"Mono/Dialogue"

'Inner thoughts'

Narration

[Message/communication apparatus]

Date: Late August 1089

Location: From Kazimierz to Kazdel and anything in between.

POV: Narrator

[Dust cloud at 330, convoy maintains cohesion and prepares for breaking through.]

[Copy that, we are just 2 kilometers from the nearest valley opening… Are we taking a detour?]

[Affirm, I’ll chart the alternative path out of this death trap. Once outside, step on the pedal; I’ll handle them.]

Nyx currently leads the first convoy across the badlands; a colloquial term to designate lands or territory left unclaimed. This wild region is home to either the ambitious aspirants or undesirous survivors. To live, live apart from civilization is no small feat.

The wildlife of terra had mutated and competed with one another for a scrap of morsel or humble, tumbledown, dwelling. Creatures closer to civilization could be considered a pale imitation of what those roaming the badlands could achieve. Small, relatively content, creatures such as Originium slugs no bigger than a foot or two in the mobile city’s sewers couldn’t be compared with its 20 feet (around 6 meters) brethren that camouflaged themselves as a big rock amidst canyon passes to ambush unsuspecting prey.

Ultimately, the primary concern of why the badlands are mostly left as is was due to the existence of Catastrophes. This very manifestation of Terra’s wrathful or perhaps lamentable wills is one such thing mortal couldn’t hope to cope without compromising. Mobile cities and Mobile installations were born not to combat it, but to stay out of it.

This is still discounting the much more dangerous adversaries; other sentient creatures such as fellow humans. Why? Because, at the very least, catastrophes would neither try to stab you in the back nor swindle you. Terran and Teekaz, or its more widespread derogatory name of Sarkaz, would provide benefits according to their racial eclectic abilities and raw capabilities in surviving these orphaned lands. These dangerous people had either left the confines of civilization by choice or circumstance; which ultimately meant little once they tread the nigh-endless land wrought with dangers.

Groups roaming the badlands are either comprised of lone wandering souls or tribal communities that are usually very unwelcoming to visitors. Roving bands of marauders, slave hunters, mercenaries, and even disgraced soldiers are the sight merchant caravans must contend with along the way. The rise of industry had mitigated the prospect of being robbed and picked clean on a good day, but such a thing is never absolute.

Yet from one such group, there will always be an outlier. One of the most notorious would be none other than the Rusthammer. They were designated as a terrorist organization by a majority of Terran Nations. These bands of primitives, yes primitives, abhorred technology to the core; citing that those who follow the abstract rule of “modernity” and “comfort” due to technological advancement are weak in both mind and body.

Their philosophy and way of life revolved around the so-called true and tested method of “Survival of the Fittest”, where forgoing comfort is the first step towards unity. Ursus has been, embarrassingly enough, been left unable to stamp out the entire group. Tales of how their prowess was not a pale imitation and surpassing millions of Columbian Dollars’ worth of professional soldiers spoke volumes to their fearsomeness.

Which is why those who had encountered them once would recall the sheer dauntlessness of their resolve and raw power. Nyx naturally knows about them, now her job is to make sure the convoy moves unimpeded. Luck seemed to want her for something; the dust cloud was anything but normal.

[Lady Grey, we got potential hostile on our tail!] The Pythia immediately swerved her bike from the front and headed towards the rear guard. She spots a giant centipede-like creature, around 7 (2 meters) feet in height, racing across the narrow passage, closing in rapidly on the rear guard SUV. Without thinking it too much, she unholstered her bow, stood on her bike, and took aim.

Her arrow was unleashed and struck the creature dead center, swiftly penetrating its exoskeleton but it felt no pain. With the centipede’s attention diverted to her, she aggravates it further by hitting its exposed joints, and that gets it focused solely on what it surmised to be an annoying gnat. With a hiss, it lunged at the encroaching Grey Serpent but its opponent deftly evaded. The centipede crashes against the valley’s wall and squirms for a moment.

Nyx, in an illogical move according to the rest, stepped off her bike, she was dead serious about stopping it in its tracks.

[Nyx what are you doing?!]

[Don’t worry too much, focus on making it out.]

[What about the Rusthammers?]

[Eyes up.] The convoy lookouts use their binoculars to see that dozens, if not hundreds, cloaked individuals are staring them down.

[They won’t be able to harm me, so focus on your own and the package. Remember what you’re being paid for, honor the contract.]

[… Godspeed Instructor.]

“Heh… children these days, I swear.” Nyx chuckles lightly from their reluctance. She starts to develop a fondness for those she trained. Sure, not all of them were thrilled by her methods but she couldn’t care less. If it works, it works. Returning her eyes to the centipede which is clicking its mandibles threateningly, she stands there with an almost bored expression.

Sensing that its supposed prey is not even remotely intimidated, the creature let out a furious cry. It coiled its body and only now did Nyx understand just how big this one is. With its body coiled like a pyramid of wriggling swords for legs, exoskeleton for armor, and dozens of tinted eyes, it looks fairly intimidating when stacked almost 300 feet (100 meters) tall…

“Look at those cute eyes.” Yet she only acknowledges how adorable its tiny eyes are compared to its body. Despite not understanding her word, its instinct blared with indignity and it leaped forward with mandibles open wide to snap her in two. Nyx merely vaulted over its head and ran across its body.

The centipede turns around and continues lounging over and over. The Rusthammers are watching silently, not even one of them commented on what they’re seeing. Jumping to left, right, or even sliding down its body, Nyx proves to be even more slippery for its supposed predator. Seemingly getting tired of this game, the Grey Serpent flexed her arms wide… and stopped the creature dead straight.

Now, the Rusthammers reacted. Astonishment and wonderment ripples through them. Said centipede was left confused, it used to tear apart ‘flimsy’ armored vehicles with its deadly grips, but this puny humanoid did not even flinch when struck dead-on. It tried even harder to push its adversary and spring its blade-like smaller mandibles into a barrage of piercing blows. It did draw blood from its opponent, but only superficially. Her clothing was damaged and her skin was marred, but other than that it found out that Nyx’s flesh was of sturdier build.

Crack. That simple and brief sound seemingly draws even more confusion. It had put every inch of its body weight and raw power into play, but the enigma staring at its eyes did not show any signs of discomfort. Confusion gave way to terror, especially when dozens of eyes were watching how the supposedly puny gnat’s hand started cracking its exoskeleton.

Fear. Its body starts struggling, thrashing, and coiling away to escape the now-entrapped mandibles in a real death grip. It tried to strike the Grey Serpent with its front legs, tearing and further bloodying her visage, yet her eyes didn’t even register the supposed pain. The centipede tries to cut off its mandibles in a show of ultimate desperation.

Hope. When it succeeded, the body and legs bolted away from what could only be recognized as the apex predator… and yet again, its body did not move an inch. It is now Nyx’s turn to trap it with her own ‘mandibles’. The centipede toiled fruitlessly by kicking up dirt and dust, gouging and smashing away on earth in a complete attempt at flight. The creature that prided itself on being a nigh insurmountable force of nature is being left hapless.

Horror. It let out a shrill, cacophonous, cry and perhaps wails for help. The valley’s numerous dweller only watched as one of their strongest beings made a mockery of them, and not one creature dared to step out from the canyon’s crevices. The Rusthammers were stunned into utter silence. Be as it may, however, an… eccentric person could be seen among them to be nodding approvingly.

Apathy. It stopped struggling and lay on its body… ready to accept death. It felt like the grip was now gone yet never did it cross its mind to run, such a thing is useless when the grim reaper’s scythe hanging vividly above its head. Then footsteps could be sensed walking ever closer. Pensively, half of its eyes are looking up at the victor… she raises her hand… and starts petting it.

“Good boy.” Nyx giggled seeing how it shyly (read: deathly terrified as all hell) reached up on her touch, she cooed at it while conveniently dismissing the mental scars it now bears for the rest of its existence. The Grey Serpent was reminded about her fangbeasts frolicking about inside one of Cordelia’s pens and preservation ground, she still needs to pay the caretakers more because those cute companions of hers could be very demanding when she is not looking.

Satisfied with her newest petting session, she then turns her eyes up toward the eccentric person.

“Good enough?”

“Cannot be better.”

-

-

-

“We should be reaching our next stopping point at Rurikgrad, remember… do not try to meddle with the locals too much.” The 2^nd convoy being led by the CO is trudging through Ursus’ territories. Cordelia has a sparse influence in this country, not to mention its general racism towards anything not an Ursus, even to their people of different races.

“To be fair, it was all due to those fuckers up high you know.” The driver quipped not long after, while it is true that harassment happened occasionally, most were centered on the urban areas. The hinterlands differ with the more remote location being rumored as an infected haven.

[You got it, amigo, say… who would be our contact around here?] A female voice answered him, she could be seen looking out from an opening on her van. As a Liberi and proficient in using a crossbow, she is chosen as their primary lookout.

“Let’s see… the local collaborators would be by the name of… Oleg Simonov who signed an agreement with Cordelia about historical documentation. He should be within Cordelia’s office… kinda weird that a Northerner is this far south….”

[That just means he is loaded and has the means to navigate through this fucked up country.]

[Hey Lyubov, you’re being awfully quiet. Cheer up mate, we’re back in your home country after all.]

[Very funny you Vicky asshole.]

[Stanislaw, I could see the town… fucking Ursus and their nobles… just look at how drab it is.] The convoy finally finds the town, it is all retrospect seen as incredibly depressing. The buildings are uniformed to a degree with patrolmen eyeing the convoy. The lookout also sees several Ursus patrolmen hanging people by the plaza.

“These traitors have been colluding with those subhumans, hence we shall bring the Emperor’s mercy. For he will and always will be loving us as his most loyal subjects.” Said traitors are mostly made up of hapless elderly and infected, with the youngest no older than 5. The people either watch on or go about their day. No one seemed to bat an eye, at least not openly, when the nose was tied around the little kid’s neck.

[… Emperor’s mercy my ass.] One of the PMCs grumbled into the radio.

[The kid is already infected with Oripathy, look.] One could see a jagged line of blackened crystal running along the kid’s leg. Even the most inept in medicine would understand that they wouldn’t live long.

[Being hanged would be a mercy.]

[You’re lucky she is not with us.]

[Believe it or not, there is a chance she would agree with me.]

[Bullshit.]

“Aight, clear comms. We are getting closer to Cordelia’s office.” The foremost SUV confirmed that they were getting closer. Once the building was in sight, they noticed that it was less of an office and more like a fortified safe house. Cordelian PMCs could be seen staring down several Ursus patrolmen who returned the gaze of hostility. Their respective caninebeasts barking at each other but nothing more.

Once they are inside the compound, they start unloading some supplies and restocking theirs. The CO meanwhile headed further upstairs. He was greeted by a pair of Liberi conversing with one another, the first one on the right wore the standard Cordelia uniform while his partner was a man with a somewhat rugged countenance.

Once noticing Stanislaw’s presence, the man left and the man nodded and offered a handshake which he took.

“I welcome you, Sir Stanislaw, to Ursus.”

“Thank you, Professor Oleg.” The both of them then conversed with matters regarding Cordelia and the Professor's interest in procuring more books for lectures. He shamefully admitted that, while not completely banned, he is having a hard time procuring said materials. Stanislaw responds that he will surely notify Cordelia of his problems and assures him that it is merely a trite.

Oleg also fills him in on the state of Ursus. He cautions the group that the southern border is rife with strife between Ursus patrolmen and local outlaws. Oleg bitterly noted that this cycle is merely a natural outcome, made even more prevalent by how Ursus keeps on demonizing the infected and supposed traitors. There are rumors that the current Emperor did try to set things right, but he couldn’t plunge the country into another civil war.

His words could be considered a felony, but he notices that the man might be more than meets the eye. He had procured the necessary documentation on his travel south and pointed out that the University he is working with is collaborating with Cordelia on a project to better facilitate Ursus’s historical chronicling.

Once they are done, the professor bid farewell. The Kuranta was about to return to his SUV before the previous Liberi who talked with Oleg came to his presence pale-faced.

“We got a problem.”

“Problem? Did Oleg get tailed?”

“If it's just that, we would have more recourse… it is probably worse.” He motioned him downstairs toward the basement while doubling as an escape point. He finally reaches his destination to see a man that also made him pale-faced.

He is none other than arguably the second most influential man in all of Ursus. His reforms were known far and wide, his enemies numerous, but the Emperor lent him his ears for counsel.

“Ah, do please forgive me for this unexpected and insolent visit of mine.”

“N-no, Viscount Witte, your presence was hardly considered to be insolent.” He side-eyed the Liberi to prepare something for the esteemed noble, but Witte noticed it.

“No need, I’m merely here as a messenger and shan’t linger for long… well, the person I’m eager to be acquainted with is not here, truly a shame. Now I shall be forthright… I overheard that the esteemed Baroness Nyx was also hired as a common collaborator with your company.” Witte’s question put him on edge, but the Viscount noticed his distress and immediately reiterated.

“Of course, I do not wish to meet her here due to her… circumstances with our Empire. If I may be so bold… could you forward this envelope to her?” He promptly pulled an envelope with a red wax and an intricate sigil. What shocked him was that the sigil was that of the Emperor Fyodor of Ursus’ own. While they are quite treacherous, no nobles or generals could openly protest against the Emperor lest they would be harmed by political intrigues from opposing factions. Of course, he is vigilant that it might be a forged letter, but he cannot just ascertain it himself.

“… I’ll do my best.”

“I thank you, verily.”

He promptly left the scene with Cordelian affiliates wisely being preoccupied with doing something else. Once every supply and information has been accounted for, the 2^nd group continues their journey to Kazdel.

He is unaware that their departure was also witnessed by a gorgeous white and black-haired Elder Hippogriff woman. She is clad in a black and white robe, her palms encased by silken gloves painted red and black. She silently observed the whole thing with an impassive gaze, but those who were perceptive enough noticed a slight edge of amusement, disappointment, and hostilities in her eyes.

-

-

-

“Man… I thought I would be following Nyx around… and all I got was a pair of Sarkaz…” A Lupo man grumbled under his breath. Safe to say he is not a fan of dealing with them, but at least he knows the merit of having one on their side. Sadly, that doesn’t stop him from feeling uncomfortable.

“Shut it, Instructor would have beaten you up for that, you know?” His fellow PMC, a middle-aged Forte, admonished him. He doesn’t seem to be a fan of internal disputes. Much less when they doing it just for the sake of staving off boredom.

“Yea, yea…”

[Not like I don’t understand your misgivings. I mean those 2 are gorgeous, truly a shame that they’re part of those freaks… If I didn’t know any better, I would have asked one of them to have fun during breaks.] A woman's voice could be heard coming from their internal communication link. There is both envy and admiration in her tone.

“That’s kinda disgusting.” The driver visibly retch at the idea. He simply couldn’t fathom why anyone would even entertain such an inhumane idea.

[Hey, I won’t lie about something beautiful just as in the same vein I would be quite dismayed with the caveats…]

“Drop it man… Pretty sure fucking one of them would be affecting your health. I mean just look at the research about Oripathy vectors. It is rarer for a Sarkaz to not be born with one.”

“Listen, Instructor didn’t teach us to use comms link for gossip so shut it. How copy?” Their squad lead silenced them, she seemed annoyed more than anything.

[Wilco.]

“Yeah…”

“Ok, ok, geez… not like we have-” She glared at her subordinate who shrunk back from the Caprinae’s admonishing look.

“Positive, ma’am…”

Despite being inside a different SUV along with Meteorite, Vaskiela is not innocent enough to not notice the Sarkaz treatment. It affected the lilac-haired Sarkaz who hung her head low. They also have other PMCs as part of their team, except for a guy next to Meteorite, who decided to guard the truck directly. It doesn’t take a genius to notice the deliberate ostracization against them.

Be as it may, Meteorite notices her distress and emotion. Before she could act on it, the person next to her smiled sheepishly at Vaskiela. The Archosauria prefaced with an apology.

“Sorry about them… they’re still too… cranky. It has to do with… you know.”

“N-no, it is alright Mr. Jordan…”

“Come now, don’t be shy… we’re a team aren’t we?”

“Heh, team… yeah…” Naturally, his effort fell flat, causing him to awkwardly scratch the back of his head. Meteorite then added her piece to the convo.

“Cordelia sure knows how to reign in their personnel. I mean, despite their usual treatment of us, none of them tried to hog the supplies for themselves, making our life hard just because, or calling us devils…”

“You’re saying it like it’s a good thing…”

“Nope, those guys are legit treating us as close to another human being as possible.” Meteorite leaned back on the driver's seat and started recounting her work throughout the year as a mercenary. Vaskiela is bewildered, there is little to no resentment in her voice and tone.

“Oh yeah, I read your files back in the base. It said that you had been moving about from one group to another, so that’s true huh?” Jordan asked Meteorite who answered readily.

“Yep, been around from Kazdel to even the Northern border of Iberia plus the furthest west of Sargon. I’m not going to go into detail, but it safe to say Cordelia is the second nicest company I have been dealing with.”

“Second?” Her word intrigued the Lilac Sarkaz, but Meteorite just laughed it off.

“Yeah, nothing too important though… just life being shit by the end.”

“Oh…”

“Hey Jord, where were you from?”

“Me? Well, it might sound weird but I came from Acahualla.”

“That back- I mean remote forest tribe community?”

“Hah, I won’t mind it if people call that place backward because it’s true… it also shocks me how different was the outside world compared to back home.” With a sigh, he reclines in his seat.

“It’s weird you know? Back in the village, we have no concept of money or even actual written laws… but people can live in harmony. We see a few mobile cities passing by, and while it did awe us, not much felt all that memorable. The reasoning was due to how we see that the mobile cities are no different than nomads; just like us.”

“How was life back in your village?”

“Oh, it was nice, terrific even. The giant poisonous leap-beasts, sword-beasts, and clawbeasts notwithstanding.”

“W-What?”

“We knew jack shit about medicine, to the point that Oripathy was seen merely as ‘black rock’ disease.”

“… and what did you do with them contracting it?” Vaskiela asked with a low voice, her eyes unblinking.

“We separate them.”

“…Tch, anywhere the same…” She scoffed, separate is such a nice word for segregation or shun-

“Then take up their duty, feed them. And hope that they would be back soon.”

“… I don’t believe you.”

“You don’t have to and to be perfectly honest, my upbringing is seeing you guys as inane and insane.” He turned his eyes towards the somewhat stunned Sarkaz, she still couldn’t fathom a story that sounded too good to be true.

“Just think about it, wars between nations, merchants pulling each other’s legs, politicians being scumbags, and even frustrated masses lashing out against people in worse situations than them; especially against your kind and the infected. Such an attitude won’t fly in the jungle, you could even die for a single misstep without realizing it until it’s too late.”

“Believe him, Kiel.”

“You’re taking his side?!”

“Admit it, Fas’Kyrieas.” Something caught up in her throat. Meteorite just nonchalantly exposed her Sarkaz name in perfect pronunciation. Vaskiela is left stammering out incoherent words. Jordan sensed that they were about to talk about something sensitive.

“Let me get on the turret first, I’ll keep watch while listening to the music.” He slipped past the middle opening and nudged the stunned girl forward. She just complied like an autopilot, while he headed for the turret and listened to the latest Emperor’s mix tape or songs by Alive Until Sunset.

“… You know?” Meteorite was already informed by Cordelia about sound soundproofing system to separate driver and passenger seating. She turned it on, and the front side was separated by 4cm thick armor plating and sound absorber.

“I won’t forget you, Banshee, you were there too after all.”

“W-where…”

“Was your fucking brain that screwed or some shit?! You can try shaving those horns of yours into a different shape, but no way in hell would I ever forget about it!”

“!!!” She jumped on her seat, and Meteorite's face morphed into anger before she looked positively remorseful for that outburst.

“Sorry… I… it has to do with that sniper you know.”

“Sniper…” Her mind clicked… she remembered who Meteor was. She was the mercenary who accompanied her too, back when Meteorite’s alias was “Heavy Arrow”, Kyrie was ostensibly her employer.

“You’re that naïve outcast noble piece of shit who admonished me for spending 3 Terra-forsaken days searching for the missing kid and following the incident. You were right in hindsight, maybe the sniper wouldn’t have shot the little guy… they were so young… so that makes me an even worse pile of shit compared to you.” Meteorite's eyes glazed over in sorrow, while it was a kill-or-be-killed situation, she couldn’t forget the sniper’s face.

“…”

“… Look, we know how that ends.”

“Yeah…”

“It won’t do the Sarkaz any good to lash at everybody while presenting ourselves for being so weakly united. Jordan was right, we are victims but compared to people who truly hadn’t seen much and used to live in harmony with one another, the Sarkaz and Terran are the same… Greedy, untrustworthy, and overly ambitious.”

“… So that’s why you leave Kazdel?”

“Call me childish or misguided… but it is the only way I can try to prove to Terran that Sarkaz is people too… You know how the Wladirosan treated our kind, right?”

“True… they were nice, even that Old Sankta doesn’t seem to mind whatsoever…”

“It might be hard, but there are still those who sympathize with our people, Cordelia is one of them in a way. I had been working for around 6 months for them, and not once did they try to swindle my payment. They also treated their infected workers, and while still barred from entering most major cities, very affably.”

“So why didn’t you work permanently?”

“They’re still a profit-based company, they see me and my merit, not my race… They are not what I’m looking for… If I have to make it sound harsh, Cordelia sees everyone as a tool, which is oddly nice for us who were forcefully made to be comfortable and treated as cheap sellswords.”

“Pfft, sellswords… I couldn’t even tell which part being the proper end for a sword is…”

“Is that why reject picking up any?”

“Her Majesty promised us a home, but my disillusionment won out. I tried my best to adhere to my oath, but I almost lost it back in Bolivar.”

“That reminds me… where is your Bone Pen?”

“… I never made a new one after leaving Kazdel, even Madam E’phaniel concur that our tradition was a lamentable one…”

“You still know who the current Great Banshee is!?”

“Oh please, even an outcast like me would know who is lording over us.”

[Uh… Meteorite…] Jordan voice’s was heard through their internal comms link.

“Send it Jord.”

[Shouldn’t Vaskiela be updating our position now?]

“Oh crap, I forgot. Wait one…” Meteorite then switched channels and let Vaskiela do her job.

“Ahem, this is Vaskiela to all units, we are about to enter the Kazdel border and if schedules aligned properly, 4 would be waiting for us. How copy over?”

[This is lead VIC, we hear you loud and clear.]

[Truck team here, I thought you forgot.]

[Vic 3 here, wilco.]

[Rear guard complies.]

“Well… they’re professional, I’ll give them that.”

-

-

-

“You better let us go, Amico (friend), Cordelia has nothing to do with whatever shit you mafiosi are pulling around here.” A seemingly calm Vouivre is staring down several Mafiosos that are holding their convoy inside the city.

The convoy’s PMCs are pulling up a perfect barrier formation by the plaza. The truck in the middle was already deemed cleared by the border checkpoint when they came for resupply, but a sudden chaos erupted and they were now stuck with what they thought to be a fruitless rebellion against Signora Sicilia

They don’t know whether it is a civil disturbance or a total revolution. All they know is that they’re being cornered in an open plaza with numerous thugs encircling the convoy. Despite only numbered less than 30 people, none of the PMCs shows any sign of fear. Their expression was stone-cold, well-armed, and armored, and lastly, their leader was lucky enough to be trained (read: abused) by Nyx herself for a prolonged period.

“Then you know what’s good for you, fratello (brother), the city is on lockdown by the name of all Six Famiglie. We only ask you to cooperate.” A young Lupo Mafioso answered back, he looked confident meeting the gaze of the larger man. He has a few thugs behind him, just in case.

“I’m just saying that Cordelia has its right to keep its cargo, intact. We are not just some small, no-name, company; there will be repercussions. Let me assure you once again, we’ll leave and this will never be recorded.”

“You seem to misidentify Siracusan Famiglie with the spineless Columbian one. We have our rules and you better honor them.” Their back and forth continues. None is willing to back down, but neither did Cordelian nor Siracusan take the first step in escalation. Unknown to either side, a man could be seen watching their exchange with rapt attention.

[END OF CHAPTER]

Author’s Note:

Yo there, this is me, me, and I, the author who wanna make a summoning nation fic but has no idea where to begin.

Here we see 4 convoys having their own set of problems. They may or may not mean something for the future.

I’ll try to get my update back in order.

Ciao.