Seras carefully poured the magically infused powder into the brass casing, as the powder poured in it began to sparkle with barely stable magic. Next to her Petra tensed. Maybe playing with magically infused, slightly unstable, and highly explosive gunpower in their hotel room was a bad idea.
But after her visit to the fletcher, and later a back alley alchemical lab, had left her brimming with ideas. It started as a test to see if the fletcher’s ritual could work with bullets, which it did. Taking the energy of the spirit coins and magically charging the metal of the bullet. Then she began mixing the gun powder with the unstable catalyst the alchemist had sold her with quirked eyebrows. And before she knew it she had the casing in the bullet press she had a blacksmith throw together and was making her very own magically enhanced munitions.
Seras grinned at the first shell. “I dub thee death.” She murmured, quoting the legendary words of the first gun smith. “We need to test this.” Seras said.
“On what?” Petra asked.
“Well I need something with a magic matrix to see if the enhanced magical disruption is actually working.” Her eyes wandered to Petra as they were talking.
“You want me to stand in front of your boom-stick thing and see how much it hurts?” Petra asked incredulously.
“First off, its not a ‘boom-stick’. That name is dumb. And second, only a defense specialist would be able to survive and tell me how it felt.”
Petra sighed. “Fine, lets do this in the courtyard, and we should grab Garrette.”
“Really?” Seras asked. She had not been expecting her to acquiesce so quickly.
“Yeah, its not like it can hurt me.” The Leonid said with a shrug.
“I’m going to make you regret that.” Seras said.
“Surrre” Petra teased.
While Petra had been easy to convince Dustin proved to be less convinced
“You want to test how deadly your new weapon is by shooting your friend.” He asked with crossed arms.
“Well when you put it that way,” Seras muttered.
“No,” Dustin said, his tone broaching no argument.
“Ah come on Dust, I can’t got into a fight without knowing what I’m working with,” Seras complained.
“NO! I’m not letting you shoot your friends. I’ve seen what that thing does to bronze ranked monsters.”
“Hey,” Petra interjected, “I’m not some weak monster, I’m a peak iron rank defense specialist. I’ll be fine.”
Dustin looked unconvinced.
Flint looked up from whatever he was reading. “It doesn’t matter anyway. We just got summoned to meet with the director of the Cuprik adventure society branch. You two need to shower and change before we go.”
Dustin looked over, “is it that pressing?”
“The letter said ‘at your earliest convenience’, so…”
Dustin sighed “So we clean up and run over as soon as possible. I’ve got a bad feeling about this. Might even have to break out the crystal wash.”
Seras was confused. “The director sounds like a big deal, why would he summon all of us?”
“The letter only named Dustin, but it also requested the rest of his crew,” Flint said. “My guess is that we’re being given a special request. The fact that it is being personally given to us by the director can only mean its important.”
“So break out the clean boots and fancy hat, gotcha.” Seras said as she let the rifle fade back into her pocket space in a cloud of blue sparks. She would have to test it at a later date. Even she knew the director of the local adventurer society was not to be ignored.
~~~*~~~
Director Arlee was having a frustrating month. First the appearance of what seemed to be every Toruach on the continent had forced him to reposition almost every active adventurer on the boarder of Cuprik’s east. While this ensured the beasts wouldn’t overrun the farmland it also proved to be a massive headache for him.
By their very nature adventures were independent personalities, and organizing them often felt akin to herding cats.
Plenty of Cuprik’s officials were questioning the choice to guard the boarder rather than just killing the beasts and throwing a city-wide feast. But Director Arlee knew better than that. He was a second-generation son of Cuprik, and before settling down his parents had been members of the Koda tribe. He knew how vital these beasts were to the survival of the native tribespeople of the five deserts, and a large-scale slaughter of one of the largest herds would bring down the ire of said tribes.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
He had already received messages from the tribal leadership hinting at what the repercussions might be.
Then the Omeda raids began, and Director Arlee began to suspect that something greater was at work.
Things like this don’t just happen all at once without someone orchestrating it behind the shadows.
Someone knocked at his door. “Director, Mr. Westbrooke and his company have arrived.”
Director Arlee took a calming breath. It was completely pointless for a silver ranker like himself, but he felt the calming effect regardless. “Send them in,” he ordered.
The door opened, and a bronze ranked Smolder male stepped through. His aura was so deeply touched by his life in the saddle that Director Arlee almost felt like he could smell the scent of ash and Heidel hair despite the crystal wash clean appearance of Westbrooke. The next was an Elf with a loamy scent to his aura.
They were the bronze ranked leaders of Westbrook’s unnamed caravan company. And the two names that Arlee had recognized from the report on the Omeda raid. While the two hadn’t been present the clerk responsible for writing the report had saw need to include their names, and it was no wonder as to why.
It was rare for bronze rankers to earn a reputation like they had, but few living in the Five deserts hadn’t heard of the Blazing outrider and Earthbreaker. One was a skilled merchant well regarded for his morals and willingness to jump in when someone needed help.
The other was infamous for putting an end to the corrupt rangers with Westbrook’s aid.
The rangers were first founded to be a force that protected the average person from banditry, but leadership had struck bargains with the many bandit lords of the Deserts in secret. Flint had been betrayed by his own possie and vowed to destroy the evil at the heart of the rangers. Since then, the man had tried on three different occasions to revive the organization only to fail and retire to become a caravan guard.
Arlee could feel the power in their auras, these two were close to silver, very close. Maybe one, or two more minor thresholds each. Arlee knew the moment they walked through the door that h had gotten the right men for the job.
The next couple of people to walk through the door were not as famous as their leaders, but Arlee reminded himself that these were the people who had been the first to respond to the situation. According to the report the three strongest, two iron rankers and a son of the Akemi, immediately ran to the rescue and were instrumental in saving the village of Westend.
The Leonid was on the verge of bronze herself and had a sturdy, relentless, feeling aura about her. He had looked over her record and was suitably pleased by her performance. He was even considering to recommend her for three stars.
The Akemi man was typical for their people. Though the emotions of normal rankers always felt muted to his senses he got a good feeling from him. Upright, respectful, but also hawkish in his alertness.
The third…Arlee felt his eyes widen. He felt much death and misery in her aura, but not in the way of murderers. Her aura seemed constantly on guard and always looking for threats, it was aggressive, but like a mistreated animal. She also had the lack of refinement that was indicative of someone who hadn’t been an iron ranker for long, or at least had only recently gained an aura power.
And there was something else, something that felt almost… metallic to him. Like he could taste copper or the smell of hot metal. It was odd.
There was nothing on her in the adventurer society records but according to the report she had been the first to reach the village and was responsible for disrupting the Omeda just enough to force them to abandon their raid. The report even stated she did battle with a bronze ranker. He didn’t distrust the validity of the report, his people were too good to add such a thing without total confidence, but he was curious as to how she had survived.
“Sit” Director Arlee commanded, letting them feel his aura just a bit to know that he was not to be resisted.
The minor fluctuation caused most of the assembled people to pale. The exceptions being Westbrook as well as the Celestine woman. She took on the overwhelming power of his silver ranked aura and refused to balk, instead he felt her bristle.
Interesting.
The caravanners quickly shuffled in, Westbrook and Stone sat on the couch across from Arlee, while the rest stood behind. “I believe you have an idea as to why I called you here today?” Arlee began. This was a tactic as old as bureaucracy, by asking the question Arlee put the burden of context onto Westbrooke. It would clue Arlee in on any details left out of the report as well as test Westbrooks intelligence.
“You’re issuing a special mission to track down and eliminate the Omeda.” Westbrooke said succinctly.
Good, Westbrook knew how to play the game as well. He soused out Arlee’s intentions proving his keen mind while also withholding extraneous details. It could all be a coincidence, but Director Arlee had developed a great sense of character over his long career. But Westbrook wasn’t entirely on the mark. “Almost, I wish to issue you a special quest to track and retrieve the kidnapped civilians. Killing the Omeda for their crimes is secondary.”
“You want to rescue civvies,” the Celestine woman asked incredulously?
Several eyes turned to her. Some looked surprised, Westbrooke looked disappointed, and the Earthbreaker sneered.
Arlee for his part maintained his composure. “My apologies miss, but it sounds like your confused as to why the adventuring society would want to retrieve kidnapped civilians?” Arlee intoned politely.
The Celestine showed a slight blush at the attention directed her way. “Sorry, I’m not used to the prioritizing civvies over ending the threat.”
The Earthbreaker looked appalled “What do you mean by that exactly?”
Westbrooke placed a hand on the Earthbreaker shoulder, Arlee saw Westbrooke expertly use his aura to send his partner a hidden message. A difficult trick, and one that proved Westbrooke’s skill.
It wasn’t a technique for passing along worded messages, more like a predetermined code used only by those intimately familiar with each other.
The Earthbreaker calmed.
Westbrooke turned back to Director Arlee. “My apologies director, Seras here is an Outworlder, and is still getting used to the way we do things.” He said smoothly.
An Outworlder? Now that was portentous. Arlee became more assured in his decision to call upon Westbrooke. “I understand. Even among other cities of the desert the preservation of civilian lives might seem like a strange choice. Miss, Seras was it?”
The Celestine nodded her head “Seras Cross,” she confirmed.
Arlee gave her a polite smile. “Well Miss Cross, tell me, what is a city?”
She quirked an eyebrow. “Is this a trick question,” Arlee shook his head, “Well, its bunch of building and streets.”
Arlee shook his head. “That was what I was expecting. A city is not just buildings and streets, it is a collection of people. Ordinary, average people. Without those a city would feel like a dull place. Cuprik is a city of great prosperity and long periods of desolation as the waters come and go. But tell me, what becomes of the people when the wells dry up?”
“They leave,” she said skeptically.
“Many do. The well-established nobility of Cuprik hoard resources and settle into their fortresses during the long drought. And those merchants and lower nobility who have gathered their wealth leave for greener pastures. But the ordinary person, the normal rankers with no money. They stay. They can’t afford to hire protection to leave en mass, and even if they did, they still wouldn’t go. They stay in the desert and make their living as best as they can, they cover the fields in large tarps to prevent the good soil from blowing away, they mix their nightsoil into the soil to fertilize them for when the waters return. They find ways to survive the deserts during lean times. Many die, either starvation, monsters, or simple banditry. But the common people never abandon their homes.”
The Celestine woman frowned. “So they keep the soil from blowing away during the droughts, but others can take their place right?”
Arlee frowned, did she really not see his meaning? “Yes, others can take the place of the labor lost, but not the people. People are more than just their labors, they are their stories, their festivals, their traditions. Losing the people of six whole villages is a true tragedy to the cultural heritage of Cuprik, and if they can be rescued and returned then that should be the priority.”
She blinked in surprise.
“Do you disagree?” Director Arlee asked.
“Ah, no. I just, I never expected to hear that coming from a person of power.” She said, and he felt the honesty, and puzzlement in her aura.
“Some don’t see it my way, but that is why I am the director of the adventurer society and not them. The people of small, often forgotten communities are the ones who welcome outsiders in with open arms. They lose much in the years of drought and have much land to work. My parents were welcomed in like this, and I grew up learning their ways until I could call myself a proud son of Cuprik. I may have left to pursue a life of adventure, but I never forgot what’s important. Adventurers, above all else, protect the people. Is it not like this on your world.”
The faces of everyone gathered grimaced.
The Outworlder opened her mouth, and then shut it. She did this several more times before letting out a weary sigh. “No, on my world people are little more than tools to do used until they break down then discarded. A resource to be wrung out, every drop of life harvested. If you’re lucky you’ll make enough to afford a meager retirement, but that’s assuming the best. Most die at their desks, or get crushed in a ‘freak’ industrial accident. And no one gives a danm about their traditions or stories. I’ve seen whole neighborhoods purged for a few refusing to pay taxes.”
“Then you have my apologies Miss Cross, your world sounds like a truly awful place.” Director Arlee said.
“You don’t know the half of it,” Flint muttered to himself.