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.”
Those weren’t actually his traps. The ownership of those traps was ambiguous, they belonged to Max, Markus and Remian together, ‘their’ traps.
While Mindy played with Vigil, Remian discussed the boar meat being smoked over the fire with Markus. In a sense, like the traps, the ownership of the meat, too, was ambiguous. Remian scored the killing blow, but it had been Max and Markus together who had engaged it in combat and held it in position.
A quick deal was settled. They would share the meat too, and the labor; one cleaning, one curing and smoking and the third cooking it. Markus had already done the dirty job cleaning the carcass himself and Max had smoked the meat. Some of it was cooked to be eaten now, some smoked for later, and the last of it dried for long-term storage. Tier 3 meat didn’t spoil very easily, but they would still be eating dried jerky rather than steak at the end of the month (not even Tier 3 smoked meat could keep that long without some sort of cold storage box or building).
As for the cub… it could have the scraps and small bones. The bigger bones and strips of hide could be sold or traded, and the revenue from those deals could go into buying grains and vegetables, maybe even cutlery.
Today’s hunt, however, was just between Remian, Mindy and the wolfcat cub Vigil. Mindy volunteered to clean, so it was up to Remian to cook, sell, or smoke the meat later.
They went around to the west side of town, past the quarry and the steep hills to some gentler slopes. Thick bushes and thorns impeded their way, but already they could see ears pricking up among the bushes and flickers of movement in the undergrowth.
It was Vigil, in the end, who proved the best hunter in the trio. Remian and Mindy set down the traps, but keeping an eye on them was easier said than done, especially when they had to keep themselves hidden at the same time. Vigil had an uncanny sense of knowing when a trap had snared something, and was quick to reach the place and secure the kill before anything could interfere.
They returned to camp that evening with six and a half Blood Rabbit carcasses. Why half? Because Vigil decided to have a little snack…
Blood Rabbits were reddish brown, roughly two feet in length, with paralyzing venom in their fangs and claws. They completely ruined Remian’s fond memories of cute, harmless bunnies back home. These mutated beasts were generally considered the least dangerous Wilds around town, except for the occasional Tier 2 Blood Rabbit Chieftain which was twice the size and thrice as strong. It was a near encounter with one of those that abruptly ended their hunting trip and had them abandon the last trap and its oversized occupant.
“You could have taken it.” Mindy grouched. “Just hit it with a super light spell like the Boar.”
“But then there would be nothing left.” Remian protested. He did not tell her the real reason behind his reluctance, or his doubts about his own abilities.
Still. She seemed happy with their haul. “I want more furs. You can have the extra half.”
“I think Vigil pretty much took all of that.” Remian eyed it and shook his head.
“The bones can be used for soup stock, or sold. Even Tier 1 Bone Marrow has some value.” Mindy mentioned. “If you can sell it to Blood Claw without getting robbed.”
“Why is it valuable?” Remian had to ask.
“Something about mana.” Mindy shrugged. “You’ll have to ask them.”
But he didn’t, in the end. After a dinner with Mindy in which Vigil probably had more than his fair share, Remian took the bones to the church and asked Kairos about it.
“It’s true.” Kairos said. “The highest concentration of mana in the Wilds are in their bone marrow. Grind the bones to powder, and they’ll be an ingredient for magic ink.”
“Magic ink?” Remian blinked.
“Right. That’s how I planned to raise funds for the church. Priests have different specialties; mine happens to be Inscription.” Kairos explained. “I’m not much good in a fight, but I can Inscribe light magic scrolls up to Tier 3.”
“What are those scrolls for?” Remian queried.
“It’s basically a ready-made Sigil. Remember how casting a spell requires forming a sigil before releasing it? If you had a scroll, all you’d need to do is empower it and cast right away. It saves time and effort.” Kairos paused. “They can also be used to control your output. If you had one of my Tier 1 Light Orb scrolls, and used that to cast the light spell during that battle, you wouldn’t have exhausted yourself all at once, and the result would have been similar to what I casted earlier.”
“So why didn’t you do that yourself? You could have casted more spells if you had a scroll.” Remian pointed out.
“Exactly! That’s why they’re valuable!” Kairos nodded. “That’s why I need to Inscribe some as soon as I can get the other materials for the ink! I wish I could show you a sample, but I had to sell all of mine to pay for the airship ticket here…”
“I probably wrote that ticket. I had to do some work for the Deutero Company to buy mine.” Remian mentioned. “They didn’t seem to cost that much.”
“But I came all the way from Ecclesia City. Furthermore, that airship took a few stops around the Rising Dragon Empire before stopping by the Seven Kingdoms and picking you up.” Kairos explained. “My trip was a lot longer than yours.”
Remian paused. “Just how much is a magic scroll worth, then?”
“Out here? Probably not very much.” Kairos admitted. “It takes some magical ability to use Scrolls and Fire Scrolls are generally a lot more popular than Light Scrolls. We would probably end up selling most of them to the Deutero Company the next time the airship drops by. Unless…”
“Unless what?”
“Unless you can Inscribe a super-powered Light Bolt scroll instead of a Light Orb scroll.” Kairos turned to him. “The sigils are very similar, but yours turned out to be a fearsome weapon. If you can sell a scroll Inscribed with THAT sigil…”
“Can it really be done?” Remian wondered.
“No.” Kairos shook his head. “Not with Tier 1 magic ink. I think it would need at least Tier 3 magic ink, for that kind of power, and even then it won’t last more than one or two casts. The average expectancy for scrolls is 5 casts before the sigil loses power. Some really good ones can last more than 20 casts. But of course, those scrolls used higher Tier ink for lower Tier spells.”
“So I would need Tier 4 ink?” Remian guessed.
“That sounds about right.” Kairos sighed. “Never mind. Trying to hunt a Tier 4 Wild is suicide, not to mention finding the other ingredients for ink of that level.”
“What sort of other ingredients?” Remian had to ask.
“A trigger, a catalyst, and a stabilizer, at least. There are many different kinds of materials to accomplish these things, some of which enhance each other, some of which interfere or contradict each other, so the combinations are really complicated. But I’ll make it simple for you; get some Glass Dandelion root from the western hills, fluid from the river’s Rainbow Jellyfish and the sap of Purple Beating Heart Wood from the forest to the south, with an earthenware pot that has never been used, and we can make our Tier 1 magic ink.”
“That simple, huh?” Remian said sarcastically.
“Yep. I’ve already pored over dozens of possible materials that could be found nearby, and that was the best combination I could come up with.” Kairos rolled his eyes. “If you don’t believe me, feel free to try it yourself.”
“No, thanks, I’ll take your word for it.” Remian cleared his throat. “But I also want something else from you.”
“You want to learn how to Inscribe Scrolls, right?” Kairos guessed. “Of course. I’ll even help you sell yours to the Deutero Company, or my old friends back at Ecclesia.”
“That, and whatever other spells you know.”
“Deal.”
***
“Mindy?”
“Yes, Remian?”
“I need your help finding some ingredients for me. In return, I’ll teach you something good.”
“What’s that?”
“I’ll teach you magic!”
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
Back at the north side of Frontier Town, Cruel Rose was tearing her hair out. “Somebody! Anybody!” She shrieked, holding up the book of Basic Fire Magic. “Tell me what this word means!!” Her wisest gang members were trying to make sense of it. Most of them couldn’t read, but the few who could did their best to figure out the overly long word. “In… inside something…? Invincible…? In syllable? In scribble?” “It’s a something ‘tion’.” A younger ‘reader’ gangster exclaimed. “I think it has something to do with the magic Sigil…” somebody else said. “Forget it!” Rose roared. “Give it here!” Ignoring the words on the page entirely, she pressed her hand against the magic sigil and activated it the way she activated the magic scrolls used for slave-bonds… BOOM! An explosion lit up the Cruel Rose Headquarters. One youngster gangster ran around screaming. “My hair is on fire! My hair is on fire! My hair is on fire!!” “Put
[Fireball!] “RUN!!” Another fireball streaked across the battlefield, slamming into a tree behind Remian. Fire splashed around the area, charring the tree bark in moments before disappearing. “Fire!” Mindy had her Fire Bolt scroll out, and was trying to counter, but her little fist-sized Fire Bolt was just no comparison to the Bear’s head-sized Fire Balls. Her little Fire Bolt barely scorched the bear. “Do something!” Remian yelped. Max was angling for a shot, trying to get behind the bear, but it turned and shot out another Fire Ball right at him. “Someone…? Carrie!” He looked for the biggest member of their group, the only one which stood a chance at physically stopping the bear… Only to find her rolling around on her back, all four paws in the air, laughing. “What’s gotten into her?!” Remian spluttered. The bear saw the wolfcat rolling around on the ground roaring with laughter. [It was YOU!] S
His name was Buff. Or Buffy. Remian wasn’t quite decided, but it was a concept about having lots of strong muscles.Buff was a Tier 4 Amber Eyes Bear. They had the reputation of being able to spot honey a mile away. Actually the reputation was false. It was their noses that could smell the honey, not their eyes.But Buff had an existential problem. He did not want to be an Amber Eyes Bear. He was jealous of humans and the way they used tools. He was jealous of Wilds who were of higher Tier than himself. He was jealous of birds that could fly and fish that swam so well. In short, he was jealous of a lot of things.The stash of junk in the cave was his result of his jealousy of humans. He had a bad habit of stealing stuff from them, especially from their unguarded treasure-piles! (Mandy: Silly bear, that’s the rubbish heap). One day, he even acquired his greatest prize and treasure from it; the Fire Stick! (Remian: Which poor idiot couldn’t recog
Joshu Tarim thought of himself as a true Frontiersman. He was a professional explorer, one of the earliest adventurers around the Frontier who helped draw the very first maps. He was there when Frontier Town was first founded. He had traded furs and ivory with the first airship that landed at its edge. He wasn’t around when the gangs began to form, however; he had been trapped for almost a year in a labyrinth of cave tunnels far, far to the south at the time.Younger adventurers had asked for the secrets of his survival. How did he last so long in the Frontier? Most adventurers quit or died within one or two years. Some dozen or two switched to becoming Hunters and stayed in town when they weren’t out there looking for prey. Yet there was Joshu, still exploring, still venturing into unmapped territories and coming back with just a few more smudges on the map he’d been drawing for nine years.Caution and patience, he’d replied. Alertness and awar
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