I always wake up early on the day of a trip.

  Reason being is it’s no fun being out on the road only to remember you forgot to pack something important. That’s why I always get up early to check and double check that I got all that I need, then check one more time before setting out. It’s almost a compulsion really, as typically I’ve already checked things the night before, but I just know that the one time I don’t wake up early to triple check my work, I’ll find myself short on something vitally important and have to pay dearly for it.

  Better to have and not need than need and not have. That’s the idea, but you gotta walk the fine line between bringing too much and not enough. That’s why the first thing I do after waking up is make sure I got both backup prosthetics to bring on the trip with me, in addition to my new daily driver. The latest iteration don’t got all that many new bells and whistles, but it do feel a lot smoother now that I’ve ironed out all the wrinkles. Part of it was help from Sasha who’s a great troubleshooter, and part of it is using him as a rubber duck to talk through my Scripts and refine them to be more user friendly.

  Thing is, I get the feeling that diplomats won’t want to be having these talks while I’m fully armed, or walking around with weapons built into my prosthetic. Means I probably won’t get to bring this latest and greatest version in, as I was not subtle when building it so anyone who knows anything about Etches will see that it’s packing heat at a glance. Same goes for the last iteration, which has a Shocking Grasp circuit built right into it, so I might not get to bring that in either. That’s why I’ve also packed a basic wooden prosthetic that’s just carved wood. Don’t even have articulating fingers, so I should be allowed to keep it, allowing me to use my Wildshape Hand if push comes to shove and… I dunno. Grab a chair or something.

  Then again, I suppose an argument could be made that I could use said wooden hand to club a diplomat to death. Which is silly, seeing how I’ll most certainly be armed for bear when it comes to my Spell Prep, but it is what it is and I just gotta fall in line with the safety requirements.

  Ones my latest and so-far greatest Automaton Prosthetic most certainly won’t meet, as I built it with fighting in mind. It’s also heavier thanks to all the extra steel, copper, and Etches, which means I can’t just slap it onto my wrist and call it a day. Takes a bit more prep work to get it seated, staring with a touch of Red Sun Balm slathered over the stump, followed by a dusting of talcum powder to dry it out. After seeing how quickly I blew through the stuff in the Deadlands, Astrid refused to sell me any more until she came up with a new version of the stuff that works as a topical analgesic. Numbs the stump just a bit to take the edge off the pain, with no risk of over use or getting the balm into my bloodstream every time I crack my lip. At first I was a little miffed, but then I thought about how much effort Astrid must’ve put into this and felt like a real ingrate. While I still think she was overreacting, I’m real touched by her concern and made an effort to thank her for it. Tough to do when she still got a bit of a crush on me and a very disapproving father, which is fine because it’s not like I’m all that interested in the admittedly lovely little red-skinned lady.

  Besides, Astrid’s plenty busy these days working on deciphering how Geomantic Lattices work, with next to no time for visits. Turns out, the book I done recorded only outlined how to put together one specific Geomantic Lattice in one specific location, meaning all the math and calculations done already been worked out and all that was left was to follow the steps and lay things out exactly as described. That’s why Papa Aultman was willing to pass the work onto his son, because any fool who can read could’ve gotten it done. There’s no explanation on the math though, or how to calculate the numbers for a different location, which makes it tricksy to understand, but there’s enough information in the book that Gunnar and Harald both believe they’ll be able to eventually reverse engineer the process.

  Could be weeks, could be months, could even be years, but they’re confident all the same. Once they’re ready, they got cart blank to use the ranch however they please, though I did ask them to speak to Levi who’s planning to put in a second row of houses once he can raise the necessary funds to bankroll the whole process. While I got enough to build ten to fifteen framework houses, he said he’d much rather we build and furnish the whole row of forty odd houses before putting them on the market. If we do it in batches, that limits the clientele who might be interested depending on where the houses on offer are built. People looking to start up a business will want houses closer to the north end, while those looking for a quiet retreat will want ones by the south, so better to have a variety of choices so potential buyers won’t have to make the trip up to the quay more than once.

  I ain’t complaining, as I do be a little sick of digging foundations with Mould Earth, though the widow Fiona Torvales and her daughter Elsinor are more than happy to help pick up the slack. They got themselves a lovely little garden going in their yard too, packed full of all sorts of spices which they sell to the neighbours, though I know Anita and Jacinta are both hoping Fiona can ramp up to bulk production quick as she can, as spices are always in high demand.

  All of which is no business of mine as I wrap a clean bandage over the stump of my missing hand, followed by the leather armband attached to my latest and greatest Prosthetic. Visually, it looks plenty different from the last one, with more metal than wood and a lot more visible Etches laid into the densely packed frame. Hate to say it, but Sasha was another big help there, and not just because I got to review my basics while teaching him. His foundational education in all things Artificing is much sturdier than mine, as I’m more of a dabbler who only learns what I need to get things to work, whereas he’s in it for love of the game. That means he’s able to solve a whole bunch of issues that were plaguing me, from loose joints and squeaky hinges to more efficient energy transfer and heat dissipation while also increasing structural strength so an errant blow to the dynamo don’t risk blowing my forearm clean off.

  I just hate how he acts like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and I’m some sort of idiot for not doing things ‘proper’ to start with. Jerk.

  Can’t argue with the results though, as I run a Script that puts my hand and fingers through their paces, waggling and flexing them about. Does it so smoothly, I can almost feel my missing hand follow along with and relish in the sensation of phantom nerves firing off to stretch phantom muscles that ain’t really there. Though it hurts, it’s a pain of relief if you know what I mean, like having a good stretch to relieve a cramped muscle after a long day’s ride. Like I said, I’ve been working on my Scripting too, not just writing new Invocations, but actually practicing how to use them. Before, I’d have to stop and think about which Invocation to Evoke, but now, I got my prosthetic hand doing up my buttons and putting on my belt with little more than a thought. I just want something to happen, and my brain connects that intent to an Invocation that I Evoke as naturally as breathing, making it feel so smooth and normal as I pull my guns out of the safe and give them a twirl before holstering them without looking. Then it’s off to brush my teeth, wash my face, and other general such things before heading out for the day.

  Knowing Aunty Ray would have my hide if I ate breakfast without them, I sneak out the front door to check on the luggage I already got stowed in the wagon. Got all the normal stuff squared away, but there’s a fair few extra things that I wouldn’t normally bring out on a trip. Typically, I’ll set out on a six-week trip with three button up shirts, three pairs of jeans, and an overabundance of socks and underwear, but this time around I gotta pack some nicer clothes on account of how I’m supposed to be some sort of diplomatic official. Shirts, ties, and dress pants are easy enough, but I only got the one jacket because Aunty Ray says jean jackets don’t count, so I’ll have to buy something along the way. Or more likely have something custom tailored when I reach New Sonora, as it ain’t easy finding fancy clothes for a person my size. Might happen though, as New Sonora is a town comparable to New Hope, only they see more caravans than ships on account of being land locked. What’s more, there are plenty of officials from all manner of different nations who operate out of the town, so I’m sure I’ll find something to fit the dress code of these hoity-toity diplomatic events.

  As for accessories, I got the bronze Magus pins Uncle Teddy done gifted me, though I’ve yet to learn enough Third Order Spells to qualify for any Specialist pins. It’s only a matter of time of course, though I’ve been working on getting my Diviner’s pin so I can call myself a bonafide Scout. Truth is, I’m closer to a Transmutation pin, seeing how I’ve got Fly and Water Breathing already under my belt, but the only feasible Third Order Transmutation Spell Formula I have access to is Water Walking. Not exactly a high priority, high impact Spell as it were, because if you fighting any sort of Abby that can swim in water, then you really don’t wanna be out on it.

  Technically I could learn Haste as I got me the Spell Formula. Problem is, as popular as the Spell is, the number of users is ridiculously low because it’s not a fire and forget Spell. It does exactly what you think, speeding you along at a fair rate of knots, but it does it to everything all at once. So not only is your body moving faster, your speed of thought and reaction is hasted too, and it takes a whole lot of hard work to get used to the extra speed. Aunty Ray was kind enough to dust off the Spell Formula and Prep it to show me what it’s like, and I was tripping all over my own two feet because I kept getting in my own way. Not only were my feet moving too fast and overshooting my targets, I’d try to adjust mid step and overshoot that too, which made me trip over empty air on my very first step. Then I tried drawing my gun and aiming it at a target, only to end up pointing it straight up at the sky. Then I overcompensated in my efforts to aim down and almost punched myself in the giblets while doing so.

  The worst part? Even if you can acclimate to the increased speed, the spell only lasts a minute, after which it leaves you exhausted like you done just spent the last hour sprinting and slinging Spells, meaning you tired in body and mind. End of the day, I decided the juice wasn’t worth the squeeze just yet, so I might as pick a more useful Third Order Spell to learn and Prep.

  So I figured Divination was a good pick, as most Divination Spells can also be used as Rituals and free my daily Aether up for more Fireballs. Would need to learn two Third Order Divination Spells to qualify for my crystal orb pin though, so until such a time, I’ll have to make do with just the pair of triangular Magus pins on my collar. While I’d call that good enough, Aunty Ray said that I gotta walk the walk if I’m want to talk the talk with these diplomatic types, meaning I gotta look the part of worldly and successful Independent head of state. Luckily for me, I ain’t sold the watch or cufflinks I took off of little Dick, who apparently didn’t die. Or at least Edward and company ain’t heard nothing about his death, nor has Aultman and Son’s raised ain’t sort of complaint, official or otherwise. Ain’t no talk around the campfires of the Order coming after me or going after their missing shipments, so I’m guessing Daddy Aultman is one to bide his time and strike only when I’m not expecting it. Can’t say I love that, but it is what it is, and I’ll deal with whatever may come when it gets here.

  In the interim, I got myself a fancy looking wristwatch, one that ain’t all that flashy but is most certainly worth bow coup buckets of dollars. Got a blackened stainless-steel case that don’t reflect light, and a unidirectional matte ivory bezel that’s marked at every five-minute interval to keep track of how much time has passed. The dial inside is a charcoal ivory, also matte, with white hands edged in silver to make them really stand out, and a sapphire crystal lens that’s perfectly clear and slightly domed to give depth without distortion. The only thing I switched out was the leather straps with custom ones in a black leather stitched by Aunty Ray, one studded with Elemental Stones of Acid, Flame, Electric, and Frost built right into the underside to allow me to cast any Elemental Orb I please without having to fiddle about with my component’s pouch.

  The only downside is that anyone with eyes can see the Elemental Stones sitting on the strap, as there’s a minimum volume of Elemental Stone necessary to make the Spells work. The easiest way to meet that requirement without having rocks poking into your skin is to carve them into buttons that sit on the outer surface while leaving a small, flat contact point that pokes through the strap to touch skin, which is what we went with, as it’s a common enough fashion accessory since Elemental Orb is a fairly widespread Spell.

  All in all, it makes for an impressive timepiece that ain’t flashy and won’t give me away with a glint, but anyone who knows anything about watches would recognize its value immediately. Then again, even cheap watches are a luxury most can’t afford here on the Frontier, so it really stands out when I bring it out to check the time. As for the cufflinks, those are silver fashioned into little revolvers, Ranger Arbiters as it were, and I hate how much I love them because it means I got the same taste in accessories as little Dick. Then again, Arbiters do be wildly popular despite being old tech, as the single-action six-shooter hits hard and rarely misses the mark. More than that, it was a symbol of the Rangers in the old world thanks to a couple tv shows, and one on this here slice of the Frontier because that gun is the Marshal’s everyday carry.

  It ain’t Silenced though, which is fine for Uncle Teddy who spends most his days in town and brings a Silenced backup when he heads out. As for me? My everyday carry gotta be Silenced from the get-go, so after agonizing over the decision for longer than necessary, I picked out a gun based on Mr. Kalthoff’s recommendation. Not the Rattlesnake in 44-40, because tempting as that was, he didn’t have a hand-made original and I didn’t need the constant reminder of how I done let my daddy down. Plus, the 44-40 Rattlesnake is actually a touch too big for my hand, as the grip felt slightly too thick and the trigger a hair too far for my finger to comfortably reach. Instead, I went my own way and picked up something more modern, namely the beautiful blued-steel revolver with a flat rectangular frame Mr. Kalthoff showed me last time I was in, a Kalthoff original in every sense of the word that cost me a pretty penny and was worth every last cent.

  That’s my preferred type of accessory, one that sits snugly in a holster Aunty Ray made for me custom, as most are meant for more compact rectangular frames or cylindrical barrels. The dark steel looks lovely sitting on my left hip, and while the bigger weapon is a little awkward to sit with and takes longer to draw, I’m in love with my new sidearm and can’t wait to put it to real work. Also got my Szass and Tam Model 10 in the front, a pair of Nagas on my hips, and both Judges in the small of my back, all sitting snug underneath my tried-and-true duster that’s also been upgraded just a bit.

  See, after getting shot by that French Capitaine, Aunty Ray decided I needed to up my defense game. Ain’t enough to have access to Mage Armour, Conjure Armour, and an armoured plate carrier to my name, because there gonna be times when I don’t got my Spells up or plate carrier on. Add in the fact that the plate carrier don’t got enough coverage, as evidenced by how that Bolt slipped right between the plates and almost popped my lung and heart both. As such, when Aunty Ray got to Mending my duster for me, she decided to stitch on a few extra inner pockets, and by a few I mean a full dozen. Three on the left breast, three on the right, and six more along the back so I can slide in a dozen extra Darksteel plates for added protection. That’s 48 extra pounds of armour, or 22 kilos give or take, on top of the 16 pounds for four plates in the plate carrier she expects me to keep wearing. Don’t even care to add no more bibles either, because an extra twelve don’t exactly weigh nothing, and I’m the one who’s gotta lug all that weight around.

  I didn’t raise no complaint though, just thanked Aunty Ray for all her hard work before throwing the duster on. Almost bruised myself in the process, so it takes some getting used to, but I can’t say I don’t want the extra protection, as getting shot really, really sucks. Spent a good few weeks wheezing every hour on the hour, and it don’t feel good getting winded from a walk. Scared me, scared Aunty Ray, and even scared Tina and Chrissy something fierce, with the latter so worried she wouldn’t hear nothing about me going on this trip without her. Adorable is what it is, Chrissy acting all mother hen when I’m the one looking after her, but she still thinks she saved my life in the Deadlands, though it’d be more appropriate to say that Astrid saved my life with first aid, while Chrissy simply helped nurse me back to health.

  Not that I’m complaining. I do like seeing Chrissy act with confidence now, though I am worried she’ll over do it at some point and cause a big old mess. That’s on me to prevent though, so I make sure I’m prepared for whatever may come and have packed anything and everything I could possibly need and not procure down in New Sonora.

  The good news is that I ain’t limited to just the one wagon. Danny came through in a big way and finished my second steel wagon, one with built in suspension and plenty of room for improvements later on down the line. For now, it’s just a wagon without any bells and whistles, but I got plans for a second big gun mounted on the undercarriage and pointing backwards for more shooting and scooting goodness. Sasha’s also been a big help with that, same with Johann our new blacksmith and Ben Kettle the new cooper and cartwright who moved in with his two kids. No wife, as he’s a widower, and I think he prefers it that way, but he’s a hard worker and a good father which makes him aces in my books.

  That said, it ain’t like the new wagon is without any features. Fact is, Aunty Ray’s already claimed it for herself for the duration of this trip, as the heavy suspension do make for a much smoother and more comfortable ride. Course, Pebbles ain’t gonna be pulling it just yet, as she’s still a little baby who needs her mama’s milk. Instead, it’ll be Dumpling and Samosa working in tandem to pull the second wagon, while Momo gets to run free and save her strength for looking after Pebbles. I was planning on leaving the second wagon at home until our party grew to a full eight, but with Aunty Ray coming along, she insisted that we bring Pebbles along with. “You know how Cowie is,” she said, by way of explanation. “He a jealous sort, so you gotta break him of that by keeping Pebbles around as she grows. That way he’ll see her as part of the herd, instead of coming home to a strange cow in his ranch and wanting to run her off right quick.”

  Or worse, because even though incest is pretty common in the world of ranching and breeding, I wouldn’t be able to look at Cowie the same way ever again if he got with his daughter. There’s just something weird and unsettling about it, and it got nothing to do with my own hangups about my sorta-sister Tina and Aunty Ray who done raised me like a mother.

  Anywho, if we bringing Pebbles, that means we gotta bring Momo as the little calf won’t be weaned for a few more months yet, and if we’re bringing them, we might as well bring Dumpling and Samosa too. That’s why they’re on wagon duty, that and the fact that Aunty Ray don’t really want to work with horses. Course, this also means the kiccaws are coming with too, and they’re all happy to greet me bright and early with a lovely little song and dance. One I partake in back inside, where the big house can afford me a little privacy while I dance with a flock of little birdies. Yeah, it’s embarrassing, but it’s also fun and for research purposes. I’m trying to study Frowny’s unique magical Ritual and maybe work out how he’s able to mark a target and track them down after more than a full day has passed. That’d be mighty useful for a man like me, especially considering I didn’t even know I was marked. With Hunter’s Mark, it’s possible to hold the Spell for a full 24 hours so long as you maintain Concentration for the whole time and don’t fall asleep, but the target always knows when they’ve been Marked and can take steps to counter it. With Frowny’s Ritual? I wasn’t none the wiser, and I can see a whole lot of value in mastering what has gotta be a low-level Spell seeing how it’s hasn’t even been half a year since the little bird became an Innate.

  Alas, the Ritual is too faint and subtle for me to see with Detect Magic, as it all just looks like natural Aetheric flows moving like always. That’s partially why I’ve been focusing on learning new Divination Spells, as more tools means more ways to understand how Magic works, or at least how it works for me. Long as I figure that out, then I’ll have an easier time grasping new Spells or gaining familiarity with old ones, which in the long run will hurry me along my way to becoming a bonafide Diviner Archmagus, if not a full-on Generalist like I’d dreamed of becoming while growing up.

  One step at a time though. Before I can become a Generalist Archmagus, I first gotta become a Diviner Magus, as opposed to the plain old Magus without any qualifiers like I am in the here and now. I ain’t in any rush, as it won’t happen overnight, so I set out with the kiccaws on my heels to see about some last-minute checkups. As usual, when I step outside the front door, I’m blown away by how much has changed in so little time, as instead of seeing only dockworkers and labourers filing in from the north, I see a whole bustling village coming to life in the early morning light.

  Across the way where Luisa’s inn and restaurant used to sit is Anita’s nameless grocery store and Shirley’s restaurant, the Harborview. A grand name for a tiny place that only got a view of the quay, but Shirley said she’s planning ahead for when our village turns into a full-on port to keep up with demand. There’s a lot of that going around, as the buildings be post and beam timber frames, since they’re real quick to put up after filling in the stone foundation. Can’t skip on that so close to the lakeshore, else you risk having your home slide into the lake if you get one season of heavy rain, but otherwise, the timber frame and steep pitch roof is all you need to make a building habitable.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  The idea is that later on when they all got the time, money, and materials, they can then add a stone jacket to the wooden frames of their buildings. Even without it, what they already have works well enough as is, but a stone facade with straw, clay, or wood-fibres packed in would make for good insulation that allows for air and vapour to escape. Important when you live by a lake in a region where temperatures will fluctuate from mid-thirties to negative thirty Celsius over the course of the year. Don’t know what that is in Fahrenheit, as I never saw the point in learning a system as silly as that, especially when Americans are the only ones who use it.

  Getting back on track, the insulation would keep the wood from flexing too much with temperature shifts, while the stone prevents moisture from wicking into the wood or wind from stealing away all the heat. That said, even as timber frames, the buildings look neat and put together, with big, darksteel glass windows providing a view of the lake or of the food arranged neatly on all of Anita’s shelves.

  Got plenty of customers too, with the lower paid sailors and labourers favouring Anita’s shop for a cheap juice or sweet treat, while the ship and freight Captains got the cash to spare for a nice hot cup of coffee and a full English or whatever they care to order inside the Habourview. Shirley knows her business and sells plenty of newspapers too, meaning I don’t gotta keep paying sailors to bring me a week’s worth of newspapers every weekend. After dropping in to grab a copy of the New Hope Herald for the road, I head on up to the northern side of town while greeting my neighbours with a smile and a nod, but not much more. It’s a far cry from the former residents who pretty much demanded I stop to chat for a bit, which is a godsend to be sure. My new neighbours are friendly, but not overly familiar, meaning I don’t gotta stress about walking about and getting sidetracked by anyone and everyone needing me to weigh in on something.

  Mostly because Aunty Ray’s been much more useful in that regard, but she thrives on that sort of social energy. Me, I’m more of a figurehead and bankroll than anything else, and that’s how I prefer it. Course, there are a few things I need to cover before I go, because the commercial district of my daddy’s quay has developed rather quickly. Got a line of bodies coming out of the bunkhouse full of workers, and bags of laundry for Gordie to wash up, while the bakery got another line waiting on cheap coffee, freshly buttered toast, and my personal preference, the delectable breakfast burritos. Hakim the barber/surgeon got a few customers who need a close shave or a boil lanced, while a couple of the village wives are hawking freshly smoked fish caught by their husbands using Moshe’s hand-crafted nets. Even Levi is already out and about, as he’s doing a bit of moneylending, currency exchanging, and general middleman for the various companies doing business here in the quay, as there’s a lot of cash exchanging hands seeing how most workers are getting paid at end of day.

  Makes for a curious scene it does, but this here is nothing compared to what it’s like come nightfall. While most these labourers be living hand to mouth and are content to rest up once it gets late, a lot of folks don’t got wives, kids, or good sense, which means they’re more than happy to spend whatever they have on hand. That’s where the saloon/casino comes in, as even though they bring in a fair bit of cash from the rake, the real money is in the drinks they serve, most of which is supplied by Clayton for dirt cheap prices. Last years batch of starmelon mead was also a big hit, as there do be some who like to live it up and feel fancy after winning big. Fact is, Carl says he needs more high-end goods to offer his customers, and is currently working with Olav and Yussef to source expensive booze, fancy cigars, and more comfortable chairs for a high-rollers room he’s got in the works.

  Get the feeling that the room’s mostly for me, as the benefit is twofold. First, separating me from my personal spending monies, of which I have plenty of and refuse to spend freely on anything that ain’t food, ammo, or weaponry, and secondly to separate me from the crowd as I do tend to kill the mood on account of how some people are just too damned scared to really bet against me. Ain’t because they afraid to lose, but rather how they don’t dare to win out of fear that I’ll gun them down in a fit of pique like some sore loser.

  It’s not like I haven’t lost, but I win more often than not, as I’m pretty good at reading folks and most can’t bluff worth a damn. Course, there are other ‘high rollers’ who drop in every now and then, like the ship captains coming off a week-long trip upriver who’ve got their pay burning a hole in their pocket. Clayton too, as he makes a decent chunk of change trading in high volume, and nothing to really spend it on besides clothes, guns, and ammo. I don’t know the exact numbers, but I know Levi has marked Carl as a good friend to have because it’s only a matter of time before he starts raking it in when he gets his ducks in a row and sets up house games for people to bet on. Roulette, craps, blackjack, and more, that’s where most casinos really make their money, but he don’t got the capital to start it up and don’t want to borrow the money for it. Which is good, because even though the house always wins in the end, the highs and lows of gambling odds means that one bad day could clean him out and run him into the ground if he’s overleveraged.

  That’s what I like about Carl. He’s got a good head on his shoulders and an appetite for risk, but never more than he can handle. That’s why I’m all for leaving him in charge while me and Aunty Ray head south, so I stop in to have a chat with him about how to handle things while I’m gone. “Don’t be a hero,” I say, after finding him already up and at ‘em stocking the bar for the night’s rush. “If the Zampano’s, Catteneo’s, or any other big outfits drop by looking for protection money, then you pay them and save the crystal that done recorded their faces. I’ll handle them when I get back and see that your money comes back to you, because this here is my village, and don’t no one need any protection besides mine.”

  “Don’t I know it,” Carl replies, clapping me on the shoulder with a smile. Since I’ve brought him away from his work, he pulls out a cigarette and I’m there with a light before he can pat his pockets to find his. Don’t get a whole lot of use out of the flint ‘lighter’ that I done took from Ronald Jackson, but I break it out every chance I get because it’s a whole lot of fun to use.

  So much so that when Carl offers me a cigarette, I think about it for a bit before turning him down, because Aunty Ray would have a conniption if I took up smoking. Uncle Raleigh had a pipe he broke out every now and then, and my daddy would have a cigar with the fellas if ever offered, but I seen enough chain smokers to know I don’t want to pick up the habit, mostly because it dulls my own sense of smell and taste while giving me away to any Abby with an enhanced sense of smell.

  “You sure you don’t want some extra backup?” Carl asks, after taking a long drag of his cig. “Could always use an extra set of eyes and ears, and mine work better than most.”

  This ain’t the first time he’s asked, and plenty of folks who just moved in have made the same offer, but I turn him down same as before. Not because I don’t trust his skills, but because I need him here, and I say as much. “Besides, Agnes would have my head if she woke up and found that I dragged you away from your blissful marital bed,” I add, throwing out a wink as the pockmarked man blushes to hear it. They’re still very much in the honeymoon phase, and the warm spring weather means most folks leave their windows open at night. That combined with how close the houses are built together and Agnes’ enthusiasm with her new successful hubby means we’re all treated to an earful come nightfall.

  That ain’t neither here no there though, so I quit busting his chops and carry on chatting about how to handle whatever may come. When it gets to the topic of an Abby attack, I say, “Remember, keep someone on the Radio at all times, 24/7. If the watchtowers spot a horde coming out of the Badlands, they’ll broadcast a warning on open channels, and that’ll be all the warning we get. You catch that, then you’ll have time enough to get everyone out of the quay and over to Riverrun, which ought to be safer than taking shelter in New Hope since they’re sure to come under attack sooner or later.”

  Can already tell Carl wants to argue the facts, but I cut him off before he can. “Don’t be foolish. All you got here is wood and stone, which is easily rebuilt. People though? We can’t replace those anytime soon, not even with you workin’ overtime.” For a hardened settler who’s seen it all, Carl sure do blush real easy, and I flash him a smile to show I’m just teasing. “Seriously though. The underground cavern will make for a great safehouse once it’s all set up, but as is, it’d just be a deathtrap. The Badlands got all sorts of diggers, like Ankhegs and Burrow Hulks that’ll crack that cavern open right quick, so best to get gone while the goin’ is good. Even if I was here, that’d be my plan of action, because there ain’t no winning when the enemy outnumbers you five-hundred to one.”

  Carl heaves a long sigh while looking back at his casino, as running don’t sit right with him. He knows that’s the smart choice, but he didn’t make it this far by running every time it got dangerous. He ain’t ever seen an attack on the Bulwark though, with enough Swarmlings, Spitters, and other bug Ferals to spread out across the horizon. The gobbo attack on Pleasant Dunes was the largest attack he’d ever seen, and that’s nothing compared to what we get in New Hope every autumn and spring. Two full companies of Rangers could’ve held Pleasant Dunes by their lonesome, 40 veteran Rangers with all their Spells and gear, while we need three companies on hand in New Hope as well as a full complement of guards and civilian militia to keep them bugs from overrunning our walls every year.

  In contrast? The thirty odd families here in the quay wouldn’t be more than a light snack for a swarm like that, and we wouldn’t stand a chance even with tall walls and fully-automatic weapons for every man, woman, and child here. That’s the thing that Carl don’t get, because he ain’t ever seen nothing like it, and while I do plan to put up walls once we got enough bodies to man them, it’ll be a while before we’re ready for anything like that.

  “Understood,” Carl says, even though he’d really rather stand and fight, but he knows he’s got too many people depending on him to go out like that. “You can count on me.”

  “Goes without saying,” I reply, holding out my prosthetic for a shake, one that goes so smooth and natural thanks to the new Script. No longer do I gotta activate one Script to have my hand ready to shake, then another when my partner takes it in hand. Instead, it’s just one Script that’ll automatically close the fingers around a hand in a natural and responsive manner as soon as it feels the appropriate amount of pressure. There’s still a bit of a delay as the other party gotta clasp my hand first, but it’s world’s apart from doing it manually and being so slow on the uptake that it feels wrong and drawn out.

  Little by little, we all working on reclaiming what we done lost in Pleasant Dunes, though some are working through it faster than others. Here we are, little more than a year after we first met, and looking back on that moment now, I doubt either of us would’ve believed it if someone told us this is where we’d be.

  With that, I leave the quay in Carl’s capable hands before heading back home for breakfast. Aunty Ray done fixed up a hearty meal of toast, sausage, beans, and grits that I scarf down with great relish, though it’d taste better if surly Sasha wasn’t sitting across the table from me and Chrissy. Can’t rightly complain all that much though, as Sasha is mostly quiet except when it comes time to study, and the food is downright delicious. Aside from the odd weekend where Aunty Ray went back into town, she’s been cooking me three squares a day, and all the good eating has added a fair bit of padding to my frame. I’m still lean and wiry, but I’ve moved past that point where I could also be described as gaunt and scrawny. It ain’t all that noticeable at first glance, but some of my shirts had to be let out for the very first time as my shoulders done put on a few extra inches thanks to all the muscle I’ve packed on. Likely from walking around with 64 pounds of armoured plates on all the time, to say nothing of all the construction work I’ve been helping with after Aunty Ray gave me the all clear to go ahead. The duster weighs so much, I don’t even carry my rifle most days, which is why I added two more racks over top the seat on my wagon so I can hang my new lever action rifle and a modified Dragunov over top my Nanfoodle to show I really mean business.

  Makes for a right lovely sight it do, all that firepower right at my fingertips, and the Whumper resting in the gun boot next to my seat just takes it up another notch. The revolver Blastgun is so firm and snug in the upright position that Terrance, Flappy, and Wobble have taken to using it as a perch, while Stella and Frowny claim their rightful place on one shoulder a piece. The other birds split themselves fairly evenly between my wagon and Aunty Ray’s, though I imagine there’d be more birds over there if she and Chrissy weren’t running back and forth in a tizzy loading the wagon up with anything and everything they think they might need while Sasha plays the role of porter and helps where he can. It ain’t much, and nothing all that heavy, just stuff like extra clothes, Chrissy’s music box, a couple board games, a full-on guitar, and more, but seeing how they got the room and the cow-power to carry whatever they please, I don’t dare raise a word in protest.

  Don’t stop Aunty Ray from meeting my amused gaze with a challenging glare. “What?” she asks, all self-righteous to hide her embarrassment. “This is the first real trip I done been on in nineteen years on the Frontier.” Before I can respond, she adds, “And no, riding out into the Badlands don’t count. That’s world’s apart from travelling down the Highway all the way to New Sonora, so you leave me be and let us have a little fun.”

  “Yes ma’am,” I reply, earning me a harsher glare, but I grin right through it until Aunty Ray huffs and gets back to packing while I hide my shame. That comment about her first trip ever hits hard, as the whole reason she ain’t been on any real trips is because she was busy raising me, Chrissy, and Tina mostly by her lonesome. Should’ve offered to take her on a trip years ago, maybe after I done got into the groove and knew how to take care of myself. Aunty Ray might look like a homebody, but I bet anyone would want to get up and get out after spending nineteen years in the same town, especially considering the fact that I can’t sit still for more than a few weeks without getting antsy.

  Ain’t ideal, bringing Aunty Ray and Chrissy down to New Sonora where the Qin will likely try to kill me, and it’s still up in the air whether the Feds will help us or them. That said, I can see that she’s excited, and Chrissy is too, as she keeps flitting in and out of the house with all sorts of toys and trinkets to bring along. Even with all that’s going on, I suppose I should at least try to show them both a good time and make this a family trip to remember. A shame Tina ain’t coming along with, and I’m sure she’ll be sour over missing out, as she’s already been a little irritable over how Chrissy been flaunting how she was a big help back in the Deadlands.

  Them’s the breaks though. Tina’s learning to be a tried-and-true Ranger, a process that’ll be years in the making, so she can’t just up and go on vacation on a whim. Not yet at least, but I make a note to try and take her snowboarding this winter if we can find some time to swing by Mount Rimepeak.

  The timing is on our side as Clayton shows up on his horse just as Aunty Ray finishes loading the last knickknack into the wagon. All that’s left is for Sasha to mount up, but when I tell the kid to saddle up, he gives me a look like I just spoke Qinese and he can’t make heads or tails of what I said. “Go on then,” I say, gesturing at Winnie, Sunshine, Fifi, and Ivory who’re all stamping their hooves and ready to get going. “Take your pick. They all good horses.”

  “I know not how to saddle up,” he replies, his voice soft and thick with his Russian accent. “This I have never done.”

  Ah. Then a full day’s ride is not where he wants to start. Heaving a sigh, I wave him over and say, “Climb on into the wagon then. You can ride shotgun with me.” Don’t know what it is that gets his drawers in a bunch, but he tenses up to hear it all the same. I don’t like him, and he don’t really like me, but unlike him, I got good reason not to like him. He’s a mouse of a man who steps lightly like he’s afraid of his own shadow, and he don’t laugh at none of my jokes or even try to understand them. If it was a language thing, I’d understand and help him work through it, but every time I try to lighten the mood, he just gives me a look like I’m some sort of idiot before disregarding it completely.

  Case in point. “C’mon now,” I say, waving him over with as much patience as I can muster. “Daylight’s burning and we got plenty of ground to cover. I won’t bite, though I can’t speak fer the birds, so get on up here and let’s head out.”

  “Oh I think Chrissy wants to sit with you Howie, so Sasha, how about you come sit with me and Pebbles?” Coming to the kid’s rescue like she has been for the last few months, Aunty Ray shoos her own daughter over to me while gesturing for Sasha to come sit with her. Course, Chrissy don’t mind, and neither do I, but it still irks me to see the Soviet scurry over to Aunty Ray’s side and get a comforting pat on the back like I done scared him something fierce. It ain’t jealousy. No. Definitely not. I just don’t understand why the kid is on pins and needles around me, especially after I done helped him secure a loan to put a roof over his head without asking for so much as a please or thank you.

  Didn’t get one either, which tells me all I need to know about Sasha. Wouldn’t want him watching my back even if he was a thousand times braver, because ain’t nothing good come from working with an ingrate.

  Ain’t no sense saying nothing, or even making a pithy comment because Aunty Ray will take the kid’s side, so I pay it no mind and whistle for the horses to fall in line as Cowie sets out. Clayton follows suit, and we all wave goodbye at the neighbours who’ve come out to see us on our way. Much as I want to say something about shooting anyone who done pissed me off when I get back, I stay on my best behaviour as Aunty Ray don’t care much for threats, especially ones she knows I mean to make good on. Instead, I pray that Carl and the rest can keep things running smoothly, or at the very least got the good sense not to piss off anyone too big to go up against. Maybe I should’ve left them one of my Dragunovs, as it’s not like I can shoot one in each hand while giving the third to Aunty Ray, but I haven’t really had a chance to put them through their paces and I’m worried my modifications won’t hold up under heavy use. Hence the need for spares, because even if the Qin play nice and don’t come at me head on, there are plenty of Abby down New Sonora’s way, and I’m itching for a bit of action.

  First, we gotta pick up the Wildshaper contingent though, and my worries ratchet up a few notches when I see Raja, Bodvar, and Nhiall greet us with little more than a rucksack each to go with the buckskin tunics and trousers they already wearing. Aside from the totems they got on their bracelets and necklaces, that’s all they’ve packed away, so it’s a good thing I brought more than enough travel rations to go around. They’re all smiles, but they don’t waste no time with small talk as they pop onto the horses bareback before falling in line with Clayton at the back so they can smoke and ride without bothering Chrissy or Aunty Ray.

  On the bright side, Old Tux is over the moon to see us heading out, and he falls in line alongside Cowie with a tippy-tappy gait that shows just how excited he is. Me, I figured he just wanted to see us off, but after an hour of riding, Old Tux don’t look like he plans on heading back, and I can’t bring myself to send him away. Mostly because he seems ten years younger compared to how he was acting last spring, and I can’t help but think it’s because I neglected him for so many years. I thought it was his age catching up with him, as he’s almost as old as I am, but in reality, it might well have been the fact that I left him cooped up in a stable for four years and only let out for the occasional trip around town. These last few months, he’s been thundering around these forests day in and day out and he looks much healthier for it, so I’m more than happy to have him along for the trip.

  “Be just like old times,” I say, as Old Tux drops back to check in, and I give his nose a good scritch. “Ain’t that right?”

  The horse blows a raspberry in response, and picks up a few kiccaw passengers before dropping back to greet the cattle, Aunty Ray, and the other horses who he still treats like they’re part of his herd. That’s Old Tux for you, all heart and grit, so it’s good to have him with me again. So good that I’m already grinning ear to ear when I spot Tina sitting on the side of the Highway just south of New Hope, but my smile grows wider when she brightens up to see us and rides on over to say hello.

  “Howdy stranger,” she says with a grin, and while her baby blues are most certainly a sight for sore eyes, I’m not so thrilled about the company she keeps. “Fancy seeing you here.”

  “Not fer nothin’, as I am happy to see you, but somehow, I doubt this was a coincidence.” Eying the Rangers accompanying Tina, I nod in greeting even though I don’t care much for them. There’s Tina’s de facto Mentor, Kairi ‘Catfish’ Hamilton, a squat, burly, and dumpy Enchantress and Illusionist who’s got the same skillset as Aunty Ray and a chip on her shoulder for being a much less attractive version of her. Then there’s Zeke Fowler, a reckless, hotheaded Evoker who loves to get up close and personal to unleash devastating Elemental Novas at his foes, and Armando Fraga, a Hispanic hippie whose bloodshot eyes tells me he’s either high as a kite or coming down from hitting the bong late into the night.

  Which ain’t what you want to see from a Ranger carrying a fully-automatic Blackstaff Assault Rifle, one that’s locked and loaded with a 40 – nope, looks like a 60, 65 round magazine now. Damn. I want one more than ever now…

  Last but not least is the leader of the funny bunch, one Rowan Lee, a plain and forgettable woman who made Staff Sergeant early on and has been gunning for Lieutenant for years now. Never made the cut though, as she’s got issues with keeping her people in line. Just look at her strike team of four, as she’s got herself a trio of misfits who can’t find a fourth to fill up the numbers, and instead gotta pick up Tina to put them at five. The other recruits don’t even count as part of the team numbers, meaning they ride out as seven or twelve depending on how many other Rangers are needed, whereas Tina’s out here playing the role of a full-on Ranger while patrolling the Badlands with these rejects.

  Which has it’s ups and downs. The downs are obvious, but on the upside, more responsibility means she’ll learn and progress faster. Still, if it was up to me, I would’ve put Tina with Sergeant Dixon as her Mentor, as he seemed like a good sort, but Tina got it in her head to be a Vanguard first instead of a Disrupter or Supporter like her skills are more suited for. Plus, there’s the whole woman angle, and I guess Tina and Aunty Ray both thought she’d be better off in a squad with two women as opposed to none with Sergeant Dixon. Wasn’t my decision to make though, so Tina got thrown in with Rowan Lee and her Remedial Three, which is a name I gotta be careful not to say out loud since they are still Rangers after all.

  Meaning even on their worst day, any one of them could wipe the floor with me, though I think I’d put up a half-decent fight.

  “So,” I drawl, once the silent and unpleasant greetings are over and done with. “To what do we owe this pleasure, Staff Sergeant Lee?”

  Flicking her long brown bangs out of her eyes, Rowan rummages around in her pouch for some documents even though she’s had plenty of time to prepare. That’s two strikes against her, but I ain’t her superior officer. Already said she’s plain, but up close, her sharp, narrow features really highlight how her nose has been broken more than once before. Seeing a lot of scars actually, now that I’m getting a good look, old cuts on her hands, a pale line at her jaw, and the end of a healed puncture that looks like something nasty poked her right in the collarbone with something sharp and jagged. She don’t got no jewellery or accessories, no badges, medals, or pins on her clothes, an unadorned and well-weathered leather overcoat that’s been reinforced at the shoulders and elbows. That’s overtop a plain russet tunic and a sturdy set of jeans that have seen better days, but at least her boots and her gear are all in good order.

  No idea what she can do, or what she Specializes in, but I know better than to underestimate a Ranger like her. Rowan’s been on the Eastern Front almost as long as the Marshal has, and unlike him, she’s been out on the front line and deep in the thick of things for all these years. Patrols out in the Badlands ain’t as dangerous as working in the Deadlands, but I know for a fact Rowan was a part of the operation that took down the Proggie under Lake Last Chance, and the Marshal wouldn’t have brought her and her team along if he didn’t trust their skills.

  Rowan might not have the chops to make officer, but the fact that she’s still here means she can kick ass and take names with the best of them. So I act real patient and real polite as she pulls out her orders and hands them over to me for a look-see. “We’ve orders to escort the facilitator from Ming’s Quay and his delegation to New Sonora and back again.” That’s all she says, in a deadpan and neutral tone, but something in her eyes tells me she don’t approve.

  Far be it for me to twist her arm, especially since her orders ain’t signed by the Marshal personally. Instead, they’ve been passed under the authority of Ranger High Command, which means someone out west passed these along, and the Marshal saw no reason to supersede them. Maybe he finagled things to get Tina on the team so that we could travel as a family, but given what I know about the Remedial Three, I’m a little worried about having them watch my six.

  Because if any Ranger could be bought, it’d be one of them three, which is just… great. So great.

  “I see,” I say, handing Rowan’s orders back over to her and giving her a salute. “Well… thanks I guess. Lead the way.” Stifling a sigh, I play along while Tina gushes about how she done kept it secret from all of us, beaming happily the whole while, and happy as I am to have the whole family together, I can’t help but expect the worst moving forward.

  They say keep your friends close, and your enemies closer, but didn’t say nothing about what you do once they there. First day of this family vacation, and already I’m starting to stress about whether I can trust these Rangers, but ain’t nothing to do about it except hope for the best. Well that and prepare for the worst, but I’m not sure if all the preparations in the world will be enough to deal with a dirty Ranger, or worse, a dirty Staff Sergeant with three problematic yet undoubtedly loyal subordinates who know she’s the only one still willing to put up with their bullshit.

  So yeah. The odds look stacked against me, but I might as well bet the whole house on myself again. If I win, I win big, and if I lose… well, you can’t take the money with you anyways.