Ryan Corbin McDermott was having a rough time of it. His last few jobs had been a terrible return for the effort invested, and when he tried to drink away his sorrows in the nearest bar, one of the meddling guardsmen had collared him for disorderly behaviour and forced him to spend the night in a cold, damp cell in the local barracks. In the aftermath, Ryan swore off drinking himself under the table again – at least until he forgot about the events of that evening.

He had taken his usual spot on the left side of the local posting board. This was where he found most of his work. Missing people, wanted criminals and other odd jobs were displayed on pieces of old, bedraggled parchment. None of them were things that one would choose to do for a living. Ryan knew that for him it was the only real way to make money. He had no other skills that could help him. The computer science degree he had worked so hard for wasn’t worth the effort.

“No, no, no…”

He flipped through each of the posters with a casual dismissal. People demanding too much and paying too little, and more than a handful of jobs that involved breaking the law. That was the kind of business best left to a rogue. Why the hell was a guy like him stuck doing busywork? He had a legendary weapon! He should have been slaying great evils or rescuing fair maidens. Reality was a cruel mistress. Ren, now there was a guy who was doing what he wanted to do.

“Ryan! I haven’t seen you in a long while.”

He turned to face the intruder, a fellow mercenary named Jonell. The two were drinking buddies and had worked together on several larger ventures.

“Oh, hey buddy. Haven’t seen you either.”

He smirked, “I missed that weird little accent of yours. How’s the going been recently?”

“Nothing unusual. Finding lost daughters and dragging them back here.”

Jonell chuckled, “We should be thankful that most of these nobles are such bad parents – without them we’d be out of pocket. Did you hear the rumours about Pascen?”

Ryan’s brow quirked, “Pascen? What about Pascen?”

“Well, I just came down from that way, on the border – and everyone’s talking about how crazy things are. Storms like they’ve never seen before! And you know how rain-drenched those Eastern folks are; if they say it’s bad, it’s really bad.”

“To be honest, I’m staying away from the taverns right now pal. I had to spend a night in the lockup because of some asshole running his mouth. Can you believe that?”

“Ah, that explains it. Now that more people are coming over into the Fed, everyone’s been sharing stories. Surprised they haven’t gotten this far just yet.”

Information travelled slowly in this world. Ryan had first-hand experience with the problems that it caused. The convenience of email, telephones and the internet couldn’t be understated. If something happened in a remote area the only way to know was for someone to spread the news to their friends. If it was sensational enough the entire nation would know within a few months. The problem was that what was sensational wasn’t always the most important. The mundane things mattered, a bad harvest, inclement weather, economic downturn, all of them could have a profound effect on the lives of millions of people.

“How bad is it?”

“They might have been fluffing things up a little, but they said that it was raining non-stop, heaviest they’ve ever seen it. Thunder and lightning, fires in the woods, and the ground cracking right under their feet. The farmers have given up on the fields and started hiding in the city.”

“Man, that sounds pretty awful. I got my own share of memories with bad weather, once a tornado really ripped our house down.”

“Hopefully things clear up for them soon. They’ve never done much wrong by other people over there on the coast. I was planning on picking up sticks and retiring there when I found the money to do it.”

Ryan was incredulous. Jonell was a good few decades removed from worrying about retirement, and he certainly wasn’t going to get there by picking scraps off the town’s noticeboard. Ryan barely broke even on the best of days. Food, clothes, equipment. All of it added up. He was one of the lucky ones, he got a start by rooming with a fellow adventurer and paying a bargain rate of rent for the privilege. Then a few of his clients awarded him bonuses for rescuing their loved ones from the clutches of individual freedom, which allowed him to purchase a small, two story house in one of the poorer districts.

That house was still bare. Ryan didn’t have the time or money to decorate it. It served as little more than a bed and storage for the things he wasn’t using. It was all blind luck. He knew people who had several more years’ experience than him who weren’t close to owning a home. Getting out into the country and building one of your own was the main method of escaping onto the housing ladder.

For urban born fighters carpentry and farming were two things that were at a hefty premium. The house that came out the other end wasn’t going to be anything amazing or permanent either. And out in the remoter parts of the country, you either had to grow your own food or haggle for it from the farmers. If you couldn’t find the breadth and depth of job offers you could in the city, you’d starve.

Jonell nudged Ryan side, “I heard a rumour that some guy from these parts killed Lord Forester?”

“It’s the only thing anybody wants to talk about lately. I know him.”

Jonell’s eyes widened, “You do?”

“If they’re right about who it is, yeah. Sounds like something he’d do.”

“How did you meet?”

“We just ran into each other. I was on a missing persons’ job and he got caught up in it.”

Ryan recalled the absurd tale that had been drilled into his brain. Ren had visited Blackwake in the middle of war-footing, snuck into the city, got caught, escaped again, killed several inquisitors, and then at least two dozen other soldiers who tried to stop him. The number of people slain grew as the rumour trickled down further and further through the soil of the city’s underworld. Forty, fifty, sixty, one-hundred. In a few weeks it would grow even more, and Ren would be single-handedly responsible for killing every soldier in the damn city.

But maybe with the power of a sword like his, a few dozen wasn’t off the cards entirely.

“He must have gotten a hell of a payout for doing that,” Jonell mused, “I’m jealous.”

Ryan shook his head, “It must have been a lot of trouble to go through, guys like that are built differently to the likes of me. I’m happy whittling away the days with this kind of thing.”

Jonell’s eyes looked down to the long, curved sword that hung from his waist. He had snuck a peak at it a long time ago while Ryan wasn’t paying attention. It was a pointless decision, as Ryan was rather forthcoming with the details when he had a good amount of alcohol in his system. He just stumbled across the damn thing, one of the legendary swords that were spoken of in hushed tones and with some level of disbelief.

But it was the real deal – the legendary thunder sword Raiju, the one said to have split the northern mountains in two. It was decidedly more mundane than Jonell had expected. He was a boy who had grown up on a steady diet of myths and legends about the collection, each one tied to an element or phenomena that shaped the world around them.

“Don’t you ever feel like doing something… bigger?”

Ryan chewed on the question, “Bigger? Like saving the world? Assassinating military commanders? Starting my own Kingdom?”

“I guess.”

“I’m not really the ambitious type,” Ryan offered – even though he knew the real reason was probably more interesting than that. All of those things sounded like a one-way trip to the nearest morgue. For all the numbers and stats he could manipulate, this was a real place filled with real people and real consequences. He couldn’t reload a save if he died out in the wilderness. He couldn’t expect to get another second chance either.

And for that matter, why did he need to do any of those things? Just to say he did? Ryan preferred to keep a cool head and enjoy the little things in life. He had his favourite haunts around town, his friends and co-workers, and a house to keep himself out of the rain. The unending novelty of being transported back to a world without technology had enraptured him from the start. A guy like him didn’t need a great ambition to be happy.

Ryan, who had just a few minutes ago pined for the life of high excitement and adventure that Ren was leading, convinced himself out of it just as quickly.

Jonell continued his pitch, “I’ve got a line on some work coming around Pascen. It’s not just the weather, people are saying that there are monsters cropping up over there too. They’re looking for guards and killers to take care of it. Why don’t you put that sword to use for once and come with?”

“I don’t buy that for a damn second,” Ryan objected, “The worst thing you’ll find out in the wild is a boar.”

“They were attacked by a bunch of giants recently!”

“Yeah, and how often does that happen? Everyone was saying it was a once in a lifetime event when it was still going on.”

“It doesn’t matter if there’s actually anything to kill. They’ll pay you just to show up and look tough.”

“And endure that terrible weather you were talking about?”

“Seems like a small price to pay for some easy money.”

“There ain’t no such thing as easy money buddy. No such thing.” Ryan was edging close to taking one of the jobs from the board and getting out of dodge before Jonell tried to entangle him further. He reached out to grab it, only for Jonell to snatch his wrist and pull him away.

“Listen, they’re offering a huge amount of cash for this. Like it or not, you’re the only bloke I trust to watch my back. You don’t even have to go crazy and put yourself into danger. We can just coast our way through this and come out smelling like roses.”

Ryan sighed and backed away from the board. He was the kind of man who could have his arm twisted into doing anything if someone he knew asked. The money did sound appealing, and Jonell wasn’t a chancer who got suckered into things that weren’t legitimate. Ryan set his stomach and nodded, “Alright, alright. Just don’t go expecting too much outta’ me. I only find missing people, remember?”

Jonell smiled, “I really don’t know how a guy with such a terrible sense of direction can do that.”

“Hey, if you put enough time and persistence into something, anything’s possible!”

“Sure, but there are better ways to spend your time. Come with me, I’ll give you the rundown on how this is going to work.” Ryan turned and followed Jonell down the street. “The Duke of Pascen put out an order demanding anybody with two working arms and a weapon to go over there and get things under control. Seems they’re lurching from one crisis to the next.”

“How are we going to get there?”

Jonell nodded, “Don’t you worry yourself over that. The Duke’s taking care of it. He’s sent carriages to different spots to try and gather up willing hands. All we need to do is drop by and hitch a ride, they’ll take us straight there. Just make sure you have enough food for the trip.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know how to travel. I’ve done a lot more walking than you.”

“I don’t think it counts if it’s in a damn circle.”

Ryan punched Jonell in the arm as he cracked up at his own joke – what a rotten guy.

DWS

100 chapters! That's insane. Thank you so much for the support, feedback, and your eyes and attention. It's extremely humbling. We're exploring a new perspective for this upcoming arc, with Ryan's take on some important events occuring to the West. After that - I'm planning something of a 'reset' where things are going to get mixed up in a bigger way.