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2024-10-29 19:42:56Meanwhile, Frontier Town was likewise having to deal with an assault by Wilds, another Beast Wave.
But who cares about that, right? The action was all taking place in Fal’Herim, and that’s where all the fun was at, so…
“Fire!” Remian triggered the most powerful weapon he’d ever laid his hands on. The main cannon of the Red Fang shot out a bright beam of energy right into the rear of the left Sky Galleon.
“Turning hard to port! Ready broadside!” Mindy announced. “Target the skiff! Fire at will!”
The Red Fang turned to the left, hard. The adventurers manning the smaller guns fired off blue fireballs. They rained fire down on the poor skiff, blasting it to pieces before it knew what was happening.
The third airship turned around. Magical barriers were raised. The broadside gunners fired on it, but the barriers were too strong, the smaller cannons couldn’t penetrate their shields.
“Bring us about! Hurry!” Remian called.
“No time!”
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Kingdom of the Weak 95. Asda
Tim tried to stay out of the whole mess, he really did. But ultimately, he failed. “We need you to take refugees on board!” a desperate woman pleaded. “Please! My daughter doesn’t deserve to die here! Help us!” “But…” “Even if you can only take one! Just one person!” Dear Tim hadn’t had time to wonder about how anyone managed to contact him using the airship’s own short-range communication crystals. Those things only worked for the air traffic control tower and the royal palace. But of course, Tim couldn’t know that. He only heard the voice, and the desperation. That was why, ten minutes later, a rope was lowered and a girl was reeled in. [Is that how humans pick their mates?] Mikai observed with interest. [Reeling them in with a fishing rod? Like fishing?] “Not exactly.” Tim grimaced. “Although maybe it’s not that different from fishing. But no, the fishing rod is definitely not it. Actually, before that… she’s not my
Kingdom of the Weak 96. The Summit of Fal’Herim
“Mother!” “Asda!” an older, graying-hair version of the ‘refugee’ princess greeted her daughter with a hug as a rather sad group arrived at the south gate. While technically, this was two allied forces meeting up for the first time, it looked more like a group of ragged refugees stumbling onto a zoo. That was really the best description that could be given as the Second Queen and her forces met Remian and his at the south gate; two messy, mismatched groups wondering what the heck each was going to do with the other. On one side was a widowed Second Queen with one general, a few squads of exhausted and injured soldiers, with roughly two hundred armed slaves in rags walking around in a dazed mob. On the other was Remian, with a few teenagers like Tim and Mindy, along with a whole bunch of giant boars, wolfcats, and lynxmice. Neither of them looked particularly suited to conquering the city of the Desert King. “So… let’s withdraw and let them fight it ou
Kingdom of the Weak 97. Power by association
In a great hall roughly five times the size of Spike with a gold-plated statue of a dragon running two loops all around it, the leaders of Fal’Herim met to discuss the future of the city, only to have Remian politely suggest their surrender. “Sorry, who were you, again?” The Crown Prince looked at Remian as if puzzled. “This is Remian Vin, King of the Wildlands!” Asda declared. That’s way too exaggerated! “Uh, no, I just have some influence over one small piece of it…” Remian said, but in a voice so low that only the wolfcats next to him could hear it. Yet he cleared his throat and said, “The point is, I have overwhelming military advantage and if you don’t surrender, I may very well just destroy the city and take all its people captive. From what I hear, there’s not much else of worth in it.” “Oh, but there is!” The Second Queen assured him. “The Imperial Palace is full of valuable treasures. The treasury might be empty, but the cutlery alone
Kingdom of the Weak 98. Fall of Fal’Herim
“Run away…!” Asda’s shriek was the most sensible thing Remian heard in the temple as the entire structure began to collapse. The wolfcats acted far more quickly than Remian could, grabbing him and Asda, her mother and general up in less than a second, all of them scrambling towards Spike. Spike himself was looking in astonishment as the dragon came to life, flexing and swelling as it broke through the walls and the roof, enlarging to twice its size, thrice… A huge chunk of ceiling fell almost on top of Remian. The wolfcat carrying him by the collar dodged, but pieces of ceiling and plaster sprayed all over both of them. More chunks of ceiling came falling. Ears flat against their heads, the wolfcats ran for their lives with Remian and his new allies hauled along by the scruffs of their shirts. But nobody complained, not even the Second Queen. [Everyone, get clear! The temple is going to collapse!] Remian sent out to the rampaging Wilds. [Pull back! Pu
Kingdom of the Weak 99. After Fal’Herim
[Khar’al? What are you doing? What’s going on?] [Kor’ag! Mal’thor! Give me back my stuff!] [What stuff? What are you talking about?] [My fire crystals! My gold! My bed! I know you took them!] [You’re dreaming! Quit talking nonsense and let us go back to sleep!!] One roar met two, bodies enlarged and collided, one gold, one gray, one grass-green, and disaster swept through the deep Wildlands. Smaller Wilds scattered screaming in every direction, entire forests toppled in moments. Dragon Lake practically emptied as the little Tier 5, Tier 6 and even Tier 7 dragons in it fled for their lives. The sheer wind of their battle caused storm and tempest and the earth quaked for a full hour just from the sound of their collisions. Then from afar, another roar sounded, larger and stronger than anything they had mustered between them. A fourth dragon appeared, steel colored and wearing a pair of huge eyeglasses larger than most mansions. [You guys
Kingdom of the Weak 100. A day at the Frontier
The next morning, Phoebe found Remian outside the Guild Hall, throwing up into a ditch. “Are you pregnant?” she asked, politely. “You do know I’m a guy, right?” Remian asked dryly. “You’re also a mage. You never know, with mages.” Phoebe mused. Remian snorted a short laugh, then gave her his hand. She placed her hand on his wrist; yellow light glowed on her fingertips for a few moments. “Your condition’s deteriorated since last week.” Phoebe mentioned. “Have you been eating the herbs I prescribed?” “I think so.” Remian mentioned. “We might want to look for something stronger, then.” Phoebe thought for a bit. “We’ll have to look into the rare and restricted section. It could get expensive.” “I’m going to have to sell an airship or two just to rush build the town, Phoebe. Isn’t there some cheaper solution?” he asked. “Well, I’ve heard about a few powerful herbs and fruits out in the Wildlands. The golden speckled
Kingdom of the Weak 101. George’s Plan
George walked out of the Guild Hall feeling like the world had been swept out from under his feet. “It can’t be! I won’t let it!” he vowed inwardly. “Remian can’t just die like that!” Growing up with the Circling Ravens, he had always had to stay indoors or closely under the watch of a slayer, because outside, there were slavers who kidnapped children. A lot of his friends disappeared over the years that way. The outside was a scary place, and that’s why food was scarce, and expensive. George longed to take care of his friends, to plant food in a garden and provide for everyone so that they would never have to go hungry again. But he couldn’t leave. A little herb garden in Mandy’s kitchen was the best he’d been able to manage. Going out was impossible and far too dangerous. Until Remian arrived. Suddenly, they weren’t afraid to go out any more. He was an agent of the Iron Legion! As long as he was there, as long as they were with him, nobody was afraid to leave the tavern, to leave
Kingdom of the Weak 102. Tortoise wisdom
It was in the evening that the report came in; the third challenger for the lordship of Shadowflash Fief, the giant tortoise, had finally, finally arrived at Kara-Goth. “Where’s Spike and DD?” Remian asked. “Already in position.” Mindy replied, with a little twisted grin on her face. “Shall we?” Remian asked her, offering his arm. “We shall!” Mindy took it happily and together they boarded the Red Helm, the military-grade battle galleon previously owned by the Desert King. It was not, by any stretch of the imagination, going to be a fair fight. Following the Red Helm were the Red Fang and the Tugged Sky Barge with the Bellower Ballista primed and ready on it. Remian arrived at Kara-Goth with three combat-ready airships, a Tier 5 Boar, and a Tier 5 spike-backed Lizard, and proceeded to surround the tortoise. The giant tortoise blinked once, slowly as it considered the sudden arrival of Remian’s forces. DD behind and to the left, Spike b
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523. Comms
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
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522. Second Aid Mission
“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
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521. Next Step
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
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520. Uber States Colony
“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
- Kingdom of the Weak
519. Scoop
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
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518. We should call Remian
“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
- Kingdom of the Weak
517. Objectives and Objections
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
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516. Changing Gear
“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
- Kingdom of the Weak
514. Out there
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
