

 CH.07: Lets Get Serious

    The Sojourner left the shore right before sunrise.

    I ended up just taking walks around the meager vessel, but the novelty wore off real quick. Sailors worked tirelessly to keep the ship in good shape, but I really didn¡¯t like how they were eyeing me. Inkunzi rarely left his quarters and generally had me take the bulk of the served provisions back to him.

    ¡°Aye, don¡¯t forget the cheese!¡±

    He¡¯s a difficult, but smart individual. I had a lot of questions, and he had enough answers. He praised me for my inquisitiveness, noting how his students and colleagues back home were nowhere as curious. I faked it well enough that it came off natural.

    ¡°You really are a clever one, aren¡¯t cha?¡± he said.

    ¡°And you really like maps. Don¡¯t you ever feel they¡¯re too big and clunky to use?¡± I pestered him some more.

    ¡°No choice, unless you wanna keep shrinking ¡®em down and losing all those tasty details. Adventurers everywhere need all the help they can get when it comes to maps!¡±

    ¡°Have you ever run into a cut map before?¡±

    ¡°Only when a bastard¡¯s trying to hide a spot!¡±

    Perfect.

    ¡°Y¡¯know, Inkunzi, I have a very special map I put together. I¡¯ll show you, if you¡¯ll be my friend and share your maps with me too.¡±

    He immediately dropped whatever he was doing and turned to me, eyes sharp with intensity. It was clear he was trying to read me.

    ¡°Hm. Alright, lass. Heh, you have a deal.¡±

    He thought I was bluffing.

    I pulled out the compact yet detailed canvas map I made of Rokmuro. I gave him a quick map tour of it while simply flipping through the face-sized implement before unveiling the true scale of the sheet. His silence, and the awe in his face; priceless.

    ¡°So, Inkunzi? How is it? Do you like what I did?¡±

    ¡°I.. Kunz. Call me Kunz. Let me see that.¡±

    He held his hand forward, and I folded it up to let him have a go at it. He understood exactly how it worked, and how convenient it was even if I¡¯d used a flimsy canvas that wasn¡¯t really even mapworthy.

    ¡°This, how did.. Impossible. No, incredible. This map-cutting technique''ll allow our Gryphon Riders to navigate way more efficiently. They won¡¯t have to land, or use shrunken maps. It¡¯s such a simple idea but..¡±

    His demeanor towards me changed after that. I could sense the newfound respect he had for me. He spent the next few hours practicing and optimizing a few maps he had to fold and cut.

    ¡°Listen, lass. You''re free to see and copy any of the maps I have ¡®ere. You need help with anything, ask. I¡¯m gonna share this technique with the rest o¡¯ the council when I can. Do you want your name on it, kid? It¡¯s customary honor; credit given where credit¡¯s due.¡±

    I don¡¯t need my name passed around, but I need his help.

    ¡°Honestly, man, I think it would be better if your name went into the method. You¡¯re already a respected high-ranking individual there. But, I would like your help. I don¡¯t even know what I¡¯ll do when I get to the mainland.¡±

    His expression changed to that of worry.

    ¡°Aye, if you¡¯ll will it that way. I have work to do, but you can bet I¡¯ll help¡¯ya however I can, lass.¡±

    ¡­

    Days passed in the sea, and whenever Inkunzi wanted to be alone I¡¯d do a bit of woodworking out in the fresh ocean air with spare Rokmuran marine wood on board. Sometimes, I¡¯d watch the men do their handiwork in maintaining the ship ¨C and unfortunately they¡¯d occasionally flirt with me. I politely turned them down. Mostly politely. What an exhausting bunch, and can¡¯t they see I¡¯m basically still a child? Some of them are outright disgusting.

    Inkunzi gradually grew more fond of me, it seems. He even started leaving his room to advise me on my woodworking ¨C such skills are in his blood as a well-studied dwarf.

    Strange yet sound. That¡¯s how he called my designs, but I was just drawing from what I vaguely remember to be the ancient ¡°belly bow¡± Gastraphetes and the Roman manuballista. Viktor was ALWAYS into historical stuff like that, so I designed the base of my new weapon like them ¨C powered by Arsalan¡¯s hornbow.

    Beastly, as Inkunzi put it, Ischyrosian crossbows instead utilize massive draw weights with short draw lengths. Slow and lumbering, yet strong and intimidating; inefficient.

    Seven days in. I often watched the crew set up rainwater collectors. Inkunzi toured the ship with the officer about things that needed refurbishing, and if they weren¡¯t repairable he¡¯d ask why.

    My side project was finally finished. Not a ¡°belly bow¡± but you could cycle the next bolt or arrow fairly quickly just by pushing an extending rod into the floor, closer to the manuballista. Perhaps my best work yet. Inkunzi found it remarkable, after we did some test fires on the deck during a calm night.

    ¡°Well, Bestatzo be damned. This is just about as powerful as some of the best ones we can carry ¨C but you can fire it at least 4 times faster. Makes the most of that long draw length to accelerate them bolts quickly. And that hornbow you mounted up ¡®ere is no joke.¡±

    ¡°You think so?¡± I asked, playfully.

    ¡°Listen here, lil¡¯ Isolus. Y¡¯know it takes a lot to get real praise from a dwarf, let alone me. You¡¯re full of surprises, lass. I doubt little that you made that map cutting technique yourself now.¡±

    This is all borrowed knowledge, so I¡¯m a little ashamed. I grew up on the shoulders of giants. Now he gave me that nickname because of how often he¡¯d find me alone. Isolus. It was a rare word to hear back home, but it¡¯s fairly common in Ischyrosian dialects. I try not to think about it, but I really do prefer my own company ¨C especially out here. Honestly, the average Mondonian can be tiring.

    Sometimes I¡¯d get sick of the junk they¡¯d hand out, so I offered to cook for myself and Inkunzi late in the evenings. We were nearing our destination so they didn¡¯t mind offering some of the nicer ingredients at a price. Inkunzi paid for all my meals since.

    The clouds let up on the last few nights, so he brought me outside again to teach me about the constellations while I was outside stitching together a leather poncho. He brought up the 9 deities and how they related to the stars, and frankly I only cared about the most distinctive formations I could use to orient myself at night.

    I was eventually able to ask Inkunzi about all sorts of dwarven ships. Apparently, he¡¯d gotten off of the IRS Theseus. An ''Ischyrosian Republic Ship.'' It¡¯s one of their most advanced ships yet, and one of the few steaming with coal.

    The moment I asked about the prisoners and the damage, he frowned in pause. After pondering on it, he told me the truth.

    ¡°That lot ¨C they¡¯re the resistance on the eastern coast of the mainland. Ruled by a ¡®house of Jade.¡¯  They¡¯ve been at war with ¡®em demon-kin for as long as I can remember, and at war with my kind ever since they started usin¡¯ dark arts even before I popped up. The kind that blew those holes onto the all-mighty Theseus.¡±

    Gunpowder, probably black powder.

    ¡°And no, I ain¡¯t tellin ya what that stuff¡¯s about, lest you bring the entire state of Ischyros crashing down on ye. It¡¯s the stuff o¡¯ nightmares ¨C god killers. No mortal should have such, cursed powers. Yet they bestow it on anyone willin¡¯ to aid their cause.¡±

    I wanted to pester him a little more.

    ¡°But what about the ¡®prodigal warcasters¡¯ whose spells can destroy as much, if not more? Don¡¯t those dark arts seem like they¡¯re being used by the oppressed as great equalizers?¡±

    He looked at me with concern, then acceptance.

    ¡°They¡¯re the few blessed by the gods. Rest of us are just tryna get by. And they ain¡¯t handing out destructive artifacts all willy-nilly. Yet the strong take what they can, and the weak suffer what they must. There¡¯s a big gap between the best knights and the best mages.¡±

    He turned away to the window, ending his words with a crack. There¡¯s a vast unfairness in the system, but it was for the better ¨C he might¡¯ve thought.

    ¡°Lass, don¡¯t ask me again about all that cursed black magic. Even if you think a bit of good can come from it, it ain¡¯t a light thing. There¡¯s a why, in why we started sinkin¡¯ Jade ships for having ¡®em. Finjugio. Mondo might not get a third chance.¡±

    I offered some wine, but he doesn¡¯t drink.

    ¡°Forgive me, Kunz. I can¡¯t imagine a world filled with dark arts. It¡¯d be horrible. People would stop at nothing to kill, even long after their reasons for defending themselves had been lost to time.¡±

    That¡¯s exactly what was on his mind, and it¡¯s exactly the same kind of curse humanity on Earth never cured themselves of. I¡¯ll never forget that. But maybe, Mondo could do better. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡­

    The ship eventually landed, after half a month at sea. I was out of the fancier provisions I kept, but at least my pack¡¯s a lot lighter than when I got on.

    Inkunzi asked around regarding the settlements worth visiting nearby. He gave me a small itinerary that stopped by a few villages and towns he learned of. The list terminated at the large town of Floranta.

    He told me about its fame for being a hub of craftsmanship, with regular trade routes to coastal towns and by extension Ischyros as well. One of his old friends, a dwarf by the name of Chryses, sent a letter a while back about opening a new smithy there.

    ¡°I¡¯ll see you there?¡± I saluted, loosely.

    ¡°In due time,¡± he replied. ¡°Good luck, lass.¡±

    ¡°Thanks. I¡¯ll need it.¡±

    Before he embarked the Sojourner, he had gotten off the Theseus which needed to head back to Ischyros for repairs. It only stopped by Lumoriva to recuperate and resupply just enough to get home. Inkunzi switched vessels ¨C and his journey to map this side of the continent continues.

    The Sojourner had just unloaded its passengers and cargo, to make way for new merchandise that required transport to Rokmuro.

    The colder air grazed me as I carried my luggage down the boat ramp. This port didn¡¯t bustle as much, being generally quieter. I got any information I could across the commercial district, and heard about a caravan headed northeast leaving tomorrow.

    I spoke to one merchant after another, until I made the right connections that¡¯d get me aboard the caravan. My baggage, attire, age, and ears tended to get me disregarded ¨C but my skilled speech saved some of that. Being on a ship took a while to get used to, though I don¡¯t miss the rocking. I paid for some hot bread and water, as well as a night¡¯s stay at the inn.

    The comfortable bed felt so much better than the bare minimum we had on the Sojourner. It reminded me of the house by the lake near Trezoro.

    Such softness reminded me of home, and the fact that I¡¯ve lost two of them in different worlds now. I¡¯ve been through a long journey, but there¡¯s more to do.

    Nights are a bit colder here. Almost familiarly cold.

    My cuts still itch, but they¡¯ve healed well.

    Damn. I¡¯ve really been through a ton.

    There¡¯s still so much more ahead.

    ¡­

    I joined the merchant caravan¡¯s journey up northeast through the Brigantii region. We passed through countless forests. The plants here are adapted to the colder climate, with their slender leaves.

    The villages seemed hardier, with sturdy workers operating under their lords. We had it good back home.

    I helped out here and there. Sometimes with the hunts, and occasionally with the sales, but usually with the cooking. Several bands of hired mercs escort the caravan. I bit the bullet and buddied up with the most pleasant group there ¨C and they seemed more than happy to have me cook for them and fix up some of their gear. There¡¯s a few worth noting.

    A young one-eyed huntress named Strelya. She¡¯s quick with her shortbow and inordinately agile. Curious and polite too. She saw my crossbow and found it interesting, so I offered to make a magazine-stock for her to mount her bow on.

    Her skill with shooting on the move and snapshotting had me make it so hers was just cyclable by hand, unlike mine which you had to push into the ground with your weight to cycle the next bolt. It¡¯ll take a while for her to get used to it, but she loves it.

    Lugosi, their resident alchemist, a tall hooded guy who smells awfully of mold. The others don¡¯t seem to mind. He spends most of his time writing. He rarely eats, or sleeps. I¡¯ve seen him without his hood on ¨C and god damn does he look fucked up, almost rotting. Still, he¡¯s kind to us and helps out. He taught me about the local flora and fauna, and some of the easier potions I asked about.

    Then there¡¯s the bard, Nightingale and her lightweight harp. I was taught both the piano and guitar growing up in the old world, so I asked her to teach me. I sucked.

    But we still got to play music together, since I still recalled how to beatbox! My son, Anton, was a fan of it so I practiced in secret for months. He wondered why my voice was rougher, and found out. He never spoke about beatboxing again. But my friends in the frontlines enjoyed it, and so did Nightingale.

    Lastly, there¡¯s Anthrax. The tracker who leads them is a crafty man with half-plate armor and a warpick. He speaks for the group and calls the shots.

    They called themselves the Heartbreakers. It had something to do with a tavern brawl, I didn¡¯t pry.

    ¡­

    A few months passed. I veered off from Inkunzi¡¯s itinerary quite a bit, but the caravan eventually arrived at Floranta. The adventurers had taught me a lot during that trip, and even offered to help me to register with the adventurer¡¯s guild representative there. I declined. I¡¯ve seen too much violence in Mondo already, and adventurers tend to attract trouble.

    I knocked on the smithy after spending an afternoon finding the run-down workshop. A famished young man greeted me, instead of an old dwarf.

    ¡°All apologies, but we¡¯re closed for the day.¡±

    ¡°Does uh, Chryses work here? His friend sent me.¡±

    ¡°Well, yes. He- my boss, lives here too.¡±

    He invited me in, and pointed at a bearded drunk dwarf seated and passed out cold, bottle in hand.

    ¡°If you can call ¡®that¡¯ living. I¡¯m Tobias.¡±

    ¡°Isolus. Here to help, I think.¡± I shook his hand.

    Tobias was a street urchin who¡¯s lived here as Chryses¡¯ assistant for the past several years. When the drunkard woke up, I explained my situation to him.

    Apparently, the letter Inkunzi received was sent at least a dozen cycles ago. Business grew difficult, especially with Chryses¡¯ declining health. Tobias recalls his master¡¯s vigor when he was a child, from the day Chryses saved him with a warm meal in the winter.

    They had a huge backlog of work to do, and in exchange for room and board I offered to do woodwork, designing, and later on even handling clients. They let me live in a small storage room at the corner of the lower floor, so I could easily keep watch for patrons.

    Having long dealt with the shenanigans at Taido¡¯s, I¡¯d say I¡¯ve gotten pretty good at putting on a sweet act when I had to. But neither Chryses or Tobias could fight so I carried a sword and dealt with rowdy customers, preferably with words and not my sword.

    But as our fame grew, even locals helped deal with scum.

    We got commissioned twice as much by the end of the second week I spent there. Tobias did most of the metalworking, under Chryses¡¯ supervision. I made massive improvements to the inventory management, accounting of time and resources, measurement standards, and double-entry bookkeeping.

    Business boomed with orders returning from outside Floranta, and eventually the neighboring establishments adjacent to ours grew more active in trade.

    ¡­

    Around half a dozen cycles passed ¨C turning me 25 cycles old. Roughly a bit past 16 years in age.

    All the hard work paid off, I was able to organize the smithy with new workers to handle the scaling up of the business ¨C now aptly named Chryses¡¯ Crucible. I learned new skills I had to learn, too.

    Things were rough more often than not, but we pulled through each time. We were even robbed once, but Tobias fended the brigands off with one of my more recent crossbow designs as I tied them down in melee. He now supervises all of the metalworking, and often works with me on new projects. The workshop has since tripled in size.

    I built a couple of machines too! The Crucible now has bronze steam-powered hammers and lathes. Expensive and difficult to build with lots of trial and error, but with some of the gold I had and the extra funds I saved up enough from my side gigs as a consultant and as a weekend adventurer, we managed.

    The Heartbreakers stopped by every few months and eventually they tricked me into signing up as a real adventurer. And by ¡°they¡± I meant Anthrax. Sly bastard.

    Honestly? I¡¯m a little proud of casting quality bronze into molds as parts that, with some polishing, could work as machine parts. These then make machine tools that create more accurately machined parts, to make even better machines! Useful stuff.

    But Chryses¡¯ vigor only improved for a short while, then his health gradually declined again. Even long after his last bottle of cheap wine. He¡¯s been bedridden for a few months now.

    Inkunzi, for some reason, decided now would be the best time to pay a visit. He says it¡¯s because he saw a one-eyed huntress with a ¡°strange bow¡± and other gear. Thanks, Strelya.

    The two dwarves spent quite some time together over the past few days. My name was mentioned often, in a thankful sort of way. Chryses was roughly 90 cycles older than Inkunzi, but a clear joy and vibrance sprang from him as soon as his friend came by to visit. They bantered in Ischyrosian, loud and boisterous. Dwarves really do live a while, don¡¯t they? A bit over 170 cycles, while it¡¯d be lucky for a human to hit 120.

    Fifty-fifty half-elves like me are known to go well over 300 cycles or 200 years. Add in my last life¡¯s 42 years and.. damn.

    ...

    Next morning, Chryses was gone ¨C but his auburn beard still looked as majestic as ever, according to Tobias.

    A happy passing, at least. Surrounded by some friends, new and old. His business runs ever stronger. We arranged a burial ceremony just behind the workshop. I cooked up a large batch of his favorite dish, bean soup with extra meat and dried spicemoons.

    Later after dusk, Inkunzi stood by the grave. Alone. He muttered some words in their dialect to the tombstone. He pulled out a flat flask from his coat ¨C a kind of dwarven liquor. It reeked even from a distance as soon as he popped it open. Inkunzi guzzled half the bottle down before smashing it over the tombstone. Broken glass glistened across the dirt.

    He finished with something in Ischyrosian, something along the lines of ¡®Guess this is goodbye¡¯ from what I could make up.

    Liquor splattered over the brass plaque bolted on to the headstone. Soon, thick drops of blood followed after. And then another moment of silence.

    Inkunzi took a bandage from one of his pouches and dressed his hand for the cuts.

    ¡°Lass, I know you¡¯ve been watchin¡¯ for the past while. I don¡¯t blame ya. I promised the old man I¡¯d help however I could. Forgive me for takin¡¯ so long to get here. Met some o¡¯ yer friends along th¡¯way.¡±

    ¡°It never gets easier, doesn¡¯t it?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Truth. Just the truth.¡±

    ¡°Kunz, since when¡¯d you start drinking?¡±

    ¡°Today. You saw, didn¡¯t cha?¡±

    He waved me off with his bloodied hand and led me back into the shop. His heavy leather pack was filled to the brim with documents, scrolls, and books. No shortage of maps.

    Inkunzi took them out one at a time and let me know if there was anything I needed ¨C and there was a lot I did. I eventually moved to a new room upstairs and most of it I fashioned into a chemistry lab.

    First I asked about Strelya and the others, since they hadn¡¯t been around in months. Apparently they¡¯re busy hunting goblin raiding parties. No easy task, but I know most of the adventurers¡¯ gear comes from here. Reliable equipment from Chryses¡¯ Crucible.

    I then carefully asked about where to find certain materials. I needed tons of sulfur, various ores, and even forests a little down south where massive fig trees grow. Their roots are often guided across chasms to make living bridges, but what interested me more was the properties of their sap. Latex.

    Inkunzi had all of this information in spades. My inquiries got him to offer even more useful data on nearby resources that I didn¡¯t even realize I needed. Smart man.

    Let¡¯s get serious.

 CH.08: Up Around The Bend

    33 cycles old.

    My 20¡¯s back on Earth weren¡¯t as interesting, that¡¯s for sure. My hair has grown a fair bit, and I normally use it to conceal my ears ¨C whose earrings at the tip I¡¯ve tied together behind my head to keep them from sticking out.

    Inkunzi often left to continue mapping out the rest of the continent, but he regularly made visits back to Floranta. Every time he¡¯d return, a few new innovations came to greet him. First it was the steam engines, then ball bearings, and now it¡¯s latex ¨C treated with heat, sulfur, and carbon.

    ¡°Welcome back, Kunz. And nan, do I have a gift for you.¡±

    ¡°What? Why the hell¡¯r¡¯ya askin me if you got a-¡±

    I swiped the fabric off of a bronze bicycle. The dwarf dropped his jaw, and his tone. He stood in awe as I rolled it forward to him after kicking up the stand.

    ¡°It¡¯s all yours, buddy.¡±

    Ring ring, went the brass bell as I flicked it.

    ¡°You always complained about horses not being able to keep up with you, so here you go. Full bronze frame with machined parts for the chain and such. Vulcanized rubber tyres inflated with air ¨C the pump comes free. I also left a tyre repair kit in the compartment under the seat. And speaking of the seat, it¡¯s adjustable and you¡¯ve got padded leather upholstery so it doesn¡¯t get sore on long rides. Yours is also extra special, because I added an odometer so you know how many leagues you¡¯ve travelled.¡±

    I got on the bike and rode it around, circling him. I¡¯d practiced doing wheelies and pedaling hands-free.

    ¡°Lass, for a moment I honestly thought you imported ¡®er straight from Ischyros. But I¡¯ve never seen anything of the sort back home. Since when¡¯d you lot start making these?¡±

    ¡°About five months ago. Caravans have been buying up most of the horses due to goblin raids, raising the cost of a steed much higher than the average rider is willing to part with. And the trees I asked about? The sap went a long way in helping make these tyres work for the design I had in mind. We¡¯ve only sold a few so far, since we¡¯re ironing out the kinks.¡±

    ¡°Ironing.. out?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Oh uh, like that other product we have! It¡¯s a bronze container with a flat side, and you put burning coals in to heat it up. You hold it by a handle and run the flat part over some clothes to get rid of the creases.¡±

    ¡°Well if it¡¯s bronze, why say ¡®ironing¡¯ then?¡± he pestered.

    ¡°I, listen. Inkunzi. Seriously. You can use any-¡±

    ¡°Hah! I¡¯m just kiddin, lass. I get it. Now, show me how to ride this damn thing!¡± Inkunzi said, with a bright smile.

    ¡­

    35 cycles old.

    And speaking of cycles, we¡¯ve sold tons of bikes. I¡¯ve streamlined the manufacturing process and Chryses¡¯ Crucible now offers dozens of jobs, and standardized parts from our products are now largely interchangeable. You could even fix a bike with spare crossbow parts, and so on. Most workers are near the large workshop, but some work outside like the guys who gather, process, and transport the tree sap as latex.

    We¡¯ve also had to mine for our own sources of sulfur, and I made crude gas masks for the harvesters. Anthrax organized his adventuring parties to guard the extended workers from goblins.

    And it took a lot longer than I¡¯d have liked, but I was able to hire a glassblower from a neighboring village to help train a new generation of glassworkers. With their help, we¡¯ve made lenses for the gas masks, spectacles, and even rudimentary microscopes.

    It took a while but we were able to get the hang of adjusting the curvature of lenses. They helped a lot with my personal chemistry lab. I finally have glasses! It feels so good to see far away again. We now also offer eye tests and prescription lenses at affordable prices.

    Most of Floranta¡¯s guards now use our equipment, and we even made cheaper versions of the bikes using wooden frames that many townsfolk could easily hope to afford. Some even have tricycles with cargo beds. The rate of immigration rose as housing became more available since construction boomed when we started supplying bricks and a type of plaster to bind them.

    Eventually, almost all of Floranta¡¯s crafts workers were linked to us somehow. I made sure that we incentivized our local competitors to work with us, rather than against.

    Money kept operations smooth.

    Pollution was becoming a problem, and although I found a way to develop cheaper paper based on wood pulp, the process reeked and we were forced to move some facilities outside the town. Most of the townsfolk didn¡¯t care about the contamination, as long as wealth kept coming in. Tobias still works his ass off supervising the metalworks, but I think he can run things whenever I¡¯m away.

    ¡­

    38 cycles.

    A thieving little orphan tried to steal from Inkunzi a while back, but I caught her and decided to train her into being a halfway decent receptionist. Nora is smaller than other girls her age, but definitely quite talented for sure. I¡¯ll never forget the smile she gave me when I offered her the first warm meal she¡¯d had in ages.

    Today, she rushed upstairs to my laboratory and interrupted my recent experiments on Sulfur and Magnesium. Yet another wealthy merchant came to visit, and is waiting downstairs.

    I had her bring the businessman up to the newly constructed conference room, since my lab wasn¡¯t conducive for visitors. I quickly changed from my stained hand-stitched coveralls, to a tailored coat.

    With a wipe on my face to clear most of the soot, I entered the conference room and walked to my seat behind one of the desks.

    ¡°Welcome, welcome!¡± I greeted the young man and his companion, a lady with a courteous demeanor. The man then fervently shook my hand.

    ¡°Ah yes! You must be Isolus. I¡¯m Mateo Taido. This is my beautiful wife, Rozabela.¡±

    Oh, shit.

    ¡°We¡¯re so happy to finally get here. We came all the way from Rokmuro!¡± he proudly announced. ¡°We have brought a few gifts, and would like to negotiate a partnership, among other things.¡±

    I looked at the mirror on my desk. My dark red hair¡¯s grown so long since they last met me ¨C and it¡¯s covered in dark ashy soot. My ears are concealed as usual. I¡¯m still wearing the tinted glasses I used in the lab to protect my eyes from chemical flashes. They really don¡¯t seem to recognize me, so let¡¯s keep it that way.

    Rozabela spoke. ¡°Is something wrong, ma¡¯am?¡±

    ¡°Oh no, it¡¯s fine. Glad you guys could make it.¡±

    His retinue of maids came in from behind and one by one each left a dish on copperware atop my desk. I leaned down to gaze at the lovely platters. A familiar maid in glasses paused for a bit longer ¨C I think she saw my eyes over the tinted lenses. She smiled, and went.

    ¡°Dig in, they¡¯re fresh!¡± Mateo said.

    ¡°Of course. Did you have these baked in Floranta?¡±

    ¡°Ah, we were supposed to bake it on the way here. But we baked them here. We heard of goblin raiding parties and didn¡¯t wish to lure them with the scent of food. Nor did we want to slow down.¡±

    Mateo stood up to the window and ushered me to a view of his caravan. One of his carriages was laid open as a mobile kitchen of sorts. Guess they really did do the maid restaurant thing.

    ¡°Impressive. And oh my, the quality of your dishes look wonderful. The Crescents are baked through, despite being rushed. Your pancakes, pies, and others are lovely. My, even the Banush is just right. The mixed aroma is driving me mad. May I try some?¡±

    They all glared at me, except the familiar maid who kept smiling in the back of the crowd.

    ¡°Wow. I was actually going to have my head maid introduce these to you one at a time but it seems like you already.. N-nevermind, go ahead! Dig in, miss Isolus.¡±

    That head maid was Edithe. I smiled back at her.

    ¡°I¡¯m well-traveled, Mateo. Admittedly, these are great.¡±

    ¡°Th-thank you!¡± his pride echoed with joy.

    Good job to them for improvising and improving on the recipes I left behind. Food culture here has been lackluster at best. I¡¯ve grown accustomed to the same bland beans Chryses loved.

    ¡°Excuse me, miss Isolus, but how are you familiar with Banush? We have spent a long while trying to work the recipe up, and have only just recently offered it in our menus.¡±Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    Shit.

    ¡°I uh, met an adventurer many cycles back who cooked up a dish much like this one. It really was so long ago.¡±

    ¡°Truly? Where? Did she have pointed ears? We¡¯ve seen signs of her, but no real news of her.¡±

    ¡°It was ages ago. Over a decade. She stopped by here one day and cooked something up herself at the inn. I fell in love with the scent and bought some. She called it Banush, and left the day after.¡±

    ¡°Did she have red hair? Vibrant, warm eyes?¡±

    ¡°She wore a hood ¨C I can¡¯t remember her eyes.¡±

    ¡°Damn,¡± he exclaimed, disheartened.

    Rozabela pinched him out of irritation. Understandable.

    ¡°Anyhow, what business would you like to discuss?¡±

    I gave Edith a smile again, and she smiled back.

    Mateo discussed plans on retrofitting their horse-drawn carriages, as well as possible trade caravans that could bring more food here. The raids have caused shortages. Modifications included improved axles, and some quick refits on their mobile kitchen to lighten them. He bought a dozen bicycles ¨C two bronze-framed ones and ten cheaper bikes. He also bought a few repeater crossbows.

    It¡¯s clear he wants to reproduce what he can back in Rokmuro. That¡¯s fine. I want him ahead of everyone else there.

    Eventually, I got a chance to say hello to Edith as she went to the market on her own. Yep, she knows it¡¯s me. They¡¯ve all aged a fair bit since we last met. We caught up over some tea. I asked about Pipra and apparently her tailoring business has been failing since she began having ¡®the shakes¡¯ a few cycles ago, and because her husband had recently gotten sick and passed while she was busy nursing her baby.

    I gave Edith a small but hefty pouch of silvers and begged her to convince Pipra to come over to Floranta with her kid. The coins would cover their fare, and the rest for Edith¡¯s kickback. Her eyesight also worsened, but her glasses never changed so we made her a new pair. Gist is that we¡¯re going to produce a new machine soon, which can stitch fabrics at speed and at ease ¨C we just need her to help handle it. There¡¯s a lack of skilled seamstresses here, after all.

    ¡­

    40 cycles old.

    Pipra safely arrived with Phaedra, her daughter. Surprisingly Rovan also arrived with his baby son Raul, and his young daughter Edina ¨C who¡¯s long recovered from illness. Unfortunately, his wife died birthing Raul.

    He gave up booze, but lost his job as a guardsman due to ¡®circumstances¡¯ I didn¡¯t pry about. Still, he was hired to guard Floranta. Edithe was looking out for him; instead of keeping the extra silvers, she gave it to his family for safe passage off Rokmuro.

    We finished prototyping the sewing machine a year ago. Normal sewing techniques don¡¯t easily work with our machines, so I had to introduce chain-stitching as a concept. I had Mateo import two looms for us to develop our own textiles as well. Tobias designed ways to automate and power them with our more efficient steam engines ¨C now with reduced heat loss and higher pressures.

    Pipra has done well to train new workers to run the sewing machines. We¡¯ve been churning out improved workwear coveralls based on my old hand-stitched one, but with ¡°Raglan sleeves¡± for increased range of motion. Lots of ergonomic pockets were added along with discreet slots for optional tourniquets. Definitely not as sleek, but if they can save lives yet still be comfortable then it¡¯s great.

    We had ¡°Chryses¡¯ Crucible¡± heat-embossed on each product. Tobias trained more and more engineers based on the various technical skills I ¡®encouraged him to learn¡¯ over time.

    Paper from our paper mills made teaching easier, and you bet we had our own rudimentary printing presses. I wrote up a few manuals for the operation of our machines, which the pressworkers would convert to printed manuals with charcoal-based ink.

    But things weren¡¯t perfect. Imports have gotten scarcer as more and more villages and caravans have been ransacked. It sickens me to think that some of the goblin raiders might be using our gear. Anthrax and his gang have been spread thin, as most mercenaries have opted to work elsewhere.

    My laboratory started a small fire last month and I¡¯ve decided to move somewhere quieter. We ran our own coal mine a little down south, resting atop a hill by the vast Hirene river. The hill bifurcated some forested areas along the riverside. Inkunzi found it as an abandoned mine, and we¡¯ve since reclaimed it.

    Lugosi, the Heartbreakers¡¯ resident alchemist, rejoined them after his own trip along the coasts. I commissioned him to find certain kinds of resources. He heard about a green lake to the west that¡¯s almost more algae than lake, along with a witch that lived there.

    So I went there with a small, armed patrol.

    We were ready for a fight, but all we got as we approached was music. Lots of cats. The music of a lute got louder and louder. And as soon as we wove past the thick roadside brush, we saw it.

    A lake, verdurous with pond life, surrounded by layers upon layers of flowering trees. This lake was a bit larger than the one I grew up by in Rokmuro. With the wanton pollution and deforestation we¡¯ve set upon Floranta, this sight seemed precious.

    As the others stood mesmerized, I approached the source of the music, and found the witch. A small blonde lady sat up on a tree branch. The shade made her harder for the regular humans to see; my weak darkvision helped me. She¡¯s playing something lovely and soft, perhaps something akin to a pavane for a long lost princess? The soundtrack she gave to the lush scenery felt almost untouched by time. Her eyes were shut.

    I asked the others to stand by the caravan, and that I¡¯d handle the witch on my own and gather the research materials myself.

    ¡°Hello? May I know your name?¡± I asked.

    The music stopped. ¡°Qistina.¡±

    ¡°Isolus, at your service. Your music is wonderful.¡±

    ¡°Haha, that¡¯s a funny name! I like it.¡±

    She gave me an incredibly warm smile.

    ¡°Honestly, it¡¯d fit you too. Sitting out here, all alone.¡±

    ¡°I have been alone for a very long time, I think.¡±

    Her soft voice almost feels like a whisper. Now with the music gone, the growing gusts of wind around us sounded louder. I moved closer. A sudden rush of wind raised our dresses a little, but more importantly it also raised her extremely long, silken hair.

    She¡¯s an elf ¨C seemingly much younger and smaller than Arsalan. Her eyes remained shut as she started sniffing.

    ¡°Do you.. happen to have yummy food on you?¡±

    ¡°I, why yes I do. Please, have some.¡±

    She grabs a nearby vine and twirls her way down. I offer her a leaf-wrapped bar of butter-bread made from imported Brila grains that I kept in my satchel.

    She¡¯s much shorter than me, almost adolescent. Arsalan¡¯s way taller. Instead of following my voice, it seemed more like she followed the scent.

    After taking a bite, her face lit up like the sun itself. She doesn¡¯t gobble it down immediately, but instead she savors the puffy snack. She sounds happier than anyone else I¡¯ve met here on Mondo.

    Her instrument, a wooden lute varnished with a kind of oil. The strings seemed to be made from her own hair. I told her that I¡¯m here for the algae on the lake. She doesn¡¯t mind. Upon finishing the bread, she thanked me. I gave her the rest of my snacks because the sound of her joy and the look of her smile, is filling enough.

    I offered to take her back with me, but she wants to stay here, understandably. I collected a few jars worth of algae and headed back.

    ¡°Come see me again soon, lonely snack lady!¡±

    ¡°Sure thing, sweetie. I¡¯ll bring more soon.¡±

    ¡­

    41 cycles in.

    I¡¯ve begun developing real ways to turn algae into fuel. It¡¯s not much but I don¡¯t have access to oil wells or anything of the sort. There¡¯s more research to be done. My lab equipment is probably one of the best chemistry sets available outside Ischyros.

    Doing this is hard enough with a modern chemistry lab, and with modern availability of substances. Imports are getting even harder to come by, and Taido¡¯s not faring so well either.

    ¡­

    Over half a year later. 42 cycles old.

    Strelya barged into my lab at night with a large grazing wound on her waist. A goblin javelin had cut through. I treated her as fast as I could while she explained how Floranta¡¯s under attack, and that she biked her way here. Most of the townsfolk are dispersing into the forests and being hunted down, or slaughtered in their burning homes. Fucking goblins, I swear.

    A few are joining the Crucible workers¡¯ retreat southwards to this point. They¡¯re bringing lots of wounded, and lots of refugees. Some are bringing equipment here on the carriages meant for coal and other resources. Anthrax¡¯s remaining mercenaries are holding off the raiders and keeping the corridor safe, but they¡¯re spread thin. And holy shit, I¡¯m no doctor.

    We don¡¯t have much time left.

    Rovan organized a dozen guards and their families to retreat here. The wounded are gathered near the entrance of the mine, only Lugosi and a few other adventurers know how to treat the wounded with the cache of imported slow-healing potions. Pots boil incessantly to sterilize anything that needs to be.

    Non-combatants are to immediately assist with the rapid construction of defenses. There¡¯s no shortage of shovels, and so we dug ditches around as fast as we could. It doesn¡¯t take long for most of the immediate land around the mine to be entrenched. The others prepared stakes. The situation is fucked, but I won¡¯t abandon them.

    A few hours later and the last carriage arrives, filled with even more wounded. Anthrax being one of them. We were supposed to build a few new sheds for storing material and equipment and to house new miners, but it looks like those resources are going straight to the makeshift palisade walls. There isn¡¯t enough to go around, so we parked the wagons into smaller ditches within the perimeter.

    We have a few crossbows, and even fewer guys who really know how to use them. Strelya quickly trains some more, and Rovan has the rest learn to use wooden spears or make simple bolts. I¡¯m busy rigging up some spare weapons from the empty potion bottles.

    Anthrax tugged my sleeve, unable to get up. Battered, badly.

    ¡°Goblins, they¡¯ll form up before striking.. Please, be careful.¡±

    Eventually we moved all the wounded into the mineshafts along with the noncombatants ¨C mostly kids. The women held the most spears and spread around the outpost. Most of the men were already injured from earlier. Pipra shook as she held hers, but fear wasn¡¯t the reason why. We mounted a few lanterns near the three choke point entrances of our crude wagon fort.

    Cold, quiet wind. All we could hear was weeping from within the mine. Suddenly, glass shattered. A lantern was hit by a stone, slung by a goblin slinger. Wood walls clattered with impacts of stone.

    More and more popped out of the woodwork ¨C whole groups, many mounted on wolfback, armed with slings, bows, crossbows, and even spear-throwing levers. They peppered us from two fronts away from the river. All of us hid behind cover, save for the skirmishers. Our magazine-fed rapid-firing crossbows fired back with ease, dropping goblin after goblin. The darkness made it harder, but the guards¡¯ halberds and others¡¯ makeshift spears kept them at bay. This helped the others land their marks.

    Maybe we can win this.

    The opportunity arrived, and I threw my firebombs out into the clusters of goblins. I¡¯d distilled algae biofuels and got something flammable enough to bottle up as incendiary devices. It just so happens that these potion flasks are perfect for throwing with a burning cloth on one end. I haven¡¯t thrown a molotov petrol bomb since the war that ended my last life. It''s funny to think that these bottles once served to heal, and now they serve to protect, by killing.

    Dozens of them got roasted alive, and many began to flee. One larger imposing goblin ¨C a shaman, moved forth and sounded a horn. Other little freaks rallied to him. An awful stream of these troglodytes sprung out of the forest, like mice from an infested storehouse.

    Strelya, running on nothing but adrenaline, fired a flurry of bolts straight into the shaman¡¯s chest. She collapsed from the strain of her wound, and was dragged to the mine. Several of our defenders have sustained injuries, and I can count at least eight who aren¡¯t moving anymore. The goblins are grouped up by the dying shaman, and I throw as many firebombs as I can.

    The first throws them to chaos, the second gets a direct hit in the group, the third¨C

    ...

    I, what? What happened? My head, it feels light. Throbbing.

    It''s just the dark sky now. Stars, the moon, and Mondo''s halo. Mondo? Oh, right. Yelling. Screaming. I''m tired. So, very exhausted.

    ¡­

 CH.09: Nothing Else Matters

    A splitting headache ¨C the worst I¡¯ve ever had.

    ¡°God damn, what time is it? My head..¡±

    I opened my eyes to the ceiling of my laboratory. My mouth was dry. Someone leaned over, looking teary-eyed but happy.

    ¡°Miss Isolus.. you¡¯re finally awake!¡± a girl said.

    ¡°Who? What happened?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Ah, um- you were hit by a rock. From a slinger.¡±

    It was, Nora I think? The young receptionist sat beside me, with her left arm bandaged and slung over her chest.

    ¡°How.. fuck, how long was I out?¡± I asked.

    ¡°It¡¯s been three days. Roughly a bit more, ma''am.¡±

    I touched the area on my head that stung the most. She lent me a brass mirror, and a gash ran from my left eyebrow up to a bit of my scalp. Stitches.

    ¡°I¡¯m guessing we won. What happened to your arm?¡±

    ¡°A few of them got past the walls, and I.. I¡¯m no good with a spear. A wolfrider got my arm; crushed it with a club. But Lugosi said it¡¯ll heal! The others, not so lucky.¡± Nora said.

    I looked in the other direction and saw a dozen occupied pads across the lab. My laboratory equipment was largely set aside to make more room. Nora seemed like a troubled young girl.

    ¡°Well, uh what about your parents?¡±

    ¡°Ma¡¯am, that¡¯s in poor taste. Now is NOT the time for jokes. Heh, what ¨C did you forget I was an orphan?¡±

    ¡°My bad, sorry.¡± I don¡¯t recall, at least not right now.

    The look of annoyance on her face turned to concern, and then to horror as she began holding back her tears.

    ¡°I.. have to go. See you around, ma¡¯am. Sorry.¡±

    She bursted out of the room.

    Yeah. Looks like I¡¯ve got my work cut out for me.

    ¡­

    6 of ours died here on the eve of our defense.

    3 more passed within a week from infection.

    11 suffered some kind of permanent injury.

    The remaining souls in camp totaled 59.

    Mostly women and children.

    We lost Kvieta, the gentle baker who lived across the street and enjoyed selling bread from the mixed grains we imported ¨C she helped fend off the wolfriders. Jovio¡¯s body was found days later, the kind boy who was always eager to deliver my messages for the scraps of silver that got him his favorite croissants. Mozaiko the stonemason died from sepsis after an arrow pierced his gut. His family arrived too late to say goodbye. Many more I knew, perished.

    Strelya¡¯s recovering well, but Anthrax might not be able to walk for some time. Pipra got a hit on her hand and lost a digit, but is thankfully safe with her little girl, Phaedra. Rovan was bitten by a wolf, but his padded leather gloves kept it from breaking skin.

    My migraines are still severe, but it¡¯s improving. I started smoking using Arsalan¡¯s pipe, as some herbs helped with the pain. Sometimes I¡¯d drink, too. Reinforcements from neighboring towns arrived a week later and mopped up the remaining goblins.

    I was able to get Tobias, who¡¯s unscathed, to put together a few rudimentary wheelchairs for those in need after we salvaged what we could from the remains of Chryses¡¯ Crucible. Floranta was no more ¨C its buildings left as empty husks, or rubble and ash.

    What wasn¡¯t burned, was looted and ransacked. Yes, one could say a town is its people, but Floranta¡¯s inhabitants are mostly scattered or missing. Some of the adventurers and workers we dealt with, joined us. Many went to look for their families.

    Taido sent some help as soon as they could. They kept us supplied and fed for the winter months. We set up new facilities at the coal mine. Some of the families left with the caravans to live new lives elsewhere. Some with less of a choice remained to settle down.

    There were still a few bands of goblins around, so we prioritized building up our wooden walls. The handful of bands that did come, didn¡¯t expect to be annihilated as soon as they got close enough to be accurately fired at.

    We resumed production as soon as we could, but we were only able to operate at a tenth of our original capacity before the attack. The end of the winter months increased that to a fifth. Qistina¡¯s lake provided a great sum of algae for biofuel, but there isn¡¯t that much common use for it yet other than for lanterns and fire bombs ¨C but distillation yielded various substances for me to utilize in experiments.

    ¡­

    I¡¯m 44 cycles old.

    Something often goes wrong near my birthdays, but this time we¡¯re ready for anything ¨C or at least I thought we were. Tobias said he¡¯s leaving, along with half of our metalworkers, for the coastal towns. They were willing to pay much more, and having the city-wide infrastructure needed would keep things smooth.

    I chose to stay, if not for myself then for the countless who don¡¯t have anywhere to go. Anthrax can barely walk, and Pipra won¡¯t be able to sustain herself let alone her daughter elsewhere.

    But I can¡¯t really stop him. Or the rest of them. And as a farewell gift, I didn¡¯t stop them from swiping up some of the spare machinery manuals. Best of luck with their decisions, I guess.

    Our new workshop isn¡¯t much compared to Chryses¡¯ Crucible. But I¡¯ve recently worked out a few trade deals with neighboring settlements ¨C most of the villages were deserted, as they were unable to protect themselves. I hope things work out.

    We built a small wharf by the shore, and it¡¯s boosted our trade by tons. Top exports were sacks of cement mixed here, quality flour ground from Brila grains imported all from Rokmuro, alongside textiles and clothes developed from Rokmuran cotton. It¡¯s not ¡°really¡± cotton, but whatever the hell it is, it¡¯s close enough. Taido managed to fund plantations of the useful cash crop. Small barges gradually frequented our village-fort more and more as time passed.

    ¡­

    45 cycles.

    Our tiny settlement is now known as Pulvera, for the various powdered substances we import or export. Taido also sent over some grains to help us, whose flour we had to stretch thin over winter.

    New workers gradually joined. We managed to resume metallurgy operations, but tin and copper doubled in price as the demand rose in other regions. Probably due to Tobias and the others. Reports claimed Rokmuro is importing so much that Ischyros had to limit supply. I¡¯ve even heard rumors of copper merchants peddling ingots of dubious quality. It doesn¡¯t help that Pulvera isn¡¯t under any one specific state, just sandwiched between them.

    No problem, iron¡¯s way cheaper ¨C steel should be too!

    Actually, shit. We don¡¯t really have a way to turn tons of iron into steel yet. But I remember seeing a diagram of an early steelmaking process when I was in college, it didn¡¯t seem too hard. All we¡¯ve gotta do is get carbon out of molten iron, right?

    ¡­

    <ol start="47">

    <li> Summer.</li>

    </ol>

    Easier said than done. Things would¡¯ve been better if our metalworkers stayed. I built a coke oven built to turn the bituminous coal we mined into hotter-burning coke fuel, through pyrolysis.

    Inkunzi arrived, having recently heard of the onslaught.

    He held me tightly like never before, and examined the new scar on my head. I still get migraines from time to time, but I got by. He brought me what I asked for. Pieces of ore from nearby mines, alongside the maps for locating the villages that worked them. He used his bike¡¯s odometer to gauge the travel distances.

    There¡¯s just so much work to do.

    It¡¯s almost unbelievable what those countless chemists and metallurgists had to do to isolate various metals, but thankfully we¡¯ve sourced hydrochloric acid, sulfuric acid, and other helpful materials needed for processing different elements. We really did stand on the shoulders of giants. Things also rust awfully quick here in Mondo, but not as fast as the blown-out husks of dead armored vehicles I grew accustomed to back in the war.

    ¡­

    48!

    We failed several times and even had some hazardous accidents the past few months, but we pulled through with our first truly successful batch after importing manganese-rich ores.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

    It¡¯s beautiful, the brilliant flame of our steel converter lit up our workshop ¨C and will soon serve as the soul of our settlement. The fireworks it spouts are like none we¡¯ve ever seen before.

    More than just a spectacle, but hope incarnate.

    Inkunzi told me that this is the first of its kind. Mondo¡¯s mastery over metal truly begins here. But, he agreed with me about keeping this breakthrough a secret. We¡¯ll develop as many lies as we have to in order to cover up our newfound power.

    And thanks to Inkunzi, we found a red crystal ore that I managed to first isolate Chromium out of. It¡¯s a key ingredient to reliable stainless steel. More good news is that we found another source up north ¨C heaps of not only haematite, but also chromite ore itself! Chromium oxide and iron oxide in a single rock. Neat.

    I¡¯ve decided to work out trade deals with the two mining villages upstream, since it would be easier for them to send bulk shipments of ores to us by barge. We take or make any pig iron we can turn into steel. Those villages are more than happy to do their work for compensation in terms of food and logistics. We hauled grains and other quality-of-life goods to them by barge, and they sent their ores by the boatload. Sweet.

    We¡¯ve cleared so much of the forestry near Pulvera these past few cycles that it prompted us to survey the land for fertility. The forests were flat and vast. Tearing them down to build new homes (with our bricks and cement) seemed like a good idea in hindsight. But, the soil wasn¡¯t perfect ¨C just workable.

    ¡­

    49 and a half.

    Our wharf is almost like a small port now, we¡¯ve excavated so much of the riverbank¡¯s clay to make bricks and pave out a perfect spot for vessels to moor. And guess who decides to show up.

    In front of me stood a tall, bald, and bearded Jac. His modest coat fluttered in the river breeze. He¡¯s the captain of a small sailing ship, one that¡¯s unloading sacks of Brila grains here.

    I¡¯ve improved my disguise over the years. I haven¡¯t heard my name in ages. It¡¯s always Isolus this, Isolus that, and I don¡¯t really mind. I grew out my hair and kept it dyed black. We¡¯ve had soaps and shampoo products for the past while, but black hair dye that doesn¡¯t feel awful isn¡¯t all that easy to make.

    For the past several years, I¡¯ve kept jewelry at a minimum. The only regalia I have are black clips near the ends of my pointed ears, which I pull together to conceal my ears better under my hair.

    Mainlanders would never agree to ever be subjugated by an elven leader, and I¡¯m not taking my chances as a half-elf. Arsalan worked hard throughout his life to build a heroic reputation for himself, but I wonder where he is now?

    Later, I decided to secretly make a long, black, silky wig and cut my hair short. I got a few extra stares here and there but nobody really seemed to notice. I just hated dyeing my hair, plus long hair isn¡¯t as airy and comfortable as keeping it short. My original maroonish hair color is coming back.

    We¡¯ve been developing newer and better engines, yet internal combustion engines are still ways away.

    But external combustion? Yeah, we built a few prototype Stirling engines. Kids loved making miniature versions of this for their final project back when I substituted for the physics professor. She was always on pregnancy leave near the end of the academic years, what the hell! So it wasn¡¯t always the English teachers that got pregnant all the time.

    Nonetheless, I reintroduced myself to Jac. He seems so much more sensible than he used to be. Damn, all my friends from youth are in the middle of their lives now. I don¡¯t want to think about how I¡¯ll probably outlive them all, but if they¡¯re living happier lives now then perhaps I¡¯m helping make things better.

    I proposed to install a Stirling engine on his ship, along with an abundant supply of coke fuel if he wanted the best performance ¨C but the best part was that he could use any fuel he wanted, and that he can use his sails if the winds are good. We hired a few shipbuilders from Lumoriva to do these refits. They made the best ships, arguably with even more efficiency and quality than the dwarves. The wood they use for their ships is second to none, and it helped cultivate a culture of shipbuilding rarely found outside of Ischyros.

    He agreed. In the deal, I softened the cost by commissioning him to bring in certain resources. These engines are still at their infancy, and are still too heavy to be used on carriages.

    Half of my work is just resource management, while the other half is research and development. All in all, a total headache.

    Nora¡¯s a steady learner, and I teach her what I can during my free time. My favorite breaks are when I get to visit Qistina back at the lake, bringing her new snacks. What a bundle of joy. The Heartbreakers mostly disbanded, but some of them stayed and merged with Floranta¡¯s previous guards to form our constabulary.

    ¡­

    I turn 50 cycles old, in the month before winter.

    Most people celebrate their 50th birthday with vigor, but most of my worst memories in Mondo often happen within a month or two away from my birthday.

    These months make me sick, but the walls we¡¯ve built for ourselves make me feel safe. We even refurbished the main mineshafts as livable tunnels, albeit a bit dark. Imported luminous bugs have become a beloved pet amongst various mining communities, and it¡¯s no different here. Often fist-sized when fully grown ¨C still relatively small by Mondonian insect standards.

    We also started importing various small birds to see which ones are sensitive enough for early hazard detection in the coal mines. One miner, Moseo, built a few sealable glass lantern-like birdcage and an emergency air reservoir to save as many of the birds as possible. I had him moved as an attendant to the in-fortress lecture hall.

    I spent much of winter studying with Nora.

    ¡°Ma¡¯am, why do you know so much?¡± she asked.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been around. Look, I promise I¡¯ll take you to a big library sometime. And how many times do I have to tell you that you can just call me Isolus?¡±

    ¡°Oh sorry, it¡¯s just-¡±

    ¡°And stop apologizing.¡±

    ¡°Yes I¡¯m s- I mean, sure ¨C of course, Isolus.¡±

    ¡°Much better, Nora.¡±

    My latest experiment was on black powder. I got the recipe right in a few weeks, having known what to look out for. Our machine tools and the abundance of workable wood, bronze, and steel made building a reliable firearm relatively easy.

    I kept a secret notebook filled with technologies that I¡¯m afraid of ever having to see here, too. But a single gun couldn¡¯t hurt, right? If it meant protecting myself, then why not? Dying to a manhunting beast or assassin is a notable concern, and I can¡¯t be expected to carry a massive repeater bow all the time.

    Still, I¡¯d rather not import mercury for primer caps. Potassium chlorate should suffice until I figure something better out. Besides, I¡¯m just making one percussion cap revolver to defend myself ¨C it¡¯s probably better than relying on my old crossbow and that survival knife Kantax and Arsalan gave me.

    On days when the mines are empty, I go down to shoot in the dark, deeper down in the shafts to let off a few rounds. I had hearing protection, of course.

    And on days when I felt like hunting, I¡¯d take Nora with me to teach her how to hunt and to shoot. The first time, the recoil launched it back and almost slammed into her face. I ended up fabricating a carbine conversion kit for the revolver so it¡¯d be easier for her.

    This gave it additional length, and I added a secure and sturdy mount for a bayonet. This made teaching her how to hunt, shoot, and use a spear much easier. I¡¯ve been easily irritable for so long now, I even find myself occasionally raising my voice whenever she fails.

    I should give her a talk about how it¡¯s fine to try and end up making mistakes. Last thing I want is for her to stop trying at all. Maybe I¡¯ll get her something really nice when she turns 20 cycles old.

    ¡­

    52, during a warm summer.

    Ever considered clothes made from rocks?

    The recent drastic shortage of textile imports have forced us to come up with a way to develop synthetic fibers. After some assessment I¡¯ve figured out a plan to make vinylon, using local stores of limestone and coal. Processed together, they make calcium carbide which turns into acetylene gas when combined with water ¨C this also allowed us to make bright carbide lamps, and even practice welding!

    Acetylene gas, when combined with acetic acid, turns into vinyl acetate. It can then be processed into polyvinyl alcohol. Formaldehyde can then be used on PVA to make workable fibers. Years of experimentation paid off again. We¡¯re able to produce our own synthetic textiles, and the machines to process them further.

    Vinylon is light and firm, so I made sure to soften the fabric for reduced itchiness. I tweaked it with a bit of ammonium phosphate and zinc stearate for fire, rain, and stain resistance. Back on Earth, my invincible college backpack was made of it so I just had to look it up.

    It¡¯s also perfect for mass-producing our black coverall work uniforms, which ended up sleek, shiny, and safe. Still not the most comfortable thing, but the vinegar softening process I developed helped a lot. All-weather applications of vinylon like ponchos, bags, and umbrellas needed a bit of thermal bonding over heated rollers.

    ¡­

    <ol start="54">

    <li> Winter again.</li>

    </ol>

    The past few years have been kind. Pulvera has grown steadily, and we¡¯ve been able to farm several yields of Gorosi over numerous seasons in the fields outside. Still peaceful overall.

    Except for maybe, this massive fucking army standing outside our walls. I¡¯d give the horde a few hundred troops standing by. Seems like half a thousand out here. They set up camp on our fields, mostly covering the northern gate.

    They¡¯re divided into a few companies, each with a respective banner. Every banner held seemingly forty to eighty soldiers.

    A mounted envoy approached the gate.

    ¡°Greetings! The lord of house Solleret has come, and wishes for your timely surrender. The lands under this keep, this fortress, is not under La Royaume jurisdiction, nor under Brigantii or Medulli protection. My master, Skippio de Solleret, awaits.¡±

    I was hoping it was about taxation but no, we¡¯re a little too unlucky. Instead we get some fucking warlord trying to start his own fiefdom by taking my home. And I¡¯ve lost enough homes already.

    From atop the gate wall, I called out.

    ¡°Your lord can go fuck himself!¡±

    ¡°Wait, what was that?¡± he asked.

    ¡°He can go fuck himself with a 10-foot pole!¡±

    ¡°A 10 what pole?¡±

    ¡°..a 10, nevermind. Leave!¡±

    ¡°Erm, he anticipated such a response and thus offers a duel between the best of fighters.¡±

    ¡°For what?¡±

    ¡°Sport, madam. It says here, for you to give your best shot. Who shall you send?¡±

    After a pause, Rovan stood beside me and offered to go. I disagreed, but he insisted. He¡¯s our oldest and most skilled fighter. We geared him up with the best armor we had. The veteran favored his kite shield, but opted for a flanged mace over his shortsword.

    The organized fighting space was a dozen meters past the northern gate¡¯s drawbridge. We ceased all production and called every able body to arms.

    Every defender wearing black coveralls had regular training on our best rapid-firing crossbows ¨C perfect for a siege, as they mounted every embrasure we built into the brick and cement walls. Anthrax calmly sat in the northern bastion to ready the weapon crew of the large flamethrower there.

    The rangers we had on the embrasure firing ports were ready to skirmish on their own, and Strelya readied them atop the wall to fire devastating volleys and melt any organized force that approached. She led the worst archers of the bunch, but that was because she already knew the range tables of the surrounding land. She can guesstimate it, and the rangers around her can feed off of that.

    But we¡¯re outnumbered almost 10 to 1, and I don¡¯t quite see a way out. The opposition taunted us with laughter and complacency ¨C not expecting a real fight. None of us want to lose our home, but I¡¯m not the only one willing to put my life on the line for it. That¡¯s how it was in my past life, though I paid for it with that life.

    And I¡¯d do it again, if I had to.

    We opened the gates but before Rovan stepped past them, he whispered something to me as he shook ¨C either from fright, or age. Maybe both.

    ¡°I have never killed anyone before,¡± he said.

    Neither have I, so I rested my palm on his shoulder.

    ¡°May my children forgive me.¡±

    A familiar line, but now¡¯s not the time.

    ¡°Don¡¯t doubt yourself, Rov. They might be old enough to work now, but make sure you come back alive to see them again.¡±

    ¡°And if I don¡¯t, keep them safe. I trust you.¡±

 CH.10: Back In Black

    A knight in scratched black armor approached.

    Crimson hair flowed in the wind with silver streaks, about as long as Arsalan¡¯s hair, along with a tattered blood-stained cape.

    Following was a swordbearer ¨C a squire in chainmail that carried her war knife, or messer as some called it here. A two-handed blade with a single edge, which bears a frightening resemblance to a giant kitchen knife. The sight gave us all pause.

    All of our foes cheered as their champion walked up to Rovan, standing by the drawbridge. He stood his ground.

    The knight took the messer from the kneeling assistant, and flourished it for all to see. The cheering roared twice as loud as an epidemic of fear strangled our rangers. I reassured them that if we do our best, we can hold the warlord¡¯s forces off.

    ¡°Listen,¡± I told them. ¡°I don¡¯t think they know just how well prepared we are. You all know the ranges around the fortress, and the wind isn¡¯t that strong. I expect you¡¯re all willing to show off your marksmanship. Especially now that the lives of your friends and family are on the line. Strelya! Is your detachment ready?¡±

    She sternly nodded yes, followed by her subordinates.

    ¡°Good. We have no choice but to fight them from atop the walls. They¡¯ll try to find a way up, kill them as they do. Don¡¯t expose yourselves more than you have to. Use your firebombs on clumps that get too close. They¡¯re well-trained and well-equipped professional soldiers and mages. Don¡¯t underestimate them, and defeat them whenever you get the chance. Their motivation is in glory and money, but we have the hopes of our loved ones within these walls. Anthrax is already firing up the bastion¡¯s turrets.¡±

    The swordbearer moved aside and took off his glove as the witness. After the fighters shared deep breaths, he dropped the glove. The fight began.

    They circled each other, but the knight¡¯s blade outranged Rovan¡¯s mace by twice as much.

    Rovan¡¯s outmatched. He¡¯s being toyed with. Shit!

    Every knightly strike and feint was akin to a bored predator playing with prey, exhausting the victim.

    ¡°Strelya! You take over for now. Hey, the two of you have to come with me. Now. Don¡¯t worry, we¡¯re not letting Rovan die.¡±

    I wore my shielded kettle helm over my hood and padded vest, then fixed the bayonet on my revolver carbine as I hurried down.

    After a minute, Rovan began showing lots of wear. The black knight turned and reciprocated all the cheering, with a ripped crimson cape dancing in the wind.

    ¡°Is this whelp of a sergeant their best?!¡± screamed the knight with a resonating voice full of gravitas, slightly muffled.

    Rovan fell for the trick and charged. The knight deftly dodged his strike ¨C and the follow-up he made after. Holding the sword backwards, with both hands on the blade, the knight used its heavy pommel as a blunt weapon. Murder stroke, some called it. Rovan fell off-balance as his shield got kicked, knocking him backwards.

    With his guard down, the raging dark armor approached and smashed his helmet over and over with the pommel. Loud incessant clanging could be heard from a distance as his helmet got dented over and over helplessly. Rovan was down and barely conscious.

    The messer was flipped; half-sworded in an attempt to find a clear gap in his armor to stab him in. Rovan was about to die.

    ¡°Halt!¡± I yelled, as the gate opened.

    ¡°You.. should know better than to interrupt a duel.¡±

    ¡°I am Isolus, the director of this redoubt ¨C this fortress.¡±

    ¡°Nevermind. What do you want?¡±

    ¡°Fight me, instead. The old man is done.¡±

    ¡°A deathwish, huh?¡± the knight asked.

    The enemy army booed and taunted. I had two unarmed guards haul Rovan inside, leaving a smeared bloody trail. The gate closed behind me. This is it.

    ¡°Fine. It¡¯s a shame you¡¯ve butchered that Marbordian helmet and gambeson. You¡¯re still going to die. Come on then!¡±

    The knight turned to the crowd, dismissively. Stalling. Clearly trying to regain stamina after the earlier bout. I need to act now.

    I could shoot, but maybe I can win this with just the bayonet. I saw a few familiar feints that I myself practiced over the years.

    We orbited one another, but I was pushing more aggressively. My bayonet probed, giving less time to organize. I couldn¡¯t penetrate most of that black armor, but I was obviously aiming for the gaps along the joints. I wasn¡¯t going to let armor be used as an active defense. My bayonet never remained overextended.

    The cadence of our fight hastened. Now, I¡¯m receiving several jabs and slashes, but my arm plates made up for my lack of a shield. I¡¯m fresh, confident, and my enemy is winded. I¡¯m slightly taller, and hopefully also stronger. I have the advantage.

    ¡°Not half bad! You¡¯re still going to die.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re on my property.¡±

    ¡°Nah, won¡¯t be yours for much longer. Nothing will be.¡±

    Then I saw a change in footwork; an extra aggressive pace. A sudden flurry of strikes flew past my cheeks. I dodged, falling further back on the drawbridge with every thrust. This is starting to wear me out too. I took the safety off the weapon, primed and ready to shoot.

    Suddenly, the two-hander rose up for a strike, but it seemed like a feint somehow? Reflexively, I thrusted my bayonet towards the knight¡¯s neck ¨C and got crudely parried.

    But I¡¯ve practiced this countless times, and followed up the deflected bayonet with a sturdy uppercut using my carbine¡¯s buttstock. Now that¡¯s a heavy blow.

    A deafening clang resounded as the bronze buttplate of my stock tore off, along with her helmet. Her long, messy hair streamed over her face. She stumbled back, revealing herself as a scarred older lady with slight old cuts and burns on her cheeks.

    ¡°I¡¯m getting too old for this shit,¡± she said.

    My fingers quaked ¨C dropping the carbine.

    ¡°Dropping your weapon? Am I that ugly? How rude.¡±

    ¡°..mom?¡± I asked, with a crack in my voice.

    ¡°The fuck you mean by that? Fight me.¡±

    The knight kicked the carbine forward.

    ¡°Pick it up so I can kill you, little shit.¡±

    I lowered my glasses and ripped off the metal face shield from my helm, the very same kettle helmet Kantax used as a legionnaire decades ago with the same padded gambeson vest. Memories flashed of that burning house, and how I used  this helmet to hammer a nail onto the fabric I escaped with.

    ¡°Kantax, it¡¯s me. Forlasita.¡± I raised an open hand.

    ¡°Hah. Huh? What? Wait, but you don¡¯t..¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m wearing a black wig and my ears are clipped! This hood is the same pink hood from that dress you and Arsalan got me. My helmet and vest are yours. Please, it¡¯s me!¡±

    Kantax shook as the blurry appearance of her daughter stood in front of her. Still in denial, she furiously charged forward. I grabbed the carbine and backed away.

    ¡°Yeah, nah. My daughter DIED in that fire!¡±

    ¡°Wait! Plea-¡±

    She clumsily swung her messer; I blocked it with my carbine. The sword embedded itself into the middle of the weapon¡¯s wood furniture. A close-up moment gave her a clear view of my face. We paused, before I kicked her away ¨C freeing the sword.

    ¡°My dear, I¡¯d recognize your eyes anyday.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s me. Please, mom. Help me.¡±

    ¡°Impossible. You¡¯re really alive, dear?¡±

    Kantax pulled back. We orbited each other, muttering ways to solve the problem. We playfully sparred much like we did before. Eventually, we hatched a plan and she feigns loss, falling disarmed.

    ¡°Ouro!¡± she called.

    Her swordbearer and aide comes forth to hear her orders better. It really is Ouro. Kantax orders him to organize her company to abandon camp at the dead of night and sneak to the southern gate to aid the defenders. Anyone unwilling to do so can run off.

    I reeled my bayonet from my mother¡¯s throat, and ordered a pair of guards to drag Kantax in. I stood in front of the shocked army, defiant. Our rangers screamed the loudest cheers I¡¯d ever heard.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    ¡±I have defeated your champion! Leave, or die!¡±

    Kantax is tied up, and by my orders she¡¯s escorted to the laboratory office. The guards then returned to their posts.

    I quickly cut the rope binding her black gauntlets, using the same survival knife Kantax and Arsalan gave me.

    I held her face up and asked. ¡°Are you hur-¡±

    Now with free hands, Kantax quickly embraced me with a hug even tighter than Inkunzi¡¯s. She started whispering as she sobbed.

    ¡°I thought.. I thought I fucking lost you.¡±

    ¡°Hey, I miss you t-¡±

    Kantax began to sob as she held on tighter.

    ¡°They told me you were gone. Arsalan told me you were gone before he left,¡± She muttered. ¡°I can¡¯t even remember the night I lost you. But that Taido kid told me all about you and where you were headed, but he couldn¡¯t find you. Seylas¡¯ moved to the mainland and we followed. I had to follow what little hope I had left.¡±

    ¡°I.. I¡¯m happy to see you again, mom.¡±

    ¡°Listen. I won¡¯t lose you again. You hear me?¡± she promised.

    It didn¡¯t take long for us to realize the other began shedding tears, so we started wiping off each other¡¯s cheeks. Our sudariomos were almost identical, as my burnt one was still the same one Kantax knitted that day it all burned down. The tears and wiping probably cleared my concealer, unveiling the scars I¡¯ve tried to hide.

    ¡°My dear, where¡¯d you get all these scars?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, you know I won them all.¡±

    ¡°Besides the point. And I¡¯m not sure we¡¯ll win this one.¡±

    Moments turned to minutes, and minutes to hours. A new moon greeted us with a pitch-black nightfall. Kantax explained the unit composition and layout of the besiegers. Under the dark and quiet of night, the few dozens of men from her company snuck their way to the opposing gate.

    Her troops are loyal. Not a single one walked away. They¡¯re mostly wearing darker-colored gambesons layered with chainmail and some blackened armor plates. Some assumed this was a plan to sneak in and stealthily win the siege, but Kantax briefed them on their new directive to dig in and defend. A few of them raised objections and concerns, but they knew they could turn this around.

    ¡°Listen, dear. Most of the besiegers are getting some good rest, gathering resources, or getting drunk. Skippio¡¯s only had a few battles under his belt but he has no clue what your fortress can do, and he probably doesn¡¯t know my troops have bolstered yours. To him, this is just a keep full of peasants. Tomorrow, he¡¯s probably going to issue the command to build a ram and some ladders to get his men in.¡±

    Dawn comes early, and Skippio¡¯s 600-strong army loses a company of 50. From being outnumbered 12 to 1, we¡¯re at much better odds of around 5 to 1.

    A horned sorceress, Zillah, leads the wolfhead mercs. Kantax respected her the most, and knew that by now Zillah would¡¯ve informed Skippio of the missing cohort that lost their captain. Kantax¡¯s division was known to be some of the poorest of the army; ridiculed for being so lowly compared to the other swashbucklers.

    But these guys are real fighters, most of whom had to shed blood since childhood. They¡¯re mostly handpicked by Kantax herself.

    The traitorous troops were uneasy, but they calmed down after being fed well and treated like much needed heroes ¨C even by the rangers and guards. Before, they were treated almost as bad as the spear levies since none of them were born of nobility. Only their captain, Kantax, was respected.

    The next evening came. Skippio grew restless. He ordered the rapid completion of siege ladders and even an unarmored battering ram. The surrounding camps grow busy as more and more of the nearby forest is consumed for immediate resources. They¡¯re even slower than we thought. It¡¯s clear their complacency began to wore off when they realized we really were planning to put up a fight.

    The sun rose once more. Lit torches in view of the front gate are snuffed out. The army had begun their assault, and the alarm was sounded. Everyone steeled themselves, as some breakfasts remained half-eaten.

    Skippio sent the pavise crossbowmen first to skirmish our rangers, and were immediately peppered. Their traditional crossbows are outclassed by our repeaters from atop and inside the castle walls.

    Strelya, normally a quiet lady, barked orders as soon as she gauged the distance to the crossbowmen. She shifted her squads around the walls to create a devastating killzone that not even the largest shields can protect from.

    Countless spearmen rushed forward but stopped short of the barbed ditches outside, where they then became easy pickings. Some foreign mounted archers started skirmishing around the settlement to draw the attention away. Their speed and skill are easily met by the defenders¡¯ shot placement and volleys. Their skittish horses went down, or retreated.

    My carbine stayed slung over my shoulder, it wasn¡¯t accurate enough. Soon I started sniping from the bastion with a new repeater that used Arsalan¡¯s elven bow at its heart and an adjustable magnified sight. This was what I practiced the most with for defense.

    I aimed for Skippio, about 170 meters away, but ripped through an armored squire¡¯s neck instead. The young man clawed away at his throat as the bolt splintered everywhere. I¡¯ve just killed someone.

    But the furious Skippio glared back with one eye as he covered his other. Perhaps shattered pieces of the bolt got to him? I only had one shot, as mages began shielding him with spells. Damn.

    The siege ladders eventually got closer, through the ditches by combined efforts of the elite troops and barrier spells conjured by some of the cultists. The plebeian spear levies aren¡¯t afforded such protection ¨C so they either break and run, or huddle up into a makeshift turtle formation; but a schiltron would be a terrible idea against us. Everyone had a firebomb.

    Anthrax finally gave the go-signal to the weapons crews and the bastion¡¯s large flamethrower spewed streams of fire ¨C but not at the poor clustered spearmen. He aimed at the knights who were desperately trying to haul the battering ram forward, and at the sergeants responsible for raising the ladders.

    Alarmed by the amount of losses, I saw Zillah begin ushering her fellow mages to fire destructive magic at the bastion. The stone walls largely resisted the attacks, but some blasts got through and damaged the weapon. Anthrax quickly ordered the crew to abandon the crumbling machine, as it had already burnt several dozens of troops to a crisp. The barrier spells failed.

    Their scouts reported merely fifty-something defenders, and some had already fallen due to the now-decimated skirmishers. Half the ladders reached the top, and are now being scaled by furious knights and berserkers.

    Most of the lowly spearmen broke rank and started running for the forests as the defenders pelted firebombs. It was like we had fire-breathing dragons tucked away in here, so of course they ran.

    As the invaders reached the top, they¡¯re met with volleys from rangers who gave them no time to protect themselves. The armored few who shrugged the bolts are then surrounded by Kantax¡¯s cohort, which proceeded to beat them mercilessly with shields and maces.

    The defenders now clearly totaled over 100 with barely any losses, I¡¯d be surprised if Skippio doesn¡¯t call this off soon.

    More and more soldiers climbed atop the walls. Some sneakier troops managed to grapple onto the riverside walls and enter without a ladder. I noticed and called for help as I dropped my repeater to rush to the breach where I can fire my revolver carbine instead.

    Losses mounted near the riverside wall and I ended up throwing my four firebombs at several raiders. I shot two soldiers in the head, and one large soldier in the chest all with five rounds. Now with only one round left, I¡¯m cornered ¨C one guy smashed my carbine in half with a mace. I parried what I could but another strike smashed my right wrist, flinging the revolver into the Hirene river.

    Reeling and unable to defend myself, I fell back to the burning bastion where the flamethrower collapsed. I¡¯ve fireproofed my clothes prior with boric acid, but they chased me through the heat.

    From the shadows of the scattered flames, a large sword cleaved one pursuer in half. Bloodied black armor and crimson hair reflected the embers. Kantax had snuck through one of the service ladders, along with a handful of her own men.

    ¡°Run! We¡¯ll handle them,¡± she said. ¡°GO!¡±

    ¡°Traitorous scum!¡± the raiders screamed as I retreated away, only to find several firebombs already being used on the walls as more enemies climbed up.

    A large horn echoed through the battle. As Kantax expected, the horn gave the exact signal for retreat. I looked over the wall and saw the last of Skippio¡¯s retinue hauling ass. Zillah furrowed her brow, and slapped Skippio before leaving with her remaining mages in another direction. Kantax said Zillah worked under Eschaton, the mage she fought in front of me long ago. Ever since Seylas rescinded power, their force barely held together.

    ¡°You sanctimonious bastard!¡± I faintly heard Zillah yell at Skippio from all the way over here.

    They darted glares at each other as another captain continued sounding the horn ¨C signaling a total retreat.

    Back in the keep, I regained my breath after hauling others to safety. I ordered the rangers to stop shooting at the retreating men, and to immediately gather the wounded for tending.

    Their fierce eyes.. I remembered how they turned to fear as soon as I started shooting. The raw power of making invaders feel weak wasn¡¯t as exhilarating as I thought it¡¯d be. I¡¯ve never killed anyone, until today. And I killed quite a few.

    Not even in the two and a half years I spent in war near the end of my past life did I really shoot anyone. I wasn¡¯t really a frontliner, and I largely spent my active hours driving trucks, or getting our shitty vehicles running again, or making improvised munitions for drones or traps. My free time was usually spent watching documentaries, or learning how to maintain and operate the myriad of equipment we had.

    But the shock and awe in their eyes only turned to rage after I was left with one bullet. They didn¡¯t know I had one bullet left ¨C or what a bullet was, but they saw me stop shooting, and that was enough for them to offer everything up to kill me.

    They came here for conquest, and I nearly lost my home and life yet again. How often will I have to fight off invaders? Death comes so quickly in this world, and dishing it out to people who would have dealt it to me and my friends is a necessity. My instincts savor the idea, but it¡¯s sickening to think about.

    I didn¡¯t get any burns this time, but my right wrist still feels like complete ass. It¡¯s swollen stiff. Guess my gun¡¯s probably somewhere at the bottom of the river. Lugosi mysteriously left last month, but I¡¯ve since been able to teach first aid and sanitization. They don¡¯t really understand why cleanliness helps save lives yet, but they followed orders well enough to save whoever we can. Fortunately, a captured mage, Rujia, knew healing magic.

    ¡­

    Weeks have passed since.

    13 of ours died, but we had to bury 79 of strangers too.

    44 of them surrendered or were captured, but we had no prison so we promptly sent them away.

    Many of them returned, even those without permanent damage ¨C unable to find work elsewhere.

    Pulvera¡¯s population now hovers around 170.

    Kantax sat by the burial site at night, etching the new grave markers by candlelight. Alone.

    ¡°Y¡¯know, it never really gets easier,¡± she said.

    I know.

    ¡°Seeing in the dark.¡±

    Oh.

    ¡°Or seeing your friends buried.¡±

    She stopped etching, and turned to me.

    ¡°Especially when you had to kill them yourself.¡±

    ¡°They knew what they signed up for.¡±

    Kantax winced. ¡°Half of these guys didn¡¯t sign up for shit. Either they join, or their family pays.¡±

    I spoke up, and placed my hand on her shoulder.

    ¡°Giorgo, Rava, Ludoviko, more than a handful of my friends paid with their lives that day. Strelya might¡¯ve died from infection if no mage knew advanced healing arts.¡±

    ¡°Shit¡¯s just like that. Glad I still have you, dear.¡±

    She reached out and gently held my hands.

    ¡°Forgive me for being gone for so long¡± she said.

    ¡°Wish I could tell my family the same thing,¡± I whispered.

    Her eyes brightened as she teared up. I really didn¡¯t mean to say that out loud, my bad.

    ¡°Wait, you have a family? Do I have grandkids?¡±

    ¡°No, no I didn¡¯t mean it like that. It¡¯s nothing. I¡¯m glad you¡¯re here, forgive me for not leaving clues behind.¡±

    I faked a smile and hugged her, but the warmth ate away at me and I soon found myself smiling for real. Moments later, I started to cry for real too.

    ¡°I¡¯ve missed you so much.¡± I embraced her so tightly that I felt my right wrist was about to snap.

    ¡°Lasita, hey.. it¡¯s-¡±

    ¡°Fuck, I never got to say it back before but the truth is ¨C I¡¯ve always loved you too, my dear mother.¡±

    mi amas vin, mia kara patrina.

    I¡¯m glad most of these people I care about, are still alive.

    Let¡¯s keep it that way, for as long as we can.

 CH.11: Mistral Wind

    55 cycles. Pulvera.

    We¡¯ve started construction on an inn by the wharf. It¡¯s for the guests of the road and of the sails, since we can¡¯t accommodate everyone into the inner walls. A few even built their homes just outside. However, most of us have opted for shelters behind the walls, and some have even made living in the mine shafts more homely and comfortable with lanterns running on algal oils.

    My lab now branches off into a clinic. It¡¯s headed by the only mage here who can heal, Rujia. She grew up hating the mage college she honed her skills at, in the northernmost island of Royaume. She mentioned how the academy entrance exam issued a tournament that gave her a bad ranking. Something about losing because of a horned rabbit; a bunnicorn, if you will. Rujia later joined the cultists in the hopes of pursuing her own goals in botany, and used her healing merely as income.

    It seemed that her abilities can sanitize deep wounds and speed up healing. Aside from the funky cheaper health potions, our poultices are still crude using imported Emberberries to make antiseptic cider vinegar instead of wine ¨C a recipe Lugosi taught me. Still, I fully intend to move towards carefully standardized fermentation practices; I know there has to be a way to get propylene for alcohol even if we don¡¯t have access to petroleum. I¡¯m sure algae biofuels as feedstock will suffice.

    We began planning out improved defenses. Anthrax organized more weapons crews to my specifications, and Kantax held regular training sessions to keep every able-body up to a minimum combat readiness. Strelya¡¯s long recovered, but our middle-aged ranger has been drinking as much as she¡¯s been training the others.

    And speaking of drinks, we now also process and distill our own whisky too. This became easier with the help of Mateo, who mostly bought up the farms around Trezoro and largely improved the production of whisky I helped organize back then. We exported machinery and stamped stainless steel utensils to them, and they sent over even more Brila grains. Unfortunately, only Gorosi grows here easily. We¡¯ll make do.

    ¡­

    <ol start="56">

    <li> Dozens of cloaked ones approached.</li>

    </ol>

    The short and stocky bunch stood firmly in the winter snow, lined up in a column in front of our southern gate. Their leader lowered his hood to reveal bright red hair, and a long beard to go with it. Inkunzi didn¡¯t tell me about any dwarves coming to visit, let alone such ominous ones. Rangers manned their posts.

    Their leader, Jedidiah, requested an audience. We opted for our very own ShoresideTavern, ran by Nightingale. He¡¯s a calm and collected man. But even in his heavy accent, he eyed and weighed me out. I played dumb, to the best of my ability.

    He leads a contingent of the fabled ¡°Prometheus¡¯ Own¡± which is an inquisition that suppresses the use of black powder. I haven¡¯t gotten around to making a new gun since I lost my old one ¨C it wasn¡¯t that good anyway. But the monk saw past my feigned ignorance, and I obliged to an inspection.

    Our guards were still concerned and vigilant, but only Jedidiah went on the tour. He couldn¡¯t find the explosive powder, here in a place called Pulvera. But the rest of it astonished him. Flamethrowers, advanced repeating crossbows, and more. All of which were legal and fair game, apparently. I did my best to shrug off his questions, and it seems that my rough politeness won him over enough to get him off my ass. I read him real good.

    He then offered me a job at Ischyros.

    I declined, of course.

    After about two hours of investigation, he had heard enough of my prattle regarding trade partners at Rokmuro and the neighboring villages. He suspected that it was La Royaume who spurred these innovations on the northwestern Kingdom amongst what once was Marbordian lands. They were also the first to break off a century ago.

    Hours later, another dwarf arrived. Inkunzi biked here as fast as he could when he heard the news. He pushed me aside and confronted the monk.

    ¡°Jed! What in Bestatzo¡¯s name drove you here!?¡±

    Jedidiah saluted. ¡°Reports, sire. Devil¡¯s dust.¡±

    Inkunzi already found out that I¡¯d dabbled into black powder, and so I promised him last year that I wouldn¡¯t make any more, or any weapons that used it again. Man, the lecture he gave me was full of it, and I¡¯ve never seen him so angry, and disappointed. Now, he quickly understood that the monk hadn¡¯t found any incriminating evidence, and played along.

    Satisfied, Jed proposed new trade routes with Ischyros directly ¨C I said we could figure it out later on. For now, he joined the rest of his men who are now incredibly inebriated with our whisky. They¡¯re all enamored with Nightingale¡¯s melodies.

    ¡­

    59 cycles in. Production doubled.

    Our population reached a little over 300. Not including those too young or sick to work. More and more families are coming over, seeking either work or asylum. Anthrax and Nightingale held their marriage near a tree by Shoreside Tavern, in fact there were more Pulveran marriages recently than the past five cycles combined.

    It didn¡¯t take long for the southwestern neighboring state of Brigantii to start trying to tax us, even though Floranta itself was never under their control. The coal mine we settled upon also wasn¡¯t, but some of our new farm fields were ¡®arguably¡¯ in theirs.

    We offered them the fields to avoid trouble, but they kept pushing it. Soon, their army came marching north in the middle of winter during a critical time.

    They planned their attack while our new outer walls were under construction, so we laid an ambush in the forests. We had placed some of the new and upgraded flamethrowers onto horse-drawn carriages, now hidden in the dense snow and flora.

    Briganti officers forced a march with a dense convoy that spanned hundreds of meters, in the middle of winter. Our scouts reported over a thousand, but we were unsure how many were real fighters. Still, they think they can do better than Skippio.

    No mounted troops, but lots of heavy infantry and war beetles marched in their ranks.

    Their torches lit the unpaved path hours into the dead of night, as they finally walked into our trap. Ever since we heard of their plans for attack, I began machining out pressurized containers for portable flamethrowers.

    Bolts and metal scrap showered upon them from both sides, dropping most of their unarmored soldiers in the front of the convoy faster than they could scream for help.

    I had Strelya¡¯s unit move further up ahead to deal with anyone trying to enter the forest from the rear of the caravan. When they realized what was going on, the frontal quarter of their force had become combat ineffective. With so many running for their lives, the others could barely organize themselves. They¡¯d marched too deep into the forested path to retreat easily.

    Then, what remained were the hundreds of well-armored dismounted knights that our projectiles struggled to penetrate. Many of them waded through the snow to get to the treelines, but were often greeted with clay firebomb pots of burning grease, forcing them to roll in snow where Kantax¡¯s cohort mauled them.

    Anthrax¡¯s carriages took a long path and flanked around the enemy ¨C the 3 combat mages we had were useful in shielding the flamethrower chariots until they got close enough to eviscerate the enemy.

    It seemed as though we brought the sun to fight for us amidst the starry night sky. The fight was over in minutes, with half of them running and the other half unable to. We hauled the prisoners of war back to a small camp, to later ransom them back for wealth, the rights to our farmlands, and more.

    We looted what we could from the convoy¡¯s remains, only to find a grim horror ¨C a gun. Luckily, it was one of those flimsy early guns that were pretty much just short metal pipes at the end of a staff. Using a lit match to fire these poorly made weapons led to more fright than actual damage. Too much powder or shot and you get a bronze pipe-bomb instead of a gun.

    Yet after the one we found another in the snow, we found some more. A small cache of black powder was left unburned as it sat in the middle of the convoy where our flames hadn¡¯t reached.

    It must be from the Jade. All I know from Inkunzi and Jedidiah is that La Royaume on the northwest is a stout trade partner and ally of Ischyros, and would expedite any surviving sailors from across the ocean to Ischyros. Their kingdom also has a few mage guilds that bolster their forces, leaving little incentive to research firearms lest they wish to incur the wrath of Prometheus¡¯ Own.

    The prisoners said it was sold to them from the coastal cities ¨C and not just from one place. These were meant to be used against armored or shielded troops. It¡¯s fortunate that Kantax trained hers to use our lighters and firebombs.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    ¡­

    <ol start="61">

    <li> Rovan¡¯s funeral.</li>

    </ol>

    He passed away peacefully, beloved by his kids. His daughter Edina has worked with the seamstresses under Pipra, and is scheduled for marriage in a week with a younger man from our steelworks.

    Our outer wall was finally finished, topped with reinforced concrete ¨C we¡¯d had Jac and other captains import tons of lime and volcanic ash to improve our concrete mix. We learned to cast even cheaper steel and made enough steel wire and rebar to fortify our walls even further.

    Brigantii was largely reluctant to trade with us, but Rokmuro forbade them from blockading our small port. Fortunately, the warmongering vassal lord of the nearby domain was deposed by the Brigantii council. Our settlement grew past a total population of 500, and trade is stronger than ever before.

    ¡­

    <ol start="64">

    <li> Our first hot-air balloon takes flight.</li>

    </ol>

    Phaedra, Pipra¡¯s brave daughter is the first Pulveran to take flight, and possibly the first person in Mondo to take flight without biological means.

    We¡¯ve finally built several working internal combustion engine prototypes. We mounted two of these to carriages, and secured a high-volume way to gather and transport partially processed algae from Qistina¡¯s lake. I joined each expedition to the secluded lake to meet the forest witch and give her treats.

    But this time, the lake had grown silent. A soft wind blew a stench of stillness. The greenery seemed less vibrant, and the trees no longer seemed to dance. Qistina was missing.

    Long, fair hair littered the floor. The ground was heavily disturbed where she usually sat. I sought for more signs of struggle, and found her smashed lute ¨C whose strands splayed all over like a horrifying mess. The crate of snacks I left behind was missing, with some paper wrappers littered around.

    There was evidence of destruction magic, something Qistina had never really been capable of. The blasts also seemed purposefully aimed to knock her out of the branches. My last visit was a week ago, and the burn marks seem to never have been wet. The nearest locals claim it last rained two days ago.

    I hurried home with whatever evidence I could get. I gathered the mages and they explained that it might have been the cult ¨C and you can bet your ass that I had them guide my fully armed contingent to the nearest hideout they remember. Kantax stayed home, and I personally instructed the militia on how to best breach a building with potential adversaries.

    ¡°It seems bigger than before,¡± said Rujia, twirling her brown hair. ¡°I don¡¯t recall it being so tall?¡±

    I ordered my forces to carefully surround the cultist tower. It was roughly three to four storeys tall. I grappled up and peeked into the windows as Strelya¡¯s troops stood guard.

    Inside were several bookshelves, jars, beds, and a spiral staircase where a chained furry demi-human was being dragged upstairs. We saw wolf headdresses similar to the cultists from before ¨C but ours now wear the standard-issue black vinylon coveralls and ponchos, and use the same weapons as the rest.

    Anthrax carefully picked the front door and disabled the locks. I gave the go, and we flooded in. We tried to keep it as quiet as possible. It was either compliance, or death. One managed to scream for help, and was put down immediately.

    The rest of us ran upstairs to apprehend the rest of them. Some began incantations and readying up their spellcasting, but I made short work of them.

    At the top floor, a loud blast was made ¨C someone fired a blast at some of my pointmen. One was launched through a window, and two others sustained burns. Two of our mages had readied up a shield spell and managed to bring it up in time to protect us.

    After the blast was over, I ran up and emptied my repeater into the elder cultist of the tower. There were documents and jars everywhere. We gathered our wounded, and I interrogated the captive enemies and prisoners.

    The demi-human, ¡®Katerina Katczinski¡¯, had short messy silver hair and fur that barely concealed her feline-esque ears. I made sure that my wig was on properly and covered my own ears.

    She thanked us for saving her from ¡®yet another day of submission¡¯ and led us to the basement. There, I found Qistina ¨C bloodied and bruised, chained to a wall. Her long hair was shaved, and though she was blind, the cruel bastards had plucked her eyes anyway. I had never seen her eyes before, but I knew she had them.

    Rage boiled through my veins, but I was expecting worse. She¡¯s alive, and she¡¯s here. That¡¯s what mattered more.

    I embraced her, and had her tended. She would be going home with us. ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m here for you. Stop crying dear, you¡¯re safe with me now.¡±

    We rounded up the cultists, and by interrogation I was able to tell who was new, and who had been in the cult for much longer. But it did seem that they were all malnourished. All except the elder who survived my initial volley of bolts, but I gutted him after forcing shattered window glass down his throat.

    Most of the ones who resisted were actually veterans from Skippio¡¯s siege. We¡¯ll process the survivors further after we imprison them in our new cells. Most of them weren¡¯t actually mages, and were willing to cooperate after a hot meal and drink. The rest, we dragged off somewhere to kill.

    We looted the tower. I skimmed all the tomes. I purged the ones I deemed too risky to our cause. No corruption magic, psychic spells, decay voodoo, and certainly no necromancy. There were other interesting items, like a jar containing a rare black slime creature, alchemical ingredients, and detailed maps.

    For the suspicious tomes, I can¡¯t personally use them and I¡¯m not sure if the others should study them. The ambiguous ones written in foreign languages, I¡¯ll process later on.

    A missive on the elder¡¯s desk clarified a few things for me. Maybe I was way in over my head.

    ¡°Dear Gaston, the master wishes to have all required ingredients sent over as soon as possible. Your incompetence drives his impatience to its limits. You will lose not only your position but also your head if you fail to deliver the resources at the location we discussed, you fat incompetent bastard. -Z¡±

    Amongst a pile of crumpled replies, one was in the middle of completion.

    ¡°My love! Please! I have gone through great lengths to procure such a rare and delightful specimen for our master. I have found a healthy elf, but she does not need her eyes. Those precious jewels are already jarred for transport. And considering what the master has planned, perhaps her chastity is not of importance either, no?¡±

    A jar sat alone on a separate desk, featuring two dead eyes of silver. The sick fuck¡¯s letter continued.

    ¡°Now, my precious succubus, you know I would do anything for you. Yet why must you take so long to respond to my letters? When shall I ever draw your attention? Please, surely your defeat back at¨C¡±

    The letter ended, but my rage didn¡¯t.

    After we looted the place, I had the fire carriage park in front of the tower. I manned the turret and burned the pile of books I deemed detrimental ¨C then I turned the nozzle to the rest of the dilapidated tower.

    This den of evil has been cleansed. Time to move.

    We marched home, with the wounded in the carriage. I held Qist the entire trip. Her hair was mostly shaven off, and she was shaking as I coddled her. She had no appetite.

    I put her under Nightingale¡¯s care, who initially objected. But, she folded when I threatened to slash funding for the tavern. Anthrax however, was delighted. It¡¯s all good company, there.

    ¡­

    <ol start="67">

    <li>  A peaceful winter.</li>

    </ol>

    The cultist prisoners have been through lengthened rehabilitation and integrated into our society, or later sent away by ship. Decent food always helped reduce resistance.

    Our total population reached 700 last summer, and we¡¯re officially a small town like Floranta was. The accounting for Pulvera¡¯s finances have gotten a bit difficult, so I¡¯ve decided to offload accountancy to a small department headed by a young but skilled public servant named Euryas, who was sent away from La Royaume¡¯s capital up north on the mainland, Aurore.

    I asked him for honesty over a cup of tea, and he described his account so vividly in the interview. It¡¯s likely that he lost his last position because he was ¡°actually doing his job¡± and someone wanted him gone. Bureaucracy. He appreciated the questions I had for him, as his last employers didn¡¯t give two shits.

    ¡°Just the past few weeks of working here have been hellish. But, I have yet to run into someone who made me feel undignified. I see what you are trying to build here, and I wish to be of use in the political aspects that even you might overlook.¡± he said.

    We imported new materials as we developed better land-based trade routes. Bulk orders like special materials for cement came by ship, however. Speaking of, Jac was not only able to acquire even more volcanic ash but also other useful substances like borax which we¡¯ve now used to increase the fireproofing of our uniforms. Although I¡¯m worried about enemies getting the hang of gunpowder, it¡¯s probably worth knowing the sources for its components.

    I was able to refocus on my research on polymers excluding rubber, and I finally made a newer kind of celluloid ¨C from a cellulose base treated with nitric acid, and some talc to make it safer and stronger.

    ¡­

    I¡¯m 69, nice. Kantax turns 100 next season.

    Katerina, the demi-human, once served in an apothecary and has grown in skill to complement Rujia¡¯s. Her deft and agile hands have proved useful in surgery. She¡¯s much more human than cat, but I¡¯m still worried about the possibility of her shedding hair and infecting a wound that way.

    I¡¯ve built several microscopes over the past several years for my own use, but they¡¯re curious about my shared concepts of germ theory. The occasional cadaver helped our medical specialists learn, but once I saw a junior physician enter the maternity ward with hands not only reeking of corpses but also STILL faintly smeared with blood ¨C you bet I instated harsher disinfecting routines after that.

    I wasn¡¯t excluded of course, since I enjoyed midwifery by helping the mothers deliver babies. If Kat can¡¯t smell death from the hands of those who participated in autopsies, we¡¯re good.

    Except Kat, she hated it. ¡°Ma¡¯am, if I don¡¯t hurl from death¡¯s scent, then the ethanol-based antiseptics you¡¯ve made will. Can¡¯t you come up with a better way of doing this?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Then find someone else with a decent nose.¡± I said.

    ¡­

    Seriously? In a few months, she trained several dogs to recognize the scent of corpses to do the initial filtering. We built an inspection booth by the morgue for her, expanding the clinic.

    We¡¯re getting by. Euryas also streamlined our finances ever since I delegated management of various industries to different specialists; Nora being one of them. The Shoreside tavern¡¯s booming; Qistina¡¯s playing songs again with a new lute, this time with Nightingale. We have no pianos or guitars yet, but we¡¯d occasionally play my own renditions of some 80¡¯s and 90¡¯s songs that I could beatbox for them. Qist¡¯s smile has returned, and perhaps a bit of me has too.

    I hope this peace persists. It needs to.

 CH.12: Fire Your Guns

    72, winter once more.

    I just helped deliver a baby boy, Edina¡¯s second child. She named him after his grandfather, Rovan. Healthier than most babies here, who are all already much healthier than the babies in neighboring states. Baby Rovan is also our 1111th citizen.

    With the increase in population, we now had a higher demand for resources. I started a project last year regarding making ponds for farming algae. It seemed that Qistina¡¯s music bore a kind of magic that helped certain flora grow. I ran small concerts of hers in the farm fields, and it didn¡¯t work ¨C but it does make algae grow faster.

    Additionally, Rujia had been tending her own garden. I investigated, and found out that she¡¯s been trying to use magic to evolve a certain kind of flower from her childhood. Her protege is a gifted half-elf mage with poor hearing, named Ostracia. The little lady¡¯s bright white hair, wine-red eyes, and pale skin highlighted her soft smile. I¡¯m glad she was asleep when we raided the cultist hideout, since she was one of them. I bribed her with sweets.

    I gave Rujia samples of our algae to make variations of. In turn, I taught her how to better graft plants together ¨C I knew a little bit about it from the old world, but I learned much more from the agriculture book Kantax and Arsalan kept.

    ¡­

    75 cycles.

    A parcel, with a letter from headmaid Edith.

    ¡°Isolus ¨C I hope this message finds you well. Rumors claim that Kantax has joined you? Send her my regards. Wish we spent more time together before she had to leave. And, I wish you the best of luck, as always. Please pass this to Edina, and take care of her. I hope the lady grows even half as strong as you, miss.¡±

    Man. The letter went on.

    ¡°Edina, have you been well? I can see that you are working hard ¨C in fact I own one of the dresses you¡¯ve sown. What material is this? It¡¯s nothing like what we have. The stitching is immaculate, despite being machine work. Proudly Pulveran, it says.¡±

    Those dresses went through countless hands.

    ¡°And, I¡¯m proud of you. Forgive me for not having been there for you. Fortunately, the dangers that have made it impossible for me to work with your father have now been quelled. The Trezoro maid war. But I fear it was too late, and I am not long for this world. Still, I have served the Taido syndicate well in my long life.¡±

    Syndicate? I, nevermind. I won¡¯t pry.

    ¡°Please take these gifts. Blessings be to your son and daughter. You¡¯re my only child, and I genuinely wasn¡¯t expecting to ever have grandkids. You do not have to forgive me for my absence, nor for having taken care of countless children other than my very own. I am always wishing you well.¡±

    I ran downstairs and roared my diesel moped up. One kick, then two kicks, and it¡¯s running. I drove to Pulvera¡¯s textile and clothing branch. There, I saw Edina inspecting some new fabrics, and not just ones made of vinylon. Lots of frilly dresses and down-insulated padded coats with hoods.

    She welcomed me and opened the box, pulling out some kind of camera? No way. It came with sheets of metal. Seemingly copper on one side with polished silver deposits on the other ¨C all encased in glass. I swear I¡¯ve heard of this specific kind of camera before but I can¡¯t quite recall. She read the letter, and I read the instructions left inside the box.

    Impressive, they were able to make cameras in Rokmuro. Not even Inkunzi knew about such a thing in Ischyros, but damn do their sculptures and paintings kick ass.

    Edina began tearing up, and we carefully unpacked the rest of the plates. The instructions called the metallic photographs ¡°Trezopresi¡± or ¡°treasured prints¡± but I¡¯ll call them trezotypes because it felt just right.

    The first was a blurry picture of the late Mikhailo Taido ¨C much older than the one I grew up working as a secretary for. He passed away four cycles ago, so this technology has been around for a little while now. The other pictures started having dates and locations written on the back, aside from the names of those on the print.

    Next photo was of Mateo and Rozabela Taido, and their nine kids, and two grandkids. They¡¯ve been busy.

    Another trezotype is of the large town of Trezoro, specifically the town square. The guards standing by look much better equipped than they used to, especially with our repeaters. Children blurred themselves across the photograph, but I still remember the look of kids in colorful Trezoran garb playing by the square¡¯s well. The old bakery I knew was replaced by a much larger store named  ¡°Iron Vanilla¡± or something.

    There¡¯s another trezotype of a young woman smiling near a fence backdropped by the sea. ¡®Femicia Lunarka, coast of Lumoriva¡¯ it said. Wait, a Lunarka? If memory serves me right, that¡¯s Kantax¡¯s surname and not Arsalan¡¯s. When they were married, he took on her surname for some reason. This lady also looks a bit like a skinnier delicate version of Kantax herself.

    But I don¡¯t remember any cousins, and Kantax had no siblings. I¡¯ll ask her about it later on.

    As Edina sifted through the other trezotypes, I took a closer look at  the photo of Femicia. The waters behind her. At least five steam-sail ships span the horizon in perfect distance and formation from one another. They all bear a striking resemblance to the Theseus that I saw at Lumoriva long ago. Inkunzi boasted to me all about its capabilities at the time. This is a photo of an Ischyrosian flotilla of ships.

    Anyhow, I asked now-crying Edina if she wanted to take a trip to Trezoro to see Edith. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I¡¯ll make sure your husband takes good care of the kids.¡±

    She took the first boat home, but brought her whole family with her. She gave me a hug before boarding.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be back!¡± she yelled off the rails of the ship.

    I paid for the fare ¨C the least I could do for them.

    Later, I asked Kantax about Femicia. She took the trezotype of her and held it close. She told me to never try seeking out my half-sister, unless I could guarantee security and safety for her. Rokmuro is relatively peaceful and neutral now, so she¡¯s probably hoping I can help keep it that way.

    ¡°My dear, Femicia is in good hands and is living a peaceful life out there. You and I are cursed with conflict, so I beg of you to keep your distance from her. That is my one request.¡±

    ¡°Cursed with conflict? I¡¯m just trying to keep everyone here alive. You, me, everyone here really.¡±

    ¡°Yep. And it¡¯s the glory of the challenges you create, which feeds into the hedonistic heroism that drives our enemies to try competing or conquering us.¡±

    ¡°Hah, what are you even on about, mom?¡±

    ¡°Prideful predators don¡¯t always seek easy prey. Sometimes it¡¯s about the reward. The same pantera who defeats the mightiest warriors might not bother with a limping rabbit. The goblins thought a bit like that. Brigantii thought the same, and maybe even Medulli. Hell, that¡¯s how Skippio found you ¨C how I found you. Glory can be addictive.¡±

    ¡­

    78, our first dirigible lifts off.

    Such a feat left Inkunzi in awe, although he is now getting along in years. He says he still has a good fifty cycles left in him, statistically speaking. He¡¯s in good health, for an old dwarf. Oddly enough, he gets along with Kantax incredibly well. It¡¯s almost like she shares dwarven blood. Does that mean I do too? It doesn¡¯t matter. I¡¯m human at heart, whatever that means.

    The fermentation processes involved in making our biofuels and disinfectants have yielded so much hydrogen gas. We¡¯ve developed storage tanks to collect them. Our metallurgy and thus also our steel products have improved. Upgraded engines now power our new 6-wheeler prototype trucks.

    I skirted around the black powder embargo by secretly making air rifles. These are like the airsoft guns from the old world, but definitely packing enough pressure and projectile mass to kill. On a single tank, I can get it to quietly fire over 60 lethal long-range rounds in quick succession with a magazine size of 16. Next army that fucks with us won¡¯t know what hit ¡®em.

    I¡¯ve also improved the padded plate armor of our constabulary to roughly withstand the same kind of damage my old revolver¡¯s lead slugs could output. Their plates cover their bodily vitals. All updated vinylon coveralls are now equipped with eight built-in tourniquets. It added to the costs a little bit, but I would have loved to have shit like this in the old war. I saw something like it for sale online and thought I¡¯d never need it ¨C then I got buried alive with a pouring leg wound.

    And if it saves precious seconds here, it¡¯ll save lives.

    It might be good to export, since the eastern tribes of the Medulli steppe seem hell-bent on killing each other off with primitive firearms. I completely forgot, but what if it¡¯s the demon-kin coming up with black powder weapons? Did they get them across the continent from the Jade?

    ¡­

    I¡¯ve been 80, and it¡¯s almost winter.

    The Brigantii have declared war, by blockading the southern river deltas and making it impossible for us to conduct maritime trade. This is unprovoked as hell but I guess they¡¯re back for another bloody nose. We actually didn¡¯t lose anyone in our last engagement, so I¡¯ll try to keep that streak going.

    Apparently a new lord by the name of Stromberg has taken power, and assimilated the coastal towns by force. This time they have a general known as ¡°Drakomorti¡±, the Dragonslayer.

    The rumors I heard from Shoreside tavern tell tall tales of a commander that used hordes of ambush tactics to bait and defeat an actual dragon, none of which have been defeated since the sword-wielding pre-Kosmikos champion, Fyallrav¡¯n.

    I remember my husband nerding on about the differences between dragons, and by his definition these would be wyverns? Never seen one here myself but the tapestries and books depict them with two legs instead of four. Sorry, Viktor ¨C but everyone just calls them dragons here, and so will I.

    ¡­

    <ol start="81">

    <li>Winter.</li>

    </ol>

    We don¡¯t have our own naval fleet yet but I¡¯ve secretly been conducting deals with La Royaume to let us circumvent the blockade ¨C the goal¡¯s to get more talent from Rokmuro to help us build a ship capable of breaking the blockade that¡¯s stifled our growth for months. It¡¯s no longer just about profits.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    The winters have always made growing Gorosi impossible, but we¡¯ve stockpiled a meager amount to get us through the cold.

    Today drew to a close, and now I¡¯m sharing a tavern table with the prodigal mage Ostracia, the head surgeon Katerina, and a new bookbinder, Solomon. Our discussion regarding food and books drivel towards the looming threats.

    ¡°How long will the blockade last?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Not sure.¡± I replied, after taking a bite off a sandwich.

    Kat spoke. ¡°People might starve at this rate. Rujia¡¯s getting old too, so we¡¯re going to need disinfectant that doesn¡¯t rely on fermentation. You said you had an idea for how to make it?¡±

    Ostracia intently kept reading our lips as she ate her favorite honeyed sponge cakes, and nodded.

    I replied to the demi-human surgeon. ¡°An idea. Isopropyl alcohol. You can¡¯t drink it, but it disinfects well. I mean, it ¡®should¡¯ disinfect well. I don¡¯t know since it doesn¡¯t exist yet. There¡¯s still other things we¡¯re researching and we only have so many hands and minds to work on them. Scaling things up for mass production is always another hurdle.¡±

    I took another bite off my sandwich, and swallowed.

    ¡°Listen, problem¡¯s that the whole southern coast is working together to maintain that blockade. Can¡¯t do anything until the Rokmuran shipbuilders arrive. But I have plans readied up, and I¡¯ve just about had it with those-¡±

    A loud, thunderous bang. One I hoped to never hear again.

    The familiar sound of artillery assaulted my ears once more. I looked around, and suddenly a chunk of the ceiling  collapsed over a few of the tables near us.

    Immediately casting a barrier over us, Ostracia strained herself as the weight of the roof was too much ¨C but we were safe after she collapsed from overexertion. Seven others were injured, and four were completely stiff.

    The shell didn¡¯t even stop here. I ran outside and saw that it had merely glanced off of the Shoreside¡¯s roof, bouncing above the walls and landing right on my lab. I hauled Ostracia through the gate alongside Kat, and left them at the clinic. I told Solomon to go tell the bellringer to call every able body to arms.

    ¡°It¡¯s probably Skippio! We have to hurry!¡± he said.

    Skippio? He has artillery of all things now?

    Kantax had recently suffered a severe fall due to her ailing vision, and was at the clinic to recuperate. Instead, I saw her in the hot, dusty laboratory.

    The coughing wasn¡¯t hers, but Nora¡¯s, whose legs had been crushed by a column. I ran to help, but Kantax yelled in the firmest voice I¡¯d heard in ages.

    Kantax yelled. ¡°GO! I¡¯ll tend to her. Stop that thing!¡±

    ¡°Yeah, on it!¡± I said as I grabbed extra ammo tubes.

    The bells rang and the ones who couldn¡¯t fight either stayed at home or ran through the gates to hide behind the reinforced walls.

    Bang, another shell came crashing.

    This time it was the expanded steelworks, which had been running overtime to make up for financial deficits. The damage was severe and a large crucible had been toppled, spilling molten iron downhill towards the market. Workers had already evacuated, and most of them have now reported in arms.

    Strelya nudged me from behind. ¡°We¡¯re ready.¡±

    Her personal cohort was all armed with a newer, cheaper air rifle compared to mine. We led around 160 troops into the keep and started loading them onto the several 6-wheeler trucks we had. The motorized constabulary. Another 480 or so militia under Anthrax will sally forth soon after the scouts report in.

    But where are the scouts? I ran up the wall and used the mounted telescope to see a bunch of bodies near the treeline. Black uniforms; our scouts. And further behind the treeline was a gigantic, towed cannon. The shells were spheres, probably hollowed out and filled with black powder.  The soldiers almost looked like Victorian-era troops, just poorer. I saw a leader-type on horseback. I adjusted the scope¡¯s lenses.

    It couldn¡¯t have been anyone else. That¡¯s fucking Skippio. I could see it from his hair, the frailty of his skin, and his sorry excuse of a mustache. An eyepatch over what I hit long ago.

    ¡°Phaedra!¡± I yelled. ¡°Get the balloon into the sky, now!¡±

    The young aerial technician ran up to me.

    ¡°Are.. are you sure? We haven¡¯t even-¡± Phaedra asked.

    I kept my eyes in the scope and yelled.

    ¡°Just get it flying, and report in!¡±

    A light flashed through the spyglass; followed by smoke and thunder, then a whistle. The shell had overshot the wall ¨C it¡¯s almost as if he fucking aimed it at me. Our prototype dirigible started rising, filled with barely enough hydrogen to lift one person, a seat, and optics. Cables kept it in place.

    ¡°Phaedra! Do you see anything up there?¡± I yelled.

    ¡°Lots of troop formations and a bit of cavalry, ma¡¯am! One source of smoke ¨C looks like the kind our steam engines make! The path around is clear but there might be guys in the trees!¡±

    I rode a railing down the stairs and sprinted to the convoy, now fully loaded. The engines struggled to start under the cold, and I had to make sure each one did. In the time it took to start two trucks, another shell landed. My mechanics worked with their assistants to crank up the engines outside in front of the trucks.

    One of the several mechanics I trained started an engine on his own, but failed to release the crank from the clutch. The lever knocked him out cold. Fuck, I¡¯ll drive his truck then.

    Every shell fired, every moment wasted. Every little inconvenience made it harder to maintain my composure. The rattled troops arranged themselves in front of me. Both my mechanized corps and some of Anthrax¡¯s ground militia. I spoke.

    ¡°Friends! Our home is under attack once again. Pulvera is under siege, and we must sally forth from the safety of our walls to protect everything we love around us! The enemy outranges us with cursed weapons, but we have a solid chance at winning this. I can¡¯t guarantee your safety, so keep your wits about you. Sergeants, both m-¡±

    Another shell was fired, smashing the dirigible¡¯s envelope. It sank but didn¡¯t catch fire, yet Phaedra eventually lost her balance aboard and fell into the snow outside the walls. Some of the guards rushed to her, and helped her stand. That artillery must have been the same kind he used against dragons.

    ¡°Sergeants! Work with your squads to search and destroy the enemy! We¡¯ve defeated the enemy general before, and we¡¯ll do it again. Our enemies are dangerous and prepared for us, but our response must be swift and violent! Anthrax¡¯s troops have already begun their march, it is up to our motorized forces to break the enemy from behind. We know the lay of the land better than our enemies, and our weapons shoot much faster. Board your vehicles and let¡¯s roll out! I¡¯ll lead the way!¡±

    The convoy roared to life, driving down the northern gate¡¯s moonlit path. I had them keep their lanterns off. The moon dropped enough light for my darkvision to drive in.

    ¡°After we make the next two turns,, target anyone without a black and pink uniform!¡± I yelled to the ones in the truck bed, to relay to those in the following trucks.

    There¡¯s subtle cavalry shifts near the cannon, and countless troops infesting the treeline. I can barely see them shifting about, hopefully unaware of our movement. We did our best to design the engines and mufflers to be as quiet as possible.

    Anthrax gave the signal to fan out and try to envelop the enemy with his foot troops ¨C most of which used a cheaper variant of the repeater. They wore pink gambeson vests over black coveralls, with pink tourniquets built-in. Their black rubber boots marched; stamped steel helmets bobbed.

    And as they approached the remains of the scouts, another bang came. This one missed the fortress, and instead landed near the wharf. I hope the moored ships are safe.

    Under the cover of the cannon¡¯s thunder, the forest crackled in volleys of gunfire. Smoke covered the treeline. Dozens of Anthrax¡¯s men are downed in the first few seconds. He sounds the horn to charge, not knowing what the opposing force planned.

    Shit, don¡¯t rush in there! The trees began blocking my view again, but some gaps left a bit of vision. I had to keep my eyes on the road, yet I couldn¡¯t look away from what little I could see.

    Anthrax sounded the order to stop advancing and an order to have his frontliners go prone. His rear echelon has probably fanned out by now.  Good call.

    Through the trees and the smoke, a horde of purple-coated musketeers sprang forth. They started lining past the smoke to do a kneel-fire volley, but not before the militia could let off countless bolts. This decimated the gunners, whose rate of fire were no match for our repeaters.

    The musketeers, unable to get in formation to fire, began to break ranks. Smoke behind them dispersed, only to reveal even more musketeers ready to fire. Their front line broke and ran, but the kneel-fired stack behind them let off two volleys, downing twice as many repeaters.

    Anthrax only had a little over 400 capable fighters left, I hope their morale is still steady. The musketeers who fired now charged forwards; their stick bayonets ferociously waving about.

    Mounted lancers appeared from another direction, in the prime position to completely mow down the militia. The hundreds of lancers and musketeers charged at full speed to pincer and eviscerate the panicked Pulverans.

    Desperately, Anthrax probably gave the order to use their new firebombs. Good, that¡¯s what they¡¯re for. These no longer needed a separate lighter, and now have their own ignition fuses to self-ignite upon priming and throwing.

    A wide, arcing barrier of flame was conjured. Some weren¡¯t thrown very well, but it became clear that Pulveran troops were more than capable of fighting in, and on fire. Their black clothes, seemingly impervious to the flames.

    The musketeers were unloaded, yet unable to push forward much like the cavalry whose skittish horses refused to approach the inferno. Bolts hurled through the fire without end nor mercy as dozens of raiders perished every second.

    But one in black armor, walked through fire and into the crowd of soon-to-be-cowards-or-corpses. The trees around our  route blocked most of the view, but I knew it was her.

    Kantax wielded a specially-made zweihander, an extra long and gigantic sword meant for both hands. Without giving her enemies time to pause, she cleaved through horses and humans alike. Amidst the rampant flames and crossbows being cycled repeatedly, we heard sheer fury as she danced through screaming enemies. Both horses and men, cut down in droves.

    Most of them dropped everything and ran, save for a few skirmishers waiting by the treeline. They fired a few shots; I hope the thickened armor Kantax commissioned worked. I lost her in the smoke. Anthrax ordered his troops to charge past the flames and engage the skirmishers, who have now taken heavy losses.

    Hundreds of reserve troops gathered near the cannon. We turned the last corner and got a good view ¨C they¡¯re packing up as fast as they can to retreat.

    I¡¯ve driven the convoy around to intercept the enemy as the battle raged on. The musketeers probably just noticed us, but they shouldn¡¯t be able to reroute a response force. I drove closer to where the cannon was, and saw several glints in the foliage.

    ¡°Dismount and go!¡± I yelled out the window.

    I ducked my head as a volley from fusiliers had torn my windshield to shreds. I drove the truck into the forest to run over as many as I could, slowing down so my squad aboard could dismount. They instead fired off the side of the truck instead.

    ¡°Keep driving, ma¡¯am! We¡¯ll fire on the move!¡± one said.

    Eventually, I drove back towards the road, and received a deafening blast. A small cannon had just fired grapeshot at my truck, possibly killing several of my passengers. The disgusting sound of shredded wood, steel, and flesh filled the air. I checked myself for injuries, only to find that I¡¯m shaken to my core.

    Other trucks parked off to the sides as they dismounted, quickly advancing under Strelya¡¯s orders. They weaved through the forests and pinned those who fired the hidden cannon. I got out and climbed up the bed to check my squad. Half the young men and women were still groaning, but two were bloodied and stiff, while two were fucked beyond recognition. I helped them all quickly tie up their applicable tourniquets and gauzed up any torso wounds. The grazed few stabilized the others.

    It¡¯s been too long since I¡¯ve had bloodied people in the back of my truck; hoping I wouldn¡¯t have to see it in this world too. I grabbed my air rifle from the truck¡¯s cab, and picked off the light artillery crews and as many of the other fusiliers as possible.

    I¡¯m going to murder Skippio, that bastard.

    Skippio de Solleret, the Dragonslayer, is nowhere to be found. The large cannon escaped. The last enemies are mostly support troops. They¡¯re all extremely shaken ¨C firing wildly towards both Anthrax¡¯s units and mine.

    The fear in their eyes drew no remorse from me. I felt that my rage had gone unfettered. I fired and fanned my lever-action air rifle as fast as I could to end as many of their lives, regardless of whether they were armed or running.

    I fired faster and faster, reloading my 16-shot magazine to continue firing non-stop. Reload, rip, rip, and rip. Reload, and rip some more. I downed over thirty at this point. Fuck them all.

    And suddenly, boom.

    My daze wore off a little, but my ears still rang. Blood pours around me. My left forearm had been shredded ¨C my air rifle exploded, blowing shrapnel into my left arm and right hand. Hell, my entire left hand was missing. How.. the hell?

    Strelya and her cohort charge forward. I still hadn¡¯t had enough, so I began crawling with one arm towards another air rifle from a dead ranger. I tried to grab it, but soon realized my right hand¡¯s fingers were in no condition to squeeze.

    I saw the heavy trail of blood I left behind. I felt heavier and heavier, so I pulled the pink tourniquet past my left elbow with my mouth and right hand. Once tightened, I inserted my hand between my left armpit before I laid over on my left side to keep the hand pressured. I¡¯m done, that¡¯s it for me.

    And yet despite the ringing, I heard a voice.

    ¡°Ah yes, hello there. Please, I have a question.¡±

    A talking frog? ¡°The fuck.. do you want?¡± I asked.

    ¡°I merely wanted to ask. What is your value of peace?¡±

    ¡°What? I don¡¯t.. even understand...¡± I replied.

    ¡°And, what does your peace cost you?¡± the frog inquired.

    My delirium is cut short; that¡¯s the last thing I recall.

 CH.13: Rivers of Mercy [50% Milestone!]

    I felt light.

    Soaring through the skies, over bombed out buildings. Diving through the clouds ¨C gliding over trees and onto a snowed-in asphalt road. A grainy texture filtered through my vision. A familiar olive drab truck was parked by the roadside. Closer and closer, more detail became evident. Eventually you could see the blonde driver¡¯s face, and begin to make out the digital camo that adorned her outfit just as well as the look of contempt and exhaustion she expressed.

    It¡¯s me. A fucking drone¡¯s about to hit me. This must be yet another nightmare, and I wanted nothing more of it.

    ¡­

    Everything absolutely ached. Laid to my left was Kantax, soundly asleep. On the right, was Nora in a wheelchair staring blankly out the window. We¡¯re at the lab, and the calendar by my desk says it¡¯s been four days since the battle.

    ¡°You¡¯re awake, again?¡± Katerina said with vibrance.

    ¡°Hey,¡± I muttered. ¡°I.. can¡¯t feel my arms.¡±

    ¡°Rujia and I tried to salvage what we could, but we did our best. I tried to reapply your wig and makeup and moved you here, just as you requested.¡± she said.

    Right. My air rifle blew up. Maybe the grease in the barrel might have dieseled and detonated the air tank or something. I checked myself, and found that I really did lose my left forearm, and two right hand digits. Index and ring. I apparently made the requests when I woke up prior, but I don¡¯t remember.

    Kat gestured to the ceiling. ¡°We also tried to fix your lab by cleaning things up, before moving you here.¡±

    ¡°How many? Casualties, I mean.¡±

    This inquiry took Kat aback. After a moment, she pulled out a clipboard report from her satchel. Updated yesterday.

    Total dead, roughly 731 so far.

    94 dead Pulveran soldiers, 17 dead civilians.

    The wounded are already innumerable.

    The rest are theirs.

    Have they no mercy for their mothers?

    We¡¯re coming across more bodies every week.

    There¡¯s no shortage of names I knew. There¡¯s the painter Ruben who loved my sketches, Alanna the bricklayer who helped build Shoreside, and Maraya the chef who was always busy serving dishes there. Even Vermli, the postman who served as my truck¡¯s sergeant and told me to keep driving, didn¡¯t make it.

    Several unfamiliar names were amongst ours, and perhaps that¡¯s for the better. With every untimely death of someone I knew, it ate away even more. Most of the fallen had at least someone waiting for them, and many left behind families. Anthrax and I got swamped with writing letters to them all. Solomon, Nora, Kantax, and Rujia filled in the blanks on the ones I didn¡¯t know.

    After all the funerals, I unlocked a dusty cabinet for a filled notebook. It was here that I drafted all the evil I could recall. Smokeless powder, guncotton, and dynamite to name a few. Even theoreticals for the Haber-Bosch process, which I¡¯d meant for making ammonia fertilizer, will now be used for bombs.

    Perhaps those evils are now necessary.

    ¡°What are those notes for?¡± Nora asked, having followed me in her wheelchair. My heart sank when I heard her. ¡°I know that you have more secrets tucked away, for killing people. I could tell you¡¯ve been holding back for ages. You haven¡¯t made anything quite like that revolver from back then.¡±

    She handed me a looted weapon from the battle.

    ¡°We found three more weapons just like it.¡±

    There was no doubt that it was a poor bronze matchlock recreation of my revolver. Whoever tried to replicate it couldn¡¯t quite figure out the primer caps, chamber seals, and more.

    With a tilt of her head and a subtle nod, she was asking how much more suffering I had in store for the world. I played a stupid game by making that gun, and now I won a stupid prize.

    ¡°Teach me what you know,¡± Nora asked.

    ¡­

    82 cycles old.

    We adjusted all of our machinery and tooling to begin making firearms en masse. Inkunzi arrived last month, and warned me that I¡¯d become a target of Ischyros as well. I told him that I wasn¡¯t going to risk the people of Pulvera today for an inquisition that may never come.

    He didn¡¯t leave. He couldn¡¯t ¨C he knew that our success was partly due to him. I saw a sense of betrayal in his eyes, but I hope he saw the desperation in mine.

    I¡¯d built countless prostheses for myself and the many others who also received amputations. I even added spring-loaded fingers to make up for the two I lost on my right hand. My wrist still hasn''t recovered completely from that mace injury over a decade ago, but it¡¯s all I have left to work with. In my past life, I was a leftie. This time, I¡¯m right-handed and no longer have a choice.

    We¡¯ve improved our engines and even made a lighter diesel engine for possible aircraft use. Our redoubt had become even more compartmentalized as more and more hardened facilities were built inside over the past few months.

    But one evening, I was in my new office-lab deep into the redoubt, designing a ship based on Rokmuran naval requirements. And suddenly I heard sprinting, and groaning from down the hall.

    Someone had snuck in, killing anyone in the way ¨C perhaps to get to me. I grabbed my bullpup revolver prototype and began aiming at the unlit doorway.

    But the assailant was too quick. He fired an arrow at me before I could aim fully. It smashed my pistol apart and rebounded into my table lantern, starting a fire beside me.

    ¡°Isolus Enviar, stop hiding. Your demise has come.¡±

    Fuck! Can¡¯t I catch a break?

    A familiar voice, but no matter. He stepped closer and closer. My right hand bled from the arrow¡¯s impact, and flames began to spread.

    I had no choice but to use my old survival knife.

    ¡°I must end your hubris, here and n-¡±

    Gunshots, then an arrow flew past me. Blood dripped, and then poured. Gagging, and gasping. A bow fell to the floor.

    Old Kantax spoke. ¡°My dear, I can¡¯t let you do that.¡±

    The man reeled. ¡°How, how did-¡±

    ¡°Never got used to me sneaking up, huh?¡± she said.

    Kantax had fired several rounds into the assassin¡¯s back, causing him to collapse. She holstered her revolver, and held the dying man in her arms as she whispered.

    ¡°Sal, I couldn¡¯t let you kill our princess.¡±

    ¡°Wait, what the fuck?¡± I said as I got out of cover.

    She lowered his hood, highlighting Arsalan¡¯s face with reflections of the fire beside me. They shared a moment of silence.

    ¡°Hah, you¡¯re both.. alive, and well, I see.¡±

    I had no words.

    ¡°Forlasita, princess, come here,¡± he said.

    I bandaged my hand. ¡°You just tried to kill me, dad.¡±

    ¡°Ah, I¡¯m.. sorry about that. And the, others too.¡±

    He started coughing up blood.

    ¡°I have been fooled. Anne, of my countless years, I am glad.. to have spent some of it with you. Seeing you both has brought me joy beyond words. And princess, please, forgive me.¡±

    Kantax pressed her thumb over his lips.

    ¡°Sal, I wish I could see you one last time.¡±

    His grip began to shake. Arsalan caressed her face and his palm began to glow brighter than any healing magic I¡¯d ever seen before. I could almost hear him grit his teeth.

    Kantax soon seemed decades younger, closer to Pipra. And she could see, again. But magic like that doesn¡¯t come cheap, and nobody stores that amount in willpower alone.

    ¡°P.. pretty lady. It hurts. It really, really-¡±

    ¡°Shhh, quiet dear. I know. I¡¯m here for you,¡± she said.

    ¡°So, this is.. is the coldest it¡¯s ever been,¡± Arsalan uttered.

    His hands slowly began to drape from hers. She held on tight, tears streaming. She kissed his forehead, reminiscent of when I used to see him kiss hers long ago. It¡¯s been so long.

    Kantax quietly sobbed, as the room began to darken even further now that the lantern oil burned up. I held them both, after I treated my wound. Arsalan kept a vindictive letter from Prometheus¡¯ Own ¨C they sent him here to kill me, or die trying.

    We buried Arsalan within the open atrium of the massive fortress. I have tried to stay dissociated from the situation, as he also killed a few of my retainers. One of them being Rujia, who was coming to deliver a personal report on better strains of algae. These retainers were buried in the new Pulveran graveyard.

    I tried to hide the truth from Ostracia, who had been out of town with Strelya as part of a large contingent for an expedition down south. Her lamentations on Rujia¡¯s grave got unbearable to see real quick. She lives with Katerina now.

    ¡­

    <ol start="83">

    <li>  The conflict continued.</li>

    </ol>

    Dozens of new battles are fought. We have the scouting and transport advantage with our airships and trucks, but the Brigantii have reliable spy networks that we¡¯ve found difficult to subdue. Kantax created a counter-intelligence committee called the Wardens, but I¡¯ve formally listed it as Pulveran State Security.

    I¡¯ve been holed up for so long in the labs and offices and allowed my commanders to reign over operations as the situation in La Royaume deteriorated. Many have sought refuge here in Pulvera. Some Brigantii settlements have even allied with us.

    We stand firm over a realm of uncertainty, outnumbered, but hopefully not outgunned.

    ¡­

    <ol start="84">

    <li>  Autumn.</li>

    </ol>

    I¡¯ve assumed the identity of Lieutenant Forlasita. Only a handful here actually knew Isolus wasn¡¯t my real name, so this isn¡¯t too difficult to pull off. Kantax, Rujia, and Inkunzi knew. This disguise is basically that I have none. No makeup; my scars are all laid bare. The best part is that I don¡¯t have to maintain a facade of composure. I hope this helps keep the target off my back.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Currently, Phaedra and I are the only two officers from Pulvera roaming within La Royaume¡¯s borders. We¡¯re near the northwestern coasts trying to contact the Rokmuran merchant convoys. They¡¯re dropping off goods up further north where caravans can travel to us by land. We¡¯ll meet them by then.

    We don¡¯t have the luxury of ancient magical ¡®sending stones¡¯ or instant communications, so I¡¯ve had to fly out here on the passenger seat of our prototype biplane named ¡°Render¡± by Phaedra ¨C she got that from how well the propellers seemed to trim trees. We fly at night, keeping the vehicle hidden by day, trying to coordinate with the Rokmuran convoy.

    She¡¯s a talented pilot, and has trained other dirigible operators, as well as an actual batch of pilots for when new planes arrive. Her ¡®Red Baron¡¯ type of bravado made her popular.

    I decided to go with her because I can negotiate and plan with the merchants, and because if anything breaks on this damn thing I might be the only one who can fix it quickly.

    Render¡¯s had over a hundred hours of flight in ideal conditions. But one sunrise, we flew over Pike Ridge; a set of fault-block mountains. And man, being in the sky with someone like Phaedra, you realize how some people have clearly never been told to shut up before.

    ¡°So, the balloon got hit by this massive cannonball.¡±

    ¡°No way, you¡¯re kidding right?¡± I passively replied.

    ¡°I. Shit. You. Not. Basically Isolus was just like-¡±

    ¡°..just what?¡± I asked, after a long pause.

    ¡°What is that?¡± she said, turning to me.

    ¡°What was?¡±

    ¡°No ¨C I¡¯m serious, lieutenant, check our six.¡±

    A small dragon had been chasing us, and further behind, several more were coming. The furthest one was several times larger. We¡¯d just trespassed the skies of a red dragon nest.

    ¡°You gotta be kidding dude ¨C swerve right! Quick!¡±

    Phaedra barreled the biplane down to the right, evading a fireball from the small dragon. It dove to catch up to us, but Phaedra throttled the plane faster.

    ¡°Lieutenant! They¡¯re gaining on us!¡± she screamed.

    ¡°Keep going!¡± I yelled back. ¡°Give me a moment!¡±

    It¡¯s been a while since we issued out our Pulveran bullpup bolt-action rifles ¨C designed to be complex yet cheap, compact, easy to maintain, and hopefully reliable. We only had one caliber, our very own 10x30mm intermediate cartridge. Not sure if you could call it intermediate, since there¡¯s nothing to compare.

    Using a feature I secretly built into all our rifles, my rifle can discreetly switch to semi-automatic mode so I can shoot as fast as I can pull the trigger. And I¡¯d need to pull a lot, because there¡¯s a dozen dragons on our tail. I needed a machinegun.

    ¡°You just gonna sit there!? Start shooting!¡± Phaedra yelled.

    I did something odd during early tests, and I could take this a step further by jury-rigging a ¡®shoestring¡¯ modification to my already semi-automatic rifle, to create a fully-automatic rifle instead. It disabled some of the safeties but I pretty much had a 20-round automatic rifle, one firm squeeze and it¡¯s a full send.

    Although I brought a disposable rocket launcher, I can¡¯t fire it behind us; the backblast risks destroying the plane, or risks frying us both ¨C it¡¯s meant for Royaume warbeetles.

    I aimed for their eyes as they were vulnerable there. If I couldn¡¯t, I¡¯d go for the wings to slow them down. Their scales are too thick for our bullets to penetrate, but I fired away.

    This went on for several minutes, as Phaedra had to keep diving to gain more and more speed for evading dragon attacks just above the forest canopy. Other dragons noticed Phaedra¡¯s evasive maneuvering and decided to fly higher and fire at us.

    Fortunately, their light underbellies aren¡¯t armored at all so even my rifle could dart through their fragile organs. To think Skippio forced his men to do this shit with muskets and such.

    ¡°Go get ¡®em!¡± she yelled. ¡°Kill them! AIM YOUR GUN AND KILL THEM!¡± she ordered, as if I had anything better to do.

    ¡°I¡¯m trying!¡± I cried back. ¡°Keep it steady!¡±

    ¡°COME ON! THEY¡¯RE OUT BEHIND US, SHOOT THEM!¡±

    I kept firing from below, and some of the remaining smaller ones veered away to leave us alone. Phaedra decided to circle around a mountain to buy us some space. I was able to shoot down the last one who crashed, but not before it could tear a piece of the right wing off. One of its claws got embedded.

    But the largest one ¨C a red elder dragon, went the opposite way and intercepted us. Phaedra jerked the controls away from the mountain and the elder¡¯s mouth. We lost a lot of speed, but she decided to go down into the Fulvia gap. The valley descended, and at its lower end sat a friendly mining settlement, Fulvia.

    We lost some control on the upper right wing from the embedded claw. I got up and reached out to dislodge it. Our right wing was damaged, but still worked.

    The huge beast left trails of magical flame as it kept missing us. It was still faster, and it kept gaining speed. Phaedra had been pushing Render to its limits, I don¡¯t know how much more the craft can take. I had to end this soon, or we¡¯d both die. I grabbed the rocket launcher and double-checked my parachute.

    ¡°Phaedra, PULL UP!¡± I screamed. ¡°NOW!¡±

    ¡°That¡¯ll slow us down! I¡¯m gonna keep diving!¡±

    ¡°Dive anymore and we¡¯re underground! PULL IT!¡±

    ¡°Fine, you crazy bitch! Kill that fat lizard!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll buy you time ¨C get to safety!¡±

    Phaedra pulled, and Render started tilting up. Her wings vibrated violently from stresses she wasn¡¯t meant to handle. We raised dozens of extra meters off the forest. The furious red elder dragon was moments away from ensuring a hit.

    The plane had stalled, and the gigantic lizard was charging a shot until I jumped out. This was it, all or nothing. I dove out beside the plane and felt time slow down, as the adrenaline raced through me once again. The dragon¡¯s golden reptilian eyes exchanged a gaze with me. I led the target with my aim, and pressed the trigger. Fwoosh, went the rocket.

    A thunderous bang knocked the red dragon out of the sky, hell yeah! But the Render was done for, too. The upper right wing had just been torn off from the stresses of Phaedra¡¯s flying. The plane was thrown into a heavy spin. I opened my parachute, and hoped to see her bail out to use hers.

    Yet instead of bailing, she throttled the plane even further to gain more speed. This seemed to increase stability? Render dove faster towards the ground, and Phaedra regained control!

    My heart sank once again when I realized that despite her efforts, she¡¯d already lost too much altitude. She then crashed Render straight into a tree.

    I landed, and sought for her wreckage. The plane was done for, as the central fuselage was firmly stricken through a branch. I climbed up and saw Phaedra bleeding from the head.

    I did what I could with the medical supplies I had on hand. I made a scuffed wheelbarrow from a piece of wing and wheel, and fastened her to it after stabilizing her. It was like a stretcher.

    Eventually we arrived at Fulvia. The kind villagers offered us both food and a ride on their next ore barge south.

    Don¡¯t you dare die on me; Pipra would kill me.

    ¡­

    85, winter. Phaedra¡¯s still in a coma. It¡¯s been months.

    The last of the gorosi fields are reaped, and the last batches of algae are harvested again before everything freezes over. We¡¯ve prepared a whole lot of fuel for a project that¡¯s taken years.

    We just built our first warship, the PNS Onslaught. Jac had volunteered to captain the corvette, after Skippio¡¯s artillery apparently sunk his old ship in our wharf. He¡¯s a seasoned captain, but I joined the maiden voyage as Isolus just in case.

    Now a stalemate, our only support is the unrest Brigantii¡¯s citizens had towards their leadership.

    The Onslaught is a relatively small ship, much smaller than what the Hirene river couldn¡¯t fit. We built a large diesel engine, and she¡¯s the first ship to utilize internal combustion. We fitted every bell and whistle we knew. Inkunzi was skeptical of the specs on paper, but was awed when he saw it go. It¡¯s leagues ahead of their chain-riding river steam trains, and faster than any steam-sail ships Ischyros had.

    Our trucks filled with volunteers took point alongside the shores of the river to report targets to us ahead of time.

    This worked out well, as our one modern artillery turret had explosive shells, new propellant, and a basic autoloader. Our 120mm vastly outranged every other cannon in Mondo.

    The blockade had finally been broken as we sank dozens of ships. The rivers ran with heaps of obsolescent scrap.

    We proceeded with the second part of our plan, to escort the Rokmuran fleet headed southwest of La Royaume. This was easier said than done, as the Ischyrosian grand formation had recently been sent to destroy the merchant vessels. Ischyros had long formulated reasons to wage war on us, and force Rokmuro to break ties. It didn¡¯t work, so now they¡¯re going to try and sink the innocent merchant ships that brought us food and other key resources up the Fekunda Strait.

    Jac said there¡¯s no way we can stop an armada unless we had the blessing of Vox, the god of the ocean, like the ancient champion Acherona did. Acherona of long ago, had manipulated the waves itself. But Inkunzi taught me most of what he knew about dwarven naval tactics. At this point, they¡¯ve already adopted guns themselves. That rendered moot their initial point of waging war on us ¨C the fact we¡¯re using such weapons like the Jade.

    Phaedra and I previously managed to sneak a trezotype of a few of their new steam-sail ships. They seemed more like galleons, with dozens of primitive broadside guns. We have the capability of defeating them with range and speed alone.

    I¡¯m not about to let those Rokmuran merchants die. I overrode Jac¡¯s orders and forced the Onslaught to engage.

    Our incredible speed and firepower allowed us to not only break the Brigantii blockade over two days, but also intercept the hostile Ischyrosian strike fleet in the next two as well.

    We saw them on the horizon, large and imposing ships with water displacements perhaps a hundredfold of ours.

    We ran full speed ahead. No massive smokestacks on our wake, just the whirring of a massive diesel engine. We were almost in range to fire at them.

    But the icy fog arrived. We were close enough to shoot at them, but there was no way for us to see them unless we got in range of their massive broadsides ¨C we weren¡¯t armored enough to withstand a good volley from such. It sickened me to my stomach, and I had the urge to tell Jac that perhaps we should back off.

    Maybe we could somehow signal to the merchants to dock somewhere while we fought.

    ¡°Can¡¯t we use that plane in the back to reach them in time? It¡¯s gotta have some sort of use in this.¡± Jac asked me.

    ¡°Huh. Maybe we can win this,¡± I said.

    We had two pilots on board, and one seaplane. I had a plan, but ultimately we wouldn¡¯t need the plane for it.

    I took one of the parachutes from the plane, had it splayed out, and cut two holes in a way that kept it stable. Now, I had the crew mount the chute to a crank via cables. Lastly, a pilot would need to go parasailing. I¡¯d volunteer, if I still had my left forearm and if I was a little lighter.

    The experienced pilot trained by Phaedra, Arzo, apparently got motion sickness from being on a ship and was bedridden. He had never been on the ocean before. The other is a fresh recruit who emigrated from La Royaume. Her name is Rumi, and she said she¡¯d do it if I tripled her pay. Done.

    I taught Rumi how to use my compass, since she barely knew how. We strapped her onto the parasail, and let her rise.

    ¡°Miss! Are you ABSOLUTELY sure this is safe!?¡±

    ¡°Probably. If it fails, we¡¯ll just pick you up and leave.¡±

    From a growing distance, her voice got fainter as the winds blew harder. She said something, I couldn¡¯t quite make out.

    ¡°You need to YELL! We can¡¯t hear you!¡± I yelled out.

    ¡°FUUUCKK!¡± she screamed, distantly.

    ¡°Good! Now find the closest ship!¡±

    She was confused at first, but eventually she figured it out. I quickly fashioned hearing cups so I could hear her better, and a cone so I could yell back.

    ¡°Uhh, eight ships! Closest one is.. 345.. 348!¡±

    ¡°Distance!¡±

    ¡°How!? I¡¯m not sure! Kinda far, I think!¡±

    We got closer, until we had its silhouette barely visible. I told her the distance. Just her letting us know their bearing was good enough, since they were all so massive compared to us. We could see their silhouette long before they could see ours.

    We practiced this for half an hour in the harsh weather. Then, we started firing our secret weapons ¨C crude and inaccurate torpedoes, when we were able to verify her directions.

    Worried that our first torpedo missed, we fired another. It catastrophically destroyed the ship by igniting several powder caches near their paddle wheels. We outpaced all of the enemy ships by a factor of four. This kept going well until the fourth sinkage, when we overtook the whole fleet.

    We turned and wove between them, firing torpedoes at shorter ranges. We flanked another and fired a torp up close, only for the blast to be so massive that even our own crew got injured. Some dwarven marines with repeater crossbows tried to swing over to board us, but were gunned down.

    Gryphon dragoons were soon dispatched to locate and sabotage us. They first tried to land on our deck but our new 15mm heavy machine guns made an absolute wreck of their birds. Our single cannon turret was excellent at picking off the possible powder caches on enemy ships ¨C probably because good old Anthrax is here to advise them.

    Some gryphon riders began attacking Rumi, later shredding her chute. We reeled her in, but she sustained a few injuries as she got dragged across the water. She took out two riders using her own 10mm revolver. Impressive.

    All eight sank. The fight was over ¨C but we passed a ninth ship. The IRS Theseus, with a broken steam engine. A familiar dwarf was on board. It was Jedidiah, with a piercing glare countless degrees colder than the freezing waters below.

    His crewmen were in the middle of repairing their rigging and engine. Their cannons weren¡¯t ready, and their crew was stunned by the sight of fifty Pulveran crewmembers with readied rifles. No more shots would be fired today.

    ¡°Pick up your survivors, up ahead!¡± I yelled out to him.

    We left the vicinity as the fog lifted, but never saw smoke rise out from the Theseus. Still dead in the water, for now.

    Soon, we were able to locate and escort the merchant fleet. Their slow ships allowed us to keep our engines at much more efficient cruising speeds. More and more uniformed dwarven, gnome, and halfling corpses appeared; floating towards the coast.

    Ischyros¡¯ flagship flotilla was defeated that day. From what I remember, the Theseus preceded the other ships which were a more advanced Colossus-class. All of them housed between 400-700 crew, with hundreds of additional boarding marines meant for taking over the merchant ships.

    Assuming the Theseus wasn¡¯t able to reach most of the survivors or able to have the capacity to transport them, then hypothermia would¡¯ve done most of the killing. Wish we had enough life preservers for them, but even that might not have been enough. I can¡¯t tell for sure, but I had to write up a report. This doesn¡¯t even include souls lost in the Brigantii blockades.

    The Battle for Fekunda Strait has concluded.

    4500 or more dead Ischyrosians.

    The PNS Onslaught¡¯s crew sustained minor injuries.

    Hundreds of Rokmuran merchants returned safely.

    Person of note, Rumi Aubine, for valorous conduct.

    May these terrible conflicts end soon.

 CH.14: Children of The Sea

    <ol start="90">

    <li>On a ride headed south to Medino, by Hirene Delta.</li>

    </ol>

    Ischyros immediately sued for peace after the loss of their grand fleet, and agreed to take no further action against us, or Rokmuro. Unfortunately, only very little trade has resumed between Ischyros and the rest of us. Not even La Royaume could resume trading, as the kingdom partially collapsed last cycle.

    Something about succession squabbles. That¡¯s on them. The situation degraded rapidly after the king¡¯s death, to the point where Euryas suggested we intervene to avert a crisis.

    We¡¯ve stabilized several southern Royaume regions as trade allowed us to import more food, and due to our breakthrough in mass-producing synthetic fertilizer. An odd amount of uprisings degraded things even further, and Medulli snatched up more land northeast through the use of force.

    Kantax¡¯s reports suggested the rebellions were instigated by either Medulli, or by Brigantii in the many years prior. There¡¯s also an off-chance that the Plaguehearts or demon-kin are to blame. Medulli¡¯s probably just seizing the opportunity to use their forces to claim land. Some nobles opted to ally themselves with us ¨C for the fear of uprisings in their own lands due to famine.

    We¡¯re not wholly saintly either, as we were pricing food at difficult heights to regions unless they essentially signed to become our protectorates. A profitable win-win business.

    As for the southwestern Brigantii, their naval powers were quashed several times over. Most of their forces resulted in crude guerilla-style tactics, but it seemed that a lack of training or will made it difficult for them to do much. We won their hearts and minds, I hope our propaganda campaigns did the trick.

    We secured the Hirene waterways, and thus ensured trade with Rokmuro and the other coastal ex-Marbordo states. Our fuel production increased from a miraculous algae strain Rujia made. It grew faster, and fatter. More oil, more vehicles.

    Pulvera itself recently hit the 2600 population milestone, and I had to focus on new infrastructure as well as a better way for people to access water. We built several water tanks and a steam-powered pumphouse to supply them. The new Royaume and Brigantii engineers who emigrated here quarreled over how to build the water supply and sewage systems.

    So I created the Pulveran Utilities Company, and hired them. Inkunzi and I oversaw the debates, and weighed it out.

    Euryas¡¯ loyalty knew no bounds. He¡¯d tell me all sorts of stories regarding the corruption behind La Royaume¡¯s nobility, and how their people paid the price. He worked hard, and would do great as the head of the Department of Finance.

    Another interesting figure, Tobina, was Tobias¡¯ eldest daughter. She served as his secretary in the southern coastal cities, where he focused on carriage construction. She had a major falling-out with her father and left. His rivals began working on arms manufacturing, perhaps to recreate my revolver. I assigned Tobina into the Department of Trade and Industry, which was now under Nora¡¯s care.

    Tobina mentioned rumors of other companies trying to make something similar to our secret early Bessemer furnace, and starting to make progress. I don¡¯t fear spies so much, as Kantax¡¯s borrowed time helped her fervently investigate such networks and nudged them to our benefit. I think she goes as far as to threaten anyone in a position of power, from defecting.

    I secretly paid Tobias a visit down south. He was getting old in years, and his ¡°Chryses¡¯ Carriages¡± business had been failing.

    He gave me a close look. ¡°Isolus? How do you still look so young? You barely look older than my youngest.¡±

    ¡°Cosmetics, don¡¯t worry. I¡¯m an old hag at heart.¡±

    ¡°Amazing, friend. Well I hope you¡¯ve forgiven me for leaving. With the way things were going, I hope it made sense.¡±

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s fine. I didn¡¯t come here to hark on you for that. Actually came here to ask if you¡¯d like to return to Pulvera. We could use some skilled metalworkers for certain projects.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯d be.. this isn¡¯t one of Tobina¡¯s tricks, is it?¡±

    ¡°No, but she works in one of our departments. I have a different set of tasks for you, specifically.¡± I dropped a small bag of Vaiosy gold coins on his dilapidated desk.

    ¡°Tobias, sell off your facilities here if you want. Take your family with you and talk to Nightingale at the Shoreside Tavern. I can meet you guys there.¡±

    ¡­

    91, summer. Pekina, southern Royaume.

    Through a cascade of events, we¡¯ve started off as a trading company and made our way to being a small merchant republic with multiple protectorate states of our own. Pulvera sat at about 4000 in population, last I checked. Only a few places in Mondo had both running water and sewage systems, so that made Pulvera more attractive; considering that a plague was mostly responsible for shattering the Marbordo empire in the first place.

    We built short rails, trams, and lots of cheap housing units. Apartments with lots of shared external amenities, similar to the wealthier commie blocks I saw growing up in the old world. My parents¡¯ first apartment was much worse than Pulveran housing. Bicycles, motorbikes with sidecars, and public transport. Pulvera¡¯s off to a good start, better than anywhere else on Mondo. My favorite aspect has to be the creative use for light trucks, where our 6-wheelers are used as rolling shops.

    Anyway, both Skippio and Lord Stromberg have gone into hiding. The Brigantii government opted for peace after they¡¯d lost general control over roughly 60% of their land. The redistribution and delegation of land was a huge headache, so I had another civil department take care of that. Not my thing. No more.

    Normally we¡¯d just construct new outposts in settlements we occupied or allied ourselves with, but sometimes we¡¯d buy out a sufficient structure to use as one for immediacy and future renovation. These outposts, Pulveran Peripheries, served as local courts, dispensaries, police stations, firehouses, schools, and with our recent breakthroughs in antibiotics they can now act as clinics too despite the vast shortage of healing mages.

    Today I¡¯ve had the pleasure of overseeing the mercantile acquisition of the Solleret Trading House in the heart of Pekina, west of Pulvera, to convert into a Periphery. An elderly Seylas came down to greet me ¨C his wrinkles almost hid his fencing scars, and he used a cane past the ornate staircase railing.

    ¡°Welcome. Please, take a seat at my study.¡± he said, as he sluggishly turned a corner to a secluded room.

    My blood boiled, but not due to him. I seethed at myself for hesitating to let my anger out at the old man. I exacted my vengeance too late, and Kantax refused to tell me where he was. Not worth it, she said. The intrusive thought of running a knife into his gut kept playing over and over in my head so viscerally and immersively that I lost track of how slow he¡¯s moving.

    He ran his disgusting hands along the walls and hallway fixtures. ¡°Forgive me, for my eyes and legs are worn. You know, I used to be a great military leader like you.¡±

    ¡°Right.¡± I replied, eager to plug him with lead.

    An aged lady, still younger than him, entered the study from the opposite end. She ran up to us.

    ¡°Oh my! I¡¯m sorry, my husband can be a handful. Would you like some tea? Please, sit down dear. He¡¯s so glad you¡¯ve offered to buy out the place. Our son ¨C well, my stepson Skippy, refused to inherit the business. Seylas, his son, and grandson couldn¡¯t resist heroism! Men, right? I¡¯ll be right back, dearies!¡±

    She¡¯s nice. But knowing this man is why so much suffering has befallen me, and knowing that his descendants carry that legacy of harm ¨C I couldn¡¯t help but pull out my pistol and aim it at Seylas while he sifted away through some well-kept archives.

    I could so easily plaster his brains across those books. The thought of it filled me with excitement, and fear. The hurried steps of the lady approached, and I could only think of her screaming in shock as she draped herself over the corpse of her loved one. The fear of seeing that, led me to holster my pistol.

    We partook in the tea and pastries, as we conducted our business. No poison, it seems. Perhaps they wish to live their last years in a quiet and distant place. I sheathed my rage, for I had no enemies here.

    ¡­

    92, winter. Louvia, western Royaume.

    Memoro, the god of memory, is who I¡¯ve chosen as our patron deity. There¡¯s eight other known deities, but for the purposes of culture Memoro should do just fine.

    Brigantii is known for being opportunistic, La Royaume for its fealty and tradition, and Medulli for their nomadic armies. Rokmuro has food, and surviving elements of Sonya ¨C the healing goddess. Ischyros is known for their craftsmanship, exports, and military prowess under the god Bestatzo. We¡¯re an upstart polity in comparison, with no culture or religious backing.

    The only culture I¡¯m familiar with is resistance to invasion. Even then, it doesn¡¯t reflect the rest of our protectorates. The threat of famine is one hell of a tool. Maybe ours is innovation? Please, I hope we¡¯re not known for exporting death.

    Nonetheless, I¡¯m taking a trip around the new settlements we control. Today, I¡¯m up north in Louvia, in an armored convoy. Tobias¡¯ workers were able to help us develop armored cars resistant to small arms ¨C built on the same 6-wheeler chassis, but upgraded with a hidden drive sprocket by the rear wheels for optional track bands we can quickly install for extra grip. The upgrades turned some of our commercial trucks into armored trucks that doubled as half-tracks.

    I went about my duties as Isolus during the surveying period, staying weeks at a time at each town to make sure things are in order and the officials are doing their jobs.

    We¡¯ve built optical telegraph stations along major routes, which also operated as minor outposts. These towers are quick to construct, easy to standardize, and easy to upgrade. Only the officers at a few major signal junctions have access to the codebooks, which are updated regularly. These would be the fastest means of long-distance communication available without electricity, which isn¡¯t high on my research priority list.

    I¡¯m going to be honest I really just don¡¯t know how to get the ball rolling when it comes to electricity.

    Though I¡¯ve built a few crude batteries here and there, those¡¯re toys compared to what we¡¯ll need. I¡¯ll just fund a research committee just for that. We¡¯ve got the wealth for it.

    I¡¯ve had a long day interacting with nobles. If you were to check a continental map, Pulveran lands form a flipped L-shape. We ran a semaphore line down south along the Hirene river to the coastal town of Medino. Another line sat along the westward road through Valdeno, Pekina, and Louvia, among others.

    Rumi became my personal armored car¡¯s driver, and Solomon left his bookbinding job to enlist where he is now the gunner for our turret. I commanded the vehicle, and the convoys by signal flag. We don¡¯t have tanks yet, since these cheap convertible trucks do a decent enough job at everything. I¡¯m thinking of ways to introduce intercoms.

    Night dawned upon us, and the glowing ring stretching across the sky draped across the stars; the sight made the coastal drive so much more satisfying.

    We parked by the ancient Louvian lighthouse, where we¡¯d be staying. Several other convoy trucks followed us, and should set themselves up shortly. Some of the men were vandalizing the masonry with their shovel-multitools, and I gave them a warning.

    Rumi was eating dinner near a cliff, and I joined her.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    ¡°Ever seen the ocean before?¡± I asked.

    ¡°I grew up by it, in Royaume¡¯s mainland capital, Aurore.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve heard of it. How was it there?¡±

    ¡°Boring. I never got to leave home.¡±

    She took a bite off of her sandwich, and I offered her some tea to go with it. ¡°Thank you,¡± Rumi replied. ¡°I haven¡¯t had tea in a long while. The commissary really should sell this kind of thing.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s Lumorivan tea, that¡¯s traveled thousands of leagues to get to your cup. Kind of insane, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    Ensign Rumi nodded. ¡°Tastes just like it used to.¡±

    Makes me wonder what her life was like. She took a moment to gaze out into the waves crashing past the Kosmikos-era ruins dotting the coast, before looking up to the full moon.

    ¡°Hey, miss. What¡¯s it like to lead?¡± she asked.

    ¡°I can¡¯t say for sure. It¡¯s difficult. You seem too young to be asking stuff like that. Do you mean it in a squad-level way?¡±

    ¡°Being responsible for countless lives, was what I meant.¡±

    I pondered on an answer, until I got lost in my thoughts. Another soldier yelled from the lighthouse, his voice alarmed us.

    ¡°Ma¡¯am, large unidentified raft! Filled to the brim with soldiers, approaching the shore, bearing 245! Your orders?¡±

    Rumi walked up to our armored car and hopped in.

    I called out. ¡°Send three other cars to follow us.¡±

    Solomon had been sleeping in the turret the entire time. We let him rest as we drove down to the shore to intercept the raft. I used my binoculars and saw how vibrantly colored their clothes were, but they had long weapons, possibly spears. I had some troops quickly load up extra supplies just in case.

    We drove off the dirt road and onto the beach, where the rough ride woke Solomon up. Rumi explained the situation to him and he manned the 15mm machinegun. We parked in front of where the raft was about to land. I stood outside the car as it idled. We had two guys walk up to the raft, which had been dragged along to the shore by two mermaids and a merman. I walked with Rumi towards them.

    As the raft hit shore, two of them hissed and returned into the water. One of the mermaids turned to us and spoke.

    ¡°Please take care of this new bunch. They are often unfamiliar with this land,¡± she said.

    The siren was missing her right hand. I saw the raft filled with sailors of smaller stature and severe starvation. I called to the rest of the troops to shoulder their rifles and bring out the emergency supplies ¨C then I ran towards the raft and called out to the scaled one, who was now slithering back into the waters.

    ¡°What?¡± she asked, with her head barely above water.

    ¡°Please, come see me here under the next full moon.¡±

    ¡°What is this request.. for?¡±

    I rolled up my left sleeve, and quickly unlatched my prosthetic arm in a way that those behind me couldn¡¯t see. ¡°I¡¯d like to be friends, and give you a gift by then. What¡¯s your name?¡±

    Her eyes widened, before shying away a little.

    ¡°Next full moon. Yesss. Name is Wiremu.¡±

    She turned and gracefully swam away.

    I reattached my prosthetic arm and rewore my left glove, calling the other soldiers to help me check the thirteen people on the raft. A few bones littered the floor, but six skulls were found. Each with a single bullet hole from one side to the next. Their long staves were triple-barreled matchlock handguns similar to what Brigantii had used against us in the past, but much more refined.

    The passengers were all asleep in rags, except one that had no pulse and had passed away earlier that evening. They all slowly woke up one after another, to which we tended to their wounds and slowly fed them. Almost all of them were in a state of delirium, except a scarfed one in ornate yellow brigandine armor.

    She was the only survivor who didn¡¯t wear rags, and she spoke in a foreign language ¨C one whose syllables I couldn¡¯t even decipher by ear. These were Jade survivors, no doubt.

    Rumi approached and interpreted it a little.

    ¡°We had a servant from across the ocean, and he kept prostrating himself whenever he made mistakes. I recognize their word of thanks, and she¡¯s probably thanking you along the lines of saving her and her crew. Probably,¡± Rumi explained.

    The haggard woman in a checkered scarf stumbled to the raft and took her gun staff. This alarmed the other soldiers, but only until she knelt in front of me and handed me the intricately engraved quad-barreled gun. It¡¯s mediocre compared to the rifles we all carry, but I kneeled and held her shoulder.

    ¡°Isolus.¡± I pointed to myself. ¡°I-so-lus.¡±

    She nodded, then perked up and pointed to herself.

    ¡°Aisorus! Kyrin. Kai-rin.¡± she said, with an earnest look.

    I earnestly, and gently, shook her hands. ¡°Kylin, huh?¡±

    I had the soldiers share their water provisions and some of the rations we brought along, mostly gorosi bread with some Valdeno meat and Pekina cheese. The blood smeared on the sailors¡¯ clothes with a distinct lack of wounds, are telling of what they had to go through to survive. We had them kept at the new Louvia outpost for further processing.

    I asked Rumi where her servant went, and she said ¡®Watari¡¯ had bought his freedom and decided to go south. I relayed this information to be inquired among the locals.

    Soon, I got started on Wiremu¡¯s gift by heading to the makeshift airstrip a few kilometers away and had Arzo head back to Pulvera to request one ingot of high-chromium steel, and two ingots of sample D3047 from Nora, which was an accidental batch of rubber with an increased resistance towards seawater. Might end up using it for gaskets and seals in the future, unless we come up with something better.

    The next day, an old man named Watari was located in the outskirts of Louvia. We drove there, and I arranged a sweet deal for him to interpret what the Jade sailors had to say, and to teach them our common language in return. Rumi had a word with him in private, and I couldn¡¯t help but eavesdrop. I caught a gist around her wanting him to stay quiet about something.

    Two days later, Arzo returned with what I asked for. I rented out a smithy and got started on a prosthetic metal hand with a rubber coating and liner for a more comfortable socket.

    Wiremu¡¯s going to love this. I hope.

    ¡­

    <ol start="93">

    <li>  On board the PNS Onslaught.</li>

    </ol>

    Kylin and her crew are some of the hardiest sailors I¡¯ve ever met. They¡¯re here to observe our latest naval operation.

    Still, Kylin and her closest subordinates bowed to me. ¡°Isorus-eonni, good is your gunkan ¨C warship. Very good. Good of all good I have seen.¡±

    Old man Watari explained her enthusiasm in clearer language. He told me a lot about their culture, and how he too was once a Jade sailor that washed up ashore. He mentioned that the long scarves she and her other companions wore are symbols of obligation and honor. Watari pulled out an old fabric from his pocket, saying that although he doesn¡¯t bring his military scarf around anymore, he keeps a piece with him as his own sudariomo.

    ¡°Such scarves are given by our families, or clans, or passed down by those who perished. Hers bears the unique colors and patterns of the House of Serpents ¨C and you could see it in her eyes. She is a daughter of a concubine from that house, and the emperor. Emperor Jin was still a young prince when I left.¡±

    Kylin was busy discussing things with her officers, and I leaned even closer to Watari. ¡°So what, like a princess?¡± I asked.

    ¡°No, nothing like Rumi. It would take dozens of her siblings to perish for her to be in power. Or who knows, maybe not.¡±

    ¡°Hm? What was that about Rumi?¡±

    Watari turned away. ¡°Nothing. Forget it.¡±

    Wiremu tugged on my sleeve. Her prosthetic hand is still in good condition after about a cycle. She¡¯s from a large tribe of sea-dwellers, and had been helping Jade survivors make it to the Marbordo coasts for decades. She and Kylin have become good friends, whereas Wiremu doesn¡¯t know how to handle praise and Kylin has no shortage of it to give.

    I asked. ¡°Is this where the ¡®Bak-nawa¡¯ lives?¡±

    ¡°Yesss. Not far from here,¡± Wiremu replied.

    We were sailing in the middle of the Thunderous Ocean. Not only is the weather unfavorable for sailing ships, but the waves are often tall enough to clear our decks.

    Anything and anyone not fastened would be swept away, unless we had a bigger boat. But we¡¯re safe inside the Onslaught¡¯s bridge. Our scout plane was sent out to find clues, and we¡¯ve seen it circle a certain area for the past bit. We got Arzo to fly it, because Rumi absolutely refused to get on a boat or fly again. Phaedra¡¯s still out cold, but being taken care of.

    There. We could see the moving darkness across the ocean surface. Wiremu made an agreement with me that if I had it killed, she¡¯d organize her tribe to help out with resource gathering and naval operations. ¡®It¡¯ was a colossal ancient creature. Kylin called it the ¡°Umibozu¡±, and claimed it to be just a boogieman to keep sailors in line, because the real threat were barbarian patrols stopping them from crossing safer waters for help.

    I probably shouldn¡¯t let Kylin meet Inkunzi.

    As I pondered the risks of that, a tentacle bursting with a dark aura sprang out of the water and almost swatted the scout plane from the sky. Everyone stood in awe as they saw the rest of the creature rise from the water. The plane kept circling ¨C being a more advanced biplane compared to the Render. It flew higher and higher to avoid the monster¡¯s grasp.

    It was a largely shadowy figure, covered in an iridescent sheen over a black base. It almost looked humanoid, just without eyes ¨C and its two arms were replaced with six or so tentacles. It raised itself out of the water as a reverse-whirlpool pushed it up.

    This must have been the Cursed Avatar of Vox, ¡°Acherona¡± is an ancient champion that Inkunzi spoke to me of. Legend claimed she had wished and sacrificed so much to attain the power to protect those she cared about during the collapse of the Kosmikos. This was also a childhood story common in Rokmuro, and I still remember Arsalan¡¯s narration of it.

    Perhaps it¡¯s time to put an end to that legend.

    We were trailed by two other ships, the PNS Incursion and the PNS Torrent. We signaled to spread out, and to fire torpedoes when I flare a signal. Arzo¡¯s scout plane flew further and further into the clouds while dropping signal flare, and lost the attention of Acherona ¨C she now focused her eyeless gaze to our three ships. The signal flares gave us a constant measurement to gauge the target¡¯s size and our distance away.

    Wiremu was down in prayer, and Kylin ran up to the front of the bridge, glued to the windows. Her breathing and smiling seemed more than unnatural. The waves crashed on us like we¡¯ve run aground. I took the flare gun and walked out of the bridge to fire it into the sky.

    All ships made sharp turns and unleashed their salvoes of torpedoes. We¡¯ve made a gyroscopic upgrade to the torpedoes to keep them guided straight, so we don¡¯t miss.

    Acherona waved her array of tentacles across the ocean surface, creating massive waves towards us. All three ships turned towards the waves to push through the impact, and turned to the other side to fire their second volley of torpedoes. All ships were then signaled to fall back.

    The avatar began chasing after us ¨C but only moments later  did we see the trails of torpedoes climb up the mountain of water that raised Acheron.

    Multiple flashes in the distance occurred, as the explosives laid waste to Acheron¡¯s waist. The boom was heard seconds after. She¡¯d burst into blue flames atop the water, and she quickly dove to put them out. It was almost like she bled napalm.

    She came back out of the water seemingly thrice as vengeful. The fire was put out, but dozens more tentacles rose out of the water. Each with a tip pointed into the sky. Lightning stormed down from above and ignited each tentacle tip with azure fire. She let out a screech and began spraying liquid fire across us. Jac and the other captains focused on steering away from flames. Wiremu prayed louder and louder, and was joined by Kylin¡¯s officers. Kylin herself, with labored breathing and red cheeks, was somehow enamored by the spectacle all around us.

    Glowing ghost ships began rising out of the waters, all of various make and model spanning thousands of years. They dashed towards us and fired countless magical arrows, while blocking most of the second torpedo volley. Most.

    Fog rose as we saw ghastly skeleton-like figures atop the various ships, many of whom still wore the uniforms they perished in. Some swung over or crawled up and climbed aboard, to which we had to fire our rifles to keep them off. Kylin and her officers used their bladed gun-staffs to cut through countless skeletons on the deck with martial prowess we¡¯ve rarely seen on Mondo.

    Amidst the ghastly blasts, a few more torps finally struck her just as we were about to fire the third volley. We saw the explosions, then heard them. Acherona began twirling violently, with a screech that had all of us stumbling to cover our ears. Some were rolling on the ground. Kylin and her men let out a cheer that could slowly be heard more and more as the colossus¡¯ wailing died down further. It was over. The ghost ships faded into the fog.

    We picked up the scout plane afterwards. Arzo had suffered some level of hearing loss due to his proximity. The ocean ran black and blue as Acherona¡¯s blood had spread, carrying along its sorrowful flames for days on end. Wiremu¡¯s joyful singing raised everyone¡¯s spirits. I was a little bit sad we couldn¡¯t properly harvest most of that special blue-burning oil, however.

    The storms and waves had subsided. The great ocean was no longer as much of a threat to sailors. Wiremu later returned to her people and rejoiced, as their own sacred ¡°Tohora¡± creatures were no longer being slaughtered by Acherona.

    She agreed to help us when it came to matters of food, and mining. I asked her about nuggets of ores on the seabed near undersea volcanoes, and yes she had some collected. Our first decent source of what I once knew as ¡°rare earth minerals¡± are now within my reach. We gave them useful tools and advanced materials in return.

    I started funding and guiding experiments into electricity, along with the development of safer advanced airships using both helium and hydrogen to project our economic power, and to better organize a volunteer army across Pulveran lands.

    Kylin, however, would spend several more cycles with me. I manipulated her into getting along with Inkunzi when she knew our language better. They got along, moderately well. For now.

    The war with Medulli seemed inevitable, and I could use as many talented individuals as possible.

 CH.15: Chariots of Fire

    <ol start="95">

    <li>Winter, by the Pulvera-Medulli border.</li>

    </ol>

    ¡°Ready to roll!¡± Rumi yelled into the intercom.

    ¡°Loader, HE.¡± Solomon reported.

    ¡°High-explosive shell, up!¡± said Orvilo, our loader.

    I scanned the perimeter, and called in. ¡°Driver, forward.¡±

    We¡¯re finally in an actual light tank, or ¡®armored tractor¡¯ if you will. Designated number 451. I¡¯ve been huddled in research labs for months. Can¡¯t believe it took this long to get hoses and hose clamps perfect. I haven¡¯t seen Rumi, Solomon, and many others since, and they don¡¯t seem to recognize me other than as Lieutenant Forlasita, the lower-ranked identity I intend to keep.

    Rougher demeanor and minimal makeup both do a decent job at differentiating it from Isolus. I¡¯ve grown my natural dark red hair a bit, but not so much that it¡¯d make my long black Isolus wig difficult to wear. It¡¯s nice to be able to free my half-elven ears.

    Developments in electrical tech helped guide the creation of lead-acid batteries, electrical telegraphs, and telephone systems. All still in their infancy, but our optical telegraph towers ¨C the semaphore lines south and west of Pulvera, have recently been updated to also use electrical telegraphs and soon we might be able to install relays so long-distance phone calls might not be too far off. Local intercoms are already here.

    ¡°Driver, halt.¡± I said in a raspy voice. Rumi slammed the brakes. I complained, ¡°Rumi? Ease up on the pedals.¡±

    ¡°Sorry, ma¡¯am!¡± she said.

    I voiced out to Solomon. ¡°Gunner, aim 145. Large creature or vehicle, possibly dozens aboard.¡±

    He shifted immediately. ¡°Traversing right. Acquired.¡±

    ¡°Aight, fire when ready,¡± I said.

    ¡°Sending!¡± Solomon replied.

    The sound of our new 60mm low-velocity cannon firing shook the vehicle, and sent chills down my spine. We made a smaller version of the Onslaught¡¯s 120mm main gun and standardized it as our new field gun, and tank gun.

    ¡°Targets neutralized,¡± said Solomon. ¡°Loader, HE.¡±

    ¡°HE, load-¡± Orvilo stammered as his hands slipped and dropped the high-explosive shell onto the floor. Tip first. We heard the loud clang of metal, and reacted. Rumi slowly turned her head around and gave us a look of concern. Solomon smacked Ouro on the back of the head and yelled. ¡°Pick it up and hurry!¡±

    I knew that shell wasn¡¯t going to explode, I helped design the fuses after all. They¡¯re only armed when the shell is fired. Orvilo, is actually Ouro¡¯s third grandson. After serving Kantax for decades, Ouro found love and settled down at a Pulveran farm.

    I looked out the periscope and called it. ¡°Targets down, confirmed. Scanning for new targets.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve been spotted! Monster at 182!¡± I declared. ¡°Driver, fall back! Gunner, smoke up!¡±

    Solomon fired off a batch of White Phosphorus smoke grenades up front, just as Rumi stroked the levers to reverse.

    ¡°Loaded! HE!¡± Orvilo yelled in success.

    It¡¯s time. ¡°Driver, halt! Firing a line to 449.¡±

    With a flip of a switch, I unmounted the gun housed in the commander¡¯s mini-turret. Then, I placed a dead-blow wired harpoon on the muzzle, and reattached it to the turret. I aimed the commander¡¯s sight towards their turret, and raised it to compensate for the range. Thunk, it went and flew across a field to hit 449¡¯s turret. The harpoon stopped and slid down the turret¡¯s side, clipping onto small railings on the hull.

    ¡°Hello, 449 do you read? It¡¯s 451.¡± I asked.

    Junior Lieutenant Shit-Cup accepted the transmission.

    ¡°449 here. We read you. Nice shooting,¡± he said.

    I sighed. ¡°Well, that¡¯s it for today. I¡¯d¡¯ve liked to say perfect, but we ran into a few problems on our end. See you guys at the outpost. Nice work. Let¡¯s do better tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°Roger that. Our driver couldn¡¯t get the engine going and we¡¯re still trying to fix it. Could you get the mechanics?¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡± I turned to Rumi. ¡°Drive back to base, and have them send engineers if we don¡¯t come back in an hour.¡±

    I leapt out of our tank, waved the 451 away, and approached the immobilized vehicle. I got on the driver¡¯s seat, and taught the crew how to clear a flooded engine as well as ways to prevent it, before I had their driver take us all back. The colder season made stuff like this happen more often. I should update the vehicle manuals with solutions to these kinds of problems.

    The other tank commander nudged me. ¡°Hey, Lieutenant. Forlasita, was it? Where¡¯d you learn to run your crew so well?¡±

    ¡°Oh uh, Isolus gave me the rundown for it.¡±

    ¡°Woah, the chief taught you herself? Damn lucky.¡±

    His gunner slapped my ass. I laughed with them, then told them I¡¯d have them flogged if I saw any more of that shit; reminding them that Isolus¡¯ stipulations tolerated zero sexual harassment at any level. Shit-cup told me to lighten up ¨C I told him I¡¯d light him up if he allowed behavior like this to persist. His ass is also on the line if his crew doesn¡¯t straighten up.

    ¡°Take it easy, now. Come meet us at Shoreside later!¡± he said. ¡°Your drinks are on us, we owe you one after all. Tobina and Anthrax would¡¯ve given us an earful, and Memoro forbid Isolus ever hears about this.¡±

    I tried not to laugh.

    ¡°I don¡¯t really.. drink. And don¡¯t sweat it, that¡¯s why we run exercises, so issues like these get corrected early on.¡±

    ¡­

    <ol start="96">

    <li>Summer. Phaedra woke up. Praise be.</li>

    </ol>

    It must¡¯ve been 12 cycles since I last heard her voice, roughly 8 years have passed. Pipra¡¯s been taking care of her every day, and has been feeding her the best liquid diet we could make.

    She was too weak to talk, and barely able to move.

    We recently moved her to a new room upstairs, by a window close to a tree. The way old Pipra held her daughter was a sight to see ¨C she must be in her mid-sixties, by Earth standards. Her shakes had gotten worse, and she couldn''t operate machinery anymore. If I¡¯m not mistaken, she has Parkinson¡¯s. My grandpa had it, back in the old world.

    I approached them as Forlasita. Pipra recognized me from her childhood, before I¡¯d left Trezoro. Now that I think about it, she¡¯s never seen me outside of my Isolus persona.  She says she¡¯s glad to know Kantax had the time to see me again, and is thanking Sonya for bringing Phaedra back.

    A few months passed, and Phaedra¡¯s health improved. She doesn¡¯t quite remember much about what happened leading up to the crash, but she seems glad.

    ¡°Hear that?¡± she said. ¡°I remember the birds.¡±

    Her gaze had been locked through the window, as she sat in her bed. ¡°Will I be able to fly again someday?¡± she asked.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    I was just about to ask her if she¡¯d be willing to fly again upon recovery. The incredible care Pipra gave her merely left her with a slight nutritional deficit and a loss of bone and muscle mass.

    ¡°Will you?¡± I asked back.

    She smiled at the window, then frowned.

    ¡°I can¡¯t see you like this, buddy. First thing tomorrow morning, you¡¯re coming with me to ride on our newest airship. You¡¯re incredibly healthy for someone who¡¯s been out cold for so long, and all your limbs work.¡±

    I unveiled my upgraded prosthetic arm, as Forlasita.

    ¡°Phaedra, it¡¯s been a while, but I promise you¡¯ll get your wings back. You¡¯ve never been one to give up.¡±

    Then, she finally broke her gaze away from the window. She turned to me as if to ask something, then smiled softly.

    ¡­

    The next day came, and we boarded Airship 17, also known as Pulvera¡¯s Pride. We took off from the biggest airship hangar near the enlarged airstrip close to the capital. She featured as many safety features as we could design. I¡¯m personally proud of the improved dual-gas lift system. It was only possible due to a secret natural gas extraction plant we recently built in ex-Brigantii land. Basically just hydrogen gas bags within the semi-rigid helium compartments in the envelope, with automatic topside vents to clear any dangerous hydrogen buildups or leaks.

    Airships actually do have an odd usefulness to them, especially with the horrible Marbordian terrain that largely prohibited rail construction. And, the bigger the airship, the more efficient it gets in terms of lift. Wish we could design helicopters instead, but we¡¯re really not quite there yet.

    Tonight I¡¯ll be having a spontaneous dinner with friends and colleagues aboard. I organized a plan, and picked everyone up between Pulvera and Louvia. We sailed through the night sky in the most luxurious sky cruise to date.

    I dressed up as Isolus, a pink gambeson flak vest over the traditional black vinylon coveralls. Damn, I don¡¯t have a fancy wardrobe. Not a single pretty dress! Unacceptable. Everyone else here, however, wore their finest garments.

    ¡°Are you in the middle of work?¡± asked Tobina, wearing a red fur-lined dress. She also ushered her father to a seat.

    ¡°Not tonight,¡± I smiled back. ¡°I¡¯d like to celebrate.¡±

    Euryas was well-dressed, formal as always. ¡°Finally,¡± he said. ¡°Guess you DO know how to take a break! That¡¯s healthy.¡±

    Pipra was pushing Phaedra¡¯s wheelchair for a better view off the sides of the gondola near Nora ¨C also wheelchair bound, but with a crude electric motor using a lead-acid battery.

    I walked around and saw Arzo haranguing Rumi. I brought along the 451, and a few armored cars for redeployment.

    ¡°See? Come on, join the air corps again!¡± he said.

    ¡°Fuck off dude, no way. I prefer driving, thanks!¡±

    Rumi quickly locked herself in the 451.

    ¡°Hah, you can¡¯t be that scared! Pussy!¡±

    I tapped his shoulder. ¡°Arzo, kindly leave the lady alone or I ¡®will¡¯ have you thrown overboard ¨C or maybe dragged across the ocean with nothing but a damaged parachute, yes?¡±

    ¡°Forgive me. Isolus, ma¡¯am.¡±

    ¡°Good. Now go double-check your plane in the hangar.¡±

    He scurried off to the improved Render we keep aboard. This airship has several mounting ports for lightweight aircraft.

    ¡°Ensign? You hungry? Would you like anything?¡±

    ¡°No, miss Isolus. I¡¯m fine, I think.¡±

    ¡°Please. I¡¯ll have someone bring it to you.¡±

    ¡°..a sandwich, tea, and some sweets would be nice.¡±

    ¡°Sure thing. Give me a bit.¡±

    I approached the buffet display and heard Nightingale and Qistina playing some gorgeous melodies in lovely dresses. The best part was that Wiremu was doing the singing on a brand new microphone-linked sound system. She may be the first siren to ever fly. Anthrax watched, nervously, as it was near impossible to get him aboard with his fear of heights. Ostracia wore Rujia¡¯s robes, and Kylin wore a tailored oriental dress. They were both busy tending to the few plants on board.

    Wiremu paused when she saw me. ¡°Ah, everyone!¡±

    All eyes were on her. ¡°Our benefactor, hasss arrived.¡±

    She waved to me as the crowd clapped.

    I took the microphone, and cleared my throat.

    ¡°Thank you all for being able to make it. Let us all be thankful to the gods and goddesses for allowing us to dine amongst the stars, and in good health.¡±

    They clapped some more.

    ¡°I¡¯d like to announce that we have several bits of good news as of late. First off, today we celebrate Pipra turning a hundred cycles young! Look at her go. We¡¯d all be naked without her.¡±

    A bit of laughter, and a hoot, mixed in with the applause. Pipra was able to smile a little.

    ¡°On another note, I¡¯d like to congratulate her daughter for such a swift recovery. Without Phaedra¡¯s effort and skill, Pulvera¡¯s air corps may still be at its infancy. In fact, this airship might not have been built!¡±

    More clapping. Arzo and a few other pilots cheered.

    ¡°Lastly, it seems that the Medulli threat has been held at bay. It is with the combined economic, political, and military might of our state that we can live in peace once again. May we live long, prosperous lives in this part of Mondo that we¡¯ve carved out for ourselves. May the souls of those who sacrificed the most for us, be granted peace. Let us hold a solemn prayer for them.¡±

    A moment of silence. Eyes all closed, full of intent.

    ¡°That is all, at ease.¡±

    I handed the microphone to Wiremu, who was grinning mischievously. ¡°May we cheer for Isolus! Empress Isolusss!¡±

    Wait, what? Empress?

    ¡°Empress Isolus! Empress Isolus!¡± they chanted.

    The whole vessel erupted in cheers, as their voices echoed over the forests and mountains below. Fuck it, I¡¯m way past the point of embarrassment now. Wiremu handed me the mic.

    The cheering died down, and I had the fresnel lanterns aimed at me. I gave Qistina and Nightingale the usual look, before I launched into my usual beatboxing routine at Shoreside. The crowd was largely confused at first, but eventually they grasped the tempo and tone I was going for. Smiles began to arise from the astounded room as I spat the dopest flames since Acherona.

    Qistina sprung forth like a lutenist from limbo and joined in with a haunting melody. Her fingers danced across the strings of her lute with a sharp blend of sorrow and triumph. Soon, Nightingale found an opening to complement us by weaving in a tapestry of sound with her harp. Her aged fingers played with the grace and precision only a long life of music could accomplish. Wiremu then joined with a siren¡¯s majestic acapella that pierced every heart that bore witness to us that evening.

    Together, our symphony of sound captivated the crowd whose faces were lit by the flickering flames and glows of lanterns. Our joy and camaraderie should¡¯ve been heard by all.

    My throat got tired, so I allowed the musicians to do their thing. I¡¯d completely forgotten about Rumi. I got a tray of everything and came back to the 451 to see her.

    And there she was, in the driver¡¯s seat, sound asleep. I hopped in from another hatch and woke her up, in the darkness of the tank¡¯s interior. Rumi doesn¡¯t snore. She laid the seat back for comfort, almost like a sleeping beauty highlighted from outside the driver¡¯s hatch. I gave her the tray ¨C a full course meal with dessert, and tea. ¡°Sorry I took so long.¡±

    ¡°Lieutenant? Ma¡¯am?¡± she asked.

    Oh shit. After the beatboxing, my voice was so rough that I sounded like Forlasita. ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s me.¡± I rolled with it.

    ¡°An egg sandwich! Thanks ¨C and you even got me some sweet pastries with tea. Now that''s a real dinner.¡±

    I engaged with a bit of small talk with her, careful to not let her turn on the interior lanterns so she couldn¡¯t tell which of me it was. She thanked me for sticking around to keep her company, before she went back to sleep. I carefully left the vehicle, and drank honeyed tea myself to soothe my throat.

    Not long after I started pacing around the airship, I saw Solomon examining a small weathered journal. He looked busy, so I didn¡¯t bother him much. He gave me a smile and waved.

    Kylin stopped me for a moment and asked to speak with me privately. By now, she¡¯d firmly grasped the language.

    ¡°Lady Isolus. I am the bearer of unfortunate news. More survivors wash up on shore, claiming Emperor Jin has died. I must go home and help, as my older siblings may already be dead. The younger are waging a war not only against the Agma, or demon-kin as you call them, but also each other.¡±

    ¡°Okay, but do you have to? I mean, I¡¯m not stopping  you. When do you leave, and on what?¡± I replied.

    ¡°Teacher, I will find a way. Some of my sailors decided life here is happy for them. It is okay. The new sailors and my remaining officers will go with me ¨C Watari also.¡±

    ¡°But please, promise me you¡¯ll be safe? And if you want to establish trade across the ocean, inform me at this address.¡±

    I handed her a note with details, and she broke eye contact to ponder. ¡°Yes. We have many resources for trade. But we cannot do much yet. Only very few traditional mages in Jade. Had to use what you call ¡®science¡¯ and ¡®technology¡¯ to survive.¡±

    ¡°How long have you guys been fighting?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Against Agma, for as long as can be remembered. But against the bearded barbarians, over three human lifetimes. My uncle taught me the ways of the fire powder. The clan of serpents'' biggest pride and help has been the powder.¡±

    Watari mentioned the House of Serpents before. Is that why her pupils are golden slits? Like a reptile¡¯s?

    She continued. ¡°I gave up my princessness to study. I wanted to protect our waters with fires. Pulvera is proof that my home, my people, can also survive. It is my duty. You understand.¡±

    I rested my hand on her shoulder. ¡°I get you.¡±

    Honestly, I was hoping she¡¯d stay. I¡¯ve never met such a quick learner before. Never gonna forget that one time she rambled on and on about Pulvera¡¯s short written history from start to present ¨C I had to correct her on just a few tidbits of it. Hell, I could¡¯ve been wrong. Or that one time I showed her how fast Strelya could disassemble and reassemble a rifle, and she asked to try. Kylin field stripped the weapon and put it back in just a few seconds longer than Strelya.

    It was almost like whenever she saw something new, she wanted to see how it worked. And when she did see, she¡¯d commit them to memory and bring it up on related conversations or on technically similar matters.

    ¡°Aight, look. When we get back to Pulvera, we¡¯ll take an unused Stirling engine and haul it to Louvia to retrofit onto one of the old fishing boats there. I¡¯ll pay for it, and the supplies your crew would need to get home safe.¡±

    Kylin locked her gaze to mine. ¡°So any fuel will do?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, else you¡¯d have to somehow conjure biodiesel when you¡¯d run out. Coal, charcoal, or firewood will suffice. Wait a second, you figured it out that fast?¡±

    She gave me a wide grin and embraced me. She¡¯s stronger, and much more well-endowed than I thought. Never really noticed until this evening when she stopped wearing her armor for once. Kylin bowed to me afterwards.

    ¡°Teacher, I will not forget your kindness.¡±

    Hell, does she forget anything?

 CH.16: Woman In Chains

    <ol start="100">

    <li>Prison cell; northeast of Medulli¡¯s steppes.</li>

    </ol>

    Oddly enough, we¡¯re not at war with them. In fact, we¡¯re helping them. Demon-kin, or the Plaguehearts, or Agma ¨C what Kylin and her people called the blighted ones, instigated an invasion.

    They pushed in from the plaguelands east, steamrolling over much of Medulli territory. Their westwards push had eventually reached Pulveran protectorates. We got dragged into a war we weren¡¯t quite designed to handle. But, you go to war with the army you have, not the one you wish you had ¨C or one you¡¯d like to wait for.

    I got careless.

    Now I¡¯m spending my hundredth birthday, imprisoned in a freezing cell with scraps to eat and barely any clean water to drink. I¡¯ve been roughed up, but they haven¡¯t noticed my prosthetic arm.

    My personal detachment was on a streak of risky ¡®thunder runs¡¯ to break through enemy lines after we regained our territories. We pushed the undefended north and cut off a lot of blighted contingents. Eventually, the gamble caught back to me and we overextended ourselves. We pushed too far and too quick, our own supply lines were busy being bogged down in mud and snow.

    Some of our caravans aren¡¯t motorized yet, due to fuel shortages. Most giant beetles struggled in colder areas, let alone winter season. We¡¯ve been forced to use the few horses we had.

    Solomon¡¯s spearhead force got blunted, we found ourselves running too low on ammunition and fuel. I, as Forlasita, overrode his orders. From being my gunner he later commanded his own tank and rapidly rose in rank after this conflict began, for exemplary initiative and situational awareness.

    He wanted to hold and consolidate the ground we¡¯d taken, but I felt we were capable of pushing further out. We accomplished a lot of additional objectives and saved countless settlements along the way. Still, albeit a success, I got caught on the retreat.

    We dealt with a detachment of ogre knights and hordes of rabid demon-kin. They were similar, but varied to some demi-humans I knew like Kat and Wiremu. Beast people, in a way. But they were crazed, in a trance that made them risk their lives by the thousands. We won, with heavy casualties. Partly due to Medulli mercenaries working under the enemy.

    Upon our retreat, we were caught by several dragon-riders; a threat only rumored to exist. Their green mounts were smaller and weaker than the wild red or black dragons ¨C though some mid-sized gold ones were rumored among the elite riders. With 15mm heavy machinegun fire, I killed two of their dragons myself before, but their aura of fear broke the others in our column.

    We were down to a fifth of our working vehicles, the 451 included. After siphoning and salvaging what fuel and supplies we could, we destroyed the rest of the vehicles. The longer the enemy doesn¡¯t know our weaknesses, the better.

    I had Rumi lead the retreating convoy, with as many of the injured we could haul aboard the vehicles. My frustrations drew me to stay behind with the rear guard and plan a stand.

    ¡°You better make it back in one piece,¡± Rumi begged me.

    Dozens of determined fighters had chosen to stay with me, most of whom were already wounded to a degree, but still had some fight left in them. A few dragon-riders came to raze Azari Village, a natural chokepoint, to let their other forces give chase.

    Of course, I had the villagers leave to join the retreating survivors. They would¡¯ve been massacred if they stayed ¨C yet some did. Those who remained to help fight, got massacred.

    ¡°We¡¯re not home without a fight!¡± a young man said.

    We used everything we had to hold them off, and we turned that village into a deathtrap for the hordes behind us. Using 15mm AT rifles we shot down some dragon-riders. We mined the path with IEDs too; some of which either me or the other snipers could remotely detonate by shooting. My planned recklessness had cost the enemy countless fighting forces there, in the battle of Azari village. They weren¡¯t expecting fierce resistance, and definitely not close air support from biplane bombing and strafing runs.

    They came in waves.

    Each wave was stronger than the last, and featured different units almost as if a hivemined was probing us after the dragon-riders were shot down. They tested our fire with hundreds of poorly-armed yet  ravenous demon-kin. Then more and more Medulli mercenaries arrived. Some had mages with them, and snuck into the village to use the buildings against us. I had to breach and clear a few mercenary parties with my bullpup automatic rifle and my prosthetic arm¡¯s flamethrower after they got a foothold.

    One of the booby-trapped village houses blew up from a mage¡¯s fireball and killed a few more of my men. It knocked me into the dirt outside where I saw an AT rifle jammed vertically into a mudpit. Larger creatures were approaching, so I had to take it.

    I got up and expended a lot of strength to pull the 20-kilo rifle out of the mud. Its barrel was gunked up, so I grabbed a 15mm round, wedged the head between my sleeves and torqued the bullet from the casing. After pouring a bit of its powder out, I crimped the case with my teeth and jammed the blank into the chamber and fired to clear the barrel safely. I¡¯ve blown up enough guns during reliability tests to know what I was doing.

    ¡°Come and get it you, fucking orcs!¡± I screamed, after loading a full magazine and cycling a new round into the massive gun. I hadn¡¯t called anyone an orc since I last fought back on Earth.

    Then came the ogres, and bigger armored ogres. Their armor could withstand our standard copper-jacketed 10mm bullets, but not the massive 15mm lead projectiles. For perspective, these should be a bit stronger than Earth¡¯s 50 BMG. They sent archer beetle-riders against us, on bugs specifically bred for the cold.

    Thump, went my  bullpup¡¯s underbarrel grenade launcher as I splattered dozens of the raiders with each nade. Ka-chink, went the AT rifle as I cycled it after gunning down both flying and walking beasts dozens of sizes larger.

    My bullpup rifle was relegated to gunning down the beetle riders and for detonating the hidden IEDs. The shrapnel-filled bombs almost seemed like we had artillery support, but Captain Vemvane¡¯s airship sat past us and could only resupply the biplanes preoccupied with fighting off the dragon-riders. Knowing her, she isn¡¯t going to push any closer to use the airship¡¯s own ordinance.

    We relocated to the opposite end of the village to enact phase two of the plan ¨C but some werewolves snuck around and nabbed us. They beat the ever living shit out of me, and I had to watch the rest of the village go up in flames as my traps pre-detonated before the surviving defenders could fall back. Fuck.

    ¡­

    They made us captives march, blindfolded, for days on end to this old winter-forest castle. I¡¯m probably going to die here, because it¡¯s apparently a cultist base too. I roughed up the fabric of my blindfold in order to see a fair bit of the path up to here, along with the layout of the building. I saw the kitchen, the library, and the great hall before I was dragged downstairs to my cell.

    All the bruises still ache, and they took my boots.

    I¡¯ve been here for a few days now, and a higher-ranked cultist came down to see me. He wore a wolf hood for his headdress, and the same cultist robes I¡¯d seen several times before.

    ¡°You. Woman. The master has finally returned, and it will soon be your turn to meet him. Do not disappoint, and you may live.¡±

    I feigned pitiful compliance.

    It doesn¡¯t help that I¡¯m on my period again, and the cold weather mixed with fatigue from a forced march makes it so much worse. The flows are heavier, and the cramps are debilitating. Not to mention the anal zaps ¨C these rectal cramps drive me mad every month, but the conditions this time are so much worse. I¡¯d be rolling in pain if I wasn¡¯t sore enough to prefer staying still.

    Nonetheless, I deserve this suffering.

    If it weren¡¯t for me, all those innocent Ischyrosians would probably still be alive. Not the ones from the Grand Flotilla, but the ones in the cities Kylin firebombed. And I don¡¯t mean firebomb like how my troops throw molotovs ¨C she devised a method of using bats to deliver timed incendiary bomblets into the wooden houses of Ischyrosian intermediary citizens.

    The lousy guards didn¡¯t check me thoroughly, failing to detect my prosthetic arm obfuscated by gloves and long coverall sleeves. Might as well go over some of Kylin¡¯s letters again, ones I kept in my arm-compartment. She sent them throughout the past cycle.

    ¡°Dear Isolus, it has been a long time. Watari has taught me how to better communicate in your language. But he has since moved on to eternal peace. The rest of us continue the fighting. I have done my bestest job to replicate your technology, and it has proven effective against Agma. Our guns have improved, and your ¡®stirling¡¯ engines and printing press have helped us consolidate power! We have even expanded our borders by reclaiming some territories. Your gas masks work well against both steel and sulfur making, and Agma miasma. Please, try this jar of pickled fruits from the liberated. ¡±

    Replicate? No wonder these guys stood a chance against us. Kylin must¡¯ve been feeding them a bit of our capabilities and built up their resistance by doctrinal shifts, somehow.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Hello again, Isolus! We are the defenders of peace, and have now fought back against the foreign devils. Including the ocean barbarians. We have made airships of our own, are developing a new weapon to strike at enemies of the state. It is because of them that we endured so much losses on two fronts. They will pay for our suffering. Within this parcel is a copy of the sketches for our upcoming Fire Bat Bomb, and a package of dried tea. Enjoy.¡±

    It was incredible how fast they were able to set up their own airship industry. The sketches she sent of not only the innovations she copied but also the new weapons she came up with, were frightening. I thought the bat bomb was a joke at first, since she mentioned how bats were ¡®mostly¡¯ just good for soup and guano.

    ¡°Isolus, we have beaten back the invaders and the barbarians. Now we must fight a domestic battle as other clans have sought to fight against each other for territory. Tonight my forces will fight from high places, and maybe we will lose ground. Isolus, do not forget me. You are my friend, teacher, yet sister. Attached is more dried tea from my favorite tree, and incense for you to help me pray for the safety of my allies and the souls of my dying enemies.

    The new Fire Bat Bombs successfully burned down two ocean barbarian cities. I myself saw it happen, as a big fire-tornado. Inferno. They pull back their ships. They cannot destroy us any more.¡±

    She fucking used it on a civilian population. The letter arrived two weeks ago. When the news reached old man Inkunzi last week, he just locked himself into his home with nothing but barrels of liquor and dried meat with cheese. Kylin wouldn¡¯t have been able to do this if I hadn¡¯t allowed her to loosely investigate Pulvera ¨C and Pulvera wouldn¡¯t exist if it weren¡¯t for Inkunzi. He shouldn¡¯t blame himself, he¡¯s saved so many lives; mine and countless others.  Hell, maybe I shouldn¡¯t have been blaming myself either. This was all on Kylin.

    Several guards approached, with two in wolf hoods.

    ¡°Take her to the master¡¯s quarters.¡± said the smug one, who kicked my ribs in after he stole my survival knife when I got here.

    Looks like I¡¯m done for. The other prisoners never made it back to their cells. The pained screaming I¡¯d heard over the past few days wasn''t reassuring either.

    They tied me behind my back, and carried me past the other empty cells; up the various stone staircases and through several halls. Construction of this magnitude must¡¯ve taken over a decade considering it¡¯s in the middle of freezing nowhere.

    Two grand doors opened, and at the end of the vast yet dim room was a shadowed figure seated on a throne. A dizzying array of delicious food rested on a long rounded table. A winged woman with horns and a thin tail groveled by the throne. The guards threw me into the room and shut the doors. The horned lady with a peculiarly reddish complexion got up to utter some kind of magic ¨C lifting me from the doorway, towards the throne where I was dropped.

    ¡°Hm?¡± the man said. ¡°You seem vaguely familiar.¡±

    The lady twirled around me, pinching my cheeks and viciously licking them. ¡°Yes! I recognize her unpleasant scent ¨C but I am sure I have never tasted her. How shall we torture this one, master?¡±

    ¡°Perhaps I will have you enslave her, Zillah. Memoro doesn¡¯t need such a rough-looking sacrifice. But first, the ritual. I¡¯m a little curious to see what her feeble mind holds dear. Her silence and lack of resistance varies from the reports, and I wish to find out why.¡±

    The man stood over me, pale skin and white hair with strong red eyes. Ostracia¡¯s kind. I swear I¡¯ve seen them both before too, but I guess that matters little, now.

    Blue waves of energy swept the room as his eyes glowed under quiet incantations. My massive migraines returned. The throbbing was unbearable ¨C I looked up to see his face turn from a kind of smugness into confusion and later anger. This went on for minutes as I could barely breathe under the pain. Zillah, the horned one, groped  me all over as my mind felt like it was being fogged up and fried.

    And then it stopped.

    ¡°Fuck!¡± I screamed, regaining my breath.

    The man grabbed my head and examined my face.

    ¡°Well, now. If it isn¡¯t Kantax¡¯s spawn. Zillah, leave. Go to the eastern tower and grab me the Undying Artifact. Return by tonight.¡±

    Zillah interrupted. ¡°But-¡±

    ¡°Shut your whore mouth, and go. With haste.¡±

    She frowned, and bowed. ¡°With pleasure, master.¡±

    The bastard threw me backwards, down two steps on the carpeted surface. The horned lady wore a black cloak and left the room. He kicked my jaw while I was down, and I could taste blood.

    ¡°You are to tell me why I can¡¯t gleam all the way to your earliest memories. It is as if you have more, locked away prior to your childhood. And I saw everything since ¨C it is truly an honor to meet you, ¡°Empress Isolus,¡± and a pleasure to meet you again, Forlasita Lunarka. Why, it seems that Arsalan targeted you before we did, and rightfully so. Just to be clear, it¡¯s your ¡®revolver¡¯ that started all this. I have seen its remains. Skippio tried to have more built.¡±

    I spat blood aside. ¡°Heh, well you remember that Ostracia kid from the southern tower? Oh yes, that one. Is she dear to you?¡±

    ¡°Estresya? You..¡±

    ¡°Aight, you saw her in my memories, didn¡¯t you? You saw how happy she was in my care. I bet you don¡¯t even know her at all. Her favorite food, or her favorite color.¡±

    He pulled me up with both hands by the collar.

    I smiled as I looked him dead in the eyes. ¡°Honeyed sponge cakes, and orange ochre. Best part about this is she doesn¡¯t seem to remember you fondly; hell, she doesn¡¯t seem to recall you at all.¡±

    ¡°Fool!¡± he yelled, before he forced me to my knees. ¡°You are nothing more than a contemptuous little harlot. I was thinking of having my loyal succubus break your mind to turn you into a mere slave, but I have better plans for you now.¡±

    He grabbed my head, as more blue streams of magic arose. My last thoughts were of Nora, Qistina, Anthrax and the others ¨C I¡¯m sorry but I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll be back. Kantax and Inkunzi¡¯ll both outlive me. The pale man held my head still and kept muttering incantations in the dead Elven language Arsalan occasionally spoke in.

    100 cycles, roughly 66 years alive, only to die like this.

    I braced myself. Seconds. Minutes. Time passed.

    ¡°..this is taking a while,¡± I said.

    He paused his recital and exclaimed ¡°Silence! This is one of the grandest spells known to the mindmelders of old.¡± He continued his incantation for the next minute or so, firmly gripping me.

    We were alone, and he seemed busy so I tried to use the razor I kept in my prosthesis¡¯ compartment. I freed the razor and started cutting the binds. I hurried but then ¨C I blacked out.

    ¡­

    I woke up again, chained to a wall. It was different here, with no light around, other than wall torches of blue flame. My body felt strong, and free from injuries. The most painful things left were the cuffs my wrists hung by.

    Wait, I could feel my wrists? My left hand was there, too!

    But visibility was poor and my weak darkvision wasn¡¯t working; the wall sconces lit what little I could see, giving it all a slightly blue tinge. A silhouette in front began closing in.

    ¡°I knew it,¡± he said. ¡°You are not of this world.¡±

    ¡°Excuse me?¡±

    He turned a mirror from above a desk, and showed me my reflection. Blonde hair, blue eyes. Modern ballistic combat helmet with goggles and digital camouflage that matched my uniform and armored vest. It¡¯s me ¨C the old me, before I died.

    ¡°It is clear you migrated from a world with secrets I may perhaps find useful.¡± He grabbed various items from my vest. A marker, a tourniquet, two grenades, and a flashlight. ¡°Your mind holds many secrets, and I will have them soon. All you have to do is give in and allow your mind to melt away. Once your essence is dissolved, I will have complete access to your memories, and you will be free from this bondage; this pocket of memories we are in.¡±

    It didn¡¯t take more than a moment for me to realize how bad it would be for this man to have access to those. Maybe it¡¯d be fun to toy with him a little. Let¡¯s see how this goes.

    I softened my voice. He¡¯s not getting his way.

    ¡°Oh great one, who are you, and what are your goals? Only the most noble are worthy of our secrets. First, you must hold that tubular device and put the crystal close to both your eyes so it may scan your face, and your soul. Be sure to press the big button when it¡¯s set, and be sure to hold still as it scans you.¡±

    ¡°Hah!¡± he roared. ¡°I am Eschaton, champion of Memoro. I studied your memories and saw how you watched me duel your mother, congratulations for escaping that basement. Seylas was quite the useful pawn, shame you didn¡¯t kill him like you killed Gaston.¡±

    I hid the rage beneath my facade of pity. I¡¯m going to make this fucker pay for what he¡¯s done.

    Eschaton pulled the flashlight up to his eyes. ¡°Once I build an army of undead to farm enough to build and support an army of beasts and mages to take back Mondo from the-¡± he pressed the switch and flashed his eyes with over a thousand lumens. He held it in place for a few seconds, in fact.

    ¡°My eyes!¡± he screeched, dropping the electric torch.

    That felt so good to watch. I tried not to laugh. ¡°Wonderful, milord! You are worthy. Hence the holy light was so powerful.¡± I had to tell him quickly, as he was about to bash the mirror into me.

    ¡°The light has seared into my eyes and I cannot see!¡±

    ¡°Champion, there is one more step and all of our collective knowledge will be available to you, much more than I would know. I simply wish for the betterment of Mondo, like you.¡±

    ¡°Truly? Of course you would note my honor. What is this step? It better not be-¡±

    ¡°Please, lord Eschaton. The ritual takes only a moment. Only the most brilliant of my people carried these holy artifacts around. Take the two metal eggs ¨C yes, those green ones. You need a wider space for this so stand over there.¡±

    ¡°And then? Hurry. I grow impatient.¡±

    ¡°Of course. These are known as eggs of truth. Hold them tightly, as the access to information is soon released when you let go of the two large levers. To unlock the levers, squeeze them now and pull the rings out with the opposite hand. It is a little rough so be careful to not botch the ritual by letting go of the levers together.¡±

    ¡°Next?!¡± he said, with so much excitement.

    ¡°My lord, you must meditate facing away from me, for I am not as worthy as you. Squat on the floor, hold both artifacts between your belly and your legs. When you are ready to take in the grand knowledge, let go of the levers and s-¡±

    A massive blast occurred in front of me.

    Blood and guts splattered over me. I¡¯d seen countless bodies blown to bits like this in my past life. His torso barely clung onto his head, and barely  much more.

    Never thought seeing someone get blown up would be among the funniest things I¡¯d ever seen ¨C but my laughter was cut short.

    His limbs began tumbling towards a central pile of gore.

    Slowly, the man took form once again. Lean, pale, and ripped. He rose cleanly and unclothed from the puddle of blood. With a gasp of breath, he then faced me.

    ¡°You.. I hope you enjoyed that last bit of fun.¡±

    He closed his eyes, and raised a fog around him in the darkness of the brick-clad hall. His clothes reappeared.

    ¡°Now it is my turn to enjoy myself.¡±

    Eschaton pulled out a ceremonial dagger, and ran it slowly around my neck. I tried my best to lean away, but then he got closer ¨C seemingly savoring my avoidance. The creepy bastard kept toying with me, even so as to caress my cheek.

    ¡°We will be here for a very long time, you know. I saw a glimpse of your past, pathetic life. Perhaps the last few hours of it. I should remind you of the suffering you may have forgotten.¡±

    Nothing caused as much suffering as losing my family, so he probably doesn¡¯t-

    A sharp pain lanced through my thigh.

    Shit, no. I haven''t forgotten this one.