Remian turned to the dark figure laying down on the ‘empty’ bed next to him as Kairos went off to find him some food. “What are you doing here?”
“Taking a break.” Death answered. “I’ve was rather busy last night.”
Remian’s face fell. “How many? How many died because of me?”
Death paused, counting. “Three.”
“Three? Who were they?” Remian regretted losing control to such an extent.
“Irontusk, Third Boar Alpha of the Iron Bristle Boar tribe. He was fighting Markus and Max when you burned a foot-wide hole in him with your light bolt.” Death began. “Ssi-ruuvi, two-headed Acid/Venom Serpent of Forktwig Marsh. They were trying to provide Irontusk some support. A bit more and they could have killed Markus.”
“Wait. They were Wilds? Are you saying my Light spell killed Wilds?!” Remian stared. “Not humans?”
“No humans were harmed by your magic.” Death said. “Although a lot of them couldn’t see for a few minutes. Some of them were injured while trampling around blindly, but for the most part, your Light Spell saved them by scaring away all the Wilds.”
“Scaring away… I did that?” Remian gulped. “What happened to my Light Spell?”
“I think you overdid it.” Death surmised. “By several magnitudes of power. As if I didn’t have enough work already.”
Kairos came back with hot soup. Remian filled his stomach while Kairos reminisced. “You know, power like that doesn’t come by often. The only ones I know who can do something like what you did are those guys who have seen God and lived.”
Remian supped quietly. He did sort of fit the description himself. If the Church of Celestial Light knew about it, how many priests would attempt to see God that way? Probably not many. Everybody wants to go to heaven, but nobody wants to die. “Can you teach me more? Other than that Light spell?”
“Not really. Light and healing is all Priests are really good for, and Rhema can teach you healing spells better than I can. My forte lies in studying the sacred texts. I’m more a historian than a warrior priest.”
“What’s a warrior priest?”
“Oh, some of our Order support the Iron Legion and take up arms at their side. There is a famous group of warrior priests called ‘Paladins’. Some call them holy knights or some such. But me, if I joined the Legion, I’d be more of a chaplain instead of a Paladin, staying back at camp rather than fighting in front.”
“I see.” Remian ate in silence for a minute, taking it all in. “This power I have… is it just for Light magic?”
“I have no idea.” Kairos admitted. “You’ll have to try and see for yourself.”
“And how would I do that?”
“You’ll have to learn other types and test it out.”
“Where would I learn other types?”
“Around here?” Kairos paused. “I don’t think anyone here teaches magic. Other than myself, Rhema and the airship crews, I don’t think anyone even knows magic.”
Death snorted. “Try telling that to that Kage guy from last night.”
“Who’s Kage?” Remian asked Kairos.
“Kage? The Shadow Slayer of the Circling Raven Gang?” Kairos turned and pointed. “He’s THAT guy.”
Across the hall was a figure completely covered in black, showing only an eye-slit. He was sitting in a chair talking to one of the patients in bed.
“Based on what I saw last night, that guy uses Shadow magic.” Death mentioned. “Could be a good compliment to Light.”
“If I learned Shadow magic from Kage… won’t it mess with my Light magic?”
“No.” Kairos said.
At the same time, unseen and unheard by anyone else, Death said, “Actually, they would complete each other, but don’t let anyone know I told you so.”
Remian didn’t wait. He walked right over. “Kage?”
Kage turned to him and observed him. He recognized Remian. “The light-caster?”
Remian nodded. “Yes. Could you teach me Shadow magic?”
Kage frowned. “The darkness is not revealed. It is only experienced.”
With that, Kage disappeared. Literally just faded into a shadow that vanished in the morning light.
“Don’t take it personally.” The girl he was visiting advised Remian. She was young, in her early teens, with messy red-hair. “He’s always like that.”
“Ah.” Remian held out his hand in greeting. “I’m Remian, agent of the Iron Legion.”
“Mindy, barmaid at the Raven Tavern.” She shook his hand. “You’re welcome to come by for drinks sometime. Bring your Legion friends and spend some coin at our place!”
“I don’t have coin to spend.” Remian shook his head. “But I can get you some meat, if you don’t mind buying from a trapper.”
“We can do that. We can even buy some old items off your hands.” Mindy offered. “There’s plenty of stuff left behind by dead people in the wilderness. We’re not picky and we offer good coin. Of course, we also expect you to spend some of that coin buying our drinks.”
Remian stared. “That was the smoothest recruitment offer I’ve ever heard from any of the gangs.”
Mindy grimaced. “It was that obvious?”
“No, and that’s why it was so smooth. I almost joined your gang by accident.” Remian marveled.
“Why don’t you?” she asked.
“Because I want you to join MY gang!” Remian said.
“You have a gang?”
“No. But we can start one.”
Mindy burst out laughing, then held her side. “Ouch, too soon… my wounds are going to reopen at this rate. Ow…”
“Uh… I guess I better not bother you any more…?” Remian scratched his head. “I can still come by to sell meat, right?”
“Tomorrow.” Mindy leaned back, breathing heavily. “Just give me the day to recover.”
“Didn’t the nun use healing magic on you?” he asked.
“She did, but there were so many injuries, and only one of her, so…”
Remian got the idea at once. “Hold on. I’ll go find the nun and then I’ll be right back.”
Very predictably, Rhema did not entertain his requests to help Mindy out. She was, however, willing to teach him a basic healing spell, as long as he used it to treat the injured for the rest of the week.
“Fine! I’ll work for it!” Remian rolled his eyes, and set down to learn.
Two hours later, he was back in bed, collapsed from over-exhaustion. Even after two hours, he still hadn’t quite gotten the hang of any of three basic healing spells.
Death laughed at him. “It’s not so easy to steal people from my hands, you know. You basically have to fight me for them.”
“Couldn’t you… go easy… on me?” Remian heaved for breath.
“Not really, no. I have standards to keep.”
“Not even for my own case?” Remian groaned.
“ESPECIALLY for your case. Why do you think I’m always hanging around you?”
Remian sighed. “So much for using healing magic on myself.”
“Healing magic of this level? That nun couldn’t save a drowning bunny if her life depended on it.” Death snorted. “The most she can do is make people feel better, ease exhaustion, recover faster, maybe ease a headache or two. Everyone who came in here with a critical injury is dead already. Why do you think I’m hanging around here?”
“I thought you needed a break!”
“And why was that break necessary, do you think?” Death shook his head. “That nun needs to go back to school and apologize to her teachers profusely. Yours was the only life she saved all night, and only because it was exhaustion that nearly killed you.”
“For her saving my life, I am immensely grateful.” Remian looked at him sideways. “I don’t suppose you have anything to do with that?”
“Me? Why would I go easy on her just to let you off?” Death snorted. He did not meet Remian’s gaze. “Besides, what have you done for me?”
“For you? I thought I was easing your workload?” Remian mentioned. “Unless you want more work?”
There was a short pause.
“Is that it?” Remian’s eyes widened. “All this time you were complaining about having work to do, but what you really want is more work?”
“It’s… complicated.”
“What’s complicated about it? Does more work mean more pay? That’s why you want more work even though you keep complaining about it?”
“Something like that.”
Remian shook his head. “So what do you want me to do, run around killing everything I see?”
Death chuckled. “As if you could! With your capabilities, it would be you I’d be working on before anyone else. It’s not like you’re an expert in death magic.”
At that, Remian froze. He slowly turned to look at Death, not daring to voice the idea that just popped into his head.
Death saw the look on his face and froze. “No way. Nuh-uh. Not going to do it.”
“But it’s what you want, right? More work, more pay.” Remian pointed out.
“Teaching you death magic is going to be a hassle in itself, more work than simply reaping lives! What ‘pay’ would I get from such an effort?”
“You get more work in the end?”
“No way! Forget it! I’m not going to teach you how to order me around!”
Remian hesitated. “It’s too late. I think I already know how.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yes, really.” Remian said. “It’s because of what you told me earlier.”
“Which is?”
“Healing magic means fighting with you for lives. So the opposite of that…”
There was a sudden, chilling silence.
“Well, too bad. You still can’t use healing magic to save your life.” Death mentioned.
“Not yet, no. And besides, who’s to say?” Remian shook his head. “I might very do much better with the opposite of healing magic.”
“It is ridiculous!” Markus roared at someone in the Iron Legion command tent the next day. “The town wall is in no shape to defend the town! How many lives could have been saved if we could have relied on it? How many more lives will be sacrificed before somebody does something about that useless wall?” “The town wall is not our responsibility.” Someone replied defensively. “Neither is the protection of the town! We were good enough to offer manpower to help out last night and what happened? Half our crew were killed, the other half were all injured! Yet you want us to pay for a new wall, now?” “Or at least spare the manpower to help us build it ourselves!” “We can’t spare any more manpower!” “You mean, you’re too afraid of the other gangs to spare anyone!” “Exactly! The moment we let down our guard, the moment our defenses weaken, we are done for!” Remian scratched his head as he approached Max. “That sounds like a big argument.”
There were five gangs in Frontier Town; Burning Steel, Cruel Rose, Blood Claw, Circling Raven and Secret Waves. Cruel Rose and Circling Raven were based in the north, Secret Waves to the East, with Burning Steel and Blood Claw to the west. It was generally agreed that of the five, Burning Steel was the strongest, simply because they had four Slayers. Cruel Rose and Blood Claw had three each; Circling Raven and Secret Waves only had two. In the minds of many, this meant that Circling Raven and Secret Waves were the weakest gangs, even though Circling Raven supposedly had the largest numbers. As for Secret Waves… they had the least numbers, and the least Slayers. Remian was curious as to how they survived the hostility of the other gangs for so long. That was why, when he set out to meet the bosses, he started on the East side. The East Side of Frontier Town was a jagged row of houses and shoplots on a sheer cliff extending over a river. It could be pretty, if
“Remian! Are you all right?” Max found him panting on the road in the middle of the north side, wheezing for breath with his face completely red. “Just… tired…” Remian managed. “And stupid.” “What do you mean, ‘stupid’?” Max was baffled. “I went and… implicated a Wild… without asking it.” Remian huffed. “She was just… too pretty.” “Huh. Well, you won’t be the first guy around town who had is brains scrambled by a girl. Just tell me that she wasn’t Cruel Rose.” “What?” Remian blinked. “That girl. Her name wasn’t Rose, was it?” “No, it was Mandy.” “Good.” Max sighed with relief. “If it was Rose, we’d all be done for, one way or the other. “Who’s Rose and why is she so dangerous?” Remian asked. “Rose is the boss of the Cruel Rose gang. They deal with… people.” Max said vaguely. “Doesn’t everyone?” Remian frowned. “That’s what trade is, right?” “Not if the goods are the people themsel
Mindy screamed with excitement the moment she met Vigil. “SO CUTE!!” Vigil perked up, beamed at Mindy with bright eyes, and wagged his tail a bit. Mindy pounced. She grabbed him up and squeezed him, squealing. “So cute, so cute, so cute!!” Ten feet away, Markus gave Remian a flat look. “Sorry about the noise.” Remian ducked his head apologetically. Markus shook his head and went on writing his reports. “Can I feed him? Can I, can I, can I?” Mindy gushed. “Uh…” Remian looked about. “I thought we were going hunting. If we catch something…” “Let’s go! I know where to find lots of Blood Rabbits.” Mindy exclaimed. “They’re just Tier 1 Wilds. Even the easiest traps can get them! But you can’t just leave your traps there and go away, you have to watch the traps. Otherwise, their friends will find them and destroy your traps!” “That explains a lot.” Remian said. “Half my traps are broken and I never found out why.”
Two weeks later, Remian led a five-man team to hunt a Finned Frost Frog. “Vigil?” Remian whispered. “Yip.” Vigil nodded softly. His voice was reassuring. They spread out, Mindy and her two friends to the left, Remian and Vigil going straight, with Max creeping around to the right. Up ahead warming itself on a riverside rock in the afternoon sun was a five foot frog. This was a Tier 3 Wild, and the strongest Wild Remian had ever deliberately hunted yet. “Yip!” Vigil signaled with a fierce bark. Hearing a wolfcat’s bark, the frog didn’t even stir, but Mindy and her two friends took action at once. They each raised a magic scroll, pressed a palm against the Sigil in it, and cried out, “Light!” Three brilliant orbs flashed out simultaneously, white light flooding the vicinity. The frog, blinded by the light, spun towards the noise… Max lunged, slamming a heavy spear into its back. It roared, convulsing, jets
“What are you doing here?!” Mindy barked at the door of the Raven Tavern. Remian arrived in time to see her block the door with Kage at her side, the shadow-magic user standing there silently with his arms folded. Mindy looked frightened, but she still barked at Rose like a cornered puppy. “Relax. I’m just here to pick up someone.” Cruel Rose was perhaps named for her shape rather than her face. The general form of the woman in front of the tavern was indeed ‘blooming’. Her height and her width had a lot more in common than most humans could dream of. Her hair was piled high in a bun above her head, which was very, very heavily covered in make-up. Next to her was a man who deliberately looked like a skeleton. He wore a black suit painted to look like the form of human bones, and had likely borrowed some of Fa- AHEM! ‘Cruel’ Rose’s make-up to paint his face like a skull. Ye’Tuo ‘the Undead’. Ye’Tuo the Slayer. Rose had come with one of her strongest.
“You’re fired.” Markus told Remian straight out. “But it’s not my fault!” Remian protested. “I can’t get rid of the slave-bonding even if I tried!” “It doesn’t matter whose fault it is!” Markus said. “The Iron Legion does not keep slaves! That is an ironclad rule!” “Then… what can I do?” Remian spluttered. “Pack up your bags, strike your tent, and leave camp. You need to be gone by nightfall!” “But… but what about the board-and-barbecue?” Remian asked. “It’s over.” Markus said sharply. “Take it with you if you like, but from now on it will have no connection to the Iron Legion.” That was as good as rendering it worthless. Without that strict neutrality and the protection of the Legion behind it, there could be no assurances, no reliability... “This is the reward I get for trying to help someone out of kindness?” Remian grouched as he started to pack. “I lost everything. My job, my shelter, my security, my board, all the
Aunt Sara burst out laughing. “Queen of what, exactly? This boy is crazy.” “Aunt Sara!” Mandy protested. “Oh, fine, fine. If the most powerful mage in town wants to teach you magic, I won’t get in your way.” Aunt Sara waved it away with a sniff. “Even if he is something of a dreamer. Queen, now? Wouldn’t that make him a king? A king dowager?” “I think it’s the other way around.” Mandy whispered. “And how do you intend to reign over this place unless you can make the warlords kneel?” Aunt Sara snorted. “You don’t have that kind of power.” “The… warlords…?” Remian frowned. “The gang bosses.” Mandy translated for him. Right. “I will just have to become that powerful.” Aunt Sara barked a laugh. “Good luck with that. Jon, get these kids some breakfast. Good day, Mandy, Remian.” With that as farewell, Aunt Sara left with her escorts. Jon the innkeeper went about to get some food for his guests. Mandy glanced a
Somewhere along the line, he’d lost consciousness. George only realized it when he woke up to a splitting headache. “Ow.” He groaned. “What... where...?” “We’re on the way back to Sorrel.” Grace told him, appearing by his bedside. And it was a bedside, he realized. He seemed to be in the Kara’s Medical Bay. “I’m sorry. We had to retreat.” “Our... people?” George managed. “The HAC Troopers made it back. The Mechs... did not.” Grace paused. “We have the refugees though. And the Robotic Assembly Plant for Mining Drones. That’s all they managed to grab.” George slurred. “Mech pilots?” “Alive, if battered.” “Good. Alive is good.” George sighed. “This... didn’t go so well.” “Hey, at least we got the guys we were trying to save, and some machinery on top of that. You might say it was a success. A costly one, but a success.” “Casualties?” George asked. “Plenty of injuries to go around, but no deaths. So far.” Grace paused. “Some of the really badly injured might change that before lo
“Were these really the best you could do?” George asked, eyeing the six hulking figures in front of him hesitantly. “Mmm.” Juni grunted. In front of them were six brand new Mechs. 2nd Generation products, they were armored weapons platforms on legs, with jumpjets for the signature ‘jumps’ that earned their generation the nickname, ‘Jumpers’. Or were they? George wasn’t entirely sure. When he looked at them, they really looked more like 1st Generation Walker-types. Those Jump Jets seemed to be an afterthought, an added equipment haphazardly strapped to their backs. “Would they really work right?” Juni shrugged. Given the time and materials he had to work with, George supposed he couldn’t expect better. He had only just received 2nd Gen tech. Until now, he’d been working with 1st Gen expectations and schematics. One of these Mechs seemed a bit worn, evidence that it had been built quite some time ago, and only recently been modified for George’s requests. “Fusion Cell for power, Pu
It turned out that they also needed to acquire salvage rights to haul away ‘scrap metal’. Fortunately, that was a simple affair now that they had local currency. 50 USD and the matter was done. Grant, being the nearest specialist on matters of scrap to their location, graciously offered to transport their ‘scrap’ directly to their vessel out of sheer goodwill. Finally Benny and Sam went to try out the barbecued skewers. At Grant’s recommendation, though, they didn’t go to the Starport roadside stall. They ended up at another roadside stall run by a ‘foreign refugee’ someplace downtown not too far from Grant’s workshop. There, each skewer was loaded with rows of thick, juicy beef sausages, and only cost 20 USD for 10. Benny stretched. “Not bad for our first day. We’ve got three days here, don’t we? But we’ve already got half of what we wanted.” “What’s the other half?” Sam asked. “Technical manuals on engineering, power and propulsion. Tech, basically.” Benny yawned. However, whe
“Black Fang, you are cleared for docking. Follow the designated path and welcome to Trifer, colony of the Uber States.” Benny stood on the observation deck of the Black Fang below the bridge, listening to the conversation between the comms officer and the dock authorities. He eyed the massive sprawl of structures and smoke emitted below and wondered. “This is what they call a ‘small’ colony?” The colony was bigger than Craggy Falls, Kara-Goth and Nightshade City put together. “Just how many people live here?” Benny asked next. “According to our sensors, about half a million.” The bridge crew told him. Okay, that was less than the human population of the Sorrelian Migration, which, after including the Cumin survivors, was over 800,000. They shared the sensor feed with Benny, Sam and Foxy. Looking at the scope, Benny realized that most of the colony below consisted of machinery and robots. Furthermore, what he saw on the surface wasn’t even half the colony. The entire complex went
That evening, Benny and Sam left with Tim’s battle group, headed for the nearest Uber States outpost with medicine in the cargo holds. This left only one freight galleon to ferry materials and regretful space miners from the surface to Sky Haven. “It’s going too slow.” Remian decided. “I need to call Raven.” With Mindy busy trading across star systems, Raven had inherited (bought over) her airship fleet and company on the surface. They built more gunships and scout ships than freighters these days, mainly focused on providing recon and fire support to ground forces fighting Undead. But it was those freighters Remian needed now, the bigger the better. “We need them refitted for extreme high altitudes, as high as they can go.” Remian explained. “Also we need them spaceworthy, at least up to low orbit.” “You want our airship freighters to fly into space?!” Raven spluttered. “Yes, but not on their own. I want them to haul cargo and passengers as high up as they can. Around 30km woul
“Relax, I’m not asking you to build them from scratch. You’ll need to remodel a Galleon and a trio of our current Dropships. We do want proper Mech Carriers in the future, but for now, we need to deploy urgently, so we’ll just remodel what we have.” Ermine brought up some projections. “The Mechs in question are going to be Light Walkers, designed and built by J-Armory. Juni’s had a workable prototype for a long time, but it’s never been needed until now. Live testing is scheduled to start in three days. They’re powered by Fusion Cells, the kind that looks like dustbins, so you won’t need to worry about fuel lines, just cell-swapping. You won’t need to worry about replacing the He3 in the Fusion Cells either; spent cells will be sent back to J-Armory for recycling or refueling or whatever it is they do. Same goes for the weapons; Jamie’s J-Arsenal will handle maintenance and replacement and all that. The ship only needs to carry the Mechs, deploy them, and run basic maintenance. Repai
They met online the next day. Remian opted out, letting them handle it. Upon bringing up the subject of the Woofers’ request for more aid across different planets… Ermine snorted. “I refuse.” “What?” George stared. “I refuse to help them.” Ermine said stoutly. “I know that you guys all have some sort of savior syndrome, and it’s something that Remian seemed to have passed down from the very beginning, the sort of meddlesome hero complex that has you all trying to save the world at personal cost, but I’m no hero. I’m Tau, and we’re practical survivalists. We simply can’t afford to go around saving everybody. We need all our strength and resources to save ourselves. As for the Woofers, as a collective, they are a Class 5 Star Civilization, a whole class more advanced and stronger than us. They have their own governments and their own fleets. Let the Woofers help the Woofers.” Xiao Yan cut in. “As you say, they are a Class 5 Star Civilization. Since you’re talking about praticality, t
“Go, go, go!” green light flared in the bay of the Dropship as the floor fell away. George and twelve other figures were unceremoniously dumped on the ground nine feet below. They landed with heavy impacts. George staggered, realizing the gravity on this world was at least twice what he was accumstomed to back home. For a moment, he regretted leaving his Frame back on the ship, but they were here to clear the bandits out from a city center, meaning tight spaces, narrow access points, and needing to take care to avoid civilian casualties. Or at least, that was the plan. George and his squad had been deposited on the outskirts of the city, at the very border of a suburban district. “Incoming!” someone yelled. George crouched as something exploded; the ground shook and chunks of dirt flew through the air. “Get to cover! Return fire!” George called, even though he wasn’t entirely sure where the attackers were, exactly. The guys diving behind nearby garages and a public toilet clued hi
Quite predictably, the first of those calls to reach Sorrel II was from their dear friends, the Woofers. Three Paws explained it. [This is from Kelso III. It’s an agrarian world, roughly eighty hours’ flight from here for our fleet. Local gang bosses have titled themselves warlords and suppressed the citizenry with brute force. They take whatever they want, and demand whatever payment they like, on pain of death or torture. Local law enforcement has been completely overrun and even planetary militia couldn’t save the settlements under their control. The best our local paws could do is contain the situation and prevent it from getting worse.] Remian sipped hot coffee. Eighty hours flight for the Woofers Fleet should mean a bit less than seventy for the Tau fleet. “That’s rough. But what’s the point of calling us here to tell us this?” [We can help them. Just one division of your fleet could make a huge difference against these local gangs.] At the moment, the Sorrelian fleet consist