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After The End

Posted: 21st August 2021 01:12

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Black Mage
Posts: 178

Joined: 7/1/2014

Awards:
Member of more than five years. 
Disclaimer: There will be similarities to already existing intellectual properties. This is unintentional. Adult language, drug use, violence, and other adult themes will be present in this work. Also, given the nature of the story, I've chosen to use Imperial measurements until I can come up with a measurement system of my own, I know that may offend some of you.



Ten years.
It's been ten years since everything changed. The Emperor is dead, and the Empire is gone. Ten years ago, an Apotheosis failed, and our heroes disappeared.
At the time, we all cheered. We stood in the rays of the newly awakened sun, smelled the newly bloomed flowers, and soaked in the warmth that sprang from it all.
For ten years, what we thought was peace had reigned.

We were wrong.

As soon as the Empire fell, forces began to array. Imperial generals, petty warlords, bandit kings, and other cults of personality stepped in to fill the vacuum. The funny part about all of this, is people flocked to them.

Why not? The big battle costed them so much. No homes, scrounging food in untended fields, and most of all- the forces our heroes unleashed upon this planet and left behind. Monsters, spirits, and all kinds of wild things that most salt of the earth folk couldn't begin to comprehend.

I was a kid during the final days of the Empire. I didn't know if there was any sort of halcyon time, or not. I just remember people coming home in droves, either horribly wounded or dead. At first, the coffins were steel, then bronze, then wood, then turned into shrouds of muslin and burlap. The priest started holding mass funerals once per week, because the dead overwhelmed him. We stopped marking graves or digging them very deeply at all.

Ansell huffed and put the pen in his pocket. Paper and ink were not that hard to find in these urban ruins, but time and space always seemed to be. As if to emphasize the point, a whirling, conical vegetable thumped him solidly in the chest. The young man started with a yelp, trying to protect his precious diary.

"Damn it, Shad!"

Shadrach stepped from behind his cover, chuckling and holding another rutabaga. "That's what happens when you let your guard down."

Ansell scoffed and pulled himself to his feet. "Don't you have anything better to do?"

The other young man shrugged. "Nah. What were you doing anyway?"

"Writing."

Shadrach was of medium height, and slightly thin. He had light brown eyes and wild dark brown hair that danced in coils on top of his head. "Sounds like a waste of time."

Ansell had a similar hair color, though it was more wavy than curly, and his eyes were a soft hazel. Unlike his wiry counterpart, he was slightly chubbier in build. "As good a thing as any."

Both were young men, clean shaven and relatively neat. Given Mother's absolute mandate on bathing. They wore durable clothing, mostly wool and denim, crafted from squares and slices of other pieces of clothing.

"We need to finish what we're doing here. Patrols might be coming in."

Ansell nodded and put the diary in his pocket. He didn't have a grand reason to start a journal, it just felt like he needed to. Maybe he could look back at what he wrote sometime down the road and see how much things had changed then.

So many people died during the last War, that huge chunks of cities were outright abandoned. Given that monsters and wild animals were thought to haunt the slums of these cities, no one except for militias or formal "guards" would dare trespass.

That was usually fine for Ansell, Shad, and the rest of their pack. This gave them plenty of room to do what they needed to do. However, in this part of the world, one of the warlords often send militia patrols to hunt monsters, and drive people like them away.

Besides food, the young men were looking for brass, nails, possibly glass. Old Man Mac could always use that crap. He was always making things out of them. Like some sort of crazy alchemist.

Hours passed. There was still some sun left in the sky, but its setting would bring about something very close to a death sentence. Mother would cast the warding spell, and no one was to pass beyond it. Not that anyone wanted to, given the manner of creatures that hovered near, staring hungrily at the circled carts and wagons. Sometimes, the sentries would fire an arrow or a bullet at any of the monsters being too persistent, but the monsters would stay out, and the family would stay in.

Going through an old general store, all of the tedium of digging seemed to disappear. Ansell had been piecing his way through a coil of fencing metal, using a newly acquired pair of tin shears, while Shad had been prying open barrels, looking for transportable food. The stink of briny vinegar had dropped the young mens' morale, which mingled nicely with the musty stink of decayed vegetables, fraught with maggots. There was gagging at first, but both were tired enough through the day's labor to avoid complaining. Both simply worked faster so they could collect what they could.

That's when Shad found the loose floorboard. He heard it rattle beneath one of the unopened barrels as he pulled it close to pry it open. His interest immediately shifted to this new wonder. With his dagger, he pried the floorboard loose and found something more fascinating- a brass-handled trap door a foot beneath the floorboard. The floorboard and trapdoor had weathered a little during the course of time, and only the smell of wet dust wafted from the hidden compartment. No light shined from beneath.

The wiry lad swore under his breath as recognition crossed his mind. From a loop on his belt, he pulled out a tin cylinder and tapped it on his boot, causing a conical beam of light to shine from the end. As he peered down, he spotted an iron-rung ladder that had been driven to the wall. At about ten feet down, he saw the head of a rusty iron, flat-backed maul.

"Anse!" He whooped. "Anse! Check this drek out!"

Ansell, who was trying not to nick his gloves and hands any more than they were, looked up from his work. He stood up and rushed over to his friend's excited voice. What he saw was Shadrach's booted feet almost in the air as he leaned into the trapdoor. He covered the rest of the distance, tossing aside one of the rancid barrels so he could lean over the door.

A sense of wonder suddenly washed over him, and his imagination began to wander away on him. Maybe the previous owner of this house was secretly a bandit or treasure hunter, and inside were jewels and artifacts from the mythic ages before the Empire. Like the tales of rings that summoned Djinni who gave you wishes, or a magic sword with the spirit of a mighty warrior possessing it.

"Get out your torch, Anse, I'm going down!"

Ansell lit his flashlight and knelt down, watching Shad climb gingerly down the ladder. He followed soon after, kneeling next to the combination sledgehammer and axe. The wood itself seemed to be rotted, but only a moderate layer of rust covered the iron head. Old Man Mac would probably do a LOT of good with this. With a hard effort, he broke head away from the rotten handle, just in time to hear Shad swear excitedly one more time.

Ansell looked up and had discovered this was simply a small entrance way to a larger underground room. It was almost pitch black in the room, save for Shad's torch. From where he stood, he saw where the cone of light pointed. Two desiccated bodies of a mother and a small child. The mother had slumped backward like a carpet being lain out, while the child's head lay in her lap. With relatively little humidity in this place, the bodies didn't completely decay to skeletons.

It didn't take long for the boys to figure out how she died. A halo of dried blood surrounded her head and spattered a little on her feet. Shad had easily found the weapon that did it, a rusted double-barreled scattergun was in his hands.

Shadrach excitedly retrieved the gun from the long dead lady, practically crowing at the amazing find. In the breach, he found the cardboard and brass casings, causing him to giggle. Guns were extremely rare in slums like these, given they were illegal under the Empire, and their successor dictators would often commandeer them for their militias.

Ansell knelt down over the child, who lay face down in her mother's lap. Gently, he turned the little girl around, eyeing her broken face carefully. He could imagine the young mother, sealed in this bunker, both of them facing a long and slow death at the hands of starvation. Maybe the father sealed them down here in the face of danger, intending to return to them soon, but maybe died before he could. He, at least hope that's what happened.

"I think we found enough today," Ansell said dryly. "Let's hurry before it gets dark."

Shad happily clacked the gun closed, "Right."

From there, it should have been a simple matter. Put on their packs and pouches and begin their trek home. However, a human's shriek from near where they stood made things slightly more complicated.
The boys quickly rushed over to investigate. There, they found the source. Someone was in an overgrown outhouse, which was in turn surrounded by a swarm of kobolds. About two to three feet high, the goblinoid/lizard hybrid was a disgusting sight indeed. their scales were the color of sludge, a brownish grey, with elongated snouts and sharp teeth. They walked upright but could sprint on all-fours when they needed to.

Shadrach glanced down at his dagger, then back at Ansell. By the look in his friend's eye, Ansell knew exactly what he was thinking. They made eye contact, and Ansell angrily shook his head. Mother had always said to leave outsiders to their own misfortunes. The Family had too few people as it was, without risking the lives of able bodies who were wounded or dead because they wanted to be heroes.

Shad's face screwed into a look that showed bemusement, Ansell gestured with a "you know why" gesture. Shad simply rolled his eyes, removed his pack, and drew his dagger. With or without Ansell, he was going to help the outsider in the privy.

Ansell swore under his breath, then glanced around hurriedly for decent sized and shaped rocks. He slipped off his pack and scooped these rocks from the ground.

"Wait!" He hissed at the wild haired man in front of him. "You think you're going to kill that many of those little jevel with a pig sticker?"

Shad shrugged, mutely chastising his friend.

Ansell sighed. Shad was Family, and he was obliged to help his Brother when he was in danger. Even if the danger was inflicted at the behest of idiocy. "Mother told us that these creatures were cowardly. Maybe we can scare them a little. I want you to sneak off to the side, from there I'll toss some rocks at them, and you can jump out and scare them. Sound good?"

Shad gave an impatient nod.

Ansell sighed and signaled his friend. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Shad duck behind a pile of rubble and let him do what he was supposed to do. He stood up straight and eliminated the pretense of stealth, cupping the rocks in his right hand and resting one more in his left. The monsters clawed at the walls, roof, and the doors, gurgling and growling in a savage reverie. Despite his complete lack of stealth, the creatures seemed completely unaware of his presence.

Excitement ran through him, causing his spine to hum like a tuning fork. As much as he hated complications, the thought of danger almost always excited him. He cocked his left arm back and hurled the stone. From twenty feet away, the stone curved like a gyro and struck one of the creatures by the front door. Stunned, the creature slowly turned around. Before he could complete the turn, Ansell had already loosed another stone on it. This time, the stone struck him in the side of the head. Unconscious or dead, the creature fell to the ground.

The creatures were gibbering and growling but that was immediately silenced. Instead of the savage hate he expected, the remaining dozen or so started hurriedly glancing around for their pack mate's attacker. Ansell whistled loudly, startling them, before losing another stone. This time, it struck one of the monsters in the center of the pack. The monster fell, just like the first one. From off to his left, Shad let out his best war cry and charged ahead with his dagger drawn. With cries of terror, the nasty little creatures scattered as the new hunters were stealing the prey from them. One more toss thumped another one in the back. The creature grunted and fell but rolled to its feet and continued to run.

Shad, meanwhile, had gotten to the outhouse. He was leaned up against the door and was talking to the refugee. Ansell pocketed his remaining rocks and joined the duo.

He heard only the back end of Shad's part of the conversation. ".... help you. Just don't panic, okay?"

On those words, the occupant opened the door.

She sat on the privy of the outhouse. Her clothing was torn and scratched, with blood soaking bandages on what was left of her left hand and right ankle. Her face was swollen on a cheekbone, nearly blinding her in one eye. Her hair was long and straight, but due to the dirt and blood, its color was unidentifiable. In her right hand was a smithing hammer, covered in dirt and blood.

Shad gasped, "Drek!" He rushed forward to pull the dazed woman from her seat, while Ansell rushed back to gather the boys' packs. The woman moaned in token protest as the healthier young man pulled her free of the building and lay her on the ground.

Ansell returned shortly with their packs and began to rummage through them to pull fresh bandages and antiseptic to redress the poor woman's wounds. She whimpered when they cut her bandages free, grunted when the stinging antiseptic was added, and shuddered when the bandages were applied.

Shad lay cross legged while the lady lay face up in his lap. He started to brush her hair aside, saw the broken cheek, and decided against it. Finally, he decided to talk to her.

"What's your name?" He asked gently.

Her eyes were light green, with a glassy sheen. She answered, "Bethany."

"Please stay awake," he pleaded, before shifting his conversation. "Where are you from?"

She scowled at the question, "Bastard." She answered weakly.

"Who?"

"Lord...Cydrian."

Ansell grunted as he straightened out his collapsible shovel. While she seemed sturdily built, she was slightly shorter than they. "That's not a surprise."

"We got a crutch for you," Shad continued. "It's a shovel, but we'll get you home and make you a real one."

"Old Man Mac says he's always doing this to folks. His way of torturing them, I guess. Chops off a limb and slices the ankle and feeds them to kobolds. He says it's just punishment," Ansell said.

Bethany closed her eyes and took a sharp breath. She was somehow fighting off the urge to pass out. When she reopened her eye, it seemed less glassy.

Shad shook his head, marveling. "She's one of the toughest people I'd ever seen."

Ansell nodded, offering his hand to pull her to her feet. She took his hand and did stand up, bleating slightly in pain. Shad handed her the shovel crutch.

"Let's get back," Ansell said.

Ansell couldn't help but be amazed at Shad's strength and boundless energy. So, Shad could properly brace her, she had carried part of his gear, but Shad still carried a lion's share of his gear. Bethany half leaned on the young man and half on the shovel.

"We can get you to Mother," Shad was saying. "She'll fix your ankle. She's good at that kind of thing."

Bethany grunted, looking grimly ahead. She didn't seem to hear anything he was saying but was focused on his voice in an effort to stay conscious. His friend was right, this woman was superhuman in her toughness.

"I think she's going to teach Ansell everything she knows one day. I think he's going to take over if Mother dies. I don't think that's going to happen for a while, because she's not all that old...."

Ansell spotted the landmark that indicated their camp was nearby. He ran ahead.

"Brothers! Sisters! We have injured!" He bellowed.

From seemingly out of nowhere, another young man suddenly materialized. He was of far paler skin than either one of the two, with dirty strawberry blond hair and dark blue eyes. He was much taller and a little more muscular, with a broad, friendly face. In his right hand, he carried a javelin with a leather thong wrapped around its middle.

"Wyatt!" Ansell shouted. "We found a wounded woman! Shadrach has her a quarter mile back! Go help them and I'll get Mother!"

Wyatt stabbed his spear into the ground and started his loping walk toward Shad and Bethany, while Ansell dashed passed the barrier and into the camp. He nimbly slipped passed the cover barriers and through the pack animals and nimbly dropped his pack near one of the sorters.

In one of the wooden and canvas shelters, a woman stepped out of the entrance. Her chocolate-colored skin covered the defined muscles of an athlete. She had the mild wrinkles of a thirty-something woman. She had a muslin towel in her hands, wiping the sweat of the day's labor from her skin. She wore a sleeveless blouse and an ankle length skirt over leather sandals.

"Mother!" Came Ansell's call.

The woman tensed as the young man dashed around the corner. She promptly held out the towel as a flag. Ansell skidded to a halt in front of the woman.

Mother's voice showed an amused exasperation, "Slow down, child!"

Her voice was light, raspy, and strong. That voice could be comforting when she needed to be and authoritative when it needed to be. Her demeanor always seemed confident and assured, which could be off-putting to anyone who attracted her scrutiny. Nevertheless, her smile was disarming, and her scowl was frightening.

Ansell tried to speak, but his lungs immediately protested. Instead, he pointed back from where he come, and gasped, 'Injured...woman."

With a bemused chuckle, Mother tossed her towel over the head of the young man. "Get my kit, child."

Ansell pulled the towel from his face and dashed into her shelter. He found the laminated wooden lockbox, tucked it under his arm and hurried back to
Wyatt, Shadrach, Mother, and everyone else.

When he arrived, a scene had officially been made. Almost the entire camp had dropped what they were doing and milled around a makeshift table. Shad sat slumped against one of the shelters, fatigue finally seeping through him.

With a sigh, the young man began to slide and shoulder his way through the crowd. While the crowd wasn't particularly large or dense, it was difficult to get the attention of the individuals that jostled to the closer look.

When he finally broke clear, Old Man Mac had appeared next to Mother, and was already telling people to stay back. As he approached with the box, he caught wind of the conversation between the two.

"Just get her knocked out, " Old Man Mac was saying. "I can fix the leg, but not the arm. We need to get her inside.

Mother shot the older man a glare. No one else would have gotten away with ordering Mother around, but the old man had a little more freedom than most. Probably due to his unique skill set. She motioned to Wyatt and Ansell to lift the table and take her to Old Man Mac's tent.

Wyatt nearly yanked him off his feet as they carried the table, causing Mother to bark. "Keep it steady, Ansell! You want her to slide off?"

With two more villagers flanking them, the two carried the table into Mac's tent. Mac and Mother then gently lifted her off the table and onto Mac's table. Mac motioned to Wyatt to grab certain tools and cleaning solutions so he could go to work. Mother opened up her shoebox sized chest and pulled out a few liquids and powders.

"Ansell, Wyatt, you stay here!" Mother barked. "The rest of you, get back to work!"

Watching Old Man Mac work always fascinated Ansell. He was in his early fifties, but his body was fairly well intact. While not perfectly defined, the balding man sported a long, grey beard. When he did his work, he tended to be shirtless. His chest was covered in wiry hair that made him seem like a bear.

What Ansell witnessed was a bloody and fascinating mess. After Wyatt fire sterilized a scalpel, Mac reopened the wound on the back of her ankle and found the two ends of the broken tendon. Carefully, he straightened both ends and did his best to pin them together.

"Mother! You're on!" He called grimly.

Mother had been mixing an elixir of sorts while Mac had prepared the girl for the surgery. By the time he had everything ready for her, she had already drawn a small vial of the fresh potion. She then pulled a brush from her newly washed tools, shook the vial, then dipped the brush in the vial. Thus coated, she gently applied it to the tendon pinched between Mac's fingers.

Mac held the tendon before letting it go. Mac motioned to Ansell to bring over the disinfectant, to which the young man complied. He then did as he was taught, sprinkling the liquid into the wound.

Old Man Mac nodded and motioned Ansell to get back. He then told Wyatt to close the wound. He quickly washed and disinfected his hands before snatching a bottle of fresh wine and plopping into a chair.

Ansell unobtrusively observed the brooding old man. While he never spoke of his past before the End, rumors abounded that he was an Artifice professor at Calliedre School academy. It was difficult to imagine the stout, surly old man in the robes of an Academic.

"Where we putting her?" Mac asked once Wyatt finished closing the wound.

Mother handed Ansell the tools she used to disinfect while she bandaged the incision. "We barely have room for the forty or so people we have."

Mac pulled a lever operated cigarette maker from a drawer and proceeded to load tobacco and a thin paper into it. "Figured that."

Mother sighed, clipping the bandage and pinning it into place. She then turned her attention to the stump at the end of her hand and started to work on that. Ansell already knew she had intended to close the wound the rest of the way on the severed limb. "You want to keep her."

Mac pulled the cigarette from the machine and started another. "Yup."

Mother dabbed more of the healing salve on this stump where her wrist used to be. She seemed to be preparing herself to ask a question she couldn't find an answer to. "Why do you want her?"

Mac shrugged, pausing from his cigarette production to take a sip from wine. 'She has a cross-peen. She's fairly young and has got skills."

"So she had a hammer. So what?"

Mother did talk about her past quite a bit. Around the time of the End, she was finishing up her tenure as a prize student at that very Academy. She always told Ansell that she got to be in charge because no one else would do it. She just wanted to be a Doctor, and operate a small rural practice for farmers, families, and animals. Instead, she found herself trapped in a cave with Mac and a few orphans. The old man served as her advisor and helped her train the kids to work with riding and pack animals, and to do day to day repairs on their personal equipment.

"She's also every bit as tough as anyone. They chopped her hand off, hobbled her, and threw her into a pack of kobolds. This girl should be dead, but she isn't," Mac replied.

Mother sighed. "You also have a test rat."

Mac made sure Mother had finished wrapping the wounds before he lit a cigarette. Judging by the look on his face, Mother was absolutely right. "I guess."

"Wyatt's the only assistant you have, old man. How are you going to find time to build that jevel thing?"

Mac gestured to the unconscious girl. "She's about five or six years older than Wyatt. Don't need to train her much."

Mother tried to put on a show of reluctance. If she was an artisan of sorts, that would make her the rare one that wouldn't be snapped up by the Lords and kept under lock and key.

"Ok. Mac. If she's what you say what she is, and if she wants to. If neither of those are true, she's gone. You hear me?"

Mac smiled over his cigarette,

END Chapter.

This post has been edited by chevleclair on 30th September 2021 05:10

--------------------
"So, are you a fan of the Fett?"

"Nah, I'm more of a Star Wars guy."
Post #216632
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Posted: 31st August 2021 19:44

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Black Mage
Posts: 178

Joined: 7/1/2014

Awards:
Member of more than five years. 
This is just an idea that had been bouncing around in my head.

Would you like to read more? Message me on CoN if you do.

Thank you for reading.

--------------------
"So, are you a fan of the Fett?"

"Nah, I'm more of a Star Wars guy."
Post #216639
Top
Posted: 2nd September 2021 18:56

*
Black Mage
Posts: 178

Joined: 7/1/2014

Awards:
Member of more than five years. 

“Ohhh shi! - “The red-haired Young man bleated as the wooden axe head swept in the space he once occupied.

The young woman in front of him sneered, thrusting the halberd toward him repeatedly, backing him away
from her. She backhandedly swept the pick side toward her target with a savage growl, then chopped the axe
toward her target’s ankle. When the timing was correct, she yanked backwards, tripping her younger brother. At
this point, she was damn near frothing at the mouth as she swung the axe head with all of her might. The boy
crossed his arms at the wrist and lifted his arms as a warding gesture.
Suddenly, there was a harsh flash of white-blue light followed by a loud crackle of magical energy. The wooden
tool detonated in her hands, causing splinters to fly in all directions. The young woman shielded her face to
avoid being injured.

“Bloody hell, Justin!” She snapped. Like the boy, her hair was a very rich red. Also like the boy, her hair was long
and fine. Unlike her brother, she wore a soft brigandine to his silk robes. Both of them had soft, angular faces
and dark blue eyes. Were it not for a slight beard on his face, one could easily be mistaken for the other.
She hurled the splintered sparring weapon to the stone tiling beneath them in pure frustration. “One of these
days, that damned rune is going to kill one of us!”
Justin had since caught his breath and was climbing to his feet. His sister had been gifted with athleticism; he
had been gifted with mana. His interest had been in ars verborum. Word Magic. Supposedly the gods used those
words to create the world, and humans could use the words to alter and shape the world around them to a
lesser degree.

He had imbued a bracer. He had learned a protection rune recently and had been testing it on his
rambunctious sister. The rune had done its job but had two problems: the rune wasn’t permanent, and upon
activating it, it caused whatever was touching it to take some damage. Apparently, it also had the unhappy side
effect of also injuring the attacker. Against an enemy, this might come in handy. In a friendly sparring session,
that might be trouble.

His sister shook the sting out of her hands. This wasn’t the first time he’d tested the runes on her, and one
could tell by the angry look in her eye that it wasn’t the first time he’d inflicted pain on her.
From the door of their gymnasium, a twenty-something man stood. To both of them, he was moderately
attractive. He wore a neatly trimmed light brown beard with dark brown eyes. His hair, a chestnut color, was
combed to the right in a neat coif. “Sir, and madam: I was sent by Lady Rebecca to remind you to begin getting
ready for the Assembly this evening.

Both of them groaned. Politics were supposed to be less complicated now that the Emperor was gone. Yet four
times per year, under the guise of merriment, politics continue to commence. Worse than that, Lady Rebecca
would trot out the two teenaged children of Frey and Alanta, two of the Heroes who had participated in the
final Battle and freed the world from the tyranny of Emperor Jehu.
This entailed for them to set out on some meet and greet with the other Lords and Ladies, who would fawn
over them for a few minutes. After that, they could sit around and listen to half-hearted negotiations that were
usually punctuated by innuendo, drinking, threatening, and posturing.
Justin spoke up, “Thank you, Brynn. We’ll get to it shortly.”
Alyssa scoffed and lightly cuffed her twin brother with her forearm. “Clumsy bastard.”

Justin just simply shook her arm off of him. “We have to get ready.”
Both went their separate ways to go change.
When they both returned, they looked like twin siblings. Dressed in forest green, he in a suit, she in a gown. Her
hair pinned in a tight bun, while his was pinned beneath a stylish green hat. Both wore matching brass lockets around their necks.

“By the living gods- this is not going to go well,” Justin grumbled.

“Agreed,” Alyssa added. “I can think of a thousand things I’d rather be….”

Both had turned to make eye contact before she could finish her sentence, both of them seemed to come up
with the same idea at the same time.

“Won’t be that hard, sis.”

Alyssa’s face, once drawn with annoyance, suddenly began to spread to an impish grin. It was never something
either sibling could turn into words, but Justin’s face mirrored his twin sister’s not even a second later.
After Brynn retrieved the two of them, they were led through their manse and out the front door. While not
quite as opulent as a fairy tale castle, their house was still considerable in size. Three bathrooms, two kitchens,
two studies, a sitting room, a den, a gymnasium, an observatory, several bedrooms, and a library were among
the highlights of the three-story manor. Lady Rebecca had managed to retain the house after the End and had
proceeded to fill her staff with widows and orphans of those tragic events. While she did require them to fulfill
their militia obligations as the rest of the people under her care, she did her best to protect them from the
hazards the current world offered to them.

The twins did their best to mask the excitement of their upcoming hijinks. Neither of them knew what they
wanted to do just yet, but anything was going to be better than hobnobbing with a bunch of stuffy, old-world
blue bloods. Both of them were escorted to a carriage, where a footman gently helped them out of the open air
and into the wheeled box. The benches themselves were draped with velvet but stuffed with soft heather
padding.

From behind them, a groom led Lady Rebecca’s personal horse up to the main door. Upon the mare’s arrival,
Lady Rebecca exited the manor. She was very tall. A head taller than the twins, with wide hips and broad
shoulders. She wore her old officer’s uniform, a blue and gold set replete with a baldric for her halberd. Unlike a
lot of fellow Lords and Ladies, she never wore spurs, preferring to guide her beloved horse with light taps from
her heels instead. Her hair was long, jet black, and straight, tied onto a tight bun similar to Alyssa’s hair. While
she was slightly weathered due to being over forty, she was renowned for her beautiful countenance. Her jaw
was a little more set than the twins, her eyes slightly rounder, and her almost mask-like face could transform
from stern and intimidating to incredibly sweet and girlish. She was a cavalry officer in her day and always
loathed being closed in a box then she traveled. A footman handed her a revolver as well, which she holstered
at her hip.

With a quick glance at the twins inside their carriage, she gestured to driver to follow her.

The trip would take a few hours, and the twins had been left to their own devices. For the first hour or so, they remained conspiratorially quiet. Bryn sat in the driver's box, giving one-word answers to a very chatty driver. The overgrown ruins passed in front of the carriage windows, leading to an oddly beautiful mosaic of plants and buildings in a perpetual wrestling match. Tree roots grappled with posts, grass burst forth from foundations, and bits of fern and moss carpeted the houses. In a strange way, the blend of civilization and nature seemed pleasing to the eyes of the young ones.

Alyssa was the first one to speak, "You know what would be funny?"

Justin, who had been trying to keep his mind occupied for the ride, seemed interested in what his sister had to say. He leaned forward, elbows on knees.

"Some of those moronic pets that those lords carry. If Lady Ella's cat got free and chased off those dumb doves Lord Edward likes to take with him to these meetings, " Alyssa started.
“That’s a start, Lys,” Justin started. “It just needs to go further.”
Alyssa refocused on her brother. People often mistook her for being the troublemaker of the two of them, but Justin could be a true master of chaos. While she was very much better athletically all around, but Justin had imagination beyond compare.
“If this meeting goes like any of the others, we’ll mingle, and pretend to care about the new bracelet or cape one of the dandies got a hold of, we’ll then sit down and eat, and listen to the same fops brag about what they did to get the food for each course. Then all the Lords and Ladies will retire to the back room and discuss things too important for us while the servants and kids have to behave and stare at each other for the rest of the night.”
Alyssa leaned back in her seat and watched her brother fade away into a reverie, his face showing the ghost of the mischievous smile they had shared not even a few hours ago.
The meeting place was clean but was very much similar to the ruined town around it. Entire wings were simply gone, save for smooth sandstone tiles that seemed to avoid the tangled vines that gracefully twined around the remaining walls.
Throughout the War of the End, many people had taken refuge within these walls, which somehow resisted the machinations of the Emperor. For most of the war, this castle was overlooked by the tyrant until the final days of this war. Even when the Emperor did turn his attention to this place, the people and the castle managed to hold out against the fell magics, creatures, and dark soldiery. That is, until it no longer did.
Because of all of this, the castle had become a sort of sacred site for the area. In the last ten years, attempts had been made to codify behavior into laws so the nobles could coexist without sending their militias together to destroy one another in some petty power struggle. So far, the only thing that had gotten done was talking and petty displays of gamesmanship. Who had the prettiest sword, bravest soldier, rarest animal, and many other things passive-aggressive and competitive.
For Lady Rebecca, her land had been terrorized by the spirit Enkidu. Enkidu was once an ally of some of her dearest friends, summoned to help stop the Emperor from wiping the living races off the face of the world. He was known as a Primal, or a powerful spirit of days before civilization stretched across the land. About three or four years ago, he suddenly reappeared. If Enkidu had reappeared, perhaps the rest of them appeared as well. From a political standpoint, this didn’t bode well for her idea of a more egalitarian government. The nobles are going to side with Cydrian’s New Empire idea if this were the case. The need to stand united against the myriad of threats was going to be the most important thing to everyone in attendance. The fastest way to do that would be to consolidate and put a single monarch on the throne.
Rebecca sighed and turned toward the carriage. In the older days of Empire, she would have been considered young for someone in her position. These turbulent days, however, were different. Monster attacks, shortages, injuries, and disease raised the mortality rate all around and lowered the lifespans of all people. This night, she was going to name them her heirs.
For forty-five years she breathed the air of this world, falling for only one person in her life. She never married, never had children. Joseph had taken vows of chastity as a young man and kept to those vows for the remainder of his life. On the last day she saw him, she tried to explain to him that love was one of the things he was fighting for, and to deny himself that love was hypocritical. That night, they sat holding each other on her bed, euphoric at the other’s presence, but uncomfortable due to the tension. That night, she kissed him. That’s as far as they got. When Joseph left with Frey, Alanta, the high elf Daleandor, the dwarf Astrophylite, and the wild elf Khar-way, she kissed the tall blond man one more time. Since then, she kept the memory with her, needing no other man in her life.
Rebecca sighed and refocused on the road ahead. In the last ten years, the worst thing that could have happened to her was to have nothing to do. Whenever she did, thoughts like that would take over. She spent more time sleeping in her office chair or her gymnasium floor than she ever did in her bed. Her position as Lady was definitely a blessing in that respect.
She dismounted as soon as they entered the ruins of the outer courtyard. There, one of her servants took the horse away to be groomed and fed. She stood and waited for the carriage, where her adopted children were helped out of the door by her manservant, Brynn. The look of them reminded her of their parents. Frey and Alanta were childhood friends, and both were quite adventurous. When they were together, they were always smiling and happy, acting as one nearly all the time.
They didn’t know why they had to be here. She never told them because she felt that they would feel too much of the burden too early. She took pleasure in their ingenuous banter and found their excited views of the world they lived in very refreshing.
She knew it would have to change sooner or later and made it as late as she possibly could. There was a big crisis at hand, and it was time for them to join her in the way the world is.
She smiled warmly as the twins approached her. Quickly, she adjusted the collar of Justin’s shirt and straightened the brooch Alyssa wore.
“You two look absolutely enchanting,” she declared.
Both of them sheepishly nodded, exchanging a glance.
Rebecca closed her eyes and sighed. She knew the glance they had exchanged. They were planning something. They were probably going to do it when everyone adjourned for the official meeting as well. Where no one with authority could stop them.
Gently, she placed her hand on their shoulders. “Look at me,” she said sternly.
Startled, the twins did as they were told.
“Tonight, is an extremely important night for us. Whatever you’re planning, don’t do it. Do you understand me?” She stated.
Both of them were wide-eyed when they nodded their affirmation.
Somehow, she wasn’t reassured by that response, but the fussy herald had been motioning them to join him in the waiting area to be announced. With a final warning glance from the matriarch, the three of them rushed to the waiting area.
Announcing was one of the most ridiculous thing Lady Rebecca could imagine. The band at first, stop playing. Then, they would restart with music designated for that particular family. The herald would then announce there were guests, to which all of the other guests would stop what they were doing and stand up.
As if on cue, the herald called out, “Presented to you, the party of Rebecca, Lady of Stonegate!”
“Entering now are her guests, Justin and Alyssa, Son and Daughter of the Heroes Frey and Alana Sunstroke!”
With rehearsed solemnity, the green clad twins linked arms and stepped around the corner and through the stone archway. Rebecca scowled. Her parents would have been horrified at their children acting so disingenuously. They had been cordial to Lord Cydrian; however, they did often compare him to a trained dog because of his love of grand ceremony.
Rebecca adjusted the links on her sleeves in anticipation of the announcement of her name. At least she could be proud of the uniform she wore. As a Royal Guard before the End, she had been directly charged with protecting any Princes in the royal house. That’s where she had met Joseph. He was the Emperor Jehu’s brother and was very much an ascetic.
“Presenting, Lady Rebecca Stonegate! Former Royal Guard and slayer of Alrukh, the Demon of Birds!”
Rebecca could only smile as that part of her name was announced. None of the fops and dandies that sat on their gilded chairs could ever claim to slaying a Primal with their own hand. While she didn’t do it alone, it was still something in which she could take pride. She quickly erased the smile and adjusted her gloves. With disciplined grace, she marched around the corner and through the arch. The guests raised their hands in a salute reserved only for soldiers, and she replied with her bow.
Quietly, she approached the dais the table was on and took her seat. The first to greet her was the elderly Lady Ella. She was seventy, and somewhat frail in build. Before the End, she had been an Imperial governor of the lands she now presided over. She had thin white hair and almost piercing dark eyes. Her delicate face sported a disarming smile.
“It is so nice to see you again, alive and well, Rebecca,” She said, her voice surprisingly strong and husky.
“Thank you,” Rebecca replied, sporting a smile of her own.
“You should smile more,” Ella continued. “Given the age you are getting to, it will diminish the crow’s feet.
Rebecca chuckled at that. “Is that your secret, Lady Ella?”
Ella returned her chuckle.
““How are your charges?” Came the throaty voice of Lord Edward. He was on the top side of fifty, with thinning dark hair and wide brown eyes. Unlike most of the men, he kept a full beard and proudly so. It made it very difficult to tell whether he smiled or frowned sometimes. He had a sable-colored dove pecking from the plate next to him.
“They are growing by the hour, Lord Edward. They turned sixteen as of two months ago,” Rebecca replied.
“Is that so? Did you have their Debut?”
“No, milord.”
It was around this time the servants had brought out the first course. Even the guests quieted down as the trays and dishes were laid out efficiently by the green and gold clad men and women. Their moves were so well rehearsed they seemed like a dance to her.
Another gentleman interjected. He was in his mid-thirties with light brown hair and gold flecked blue eyes. He was the least aged of the party at the table but seemed to loom the largest. He wore a light goatee and a face that reminded one of a hawk. His nose was sharp and somewhat long, while his jaw and chin seemed to come to sharp angles. He wore his hair long and well kept, tied in a neat tail behind him.
“It would have been better for them to Debut at this Meet,” He stated.
Rebecca looked up and locked eyes with the man. He looked directly back at her expectantly.
“I agree, Cydrian,” she said at length.
He nodded and smiled slightly. Most of the other Lords and Ladies at this Meet were well past their prime in years, though still held past beauty and grace; On the other hand, Lord Cydrian could be described as striking. Despite his sedentary nature, he kept his body in good shape, and was probably the best educated among them. He didn’t wear the same finery as many of the older nobles, nor the elaborate uniform Rebecca wore. While of high quality, he wore the garb of a scholar. A mantle over a tunic with pocketed trousers.
“We shall raise a toast to the twins. To what we have all sacrificed before, and the hope they symbolize,” Cydrian continued, raising his cup.
Rebecca sighed and raised her glass with everyone else. He was a politician through and through. Publicly, he seemed to always say the thing that makes everyone more relaxed.
Rebecca listened as the Lords and Ladies turned to one another and resumed their conversations. Everyone, that is, save for Lord Cydrian. He had turned his body toward the crowd of guests that populated the various tables in the courtroom. He thoughtfully stroked his chin as his alert eyes scanned everywhere from the dais to the gates. His eyes were far away, and his mouth was turned into a pensive frown.
Why were the others so carefree around this man? Was it because of his slight build? Despite his age, he never took arms for the End. Was it that reason?
“Cydrian?” She suddenly blurted out.
If he had been startled, he most certainly didn’t show it. He scooted back into his chair and turned back to the table. “Yes, Rebecca?”
“Is something troubling you?”
Cydrian took a slightly deeper drink from his cup. “Yes. That’s for later, however. There’s no need to discuss business now.”
Rebecca leaned forward, “Business?”
Cydrian nodded. “I’m beginning to believe the novelty of our new freedom is beginning to wear off.”
“Why do you say that Cydrian?”
Cydrian sloshed the liquid in his cup as if he was trying to scry with it. “Probably for similar reasons as to why you’ve barely touched your food and drink.”
Rebecca started. She looked down at the food on her plate. She’d been seated for barely ten minutes, but not a bite had been taken from the fried vegetables in the plate in front of her. “Sorry about that. That is terribly rude of me.”
Cydrian replied with a languid shrug. He scooted forward again and turned toward the guests. “Do you believe magic is dead, Rebecca?”
Rebecca frowned at the question. “Do you mean literally?”
Cydrian smiled. He had a way of expressing himself with different smiles. He could intimidate, reassure, reveal, or hide a secret, show impatience just by simply smiling in a different way. This smile was different, like he was more amused than anything. “As much as magic can die, I suppose.”
Rebecca sighed, thumbing one of the fried vegetables in front of her. The castle was on Cydrian’s land, so he had to preside over these meetings every year. Rebecca was farthest away and was always the last to arrive. She was a martial person, who knew only diplomacy as an alternate means of battle. He was a scholar, who saw battle as an answer to a problem. Conversation between them always seemed to be awkward between these two.
“In the whole of this realm, all but a scant handful of our Magi seemed to have disappeared. We used to have thousands of people who knew the Art. So many that they divided and subdivided their disciplines and created Calliedre Academy so proper discipline and efficiency could be taught and observed. Now- we have few. In my court, I have one. He is very reluctant to try things beyond what he studied at that Academy, which is to craft potions that heal cuts and bruises. Oh, and occasionally alleviate headaches.”
“Right,” Rebecca replied, taken off guard by the politician’s sudden candid speech.
Cydrian chuckled again. “That was what I was thinking, milady.”
Rebecca nodded and remained quiet. She was the only one not used to the game of politics. The rest of the nobles were born into their roles, and Cydrian had studied them to some degree. If she continued the conversation, she might not see him as an opponent, and this is what she needed for now.
After three more courses and another hour, Cydrian stood.
“To our guests,” he began. “Feel free to continue to enjoy the music and food. The Lords and Ladies shall retire to business. Have a good night!”
The guest crowd applauded appreciatively. The twenty or so men and women who sat at the table all stood in perfect concert and filed into the castle to speak of business.
While the debate began to heat up in that secluded room away from probing ears, the party itself had changed quite a bit. Guests who had once shown restraint now began to unwind a little more. Indulging in drink, song, and other things began to escalate. To the twins, it had been a deluge of well-wishers and sycophants who would follow them around at first. After a short while, those would eventually grow bored with the twins and find ways to amuse themselves elsewhere.
It was right then that the twins began to enact their plan.
The menagerie was designed as a show for the guests so that they may view exotic animals in relative safety. The more ferocious or valuable animals were under lock and key. The most valuable were also heavily guarded. Even the most savage animals would most often lay there, staring dully at the onlookers.
While each cage was heavily guarded, the menagerie itself was wide open so that anyone could come and go as they pleased. Even during the introductions, the twins had studied the guards and had found the perfect trouble. Near the far end of the menagerie, with virtually no guard around it, were monkeys. Standing upright, they were the height of a hand span, but seemed very energetic. If they got free, then the mess would be difficult enough to contain and the two of them could open a few more cages and no one would be wiser. Save for the fact that the damage would already be done.
The twins exchanged one more glance, their crooked smiles exuding charm and mischief.


The room where business was conducted could have been a room at any of the nobles’ manses. The walls were made of sandstone blocks that gleamed a dirty off-white color under the white light of the enchanted torches. No paintings or banners hung from them, and no chandelier was there to hover over them. Just plain brass sconces that contained the enchanted torches. The floor had no rug or carpet and seemed almost perfectly cut to where the seams between the stone tiles seemed illusory. The table was round, wooden, and smooth. The dark brown surface showed only one rune that gleamed near a brass candelabra. The chairs themselves also seemed generic, like oversized dining chairs with hard wooden backs ad some slight padding on its seat.
At each place, there was a wooden candle. Each of the Lords and Ladies would lift their candle and light it from the center before being seated and cups, plates, and bowls would be set in front of them by servants containing fare from the courtyard.
Cydrian was the first one to speak, “Please make sure you’ve taken care of any personal matters before we start, Lords and Ladies.”
All of them looked at one another to see if anyone had forgotten to do such things before they got here. No one seemed to have any pressing needs.
“There is pressing business that needs resolved this evening. Let’s get some of the ones we can resolve quickly out in the open now. Would anyone like to start?”
Rebecca took hold of her candle and stood. “I have an announcement. My wards, Justin and Alyssa, have turned sixteen as of earlier this year. After the meeting, they will be Debuting.”
There was a general murmuring of congratulations among the nobles that sat at the table.
“I’ve also come to announce that I will adopt both of them as my heir to my position. Including this seat. Barring any objection, Justin and Alyssa will be known as Stonegate.”
She looked around the room. No dissention seemed to be coming forth. Not even from Cydrian, whom she would have thought would object on the grounds that they were two people.
Lord Amos, a doughty, dark-skinned man spoke up in his gravelly voice. “There are none, Lady Rebecca.”
There was not a dissenter among them.
Cydrian cleared his throat and shuffled the papers set in front of him. “We’ll close this matter for now and proceed.
Sources indicate that a number of Primals once harnessed against Emperor Jehu have returned. Is this true for all of you?”
“Yes,” Rebecca said. “Enkidu was reported to be sighted near the southwest border of Stonegate.”
Edward added solemnly, “Ilmarinen was seen near the central region of Highcross.”
“Leviathan near Sun’s End,” Lord Amos adjoined.
Cydrian frowned a little. “For Dragon’s hold, we have Bahamut.”
There was a general murmuring among the assembled.
Cydrian set his papers down and rubbed his hands together in a circular motion. “There’s no simple way to work around this, fellows. We have to come to some sort of defense pact.”
“We’ve discussed this, Lord Cydrian,” Rebecca replied. “You will call for an autocracy, and I’ll oppose with egalitarianism. We’ve had no one else propose any other ideas.”
The room once again murmured, most of them anticipating the argument.
“The old ways lead to easy corruption, milord. It also breeds laziness and entitlement. You were a member of court, so you know what can and inevitably will happen,” Rebecca began.
“What you’re proposing is much more preposterous, milady. Do you think that every farmer, baker, and miller would care to vote on every single problem in your realm? Do you think they would turn out to determine whether a road is to be paved, or to punish the urchin who stole bread?”
“Do you think that some bureaucrat would care as much?”
Lord Cydrian sighed. “The common people only care about living in peace. They wish to put food on their families’ tables without fear of molestation from the things that go bump in the night. They wish to be cared for when they are ill-, they surely don’t wish to worry about how- they hardly have the time.”
Rebecca felt herself begin to shake. “Yet autocrats can simply take from them. Conscript their children, commandeer their animals and grain, and throw them out of their homes whenever they see fit.”
Rebecca could see the tired irritation on every face in the room. She didn’t know what she was pushing for, but she knew she had to push for it.
“You’ve never seen a fourteen-year-old child shivering in his bedroll, wishing for his parent, Cydrian! You’ve never seen the shame in the face of an officer forced to burn an old woman at the staked because she insulted the Emperor’s serving girl’s shoes!” She snarled, jumping from her chair.
Cydrian stood slowly, moving slowly so that her eyes had to follow him. He leaned forward so their eyes were merely feet apart. His fury seemed to match hers. “You’re a soldier, Rebecca. A damned good one. During the Imperial days, your soldiers loved you. Rightfully so. I also know that men fear you, so your bluster generally gets you what you want. Especially from someone like me. Just not me.
“Have you seen typhoid, Rebecca? In your camps with your healing magics? It’s a horrifying disease. The red, blotchy skin, the uncontrolled bowels, or the wracking sobs of pain. The slow death as the disease eats the victim from the inside out. “
Rebecca stood up straight, “I know what typhoid is, Cydrian, what’s your point?”
“You get the disease from tainted food and water, Rebecca. Imagine an Egalitarian Lord who decided that her daughter’s birthday party needed more fireworks than the pregnant woman needed clean water or treatment for the disease. All in the name of freedom.”
“You think me a fool, Cydrian? That just because I trained with a sword rather than your books, you can manipulate me? You think I can’t see past your false rhetoric and see what you really want?”
Cydrian rolled his eyes and chuckled. “Isn’t that typical. ‘He won’t do things my way, so he must be trying to take it all for himself!’ Isn’t that what you were trying to say? Why not state how fat you believe my mother is.”
Rebecca squared her shoulders again. She felt rage begin to boil from her the depths of her belly. He was using his tricks on her again. Just like so many of his kind had before.
“There aren’t enough facts on your side, milady, so you resort to shrieking and tantrums to get your way. Like the spoiled little….”
She had had enough. Her right hand, open and gloved, had already connected solidly across his upper jaw before she realized what she was doing. She felt the sting of his cheekbones on her fingers and saw his head snap to the side. He staggered backward and fell into his seat.
When the guards took hold of her, she didn’t resist. Cydrian had gotten the better of her, and there was no point in resisting any further. Slowly, her eyes traveled around the room. All she saw were looks of shock, disappointment, and disgust on the faces of the rest of the Lords.
It was then that things took a turn for the ludicrous.
It started with shouts of surprise and indignity and rapidly rose to a near riot crescendo. The guards, who had just laid their hands on Rebecca to detain her had forgotten about her and made a mad dash for the front door. Without thinking, Rebecca did the same. On the way by, she withdrew her baldric from the armory where all of the Lords’ arms were kept.
When she caught up with the rest of the guard, she could only stand there and stare at the strangeness of it all. Various animals had joined the population on the floor. A small troop of monkeys had made their way to the wine and beer casks. Somehow, a spigot had been torn free and the magenta liquid hemorrhaged frothily from it. A cat who was about 4 foot long had found a ham hock and was perched over it, gleefully chewing on it. Another was across the room, sampling the local fowl. Finally, there were two cows who had somehow wandered near the dessert table. Around them, the guests had fled in panic, were laughing merrily, or were transfixed in place.
Rebecca took a good minute to survey the scene in front of her. The glance her wards had exchanged in front of her suddenly sprang to mind, jarring her from the disbelief of the situation. With an irritated sigh, she nudged one of the guards.
“Get me a rope, about ten to twenty feet long. Then try to get the guests out of the area!” she barked. She turned around to put her weapon back, only to find the Lords standing behind her.
With a quick flick of her wrist, she tossed her covered halberd to Lord Edward and accepted the rope from the passing guard. Quickly, she began to loop and knot the rope.
“Please locate my young wards and send them to me,” she added as the guard turned to join his comrades.
“If you’re inclined to help, Lords and Ladies, please do so. Otherwise please remain out of harm’s way,” she said after finishing the lasso. She turned around in time to find the twins standing in front of her, badly disheveled and deep looks of consternation on their faces.
She motioned for her wards to follow her as she made her way to the bovine creatures near the dessert table. “Contain and catch those monkeys. The guards are better equipped to handle the cats.”
She dropped the lasso loop and prepared to swing into its launch, when Justin asked, “What are we supposed to do with them if we can catch them?”
“Find something to contain them,” she said. ‘Now go.”
These cattle were slightly larger than the beef cattle she was used to seeing but had no horns. Still the sheer weight of an attacking cow was enough to crush even the largest of men. With a smooth wrist motion, she flipped the lasso over the neck of the animal, landing square in its collar bone. She then sprinted toward it, pulling the rope tight as she leaped onto its back.
The cow bellowed its rage and immediately reared, flailing its hooves toward the heavens. Her neck was too thick and muscular for the rope to choke her, so Rebecca immediately tightened her grip on the rope. She leaned forward and tried her best to move with the violent and jerking motions of the bucking and rearing heifer. Tables crashed and food flew, and drinks exploded from all sides of her.
Her reluctant mount alternately bucked and reared, choosing to spin violently as she did so. Rebecca couldn’t find the breath for words as she held on. The spinning and jerking motions were only causing her to lose her bearings, so she just closed her eyes.
After a few minutes of this violence, the heifer simply fell over, exhausted. Because of the way she was mounted, she couldn’t get completely free of the fall and barely moved her leg in time before the large creature crashed to the ground. She had landed flat on her back, legs in the air. The wind was pile driven from her lungs, causing her to gasp in pain and surprise.
With a groan, she stood up, handing the other end of the rope to a nearby guest. “Find the handler and give this to him.”
She took a second to catch her breath and take stock of how badly injured she might be. The excitement of the situation seemed to cancel out any bumps or bruises she might have, and nothing was broken or dislocated. She pulled the binding from hair and let it drop. The bun she wore was probably dismantled to start with, so there was no use keeping up appearances.
“Bryn! Prepare my horse and fetch me another rope!” She snapped. It didn’t take any particular skill to recognize the trail of the other fleeing cow. Tossed chairs, upended tables, and a tipped cart betrayed the direction the large beast traveled. Anyone near the entrance arch seemed to be watching her as she took the lasso from Bryn and mounted her horse.
The skyline to their west was beginning to redden with the setting sun, flavoring the countryside with its golden red hue. The excitement of Rebecca’s first takedown had worn off, heightening her presence of mind. The warmth of the sun contrasted neatly with the coolness of the evening breeze seemed to soothe any soreness the Lady may have felt.
“She couldn’t have gotten far, Bryn,” she stated. “She’s probably more skittish than usual.”
“Yes, milady,” Bryn replied.
When they found her, she was prancing back and forth near a sloped ravine. She would playfully bleat and rear into the air occasionally.
Rebecca wrapped the rope around her wrist and loosened her grip on the lasso.
“Milady.” Bryn broke in, “How do you intend to subdue it? You have only your war saddle.”
Rebecca glanced over to the pommel of her saddle. There was no horn, so the horse wouldn’t be able to help her. Rebecca sighed and brushed her hair back from her face. “I’m going to have to bulldog her if she struggles.”
Bryn’s smile was slight, but noticeable. “Are you enjoying yourself?”
Rebecca smiled back, glancing at her manservant out of the corner of her eye. “No. This is something that needs to be done.”
“Right you are, milady.”
“If she panics, circle about to drive her within range of my rope,” Rebecca ordered before heeling her horse to a walk. In normal circumstances, the presence of the larger, stronger horse was often enough to insure a cow’s cooperation. When she got within ten yards or so, the cow flinched. Rebecca quickly stopped her horse, hoping she had frozen in time. The heifer looked up, making eye contact. For a few seconds, the two stared at one another.
Rebecca eased her mount forward. “It’s ok, milady,” she whispered, trying to be soothing. “We just want to take you away from the wolves. Just come with us. Just….”
The cow hopped sideways and trotted away.
“Damn,” Rebecca spat.
Rebecca could sense that Bryn was already moving. She tensed her legs to stand in the stirrups. She saw the cow backpedal as Bryn approached it, snorting in irritation as she started to trot Rebecca’s direction. As soon as Rebecca’s horse moved, the cow’s trot turned into a sprint. Rebecca heeled her horse into a gallop, easily closing the distance. As the cow tried to change direction on her, she flung the lasso. The loop seemed to hover in front of its target before settling on the bovid’s broad shoulders.
She then steered her horse to move alongside the maverick, shifting on the saddle to leap from it. The idea was to use her weight with the cow’s momentum to drive it to the ground and stun it. Bryn would then approach and proceed to bind the cow before she could struggle.
At the moment she was springing from the saddle, she heard Bryn shout an alarm. It didn’t take her long to figure out why. She had not been paying attention to how close to the edge of the ravine she was, and she was springing over the lip and onto the steep slopes. She managed to cradle the cow’s head, but instead of driving the cow chin first to the ground, she spiked the top of her head into the ground, causing her to tumble end over end. Instead of sliding when she hit the ground, she bounced. She barely saw the cow careen off the slope and over her, spinning wildly. Her body reacted instinctively, rolling to right her position to at least control the fall. For a brief moment, she managed exactly that. That’s when the rope wrapped around her wrist came into play. She had ended the first bounce on her stomach, but the weight of the cow and the rope around her wrist yanked her from her stomach and sent her tumbling backwards again. As she was peeled backwards from the ground, she felt a tearing pain from somewhere in her body. She could barely manage a whimper before her wind and consciousness were driven from her from a sudden impact.
Justin knelt down and studied the hill and frowned he had long since removed his hat and hair binding. “It’s steep. I think it might be possible to pull them both up. We just need someone to get down there with a rope and tie them off.”
Alyssa, who had also removed her hair binding, now re-tied it to a looser ponytail. “I’ll go. Give me the rope.”
She and her brother exchanged a glance, which always seemed to be a conversation had in seconds. “That’s our surrogate down there. If I didn’t do something to help her when she needed it, why would she bother raising me?” She said calmly to everyone else before they could object. “Besides, I’m probably the best athlete here.”
She sat down and removed the fancy-dress boots and removed the cumbersome skirts of her dress. Thankfully, she still wore her tights beneath them. Though one could hear the gasps of surprise at the act, followed by quiet disappointed murmurs.
She rolled her eyes, a wave of amusement and annoyance passed over her.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you all,” she snarked.
She wrapped the end of the rope around her wrist so she could carry a dagger with one hand and guide herself with the other. Slowly, she guided herself down the hill. This was taking her whole concentration as the soft ground seemed to slide from under her bare feet. For what seemed like an eternity, she managed to make her way to the outcropping where Rebecca lay.
The moon in the sky had moved enough that she could hardly see. She knelt down and began to feel around the fallen Lady, feeling the spiderweb of ropes all over her body.
“Shit!” She spat in a whisper.
“You never were much for manners,” Rebecca replied hoarsely.
Alyssa gasped, almost dropping her dagger. “You’re awake?”
“Only for a few minutes.”
“Why didn’t you say so before?”
“Didn’t know who you were,” Rebecca grunted. “I hate to sound rude, but could you hurry a little?”
Alyssa nodded, finding part of the rope that was loose enough to cut.
“If you need to see, just open your locket, Lys.”
In the excitement, she had completely forgotten about her locket. It was one of her brother’s first successful uses of a rune. All it did was cause a pale blue light to pour from the opening. It was strictly meant for decoration.
She opened the locket on her chest and found the beam to be much stronger than she remembered. While she could only see a small spot in front of her, it was infinitely better than trying this completely blind. The work was slightly faster, but still painstaking enough.
Some of the men from the top began to call down after her. “Alyssa! Is she okay?”
“She’s hurt pretty badly, but she’s alive!” Alyssa replied, trying to ignore the gnarly twisting of one of her ankles.
“What about the cow?”
Alyssa stopped for a second to check, but Rebecca shook her head. “The poor thing is dead. I think the fall broke her neck. I felt her death throes a while ago.”
“That neck was pretty solid, Lady Rebecca.”
She heard her surrogate mother chuckle. “I know, but if a thousand pounds hits anything in the correct angle, it will probably break.”
“The cow didn’t make it!” Alyssa shouted back.
They sat there in silence and let the young lady work at cutting some of the ropes. Again, it was Rebecca who broke the silence.
“I know it was you two,” she said flatly.
Alyssa kept working, knowing exactly what Rebecca was about to say.
“You somehow released those animals. After I warned you not to.”
Alyssa paused for a second, swallowing back a wave of guilt.
She heard Rebecca chuckle, “That’s perfectly okay. You did me a favor.”
Alyssa paused again. That had to be the most backward thing she’d ever heard.
“Politics are a strange thing, Alyssa. Whether you want to or not, you’ll understand.”
Finally, she cut the last rope free. With instruction from Rebecca, she tied the new rope as a harness so she could be lifted.
“Take the rope first. Just above me,” Rebecca instructed.
Alyssa straddled the rope above her. “We’re ready!”
Using the rope as a guide, she scurried back up the hill and joined the rest of the crew in pulling the Lady back to the top. After she was carried to level ground, men with torches knelt in a circle around her while a surgeon performed a cursory examination of her wounds.
“Your ankle is broken, milady, as is your calf. Your ring and pinky fingers are out of joint on your left hand, also. There are lots of small cuts, bruises, and scrapes, but none of those are major. We have to get her back to the castle and clean her up. Let’s get her to the cart.”
On the journey back to the castle, the twins sat with their surrogate in the back of the wagon.
Rebecca reached up and took one hand from each of them. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you this before. Tonight was supposed to be your Debut.”
A look of surprised confusion was what she was greeted with. They knew what a Debut was, but they needed one of their parents to be present for such an event. They were orphans.
“The nobles just approved my petition to adopt you. I was going to name you my heirs.”
Justin let go of his new mother’s hand and sat back against the side of the cart. He ran his hand through his thick red hair and blinked like he’d been slapped. Alyssa simply dropped her hand and huffed. It was clear that neither wanted to be a future Lord or Lady, and all of the responsibilities that came with it. At least not yet.
“You’ve enjoyed a life that few have in this age. It’s time you paid the people back for the luxury they afforded you. As young as you are, it’s time for the both of you to learn to lead,” Rebecca rasped.
“We’re not ready yet, Lad- mother,” Justin began.
“We have a whole world that needs explored. We can’t do that from on a throne or behind a desk,” Alyssa added.
“The time of noble heroes is gone. The people need ones who can guide and protect them, not rush off and slay monsters,” Rebecca said. “You two represent so much to so many people. Sacrifices made in the past, and hope for the future. As the future comes to pass, every single citizen is going to need you there to greet it.”
Rebecca shook her head sternly as Justin opened his mouth to debate. “We’ll discuss this when we get home.”
When they arrived again at the castle, the Lords and Ladies with their entourages had exited the archway to greet them. A line was formed to receive the wounded Lady to be passed over the side and on to a smaller litter.
Cydrian was first and foremost among the Lords. Though, he was now sweating profusely, and his eyes seemed to be reddening in the evening torchlight. He quietly saluted Lady Rebecca as she was lowered onto the litter before addressing his own staff, “Take her to the dormitories inside the castle. Cooperate with her manservant, and the surgeon.”
He then turned to address the twins, who started to climb out with their new mother. “Stop,” he said calmly.
The twins almost froze in place as he spoke.
“Has Lady Rebecca told you yet?” He asked.
The twins exchanged a glance, and Cydrian seemed to immediately know what they were thinking. They knew exactly what he meant.
He’d felt a strange bite on the back of his wrist during the shenanigans with the animals, and while the wound wasn’t swollen, he’d felt himself become more feverish. Sometimes random thoughts would pass, fragmented, into his mind. Despite the night being fairly warm, he felt the cold air stinging him.
Both of them nodded.
“Then the Lords and Ladies need you here. Lady Rebecca was going to be censured as punishment for….”
Suddenly, a chorus of voices entered into his head all at once. Not all of them human. Some things, his mind could not and would not translate. He raised a hand to his cheek to feel if he was still there. He glanced at Lady Rebecca’s twins, whose faces reflected both impatience and concern.
Suddenly, one thought seemed to still the others.
This will pass, friend. Just sleep now.
“I will be returning soon,” he blurted before his senses left him.



This post has been edited by chevleclair on 15th October 2021 18:44

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"So, are you a fan of the Fett?"

"Nah, I'm more of a Star Wars guy."
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Posted: 15th October 2021 18:45

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Black Mage
Posts: 178

Joined: 7/1/2014

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Once again, thank you. If you keep reading, I'll keep working smile.gif

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"So, are you a fan of the Fett?"

"Nah, I'm more of a Star Wars guy."
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Posted: 17th October 2021 21:07

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Joined: 7/1/2014

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Interlude- Always a Puzzle

Interlude- Always a Puzzle
Beneath a silken tent’s canopy, a chair held Cydrian, Lord of the Old Quarter. In its thin floor stood a table. The table presented to Cydrian a Euclidian plane from which to work. Aboard the table it stood. Broken and unshaped, being formed inch by tiny inch at Cydrian’s hands. This piece fit here, and this piece fit here. The pieces themselves feeling like soft clay, daring him to twist and maim them as they perched in his hand. He musn’t do that. Never warp them.
Suddenly, the near-shape trembled. He didn’t hear the crumbling so much as he felt it. It started with the last piece he placed. It just unceremoniously threw itself from the near-shape. Then one more left its place. Then another. Then another. Soon, the near-shape was unmade.
“Stop!” he shouted at the tiny pieces, flinging his arms out in an attempt to contain the carnage. “Stop moving! Stay! Stay where I tell you to stay!” Carefully, he picked up each piece and arrayed them around the edge of his working area where he could see them.
He’d always been able to solve every puzzle that was put in front of him. At home, University, or at any of the meets he’s ever attended. There was always a puzzle, and he always solved it.
Except maybe this one.
He closed his eyes, gathering himself with a sigh. “I must do this. I’m the only one who would. The one who can.”
After surveying the un-shape, he disgustedly tossed the pieces in his hand down onto the table and put his hands to his face. Everything about this puzzle was absolutely unsolvable! Some pieces are misshapen, some are missing. Some glowed, some didn’t. Some pieces weren’t needed, others were vital.
He ran both hands through his hair, rocking back as he did so. “Which was which?” He growled.
He put his fingers to his lip with one hand and lifted his blueprint to hold up to the light. He had an old shape that cost hi m too much to break. Now that shape was broken, and he needed to make a new shape with the pieces in front of him.
Was he trying to make it too much like the old shape? The shape he knew? That’s what the older people did. He wasn’t old yet, but he was getting there.
He suddenly felt he had been here for a long time. He could see the shadows of cobwebs crisscrossing the canvas tent walls. He needed to get home, but how? There was no road. “If there’s no road,” he mused, “I’ll just make the road.”
“Friend,” came a small voice from somewhere in the small space, “what are you making?”
“I’m not your friend.” Cydrian practically spat back. He didn’t have friends. Didn’t need friends, didn’t want them. Friends are slippery things.
“Comrade,” came the small voice, smooth and patient, “where are you trying to go?”
Cydrian didn’t even look up. He didn’t know who it was, but he’d been here for a while. This wasn’t the first time he’d shown up unannounced, but this is the first time he spoke.
He put the plans down and started to rearrange the pieces.
“I am not your comrade,” Cydrian pronounced. After a short pause he added, “I am trying to reach a place that does not yet exist.”
“Getting there, it is important?” The voice asked him.
Cydrian scoffed. “What do you think?”
“Given how hard you’re working, it’s important to you.”
He began feverishly rearranging the pieces, trying to make out something of the drawing in front of him.
He wasn’t going to look at the voice. He wanted to. He just wasn’t going to.
“What did it look like before?”
Cydrian scowled. “It was beautiful.”
The voice sounded puzzled. “Why did you break it?”
“Because it was also sickly. It was making me sick, and everyone else, too.”
“Sick?”
“It couldn’t last. People were dying faster than I could... I can’t be everywhere at once!” Cydrian folded the parchment over itself and ripped it into neat little squares, which he then tossed over his shoulder.
He lifted the graphite and began to draw more plans. There was definitely a right answer to this puzzle. Not everyone’s answer was right. He didn’t have an answer- didn’t want one until he found the one that was correct.
“This new place, will it be beautiful, too?”
Cydrian shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe not at first. It never is, at first.”
“Professor, will you let me help?”
Cydrian wanted to stop and look at the voice, but he didn’t. The puzzle was too important.
“If you can help better than everyone else, then yes. Otherwise, please stay out of my way,” he said flatly.
“Thank you.” The small voice sounded pleased, which Cydrian didn’t find unpleasant. “Professor, please look over here.”
Cydrian jumped as the tablecloth started to swing away from his legs. Someone was pulling on it, but, more importantly, there were more pieces hidden underneath! They had always been there, just out of sight.
A surge ran through him. Anticipation and relief were foremost among the emotions he felt. His hands trembled feverishly as he plucked them from their hiding places.
“Of course! Of course!” He crowed, nearly collapsing into giggles. “It makes more sense now!”
Cydrian, Lord of the Old Quarter once again began to draw.



This post has been edited by chevleclair on 18th October 2021 21:23

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"So, are you a fan of the Fett?"

"Nah, I'm more of a Star Wars guy."
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