When the sun came up, they performed an accounting. Including Karzt, ten men remained alive out of the nearly four dozen who had set out. Only seven were able to walk; the remaining three were too badly wounded and had to be put in the carriages. One of the men had lost an eye. Karzt felt grateful that he had come out of the scuffle mostly intact. The chest of his leather jerkin was in tatters, he was scraped up in countless places, and the now-bandaged wound on his right arm throbbed with pain; nevertheless, he could still walk and he could still fight. No corpses from either side remained – the men assumed that the creatures had made off with them for some dark purpose. The teamsters cursed and spat at the added insult; defiling a man's corpse was a great crime in the Imperium, but it was a sacrilege for the Ouroloans.
Karzt sat on a boulder in the light of the hot morning sun while cleaning his revolver and pondering last night's events. Whatever these creatures were, he knew that he had never seen anything like them before. One of the teamsters – a well-traveled merchant and carriage driver – seemed certain that they were “mutants from up Peril way,” but Karzt assumed the man was simply making things up. Tellers of tall tales abound in the desert trade, and Karzt had become accustomed to ignoring their hogwash.
Men who ventured up to the Peril mountains rarely came back. It was known that strange and dangerous creatures lurked there, though the nature of these creatures varied from story to story. Other rumors held that there were orcs, goblins, and even wild men scratching out a living up there despite the dangers. Karzt doubted all such stories; he certainly doubted that any man could breathe the befouled mountain air for long and live. After all, the Imperium's factory-cities had been blowing thick smog eastward into the heights of the mountains for decades. As a result of all these dangers, very few travelers risked a crossing from East to West or vice versa without passing through Chateau Cascade.
Karzt was busy reassembling the pieces of his firearm when a green-glowing something in the sand caught his eye. His heart immediately began to race and, acting on instinct, he threw himself onto the ground, slamming his hatchet into the drying sand. He had missed his target, but now he was mere inches away from it; a single greenish-grey finger was poking out of the ground. He started moving the sand out of the way and quickly concluded that this was the dead hand of one of the creatures that had attacked the caravan. It was still attached to a body which had sunk into the muck during the battle. If the creatures had intended to make off with all of the evidence of their nighttime visit, they had failed.
An hour later the surviving teamsters had fully excavated the corpse and were examining it. Filled with equal parts curiosity and fear, they stood before the corpse and spoke their harsh desert tongue in hushed tones. The creature was roughly the size and shape of a man. It was totally nude, and the presence of genitals revealed that the creature probably reproduced like men. The limbs were long and gangly. Once they’d brushed off the sand, it became apparent that the creature’s flesh was a translucent grey-green. Sickly greenish light emanated from underneath the skin. This one was still glowing faintly, but it seemed to be much dimmer than when it was still alive the night before. Indeed, the glow continued to fade as the men worked. By the time the teamsters finished with their excavation, it had gone out completely. The creature’s eyes were all sclera, with no iris or pupil evident; Karzt wondered if it could even see. The jaw was unhinged with two rows of jagged, half-broken teeth; in the bright desert daylight it looked even more dangerous than it had the night before. It was a wonder that more men hadn't been bitten. Grimy yellow claws grew out from the six spindly fingers which extended from each hand.
The caravan soon made it to its first destination, which was a trading hub on the edge of the Ourolo desert. The town was called Saltflat, and it was considered the last example of real civilization on the eastern frontier. At first Karzt had refused any payment from the teamsters – he felt personally responsible for not having saved more of them. One of them insisted that he at least take a bag of azure powder, the explosive blue substance used to propel the bullets in Karzt's revolver. The stuff was expensive, and he knew that he was going to need a great deal of it; this, he gratefully accepted.
When they got to the town he separated from the teamsters and went directly to the local Enforcers' adjunct office – in a hub like Saltflat, closer to true civilization, they would always establish a direct, if minor presence. There, behind an oak desk, sat a bald man with a thin mustache. Karzt immediately understood that he was dealing with that most loathsome specimen of man: a sniveling bureaucrat. The bureaucrat wore rimless spectacles cut in the shape of octagons and was peering down through them at a large book filled with numbers. Karzt addressed the man.
“Yer an Enforcer?” The years in the desert had softened his accent, and now the words came out with only a bit of his old drawl mixed with the slightest hint of a throaty Ouroloan accent. He had patched his jerkin as best he could, but he still had a wild look about him. Bloodstains remained on his clothes and half-healed wounds covered his body. His hay-colored hair poked out limply and unevenly beneath his ten-gallon hat; he was badly in need of a haircut.
The man glanced at Karzt and pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose. In a thin, airy voice, he said, “Yes. I am the representative for the Enforcement Agency of the Imperium in Saltflat. How can I help you?”
Karzt sat down and impatiently told the man what had happened on the way there. He demanded that the EAI send a full regiment of Enforcers to scour the desert for these horrid creatures, or trade would grind to a halt and half the people in the desert would starve during the coming months. A wry smile began to form on the bureaucrat's face.
“You know,” he began, “if I called for a regiment of fighting men every time some sun-addled vagrant came in from the desert claiming that he saw some...” His nasally voice trailed off as he searched for the right words. “What did you call them? Glowing monsters? Well, let's just say the Imperium would run out of men.”
A moment passed as the two men regarded each other. The bureaucrat was smirking slightly while Karzt's wrinkled, sun-beaten face was a stone. He wasn't smiling, and neither were his narrowed, sky blue eyes.
Quick as a snake, Karzt reached across the oak desk and grabbed the man by his fine tunic. The octagonal spectacles hit the table as the bureaucrat started to stammer. “A-assaulting an officer o-of the p-peace is ag-agains...”
Karzt interrupted him, hissing words through his teeth. “Listen to me you piece of shit. My name is H.M. Taker. I've been takin’ bounties through offices like these for years. Now, you might not know me personally but I've done an awful lot for you people. I'm a licensed Frontier Agent for the Imperium. I am not some fucking vagrant, and I didn't watch a few dozen men get killed or carted off to God-knows-where for you to just send me away.” He loosened his grip and the bureaucrat fell heavily into his seat, scrambling to collect his glasses. Karzt slung a very full-looking hide backpack off his back and onto the desk. “Besides, I didn't come empty-handed.” As he emptied the pack on the man's desk, a monstrous severed head came rolling out and came to rest with its mouth open. The creature's two rows of jagged teeth stretched out in a disturbing yawn. Only a few days had passed since the incident, but the head seemed to be decomposing with unusual rapidity. Much of the flesh had started to slough off into a greenish-grey sludge, and pieces of the skull had started to crumble into dust.
The bureaucrat brushed himself off and silently stared at the head. His usually snide face slowly faded into a thunderstruck, pensive, fearful frown. “I'll see if we can come to some kind of arrangement,” he acquiesced in a small voice.
Karzt stayed in Saltflat, recuperating and waiting. When the response letter came back from the Enforcers, it was mixed news. They declined to send any of their own men; they were needed in the main cities, after all. It was not at all unusual for Imperium bureaucrats to avoid risking their own soldiers on issues at the frontier. However, given the sever
ity and possibly magical nature of the problem, they decided to send for mercenaries. The Chateau was always willing to hire out squads, especially if it would aid in keeping the peace between the Imperium and the Affiliation. The arrangements were quickly made.
Karzt was fresh. His wounds were healed, he had resupplied himself through the traders in Saltflat, and he was ready to get back to his duties in the desert. He wasn't happy when he learned how the home office had chosen to deal with the problem; he stood in front of the bureaucrat's desk and scowled as he listened to the mousy little man explain.
“And one more thing,” the bureaucrat continued, “I have your orders from the home office.” He passed an envelope across the desk. It had been sealed with wax in the shape of the official seal of the Imperium, a stylized eagle bearing a skeleton key in its talons. Karzt tore it open, pulled out the letter, and started reading while walking out the door.
Frontier Agent H.M. Taker,
An Outing has been approved in the matter of the Ouroloan caravan attacks. You are hereby commanded to muster at Chateau Cascade within the week. Upon arrival you will meet with one Quentin Gold and company, mercenaries in the employ of Lady Acelia von Cascade. Your orders are to assume command of this mercenary group and ascertain the origin of the hostile creatures discovered in the Ouroloan desert. If feasible, you and your group will eliminate or otherwise stymie the origin of this threat, whatever form it may take and whatever that may entail. You will issue a report on the results of this Outing through the Saltflat Adjunct Enforcement Agency office within one month of receipt of this missive.
A carriage and a driver have been provided and prepared for you, along with a bounty stipend of ten golden Virtues payable in advance and one hundred gold Virtues payable upon successful completion of this mission.
Good hunting H.M.,
J.P. Rockwall, Sub-Intendant, Swansville Enforcement Agency
Rockwall. This was a reliable man, a strong man. For all the bureaucracy of the Imperium, Karzt was thankful that there were still men of action like Rockwall. He was currently pushing pencils, but the man had once been a Frontier Agent. He understood what it was like out here, on the edge of the Imperium, where vicious criminals frequently took advantage of the innocent. Karzt had taken bounties signed by the man in the past; all had been practitioners of the arcane arts or traffickers in magical contraband. Karzt was pleased that a man in such high office took the threat of wizardry so seriously. While they had never met in person, the hangman had developed a quiet respect for the sub-intendant.
Karzt looked up from the letter as he stood upon the porch. Sure enough, there was a carriage parked in front of the adjunct office. A short, well-tanned and bushy-bearded Ouroloan stood there with a grin on his face, leaning against the carriage with a small leather baggy of coins jangling in his hand. A breeze picked up, swaying the thirsty brown grass at Karzt's feet. Scanning the horizon, he was struck by a powerful premonition that the next few months were going to be terribly, awfully eventful.
Cold War
by Cascadian Knight and Scholar Rafael Rockwall – Chapter Excerpt from A Study on Intractable Intercontinental Conflict
Our Lady Acelia founded Cascadia with a simple goal: to keep the peace in Genesis. Geographically, the Chateau is ideally situated to such a purpose. Neither the marching, mechanized armies of the Western Imperium, nor the augmented, charging orcish hordes of the Eastern Affiliation can attack each other without first passing through our gates – and our gates are strong.
Cascadian Knights have a reputation as some of the fiercest, most powerful men and women in Genesis. I can say without hubris that this is a factual representation. Even so, compared to the armies in the East and the West, we are very few in number. My personal research indicates that if either nation wanted to invade us, they would likely overwhelm our defenses. Such a victory, however, would be pyrrhic. Any successful invasion would result in the decimation of the attackers' armies to such an extent that they would be left vulnerable to invasion from their hated enemies.
Why must we Cascadians play this role? On its face, it seems that peace should be a desirable outcome for any nation; and yet, any statesman will tell you that peace is nigh impossible between the East and the West. Why? To understand the reasons for this internecine conflict, we must understand the factions involved.
The Imperium of Virtue, to wit, is an empire which has slowly spread from the northwest corner of Genesis for over a thousand years. Their culture is inflexible and suffused with many rigid beliefs. Humans are the supreme species; demihumans are servants at best. Magic is a sin against Virtue itself, a crime for which the only proper punishment is death. Miscegenation is another such sin. Men are the superior sex, and women are meant to be wives, mothers, and housekeepers. Even a cursory examination of the Imperium of Virtue invites the suspicion that such inflexibility is likely to make them intolerant toward other ways of life. Does such inflexibility invariably lead to war? We must ask ourselves: is the Imperium of Virtue warlike?
This is a greatly controversial subject. The Imperium doubtlessly prides itself on its powerful war apparatus, but historically has employed its military prowess toward isolationist purposes. Most of the military might of the Imperium is focused on keeping the peace in their own lands or securing the wild frontier. Tribes of humans in the wild lands of the West have often peacefully assimilated into the Imperium. Even the proud Ouroloans have willingly acted as a type of vassal state for years without conflict. There are enough economic and technological incentives that the arrangement is attractive to those whose existing ways of life are not totally incompatible with the Imperium's strict proscriptions.
Those who insist that the Imperium is a destructive threat would do well to remember that, in spite of its obvious disdain for our ways, the Imperium has grudgingly recognized and respected Cascadia's sovereignty for many generations. It is a matter of dispute whether or not this is due to their fear of our own military prowess or their genuine respect for the borders of a civilized, established nation.
Both the Affiliation and the Chateau maintain cultural characteristics that the Imperium clearly finds intolerable. Both nations are practitioners of magic, which the Imperium despises and treats as a high crime within their borders. Both nations treat humans and demihumans as equal. There is a considerable minority within our Lady Acelia's domain who believe that this makes us natural allies, and that the Imperium is destined to destroy us both. It is true that our queen has a deep abiding disdain for the slavery practiced in the West. It is true that her sex damages their image of her; the idea of a female leader is widely regarded as a joke within the Imperium. And yet, despite these differences, we remain neutral in this conflict and likewise the Imperium respects our sovereignty. They afford no such respect to the Affiliation. Why?
In the West, it is considered an undisputed fact that the Affiliation is a destructive and chaotic force. This has much to do with their views on magic. Our Lady Acelia has, in her grace and wisdom, forbidden certain kinds of dark and dangerous magic from use within her domain. There are no such proscriptions in the Affiliation. Their use of magic is reckless, bordering on suicidal. It would appear that the very concept of restraint is alien or offensive to Easterners. As a result, it is an easy thing for those in the Imperium to envision the East as a nation made up entirely of dangerous heathens.
One could be forgiven for assuming that the East is a monolithic nation like Cascadia or the Imperium. In truth, it is closer to several nations than one. Each of these nations is headed by its own godlike “Tower Lord” who commands his or her own armies and lands. Each is a master of magic, likely powerful enough to single-handedly wipe small armies out of existence. Fortunately for those in the West, the Tower Lords spend much of their time warring amongst themselves. Unfortunately, all attempts at diplomacy have been met with a hostility that bespeaks beliefs just as inflexible as those held by the Westerners. Just as those in the Imperium fear and despise ma
gic, most of the Tower Lords have a singular hatred for Western technology. They also believe that they are destined to rule over all of Genesis.
Plainly speaking, the Imperium and the Affiliation are utterly incompatible. Both nations, East and West, believe that the other represents an existential threat. Skirmishes and raids have become commonplace, but whenever one of these raids occurs, the Chateau intercedes to stop the aggressor.
We Cascadians bear the burden of living between two nations in a state of cold war. For now, a real war has been averted directly due to the efforts of our Lady Acelia and her Cascadian Knights. We fight to ensure that the horrors of war do not sweep across our world.
A Gathering of Allies Pt. II
On the western end of the bridge, they passed through a thriving trading hub named Last Chance. As he walked quickly to keep up, Jak remembered reading a legend about this place. It was said that many generations ago the area was once the site of a mercenary camp where adventurers had gathered, seeking to plunder the Chateau's riches. This was a time before Cascadia existed at all, before Acelia had ascended the throne; in that time, the Chateau was supposedly an abandoned ruin filled with all manner of demons. Some in her court whispered that the queen had somehow been around all this time, after having stolen the Chateau itself through trickery and guile.
It was only a few days before Karzt and his new companions reached the Imperial Way, and the journey had been uneventful. Bandits and other dangers prowled the outskirts of the Imperium, but few dared to tread upon the Imperial Way, that main road which stretched all the way across the Imperium. Deadly Enforcers patrolled up and down the Way in their gem-powered walker armor, pounding their metal feet heavily and kicking up dust on the long macadam road. They patrolled in pairs of two, which was more than enough; two men in walker armor could annihilate a few dozen bandits with ease. They were rarely needed – their fearsome reputation was usually enough to keep the road safe.
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