Fuel for the Fire

Fuel For the Fire, by JamesGinger and Redfiredog6

Prologue

-

Strider glared into the wind. It was a strong one, and it was in the right direction, but it also came with a warning.  He spared a quick glance at the receding safety of the shore of Britay. Perhaps it would have been more prudent to wait, but after these past two years on the sea, he liked to think he'd seen worse than this coming storm. Hopefully, he  and his skiff could ride the momentum and get to his destination all the sooner. 

He turned away from the wind, and peered ahead, to the north. On the far distant horizon to his right was the northern reaches of Ankoria, that cursed land, where nothing good grew.

But he wasn't going there. He was heading to the far north. Nordland, where he hoped to gain allies in the powerful warriors of North Island. Legend had it that when thedude first invaded the frozen north, they had been able to hold their own against his forces, and eventually routed him. However, in the past year, they had finally succumbed to the overwhelmingly increased  forces of thedude, and their stronghold of North Island was now thedude's northernmost outpost. 

Stirling wondered if their eventual downfall had something to do with hope. Perhaps, after seeing nearly every other nation fall, did the Nordeners not see any reason to hold out? 

He wanted to rekindle that hope.

Tacking the sails yet again, he peered worriedly up at the changing sky. 

Speaking of hope, he had to keep his own up. This storm was promising to be quite a rodeo.

---------

Chapter 1: Why you don't Argue with Enchanters

Kalaren was having quite a busy day. No, there were no attacks. He was busy with errands. From delivering laundry to stomping on wolf spiders, sharpening weapons, making some, and then delivering them to the armory! Tossing a salad for a delectable lunch! Still, Kalaren did prefer this to warfare, as boring as chores may be. Currently, He was feeding the goats, deep in thought. The past seven and a half years had mostly been uneventful. He was now a full-fledged soldier in the rebellion, as he was twenty three by now. 

So deep in thought was he, that the goats were now helping themselves to the hardy hay as he stared into the wind.

Kalaren was brought back to reality by one of the goats bleating. He shook his head before picking up the sack of grain and pouring it’s contents into the goats feed troughs.

He was soon finished and was wondering what to do.

‘I’ll check on Jellyfish and Methuselah, the enchanter to see if they’ve found a way to power our paradox gear.’ Kalaren did so, and started making his way to the magician’s bunker. 

Along the way, he ran along a group of kids playing kickball in the street with a patched up ball Jellyfish had put together for them. He stopped to watch.  

There was Jonny and Blake. They made one team.

Then there was Joshua and Rita. To the side, reading a small battered scroll was… hmm. Kal had to think for a minute. Ah yes, Rosa. She was the quiet one. 

Kalarens thoughts were again interrupted as his face met the kickball. 

Staggering backward, he wondered why his reflexes hadn’t saved him. However, it appeared that the last few years had traded some of those reflexes for pain tolerance. Shaking it off, he chuckled and kicked the ball back to the offenders, waving away their apologies.

The rest of the walk was entirely uneventful as he walked through the rest of Aragarth. 

Several minutes later, he arrived at the enchanter’s quarters. Until recently, it had only been a bunker. It was originally a cellar of some building, long reduced to rubble, though at the passing of Grimoir, the previous enchanter, his replacement, Methuselah, saw to the repair and fortification of the original building. The result was quite desirable for such a resistance. He approached the house’s door and knocked, waiting for Methuselah to answer. He soon heard a voice.

“Who goes there?”

Kalaren had forgotten about how Methuselah was a little too overzealous about protecting this bunker.

“Kalaren.”

“Very well. Do  you remember the password?”

Kalaren sighed. "Drowssap.”

“Very good! Now you put in the key code.”

Kalaren switched the numbers on the tumbler lock they had broken off a briefcase they found previously to the code. The lock didn’t even work, but who’s to argue with an enchanter?

“There, I put it in, could you let me in now?”

“Yes, of course! As soon as I open these other locks.”

Kalaren waited two minutes before he was finished. The door opened to show Methuselah. He had brown hair and a  thick chinstrap beard, along with his piercing grey eyes. He was dressed in a brown tunic, black pants and a navy robe. He had a rank 3 sorcerer's staff, Chosen because he thought he could utilize the maelstrom energy stored inside. Kalaren tried to separate himself from the paradox equipment as much as he could, as maelstrom energy was the same thing that had almost smashed his father. 

‘Vladek beat it to the final blow though,’  he thought, before his thoughts were cut short yet again by Methuselah.

“Kalaren! You should see what Jellyfish and I fixed up!”

“Great! Sure, I will!” 

Methuselah smiled. “Perfect! This will revolutionize our technology!”

Kalaren followed Methuselah through the bunker, observing the layout.

In this large sort of greeting hall, there was a Wormholer and two shinobi swords near the door, and a wooden bridge that was over a pit that contained sharpened stakes at the bottom. At the other side of the bridge, was a mechanism to wind up the bridge. Not only would the tilted up bridge block the entrance to the stairwell behind it(leading further into the bunker,) but it also formed a barrier against projectiles.

He started descending the staircase, noting the portraits on the walls. He knew there was various weapons and triggers to various traps behind them. Other than the portraits, there was a continuing bookcase containing most of the literature of Aragarth, and some weapons and switches hidden among the books, even a secret passage, he knew, that led into the forest surrounding the city!

It was like a typical wizard's tower, but in reverse. And more booby-trapped.

They passed many rooms, with simple traps devised to use little or no electricity, as you could hardly find a power source other than magical energy, which was largely corrupted. Halfway down, they passed through a small  room that Dr. Jellyfish had shown off before, which did utilize some energy. Mostly hot-wired by Jellyfish, there was an airlock that, when activated by one of the hidden switches could shut the doors and the four vents on the roof would release acidic, noxious fumes. 

They quickly passed through that room. 

Kalaren also noticed Methuselah appeared to be distracted, occasionally stopping mid-stride and muttering, before continuing on as if nothing had happened. Kalaren knew that Methuselah was actually multitasking. He had to in order to keep the spell going which kept everyone in the ruined city of Aragarth from being corrupted, though, even with his distracted demeanor, he was also clearly very excited about what he was going to show Kalaren.

They reached the bottom floor as Jellyfish watched several rodents running in hamster wheels trying to get the scraps of food hanging outside of the wheel. Currently Jellyfish was bringing them the small pieces of food and many of them stopped running to eat. Next to him was two wormholers, it looked like one of them was empty of ammo, and the other was bursting with energy. Jellyfish turned towards them and it was quite apparent he was especially excited.

“Methuselah! You brought Kalaren!! WONDERFUL!!! You’re just in time! I’ve finished going over the results from these two wormholers, and I’ve found the common denominator quotients that should correlate across all known Paradox Tech!”

“Eureka!” Exclaimed Methuselah. Kalaren was, as you would imagine, very confused.

“What?”

“Come see!” he cried, waving Kalaren over to the two Wormholers, having completely tossed all of the lunch-scraps to the rodents. Kalaren nodded and came to the table where the wormholers were located.

“Take a look. These two Wormholers were at varying charges , but roughly like 30% and 45% or something. Normally, we’d save these, use them in some fight, and once they were drained, they’d be utterly useless.” he gave a mocking frowny face. “Maybe broken down for parts. BUT! With the power of our combined genius, I and Methuselah have found a way to extract the Maelstrom from any Paradox tech, and inject it directly into another, revitalizing the energy pool, and extending the life beyond the total sum of the original two sums!”

Kalaren’s expression went sour.

“Lovely, we’ll use these things more often.” Kalaren said as he gestured to the weapons. “And what does these animals have to do with it?” Kalaren pointed at the rodents on the hamster wheels.

“Oh, those are unrelated! They are just creating a little more energy. They may be eating more food than they are producing energy, However.” Methuselah exclaimed with a frown.

Jellyfish shared his frown as he mused. “What we really need are electric eels.” 

Kalaren cocked his head slightly to the side. “Electric eels….?”

“Oh yes! When I was sane, and worked in a prestigious laboratory off-world with the Nexus Force, we had electric eels. They were fun to pet.”

Kalaren raised both his eyebrows.

“Oh, and they also powered the laboratory they were located in. Sadly, not mine, but that’s ok,” the scientist continued. “Mine ran on cold fusion.”

“Oh! Then we can power the entire city! We could overload Vladek’s Fort! We cou-” Methuselah was interrupted by Jellyfish.

“Unfortunately, we don’t have the components for either electric eels tanks or Cold Fusion reactors. Come to think of it, I don’t remember what we’d need for a cold fusion reactor.” He waved a hand to the hamster wheels. “Thus, one I do remember, kinetic energy.”

“I see.” Kalaren said. 

“BUT!” He swung his other arm around, nearly whacking Kalaren in the face, but Kalaren grabbed his arm with his robotic arm, and froze, stopping both.

“Oh, sorry Kalaren.”

“It’s ok, I’m the one who should be sorry.”

“Why?”

“It seems there is another technological outage. I can’t move my arm.”

“...Oh.”

They all stood there, awkwardly contemplating this development, which became even more clear as all of the technology around them began shutting off.

“It’s a good thing we can’t afford enough energy to get an electronic lock for the door.” Kalaren pointed out, much to Methuselah’s annoyance.

“But what if paradox rogues were out there? We have tunnels to escape, we don’t need the door to open!”

‘That’s why you don’t argue with wizards,” Kalaren thought. 

They all decided to try and make their way up the stairs, and tell everyone the news of how they could double the life of a maelstrom-powered weapon. Going up the stairs was very difficult as Kalaren’s and Jellyfish’s arms were stuck together. Meanwhile Methuselah stated how it might be nice to get an elevator for the several levels.

Chapter 2: Shipwrecked

The waves threw themselves on board Stirling’s skiff, but he hardly felt them anymore. He was numb to the bone, drenched entirely through, and had absolutely no control of his ship’s course, which, as far as he could tell, was drifting towards Ankoria’s shores. 

In layman terms, he was screwed. However, with himself being the only man aboard, he couldn’t call it quits, no matter how wet and cold he was. So, he was not too unprepared when a tall, rocky, cliff-shore loomed out of the sheet of rain and lightning, threatening to crush him and his ship to smithereens. Fighting both tide and wind, he was able to veer away from a full collision…

But on the harsh sea, even the slightest error was often costly. 

As he turned away from the looming cliffside, he heard the sickening squeal of merciless rock against his wooden hull, and knew that he now had mere minutes before his ship sank. He grabbed the essential supplies in the boat, grabbed the bag Peragrine, his old friend had given him, and the life preserver, (for all the good it would do,) and keeping them close, drove his boat with reckless abandon right along the coast, searching for a cove or beach where he would not have to climb far to find stable shelter. He didn’t find one in time.

“Perry could have done it,” was his last thought.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He woke up with an incredibly dry, raspy throat.

He was lying on his back on some form of sand, he tried to open his eyes, but the sand and sea salt made them sting. He tried to wipe them with his tunic, but that just made it worse, as his clothes were in the same condition.

He decided to bear the pain to take a look around.

It appeared he had washed up in a cave. There was a light up above, and it informed him that outside it had to be daytime.

As he sat up, he gritted his salty teeth as his body cried out as expected. 

“Too bad,” he thought. “It looks like I’m not going to get to rest for awhile now.”

Looking around the cave for an exit, he realized there was apparently none, except for an exit under the clear water, where more light was spilling from.

Did he miraculously go under the water, with his life preserver on, just to bob back up here, safe from the wind and the storm?  

Stirling rubbed his aching head.  This was not a priority to figure out right now. He had to get some water, and after that, it would be beneficial to look for any supplies, and find out where in the world he was.

Checking his person, he was relieved to find his canteen, his katana, (Oh man, that was going to take forever to clean, even with his more waterproof scabbard,) all of his armor, (again, going to need to be cleaned, and soon,) a compass in one of his pockets, the rope that he’d slung over himself, and...That was it, unfortunately. He sighed as he realized that included the pack Perry had gifted him, as well as his samurai rank 3 bow. As well as...

"Crux, Thingguy is going to kill me."

A rejiggered Nexus Force communicator that Thingguy had given him for safekeeping. It was probably at the bottom of the ocean now, beyond reach. Beyond repair. And with it, their only connection to the Nexus Force Armada, just waiting for the signal...

Stirling shook himself, before he could start kicking himself. If he was going to be alive for Thingguy to berate him, he first had to survive and figure out where he was.

Having satiated his thirst with his canteen and taken inventory, he once again looked around to see about getting out. And once again, he only saw the small opening far above him, too small to climb up and out of, and the opening below the water line.

After a moment’s contemplation, he left the life preserver behind, and since he was still quite soaked, he dove into the water and swam out the other side, being sure to keep a tight hold on the rock formation, as the tide was strong on the other side. ‘The tide!’ He thought.  ‘That must've been what got me in there. It must have been low tide during the storm, and by the time I woke up, it’s turned around to high.’  Breaking the surface of the water, he wiped his stinging, burning, salty eyes and looked out. To his right, was sheer rocky shore, with no clear ways up. However, to his left was a sight for sore eyes. A short break in the impassable cliff line revealed a gray-black pebbly beach. 

And did his eyes deceive him, or was there wreckage washed up over there?

Alternatively Swimming and grappling along the rocky formations, weighed down as he was, in his Samurai armor, he made his way to the not-so-distant shore.

A few minutes later, he reached solid ground, and refrained from kissing the ground stereotypically in favor of searching the debris for useful remains of his ship.

There was plenty of driftwood and flotsam, and there was an ill smell of rot on the beach combating the salty air from the sea. Most of the driftwood was far too old to be from his ship, which told him he had not been the first to wreck his ship along Ankoria. Perhaps the curse extended farther out into the sea…?

‘No,’ he thought. ‘I only have myself to blame for wrecking here.’ He had misread the weather, and was paying the price now. He'd challenged mother nature, and she'd humbled him. Now he had no choice but to continue to challenge her, stuck in the wilderness, somewhere.

There were various tools and even some small treasures scattered amongst the old remains of ships long sunk, but most of it was ruined beyond worth by it’s countless time spent in the elements. A spyglass with no glass. A gem splintered into shards. A half  of a map that crumbled to flakes as he picked it up. A grimy dubloon. 

But the greatest treasure of all was…

“Of course. I should have known.”

Perry’s Pack.

Relief washed over Stirling.

Somehow, the backpack had become snagged on a large piece of wood with a protruding nail, and now here it was, washed up on the shore, the waves lapping at the board, like a hand shoving it up onto the beach.

“Perry must have rubbed some of his luck off onto it,” Stirling chuckled to himself, as he released it from the nail with ease and looked inside. On the very top was a towel, with the words ‘DON’T PANIC’ embroidered on it.

Rolling his eyes, he took the sopping wet towel out, and inspected the rest of the gear.

Beyond all comprehension, the large majority of the tech, equipment, and provisions, and most importantly, his rewired Nexus Force communicator, were none the worse for wear, having been protected by the towel on top, and, as Stirling found out, another towel on the bottom of the pack, which had ‘42’ embroidered on it.  He shook his head.

“Wow. Perry, sometimes I think you’re a secret genius.”

After making a last cursory search of the beach, Stirling stepped off, feeling much better about his chances in the Cursed land of Ankoria.

~~~~~~~

Chapter 3: Explaining Maelstrom Revitalization

Kalaren, Jellyfish, and Methuselah climbed up and out of the Bunker, and walked towards the town hall, (Kalaren had been able to detach his arm from Jellyfish’s)  where Matheeas held residence. Over the course of his time as Leader of the Ankorian Rebellion, the Town Hall had become more akin to a war counsel, as most of the planning for Aragarth took place there. Thus was the reason why Kalaren, Jellyfish, and Methuselah were heading there now.

As they approached the Hall, Kalaren observed the defensive layout again. 

There was a lantern hanging next to the door, while on the other side an Ankorian Resistance flag fluttered lightly, displaying a red stripe on the top and bottom, and a orange stripe in the middle, with a blazing sword cutting into a warped evil-looking staff. On either side of the door, groups of outward-facing sharpened wooden stakes made access to the door available to only one or two people at a time. The building itself consisted of old stone.

There was a guard outside of the door, who recognized them.

“Hello. State your business.” He said, sounding bored.

“Well, we just discovered something that will change our way of life here, by giving us the power of electricity for years to come!” Methuselah replied proudly. The guard nodded.

“I’ll let em’ know you got something to work with electricity. Follow me.” 

Methuselah and Jellyfish were getting quite disappointed with their reactions, but nonetheless, they followed the guard inside.

Kalaren noticed a few guards roaming about the main hall, various closed off doors leading to a kitchen, closet, administrative offices… Very few of these areas still served their original functions, instead being converted into whatever was needed, such as an armory, barracks, or in the case of Matheeas, a bedroom, here where he was most easily available. The one room that hadn’t changed much, was upstairs, in the grand dome of the building, which, while mostly intact, had been more carefully repaired to at least resemble what it may have once looked like. The great Council chambers, which Matheeas still used to discuss important matters with his people, and discuss strategies, both domestic and military. They headed to this room. The guard went in, leaving the trio to wait at the door, before the guard came up and let them in, revealing Matheeas leaning over a table with a couple maps, and other officials.

“You wanted to say something about a power source?” Matheeas inquired. Jellyfish eagerly replied.

“Yes! Methuselah and I were experimenting with some of our Paradox weapons! We found out that if you took out the maelstrom energy in one blaster, and put it in another full one, it would multiply the energy! For example, if you added one quart of maelstrom energy to another quart, it wouldn’t simply make two quarts, but five! Then you could add yet another quart, and it would go to nine! Approximately.”

“So you found out a way to power the city?”

“Precisely!” Methuselah stated.

“That sounds great, but what happens when we run out of maelstrom energy to combine with the larger stack?”

“Well… nothing, really, unless we keep using the energy to power the city, which we undoubtedly will. Unless.. we could splice it!” Jellyfish realized.

“How so?” A council member queried.

“If we could slice a part of this maelstrom energy off of the main group, then add it back on, then it would create more!” Jellyfish explained.

“Wouldn’t that be dangerous? If you have too large of a exposure to maelstrom, then you get infected!” Kalaren pointed out.

“Well, yes, you have a point there. But if we could capture a Paradox scientist or someone who worked on a generator from, say, Vladek’s Fort, then we could find out how to build a generator! Or at least discover their method.”

“Mount an assault on Vladeks fort? Are you insane!?!” One of the council members reacted.

“Why does it have to be an assault? We could try to sneak in.” Methuselah said.

“You could also be captured, and interrogated. We don’t have the manpower for an assault, and a stealth mission is almost too risky.” Matheeas said.

“Almost?” Methuselah asked.

“I’m thinking about it. How long could we have power, with our supply of energy?”

“Hmm, I’d say we have enough energy to last fo-JELLYFISH! Ahem, sorry. Enough for one year.

Thank you. We’ll talk it over. Methuselah, would you stay here as an advocate for your idea?”

“Of course!”

“Thank you. As for Jellyfish, you’re dismissed.”

“Very well.” Jellyfish left, muttering to himself.

Matheeas directed his next words at Kalaren.

“Kalaren, it’s yours and Kevin’s turn to patrol the perimeter. You two can choose between your goats who you want to bring.”

“Sounds good, Commander!”

Kalaren showed himself out, and made his way to the stables. As he neared them, he saw a minifig a few years younger than himself waving to him; Kevin.

“Heeey Kal! Whassup!?!”

Kalaren sighed. “Apparently we’re going on perimeter patrol together.”

“Dude, that’s awesome! I just finished my latest song! I can sing it to you alll along the way! In a quiet tone of course.”

“Please no!”

“Cooool. Afterwards.”

“Great.” Kalaren and Kevin decided to mount Kevin’s black goat, Surf. In short order, they headed out of the city. 

Chapter 4: Desolation

Stirling grunted as he climbed. Or was that his stomach growling? Or was it another mysterious creature, watching from below, waiting for him to fall?

“Probably all three,” he groused, as he reached for another handhold above. Three more feet and he would have a clear view above the treeline, to find out where he was in this forsaken place.

The initially positive outlook he had obtained upon discovering Peragrine’s Pack had quickly eroded under the silently soul-crushing conditions of Ankoria. He didn’t remember the details, but  he recalled the reports supposedly stating that there was some curse set upon the land that brought out the hidden evils in all living things, or something like that.

He tried not to think about it.  He didn’t need to, as it’s effects were seen everywhere. Everything was different shades of gray, from the dead trees to the ashen ground underneath his feet, to the stagnant pools of ‘water’ he’d come across in the forest below him. 

He hadn’t seen or heard any animals until just this morning, where he had shot down a deer, but upon retrieving it, he found that instead of antlers on its head, it had an antler-like structure all along it’s frame, as a sort of exoskeleton. This had made harvesting it rather lengthy and difficult, and his efforts amounted next to nothing as the precious little meat inside was either unbearably tough or appeared to spoil before his very eyes. 

Under normal circumstances, he felt that would spoil his appetite. But here, in Ankoria, he found that his appetite was never satisfied. Despite his best discipline, his food-stores were already running lower than he’d anticipated, and what plant-life he’d found to try and supplement it was either bitter beyond imagining, or definitely too sweet to not be poison. Or rotting.

His water reserves were even more desperate. His canteen was nearly dry, and although he had found a small pond in the forest below, where he had filled up a different container, the water was nearly black as ink, and had smelled most foul once boiled for safety… He didn’t want to drink the local water unless times were desperate. Which would be within the week, at his current rate.

Stirling looked out from the peak he had gained, searching for something to orient himself on the map he had found in Peragrine’s pack. There was no doubt he had shipwrecked upon the Cursed Land, but where exactly? As he peered back west he saw the coast. Following the shore north with a pair of binoculars, he perceived that the coast curved eastward, as the the glimmer of ocean was visible on the northern horizon.

“That must mean I shipwrecked on the very northwestern corner of this accursed place,” Stirling reasoned. Checking his map, the only thing nearby according to his map was one ‘Fortress of Lord Vladek’.

“Great. Just great.”

According to this map, Vladek’s old fort was almost due East of his supposed position. Who knew if Lord Vladek still used the old fort. Stirling didn’t intend to find out. 

The only other point of interest within Ankoria, on the map, was the small town of ‘Domead’. It lay far, far away to the south, on the very shore of the Cursed Land.

Stirling saw two options. 

Either head East towards Vladek’s old fort, and Morcia… 

… Or head South towards Domead.

Heading east would most likely be faster, but there was great risk in passing by Vladek’s Fort, as there were rumors that the evil Lord was using it as his private residence when not at the capitol by thedude’s side. However, if this was untrue, there could be valuable resources which would speed up his travel, allowing him to enter Morcia and continue his Journey northward with all haste via the ‘Bridge to Unknown’

On the other hand, heading South was safer. It avoided Vladek’s fort… He wouldn’t have to run into any enemies other than the natural predators of the land… 

But he would have to traverse the entire length and breadth of the Cursed Land. No minor feat, considering his trip so far… In fact… In light of what he’d seen the past few days… The sooner he could leave this wretched land, the better.

East it was.

~~~~~

Kalaren and Kevin had been riding Surf for some time, when Kevin had an announcment.

“I’m bored.”

“Wonderful.”

“What?”

“Nevermind.”

“Hey, I know, I’ll surf on Surf! Mind if we switch places?”

“Yes. I’m going to sit here like a civilized minifig being.”

“Oh, ok! I’ll just do it up here then!” Kevin said as he stood up on the goat and did your typical surfer stance.

“Cowabunga!”

“No don’t! Stop!”

“No, this is fine, dude! It’s like land surfing or someth-”

*WHACK* 

Kevin’s head met an oncoming branch, where he stayed, pushing Kalaren off Surf and into the brambles underfoot. Kevin, after recovering from the immediate shock, realized he had hung onto the branch.

Raising a finger, he said,“This is what Dr. Seuss would call ‘a lurch’.” 

Kalaren groaned as he tried to get up out of the thick prickly undergrowth without making too many tears in his clothing.

“Surf, come back!” Kevin wailed. The goat did not immediately appear to hear him, causing him to sigh gloomily. “Surf waits for no one.” But then the goat stopped, turned about, and began careening back!

“Surf! Come back! Wait, no, stop! No Surf!” Kevin cried, panicked, right before the big black goat knocked him down, to the left of Kalaren. Thankfully, the goat missed Kalaren. 

“Kevin, one of these days you will pay.” Kalaren muttered. as he got up and wiped the dirt and pulled the thorns out of his clothes.” He stared after the goat. “Halt, Surf!” 

Kevin had gotten up and put his hand on Kalaren’s shoulder.

“It’s no use. You can’t stop the killer wave.” He said. But Surf did halt.

“Woah. You killed the killer. You rode the wave. You turned the wind! You are, The Dudeman!”

“One, has it occurred to you that 'The Dudeman' sounds an awful lot like ‘thedude’?

“Well, no but it sounds epi-”

“Two, ‘The Dudeman’ has a challenge for you! Just BE QUIET for five minutes!”

“Hmm.. Ok. I can do both. Instead of The Dudeman, I’ll call you The Mandude, and I’ll be quiet tonight, when I’m sleeping!”

“Both of which alleviate NOTHING.”

“Sure they do! You don’t sound like thedude anymore!”

“I suppose. Come on, let’s get Surf, and continue scouting.

~~~~~

Stirling continued his path eastward, through the mountains. It was slow going, as the land was rocky, craggy, and there was no semblance of any path. Each step disturbed the earth, and raised the grey dust of countless lonely years. It was like walking on a moon. Except, with mountains. And full gravity. In his sandy, itchy, heavy armor.

The next day, he was attacked by something resembling an eagle. Or a Raven. Some hideous crossbreed thing. However, after defeating it, he reasoned there must be a nest nearby. A few minutes and a short climb up later, he found some eggs, which made a decent brunch. He only had to ignore the rotten smell, and their strange green and red yolks. Perry would have said they were ‘Christmas eggs.’

Perhaps they would make a better eggnog than scramble. All well.

Banking his campfire, he hefted his pack, and continued on. 

Chapter 5: The Dreaded Gigfran Eggs

Kalaren and Kevin sat behind a boulder on a small hill that rose above the dead tree canopy.

“It’s a campfire, alright,” confirmed Kalaren, as he gazed through a spyglass.

“Lemme see, Mandude!” Kevin demanded, trying to snatch the spyglass from him.

“Hang on, I’m trying to see the person who made it.”

“You’re too slow, lemme see.”

“Just give it a rest, I-”

“Aha!” Kevin cried, as he successfully acquired the spyglass. Kalaren just rolled his eyes and let him have it. “Now let’s see… He’s cooking something.. looks like one of those gigfran.”

“That’s not a very wholesome meal.”

“Wait, he’s tossing it to the side… He has some sort of egg.”

“Oh no.” Kalaren said, snatching the spyglass back.

“Hey, not cool, Mandude!”

“Just a second… It’s as I feared. Yes, he’s eating some eggs.”

“Oh. Oh no. Not THOSE eggs, right?”

“...”

“That poor, poor dude! We have to save him from the worst tomorrow of his LIFE!!”

“Shh! He could have heard you! Duck!” They ducked for a minute or two before bopping back up.

“Ok, it’s clear now. We can’t go over there because we don’t know if he’s one of Vladek’s agents or a goblin or a dark elf or a dwarf or...”

“Ohh. Good point, Mandude.”

“Would you please stop calling me Mandude?”

“Sure thing, Dudeman.

“That doesn't help.”

“Oh, ok, man, I mean dude. or man. uhh… Bro. Amigo. Muchacho. No, y’know what, Mandude is still the best.”

Kalaren groaned in agony. “Fine! Fine.” He looked through the spyglass.

“He’s putting the fire out. Maybe we can ambush him somewhere, and bring him to Aragarth for questioning.”

“Sure, but where, and how, Bro-haha?”

Kalaren flinched at ‘Bro-haha’, replying, “It depends on if he stays up on the mountains or if he comes down. Hopefully he comes down. That would make it easier.”

“That plan is off the chain!”

“Good to know?”      

“That plan is off the charts! No one but The Mad-dude could do it!”

“My plan is literally to come up with a plan later, and I don’t appreciate your enthusiasm!” Kalaren replied with a sarcastic smile.

“Oh sorry, I thought I was enthusiastic enough, but I’ll try to up my game, like this: SUPER-BROHEMIAN!!!”

Kalaren jumped on Kevin, and covered his mouth. Partly because they needed to be quiet, and partly because it helped him refrain from jumping off the mountain and taking Kevin with him.

A few minutes later, and some more use of the spyglass, they made their way back down to Surf the Goat, and followed the stranger eastward. 

The rest of their approach was silent. Kalaren assumed it was because Kevin was thinking about the poor stranger’s future plight, which involved various… unpleasant sensations.

Kevin shuddered. “That dude has got to be hardcore.”

“Yeah. Might lead to a tough battle.”

“Maybe the indigestion will hit him, and we’ll just have to knock ‘im out!”

“We can hope.” 

Surf’s innate goat agility allowed Kalaren and Kevin to move with near silence, at a speed comparative to a horse’s canter. They were about to exit the treeline when they saw the stranger up ahead, inspecting his compass as he walked. Kevin whispered some commands to Surf before they both dismounted and stealthily made they’re way to a ledge ahead of the man’s path. 

Kevin gave some confusing hand signals, consisting of his two fingers heading down the slope, then turning on their side and pinching his other hand, this hand falling over. then he brought the first hand back and made some wiggling figure movements.

Kalaren assumed this meant that Kevin wanted to go ahead and try to attack the stranger, while Kalaren cheered him on. Maybe it could use some adaptation. But Kevin jumped off the ledge and on top of the stranger anyway. 

Kalaren tried to find a place where he could see Kevin and the stranger fighting, but with them being just under the ledge, he couldn’t aim without the brittle edge sending down pebbles and giving him away. Instead,  he scrambled to the side of the slope, where he could see the stranger.

The stranger was  dressed in rusty chainmail, and had dark brown hair. He wielded a katana, which was raised to swing at a downed Kevin. Kalaren knocked an arrow and fired it at the stranger’s wrist. 

“Gah!” the stranger yelled, dropping his sword as the arrow sprouted from his armored glove. Wasting no time, Kalaren fired a second arrow at his right knee.  The stranger dove for the tree-line behind him, seeking cover, as Kevin charged after him.

~~~~~~~

Tumbling behind the tree, Stirling gritted his teeth as both arrows broke and embedded themselves into his armor and flesh as he moved. Hearing the man running up, he stuck his good leg out, and tripped him.

The blonde landed face-first in the gravel, but quickly rolled over, to receive the swift heel of Stirling’s boot to the same face.

Stirling had to hand it to him, he was tough. If young and inexperienced. Drawing his leg back behind the tree, another arrow appeared where his boot had been.

Stirling looked through his pack, searching for a ranged weapon. He quickly found one of Peragrine’s old Flintlock pistols. 

“Perfect.” he thought, as he loaded it with a satisfying ‘click’ that resounded off the rocks.

Aware he was dealing with an excellent archer, Stirling popped his head out from behind the tree-trunk for a mere second. In that second, he already saw an arrow zooming at his head. He noted the general direction, and ducked back, the whole length of the arrow whizzing past his nose.

“Ooookay.”

Tensing up, he swung out right after the arrow had gone by, and saw his second assailant. A cloaked archer, with bright red hair, perched on an edge half-way down the slope. He fired, and ducked back, as a mangled arrow skittered by his cover.

Stirling loaded the pistol and swung out to fire again. This time, though, no arrow came after him, as his first shot had destroyed the enemy’s bow, and knocked him off of his precarious perch. 

Stirling charged at the archer, firing his pistol and drawing a dagger. The shot hit the man in the arm, and the sound of armor rang out in tandem with the man’s cry of pain.

Stirling dove at the man, intending to pin him to the ground with his dagger, but the man stopped him dead in the air with his right arm. The one that had been shot.

“What on Crux-” Stirling began, before he was rammed into the stone, and then tossed like a doll back into the tree-line, where he landed on the previous attacker.

Fighting to maintain consciousness through the pain, he realized the blonde man underneath him had recovered, and was nonsensically slapping him. Stirling struggled to get up, but before he could, the Archer was standing over him.

“Worthless. Vagabonds!” Stirling spat.

The Archer pulled him up with the same ease he'd thrown him, and Stirling hardly felt the left sucker-punch, as the darkness swallowed him up.

~~~~~~

Matheeas set down the report. “All in all, fairly successful.” Looking up, he saw Kalaren’s relatively unscathed appearance, in comparison to Kevin, who looked like he’d been run over by a stampede of goats. 

“So, where is the prisoner now?”

“In the infirmary. Probably dying.” Kevin pointed out.

“You KILLED him?!” Matheeas exclaimed, shocked.

“No, the gigfran eggs did.”

“Or rather will.” Kalaren amended.

“Oh. Well, maybe I’ll check in on him. Until then, Kevin, you go to the infirmary, rest up, and Kalaren, you go to that Jellyfish. Get your arm fixed.

“Thanks, Commander!”

“Of course, Sir.”

Chapter 6: The Effects of the Dreaded Gigfran Eggs

Stirling woke up in immense pain. Opening his eyes, he noted that he was in some sort of medical facility, which didn’t make him feel any better.

“Oh great. If the highwaymen didn’t leave me, or rob me, they must want something else from me,” he reasoned. Sitting up, he let loose the most thunderous fart known to man.

Naturally, he was quite surprised, and looked around to make sure no one could pin it on him. Unfortunately, everyone had, including three guards stationed around him. He was in a old stone building, patched in various places with wood. All along this room, there were rows of cots on either side, only a few which were occupied by people now staring at him. A nurse scurried over.

“Come with me, sir. You will be needing to use the facilities.”

“Pardon?”

“The report is that you ate gigfran eggs. There is no known cure for the ailment, but considering your strong physical condition, you may not find it fatal.”

“WHAT?”

“Walk and talk, sir.”

Stirling swung his legs out of the cot, and with this sudden change to vertical movement, he found that he did indeed require facilities. Badly.

~~~~

A few minutes later, Stirling felt marginally better, as he sat on the edge of his cot, with only two of his original guards next to him.  Suddenly, someone a few cots down was waving to get his attention.

“Dude! Hardcore Dude!”

Stirling frowned. It was his blonde-haired attacker.

“You feeling better, man?”

Stirling stared him down. Or, attempted to. The blonde young man seem unaffected by Stirling's grave stare.

“Me and the Brohemian saw you eating those eggs, we wanted to help you, Man, but it was to late. Sorry Dude.”

Stirling’s only response was to blink in confusion. 

“I’ve never met anyone who’s eaten those and survived to tell the story. What’s it like?” the blonde continued.

Stirling considered a moment. Others had heard the loud one-sided conversation, and were now looking to Strider for an answer.

“Like eating a mad scientist’s chemistry set.” With this, he unceremoniously heaved. The people around the room responded accordingly.

“Oooh, pretty colors.”

“Look away, honey.”

“Henrietta, could you please bring a towel? Or five?” One of the guards said to the nurse, placing a nearby bucket in front of Strider.

“Ew.”

“Sorry,” muttered Stirling, accepting the bucket. He moved to get off of the cot, but instead of going to the floor to clean up, he immediately dashed off to the facilities. Again. Followed by one guard, yelling at him at first, but when realizing Stirling’s intent, he quieted down and followed the poor ill man.

~~~

When Stirling returned with the one Guard, (The one that had left originally had now joined the other guard in cleaning up Stirling’s mess.) there was a few more people waiting for him. 

There were a small number of soldiers hovering around a core group of 3 people. Two of them wore robes that reminded Stirling of politicians, so instantly, they faded into the background of Stirling’s assessment.   The other one of these garnered Stirling’s immediate attention.

He had black hair which consisted of a full beard, and regular length haircut. He wore a simple white tunic, with blue shoulders and an insignia on the front of it, depicting a knotted sinister-looking staff, crossed with a bright steel sword, burning with vibrant flames, underlaid with three stripes. A red stripe on the bottom and top, and an orange stripe in the middle. Strapped to his side, the black-haired man also had a sword, with a diamond pommel. The handle was fairly simple, steel underneath, with grey cloth wrapped around it. 

Stirling figured he couldn’t take them all on. Not with these infernal symptoms. So he listened as the main  figure spoke.

“I trust you feel better now?”

“Well enough.” 

“Splendid. I have some questions for you...”

Stirling shrugged, glancing at all of the armed people around him. It wasn’t like he had much of a choice right now.

“...Which we will ask somewhere else.” A guard stepped forward with a cloth in his hands.

Upon seeing the cloth, Stirling assumed they were going to drug him unconscious, which, impaired or not, he wasn’t going to take lying down. He dove forward, snatching the cloth from the Guard before spinning around and slamming it into the lead man’s face. Following through, he was able to get him into a headlock before any of the guards could recover from their surprise.

Blinded, the lead man drew his sword and deftly flipped it around to stab Stirling. However, seeing the move, Stirling dodged the attack, only to be met with multiple swords and spears pointed at him and his captive.  One of them belonged to the Archer from the forest. Only now, he had apparently come around the corner while these previous events were happening.

“Nobody move, and no one gets hurt,” Stirling commanded, taking control. “This I swear, on my honor as a knight.”

“Knight?” His new captive queried. “What sort of knight?”

Stirling glanced down at him in surprise. Surely he would have succumbed to whatever they’d intended to put him to sleep with. “One with honor, who doesn’t attack travellers for a living, or without reason.” There was a groan directed from the man. ‘Must be the poison,’ Stirling thought.

“And this is relevant, how?”  The man said.

Stirling lifted the cloth from his captive and checked his eyes. Totally clear. And annoyed. He squinted at the cloth. It appeared completely normal.

Slightly embarrassed, he wondered if they’d only meant to blindfold him.

Slightly confused, his grip on the man loosened marginally. “I’m sorry, wh-”

His captive took advantage of this to drop his sword, reach up for Stirling’s arms, yank, and flip him in front of him. 

Landing flat on his back, Stirling landed with a solid thump, accentuated by gas. Various pointy tips were set at his throat.

“I can answer questions like this,” Stirling said. “Just don’t move me.” He pointed at the now discarded cloth. “I thought that was a means of knocking me out, I apologize.”

He heard the lead man’s voice.

“Maybe if you don’t try to harm anyone else here, you may be forgiven. Where do you hail from?”

“Morcia.”

“Interesting. Who are you aligned with? Vladek, Thedude, or some rebellion?”

“Before I answer that, could you answer that same question for me, since you already have me dead to rights?”

“And then you gain our trust and run away, telling our enemy gathered intel?”

“It is so romantic that you think I want or need your trust. I’m simply travelling through.”

“Through Ankoria. Sure.”

Stirling shrugged as best he could from his position on the ground. However, it was ruined by an escaped toot.

“You’re specifically trying to be aloft- I mean, aloof. If you won’t answer that, then answer it later. For now, tell us where you got this.” The man said, raising a sword.

It was his samurai katana. That meant they’d gone through his stuff. Typical vagabonds.

“If you’re wanting more like it, I’ll tell you that’s not possible.” 

The man raised his left eyebrow and looked at the katana. 

“What, this? why would I want a Nexus Force Sentinel rank three Samurai issue Katana?” He said as he turned back to a neutral faced Stirling.

Stirling took a moment to study the people around him. None of them looked like Nexus Force. They were all battle ready, more or less. They had a variety of ethnicity, and most of them were very grim faced. Their gear was largely of a medieval make, though there was the occasional Paradox Rogue item. How did they know what Sentinel gear looked like?

Stirling decided that, no matter what their morals were, they were clearly not allied with thedude. This made it very unlikely, but not impossible, that they were not allied with Vladek either.

“I am against thedude.” he announced abruptly. 

The leader nodded, though somewhat surprised at his sudden answering of the previous question. “Are you allied with Vladek, then?”

Stirling shook his head. “Before I answer that, I would like to know your alignment.” The man seemed somewhat disappointed, but did reply,

“We would be foolish to answer that, but if you won’t answer that now, then we will ask you this: Where did you get this sword?” The leader said as he gestured to the katana again. 

“It should be clear enough, if you’ve rifled through my belongings,” Stirling growled, becoming irritated with his position. “I was with the Nexus Force, in a past life.”

“So you come from offworld?”

“I hail from Morcia.”

“How did you get to the Nexus Force, and how did you get back here?”

Stirling rolled his eyes. “You want my life’s story?”

“Actually, that would be preferable. In detail.”

Stirling shook his head, brushing the blades away with his gloved hands as he made to get up. “Nope, that’s it. I’m not accepting your ‘hospitality’ anymore.” 

The one who had been questioning him shook his head in frustration.

“Hank, procedure two.”

Hank, who was a nearby guard, said,“Yes sir!” Stabbing Stirlings left shoulder, and hitting an artery. 

“GAH! CRUX!” Stirling glanced down and noticed the man, ‘Hank’ had thrust so hard as to go through his mail. And by the excruciating pain, he might have nicked a bone.

The leader spoke up.

“Henrietta, how much time does he have left?” he asked, addressing a nurse.

“Approximately five minutes before he bleeds out, Sir.”

“Well, there you have it. We can treat you if you answer one of the questions, stranger.”

Through gritted teeth, he looked up at his antagonist. “It’ll take more than that, moron.”  Seeing his own blood, Stirling’s fervor was stoked, and he slowly stood up, a hand over his wound. Many people around him grumbled and muttered darkly.

The man, who had picked up his sword by now, looked Stirling in the eye.

“I said answer one question. I suggest you do so.”

Stirling spat at his feet. “You are without honor.”

“And you called ME a moron.” The man muttered, before looking back up, taking a step forward, and continued to talk. “I, am Matheeas Lancaster, and I just might be the most honorable knight here. I have killed countless, for the sole purpose to save countless. All you have done here is condemn yourself to death.”

Already, Stirling felt the cold touch of death as his lifeblood spilled over his chainmail. But he gave Matheeas a smile. “I would be lying if I said it was a pleasure to meet you, Lancaster. But I appreciate knowing who it was that killed me. Know that it is Stirling Silverstine whom you have slain, and that you will answer to Sir Thaddeus Thingguy the Second,  if he ever finds out thy hand in this.”

With this, Stirling collapsed amid rippling murmurs.

Matheeas closed his eyes, and facepalmed. “What an IDIOT. Henrietta, please try and save him. Hank, go get the Doctor.”

“Hardcore…”

“Kevin, shut up.”

Chapter 7: Poisoned, Assaulted, Maimed, Treated, Stabbed, Treated Again, and  Prison Time.

Kalaren was surprised at these turn of events. He thought back to his own first time with Matheeas. It had gone much better. Hopefully, this would end up much the same. Right now, he was assisting Henrietta in slowing the man’s, Stirling’s, blood loss, which mostly was just handing clean towels over, and wringing out used ones of all of the blood with hot water.

Thankfully, the doctor came over very quickly. He was followed by Jellyfish, Methuselah, and Hank.  Kalaren remembered that the Doctor’s name was Steph A. Skope, but as is the fate of many doctors, he was simply called ‘Doc’. He was a middle-aged man, who was balding before his time. His kind brown eyes were always framed by his spectacles, and accentuated his full brown beard. He wore a white overcoat similar to Jellyfish’s, and his grey carpetbag of doctor’s tools was never far from hand. Rushing in, he plopped right down, and took control.

“Have you staunched the bleeding?”

“Very nearly, Doctor,” Henrietta replied. “But it hit an artery."

“That is unfortunate!  Kalaren, I want you to hold his arm up and apply pressure. I’m going to sew this up, and then we’ll bandage it.

“Sounds good.” Kalaren said.

It was a few minutes longer, and then the doctor’s deft hands had finished with his patient. Tying off the bandage, he said,

“I don’t think he’ll be up and about for a few weeks, and he certainly won’t be fighting or doing anything physical with that arm for at least a month. I would suggest two, but I know that probably won’t happen,” he finished.

Turning around, he noted Jellyfish’s intense stare. “What do you think, Jellyfish?”

“Yes, it makes sense. It’s vaguely familiar. Perhaps it was part of something I learned in the Academy. Couldn’t you used a tourniquet?”

“I could have, but it wouldn’t have been a permanent fix,” Doc explained as the two labcoated men walked off.

Kalaren looked up at a tense Matheeas, who looked down at him and said, 

“Do you want to guard him? We’re going to move him into the brig and have personal doctor visits because clearly, he can’t be among polite company, even if he IS a knight.” 

Kalaren shrugged. “They’ll let anyone be a knight these days.”

“That applies to a lot of people, but I don’t think the KOTOS would accept someone who acts so arrogant.”

“The KOTOS?”

“Knights Of The Olde Speech. They fought in the grammar war, and Sir Thingguy was one of them. Supposedly, they’re quite noble. I thought they were all captured or dead, though there are rumors they still roam about.”

“Oh.” Kalaren looked at Stirling. He could be a knight.

“We better move him now.  Rick, Kalaren, think you could get a stretcher, and move him to the brig?”

“Oi reckon.” Rick drawled.

“Don’t see why not!” Kalaren said.

While Rick and Kal got the stretcher, Matheeas dispersed the crowd, apologising for the chaos. Once the other two got back and loaded the prisoner onto the stretcher, Matheeas excused himself to handle other matters. Methuselah wandered away toward his bunker where he would probably experiment more.

The trip to the brig (Which was the same prison room Kalaren had been in all those years ago except expanded, and patched up.) was uneventful, other than a couple confused or curious glances from nearby bystanders.

Once they did get there, they set him on a cot next to the wall and grabbed some long chains attached to the wall.

However, with the sound of chains, something within the knight awoke, and he groaned. The two guards started to panic.

“Oh no, he’s awake!” Kalaren muttered.

“Quoick, chain up hois oither oither hand!” Rick replied.

“You mean his other hand?”

“Yeh, that one!”

“No, this one,” the prisoner said, swinging up from his cot with his right hand in question balled into a fist. However, the guard, which happened to be Kalaren, caught his fist and smiled at the prisoner.

“Hey fella! Thanks for the tip!”

Stirling paled and fell back onto his cot.  While Rick finished chaining him up, Kalaren continued to talk and made sure Stirling didn’t try anything.

“So, how are you feeling?”

Stirling glared at the two of them. “I’ve had worse.”

“That’s good. Up for a few more questions?”

Stirling raised an eyebrow. “Depends, can you answer a few for me?”

Kalaren considered this.

“We probably can. After you answer ours.”

Stirling nodded his consent.  “See, that’s very sensible. The knucklehead I was talking with before didn’t seem to understand that.”

“That ‘knucklehead’ is my boss. Besides, you asked him to answer yours first.” 

Stirling made a barely visible shrug as he leaned back against the wall. “Fire away, Archer.” This surprised Kalaren.

“Oh, I don’t have authorization to question you. You’ll have to take that up with Matheeas.”

Stirling’s features quickly hardened. 

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. If you are reasonable with him, he’ll be reasonable with you!” Kalaren reassured, then added, “Oh, and my name’s Kalaren. or Kal.” Kalaren was hit with the sudden realization that he sounded a lot like Egbert, the one who had guarded him when he was in prison all those years ago. A sudden wave of sorrow passed over him as he remembered Egbert had fallen in war, seven years ago.

“Pleased to meet you, Kalaren. I’m not sure you heard me when I was talking to Matheeas. My name’s Stirling Silverstine.”

“Nice to meet you, too.”

Stirling appeared to study him closely. “Are you from the Nexus Force?”

Kalaren started to speak, but then frowned.

“I don’t think I can disclose that.”

“What is this, some sort of cult? Can’t you talk about your own personal stuff?” Stirling groused. Before Kalaren could answer, he continued. 

“I was in the Nexus Force, before I came here almost six years ago now.”

“Oh?” Kalaren might not be able to question him, but gathering information couldn’t hurt.

“Yeah. Before the Faction wars. I was a Sentinel. You know what the Factions are, right?”

Kalaren thought for a second.

“I might.”

Stirling continued. “Well, the Sentinels are guardians. Protectors. I was a Samurai, and, well, I guess you know that if you identified my stuff.” Suddenly, Stirling leaned in. “You’re keeping track of all that, right? I don’t want any of it missing when I get it back.” His expression ranged from curious to severe.

“Honestly, I dunno. I wasn’t the one who went through it.”

Rick butted in.

“Oi’m going to tell Mat’eas, the pris’ner’s awake.” He said as he headed for the door.

“You do that,” muttered Stirling. Turning to Kalaren, he continued.

“Yeah, the Nexus Force wasn’t all bad, but eventually I decided to come back home. Militiregnum is home.”

“I see. Did you know about everything that was happening here?”

“You mean thedude taking over? No. I crash landed here and found out pretty quick though.”

“Crash landed? How did you get past the blockade?”

Stirling froze for a moment, clearly holding back. “I’m a very good pilot,” he said.

“Really? What did you fly?”

“An old Nexus Force Shuttle a fr- I acquired.”

“Huh. So, you were a samurai pilot?”

“The Nexus Force Academy program is extensive.”

“And generous! I mean, you had one of their shuttles, and unless you stole it-”

“Yes, I stole it.”

“Wait, what?”

“Let’s go with that. I stole it.”

“Isn’t Nexus Force high security?”

“I had friends. But not anymore.” Stirling’s gaze dropped.

“Oh. I’m sorry for your loss.” Kalaren assumed. Matheeas, along with Rick, walked in then.

“Oh, here’s the…” Stirling checked himself. “Ahem. Mr. Lancaster.” Matheeas looked at Stirling in surprise, then at Kalaren, then back at Stirling.

“Er, greetings. So...”

“Kalaren tells me that if I answer your questions, you could answer mine. That’s something you should have led with, good sir.” Resettling himself against the wall, he listened to the reply.

“He did? That seems reasonable enough. We should be able to answer a few. Shall we get started?”

Glancing at Kalaren, Stirling replied, “Fire away, Lancaster.”

Matheeas winced at being called ‘Lancaster’, but due to Stirling's volatile mood, decided not to mention it.

“What Faction did you serve in?” he asked.

Again glancing at Kalaren, he answered “Sentinel. You know which one that is?”

“Yes. Moving on, how did you get into Ankoria?”

“Would you believe I crash-landed in a spaceship near the coast?” Suddenly, he shook his head. “No, you wouldn’t. You’d go looking for the ship. Sadly, there’s nothing left of my sea-faring vessel. I crashed into the rocky shore somewhere on the northern peninsula.” He thought for a moment. “I suppose you could check my effects and find my compass. It is somewhat corsair in design…”

“I do recall someone saying something about a similar compass. What were you doing traveling in Ankoria, or what were you heading for?”

Stirling sighed. “Well, since I thought I was dead, I told you that I am affiliated with the Knights of the Olde Speech. I suppose it can’t hurt to tell you now that I was heading north, towards Nordland. I wanted to speak to their warriors, find out what’s allowed them to repel thedude for so long. But now, being stranded here, I was walking east to take the longer land route north.” Suddenly, he remembered something. “Is Vladek’s fort occupied?”

Matheeas had been deep in thought, so he looked up at Stirling in surprise at the sudden change of subject.

“I’ll tell you in a second. How did you get to Militiregnum?”

Stirling rolled his eyes. “That is a very long question. Suffice to say that Morcia is my home, and I came here from the Nexus Force 6 years ago. I was shot down by the blockade when I refused to stay away, and I’ve been on the planet ever since.” 

“Interesting. I assume your spacecraft was a Nexus Force model?”

“A much older version, yes. But it’s been long gone by now. Somewhere in eastern Morcia.”

“I see. I have one more question. Is the KOTOS still around? I thought they were either all dead or captured.

Stirling appeared to consider his answer very carefully. “It depends on what you consider ‘still around’. The KOTOS are not what they used to be. Many are dead, some are captured; most are still in hiding. But there are some like myself, friends and affiliates, who would say that the KOTOS will never truly die.”

“That’s good to know! Well, now it’s your turn to ask any questions.”

Stirling nodded, still preoccupied with Matheeas’s final question and response. However, he appeared to shake it off soon enough. 

“First, Vladek’s fort. Does he still use it? I was planning to pass by it, but…”

“It’s probably a good thing you didn’t. Vladek himself isn’t there too often, but it is in use. He almost always has some sort of garrison there.”

“Well then for that I am glad. I would most surely be dead if you had not detained me,” Stirling admitted. “That brings me to my second question: Where is here? I understand if you cannot be specific, but I thought Ankoria was barren of civilization.” 

“We are in the City of Aragarth, it was ruined when the founders of our group came here and it has worked splendidly as a base.”

Stirling nodded, before quickly continuing to another question.

“Thirdly, WHO ARE YOU GUYS?!”

Apparently, this third question had been weighing heavily on his mind, and surprised everyone in the room. Matheeas answered promptly, and with a bit of vigor and pride, as he realized that this man was the one they needed to meet, and vise versa. This man could connect them to many allies!

“I, and everyone else in this city, (excluding you of course,) are the Ankorian Rebellion! We have been attacked by Vladek’s forces many times and yet we have survived! Our city is quite large so we were able to set ambushes and traps along the roads and paths. We would probably be able to harbor whatever allies you might have.”

“So, we’re relatively close to Vladek’s fortress?”

Matheeas hesitated to confirm this, but as Stirling had already assumed this, and Matheeas dearly wished to be able to relatively trust him, he did so.

“...Yes.”

Stirling paused, mulling this all over.  “Well, at least you’re not all brigands.” Looking up, he asked, “I assume my possessions will be returned to me in due time?”

“Yes, of course! I don’t see why not. If we kept them you would not be armed correctly for your journey, and then you may never reach allies to tell them of our existence.”

Stirling raised an eyebrow. “You want me to tell others of your little rebellion?”

“Only trusted allies. It would be beneficial to both of us.”

Mild confusion turned to thoughtfulness, which melted into a guarded smile. “Very well, Mr. Lancaster. I think we may have reached a mutual understanding at last.”

“I agree.” 

“All it took was my getting assaulted, maimed, treated, stabbed, treated again, and thrown in this quaint prison cell!” he summarized sarcastically.

“And don’t forget the gigfran eggs!” Kalaren pointed out. 

It appeared that talking about other things had kept Stirling’s mind off of this subject, and bringing it up brought several unsavory symptoms back.

“Right,” Stirling added, suddenly turning a sickly shade of green. “Add ‘poisoned’ to the list.” Then his eyes glazed over and he fainted.

Chapter 8: Visitors for the Strider, Part One

Stirling had feverish dreams. Another side effect of the accursed bird eggs. He dreamt of being chased by unseen horrors of nature, fighting faceless shadows demanding his deepest kept secrets. When he refused, he suddenly would find little black birds in his mouth which would start chirping away everything. Stirling closed his mouth, and tried to swallow, but instead the birds multiplied and spilled out of his mouth, only to turn on him and peck at his  eyes and face. It only took moments before he seemed to be covered in the never-ending swarm of hatchlings…!

Then he awoke, covered in his own puke, which he appeared to have rolled around in, and his eyes burned. Blinking a few times, he realized his visual acuity has decreased. He could still see, but finer details were lost to him. 

"Great. Just great."

Looking around, he got up off of the ground and realized he was no longer in the prison cell. Instead he was in a room more appropriate to a guest. It was a basic apartment size, decently furnished. It even had a small washroom adjacent to it. Looking up, Stirling saw the roof having been patched with wood and skins.  Stirling was surprised by the sheer space of the room compared to his cell. A guard right outside his door was able to explain to him that he was under a form of house arrest, under the authority of the Doctor, not Matheeas. Stirling thought that mighty convenient, but accepted this state of affairs nonetheless. 

Over the next few days ‘Doc’ visited and assured him that though he didn’t know how long it would take, his vision would clear, along with the rest of his symptoms. Much to Strider’s relief, the gastrointestinal issues did appear to be fading. 

As impaired as he was, Stirling nevertheless made use of the time cleaning his armor and talking with visitors, of which there were quite a few.

Various townsfolk were interested in someone new, as this was a rare occurrence. Stirling was somewhat surprised, but ultimately pleased when they came by. Apparently Matheeas trusted him enough to let his people talk freely with him. Stirling considered how to use this to his advantage, but also was careful not to lose said advantage, doing his best to be a good... 'captive host'?

There were also less common folk who came by. The occasional person with some fancy title or specific occupation inside the leadership would come by and ask him questions about things abroad. Stirling would answer them as generally as he could. As kind as this resistance seemed to be, his aching left arm warned him constantly that they could be ruthless.

And then came one other visitor who stood out from all the rest… 

Early the third day of this routine, the guard outside of his room let this visitor in to his room. Stirling could easily see that he was quite curious, and quite excited. As soon as the door closed, the brown-robed man gave a short bow, and greeted Stirling, who had just gotten dressed for the day in some casual medieval attire. His regular armor and clothing lay on a nearby table, still not yet fully cleaned from his travels.

“Welcome to Aragarth, Sir Silverstine!” the visitor said.

“How do you do, sir.” Stirling replied, unable to make out his features beyond thin, white hair, and no beard. “I’m sorry, I don’t recognize you. Should I?”

The man in front of him, opened his mouth to say something, then decided against it and thought for a second.

“No, no you shouldn’t. I am Doctor Jellyfish! The head engineer of the Ankorian Rebellion!”

“Jellyfish?”

“Yes! Ever tried it fried?”

Stirling squinted, wishing he could read this man’s face better.  “Noo… Can’t say I have. Are you pulling my leg?”

“No. That would be a strange thing to do!”

There was a long pause as both men tried to figure out the other’s reasoning for totally different … reasons.

“So, what brings you to see the half-blind soldier from abroad?” Stirling asked, shuffling over to the wood stove.

“Oh yes! I almost forgot! Well, to get to that I would have to start at the very beginning."   

Stirling glanced back, kettle in hand. “I was about to brew some coffee. Or what you folks call coffee. You want some?”

“Would you kill me if I said no?”

“Um, no?”

“Good. I know a friend who said no once.”

“Lemme guess. The friend died?”

“Hm? Well, of course! Who doesn’t!”

Stirling paused. What was the point of this conversation again?

“Anyways, would you like the long story, or the short story?”

“I’m going to brew myself some coffee, so give me the long story, and we’ll see how that goes,” Stirling said.

“Long story, ok. Would you like the deluxe version?”

Having got the kettle warming on the wood stove, Stirling turned to his visitor. 

“What on Crux is the deluxe v- no, you know what. I’ll take the extra-super. With cheese. Just start telling the story!”

“Well, I don’t have cheese, and I don’t know what the 'extra-super' is. So I’m afraid I can’t.”

Stirling facepalmed. “Just…” 

“Just...Ice? Justice? You seek justice? Do you have an attorney? I know a good attorney.”

Stirling shrugged helplessly. “Are you ok? Do you need a Doctor? How about a good psychiatrist?”

“I am a Doctor! And I have a psychiatrist. His name is also Doctor Jellyfish! Though he actually IS a jellyfish.”

“Lemme guess, you haven’t seen him in some time.”

“Number one, why do you ask me to 'let you guess'? You go right ahead anyway. Number two, he visits me in my dreams.”

Stirling nodded. ‘Yup. Certified crazy, if I ever saw it.’ he thought. Switching gears, Stirling said, “So, Dr. Jellyfish. Did you have something to tell me today?”

“Oh yeah! Would you like the malnourished long version, deluxe long version or the super-deluxe with cheese!” Jellyfish said, pulling out a slimy slice of cheese from one of his lab coat pockets. It had something green sliding down the side of it.

It took Stirling a few seconds to mentally bite back all of his sarcastic comebacks and exclamations, but he eventually replied, “Whatever you like.”

“Well, I don’t like being malnourished. And I don’t like cheese. But you like cheese! So we will do the last one!” Jellyfish said, before tossing the slice of cheese at Stirling, accidentally hitting his face, and adding, “Here you go. Oops.”

“Thanks,” Stirling replied dryly, as the slice peeled off, leaving a slimy film.

“Once upon a time, Four Adventurers journeyed to find the fabled-”

“Skip to the end!” 

“Everyone dies,” Jellyfish summarized solemnly.

“NOT THAT FAR END.”

“So, you want me to skip to the middle?”

Stirling took a deep breath. He could feel his blood pressure rising, geez.

“I’ve been in the Nexus Force, I know the beginning. Skip the tutorial.” 

“Press the spacebar to jump! You can do it!” 

Stirling turned to the 4th wall. It was shattered. 

“Hey, reader. Can you help me find the end to this madness?”

“Double tap the spacebar… To order a double patty with fried french Bacon!”

“Please?”

“You now have a coronary! Congratulations!”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was a robot with a malfunction!”

“Eat twenty-nine a day! part of your daily heart health!”

“If you decide to save me, please turn to page fifty-seven. If you decide to leave me to my misery, turn the page.”

(Next Page)

[It turns out, Dr. Jellyfish was actually a jellyfish piloting an advanced mecha. There was an issue with the processing center, which was powered by a nuclear micro-reactor. The micro-reactor exploded, and all of Aragarth was obliterated. The resulting fallout killed everyone and everything in northwestern Ankoria, which included Vladek’s fort. Vladek visits 3 days later, along with thedude. They both get radiation poisoning, and die. 

Congrats! You killed thousands of people and saved Militeregnum! A much lower death toll than an all out war!]

Chapter 8: Visitors for the Strider, Part two!!

(Page 57)

“So, what brings you to see the half-blind soldier from abroad?” Stirling asked, shuffling over to the wood stove.

“Oh yes, I almost forgot! Well, to get to that, I would have to start explaining from the very beginning.”

Starting a fire in the wood stove, Stirling said over his shoulder. “Go right ahead. I was about to make myself some coffee, or what you guys here call coffee. Want some?”

“No thanks. Please do not be offended, good sir.”

Filling the kettle with water, Stirling shook his head. “Not at all.”

“Thank you. Would you like the short story or long story?”

Having gotten the water boiling, Stirling ambled over to a chair. “I’ve got all day. Long story.”

“Oh. Well, the rodents should be fine for awhile. Well, would you like the deluxe version?”

Sitting down, Stirling glanced up at the doctor, who still stood by the door. “Sure. Why not.” he motioned to another chair. “Sit down, take a load off.”

“I’m not carrying anything. Well, except maybe this.” Jellyfish said, pulling out a slice of slimy cheese, and draped it over the back of the chair, and sat down.

Stirling stared at the slice, wondering why this doctor had cheese in his pockets. Maybe it had something to do with his mention of rodents…?  However, he didn’t stay distracted by it for long, as Jellyfish kicked his feet up and began his story.

“One bright and cheery day, on some distant planet neither I or the Author knows the name of, (as of yet,) I was born in a run-down hospital. I was named something.”

Stirling was about to interrupt, saying he didn’t ask for his life’s story, only what brought him here today, but the gaping holes that the doctor simply glazed over left Stirling confused enough to simply stay silent and see what else the strange fellow would say.

“As a child, I was quite intrigued about science, and cybernetics. Jellyfish’s. I learned about the Nexus Force, and would have enlisted as a scientist, but I had to be proved I was sane. Eventually, I was forced to take sanity medication, and was allowed in. Most of my work was helping some paradox scientists with devising cybernetics for different biological beings, such as horses, large dogs, and even wounded minifigures. When the-”

A connection fired off in Stirling’s mind. “Have you helped Kalaren?”

The scientist was surprised by this interruption, but replied.

“Why, yes! I gave him that arm from Vladek’s lab.”

A thousand mental alarm bells went off. “You were working for Vladek?!”

“Once. Listen to the story and it will make sense.”

Stirling settled down. “Fair enough.” He glanced around for his sword. It was out of his immediate reach, by his armor, behind the doctor. He began thinking of ways to get over there casually as his visitor continued his story.

“At the end of the faction wars, I was mistaken as a Paradox scientist allied with thedude. I was sent on the ‘U.S.S. Botany Bay’  which was doomed to crash-land here, on Militeregnum, as you know. I laid low and away from thedude, but he did force me to do the occasional job or two. When he took over, I took up a job as a doctor at the village outside of Thunderclap Kee-JELLYFISH!!” 

Stirling blinked twice in surprise, but otherwise remain unruffled.

“Ahem. Sorry. Ever since I’ve been cut off from the city, I haven't been able to get my sanity medication, which has jellyfish as the main ingredient.”

“That’s ok. Go on?”

“Thank you. What were we talking about again?”

“You lived in a village outside Thunderclap Keep as a doctor.”

“I DID? Oh. Yes. I did. Thank you again. Anyways, I did the odd job here and there, which largely consisted of giving advanced medical treatment to villagers. I was rivals with Dr. Crabapple. He had a quite dour personality. But he made very tasty cookies!”

Stirling could see this was derailing. He decided to try and tactfully steer it back.

“How did you end up working for Vladek?”

“He came to my shop one day and asked if I could work for him for a couple months in one of his labs. I didn’t have any long-term jobs at the moment, and I knew Dr. Cashewapple could handle the villagers illness’ while I was gone. Besides, everyone would love getting cookies more often.” Once Jellyfish mentioned the cookies he had a faraway look in his eyes.

“They were heavenly.” 

Ignoring the heavenly cookies mentioned, Stirling asked, “Wait, so you met Kalaren in Vladek’s lab? Was he working for him as well???”

“I’ll get to that. I walked out of my shop and was led to Vladek’s carriage. We rode in that for a very long time. We picked up two others. One was very friendly, if nervous. The other one seemed very sinister, and sat next to Vladek. They talked in low tones together. When we arrived at the fort, Vladek himself showed us our accommodations, and then showed us the downstairs lab, In which Kalaren was sleeping strapped to a table. Vladek gave us instructions to take DNA samples daily. We were also permitted to do small, meaningless experiments to him, such as poking him with a stick. We were also allowed to give him silencer.” After a second, Jellyfish added, “It does exactly what it sounds like.” Jellyfish sighed, and took the piece of cheese that was on the chair and started nibbling on it. Like a rat.

“So...He was a prisoner.”

“No. He was a doctor. And a part time baker. Why?”

“I’m talking about Kalaren. Are you?” Before the Dr. could reply, he waved his hands erratically. “Forget that, nevermind. How did you and Kalaren escape and end up here with the resistance?” 

“Well, one time, the other two scientists cut off his arm because the DNA samples were taking too long. I wasn’t there, though. When Vladek found out, he was not pleased. but the other scientists pitched the idea of cloning Kalaren directly, he calmed down. So they popped him in the cloning machine, and afterwards, he woke up and I was the only one in the room. I gave him a cybernetic arm and we stormed through the fort, out the window into the moat with sharks, then away across the plain and into the forest. We met up with the Ankorian Resistance and they knocked us out. Like you, except quicker. It was more of a ‘spur of the moment kind of thing.”

“Do you regret it?” Stirling asked.

“Yes. I will never have such delicious cookies.”

‘Again with the cookies!’ Stirling thought. Just then, the kettle whistled, and Stirling got up as fast as he could. “You still haven’t told me why you’re here today, though.” 

“Oh! Yes. Well, you wouldn’t be getting the Super Deluxe Long Version if I skipped over the hiatus in between my getting beat down and coming here and eating cheese while talking to you, Sir Knight.”

“Good point.”

“Alright! So, I woke up, and Kalaren filled me in. Basically, Kalaren was forced to tell Matheeas all about our escapades. Matheeas reasoned that Vladek would send out a search party, which could very well outgun us. Kalaren and I volunteered, and fought in the battle. It was difficult, and we had losses, but we were victorious! Then, and in subsequent battles! The latter being much easier, since we were able to prepare better. Anyways, I was elected as the head tech expert, and Dr. Skope’s head assistant over the past few years!” Jellyfish smiled with pride, and took an especially large bite of cheese, which made him frown in distaste.

Stirling had already poured the hot water and instant coffee-like mixture together. However, he hadn’t sat back down, instead opting to meander around the room to his sword. Now he leaned against the very table that the sword did, and took a sip of the bitter liquid. 

“Ok. Does that bring me up to speed?” Stirling asked over the rim of his clay mug. “Now will you tell me what your question was?”

“I didn’t know you were particularly slow. Why would this information make you faster?” 

This coffee wasn’t helping. Stirling’s blood pressure was rising. “Why. Are you here.” he enunciated. 

“Oh, no reason. Just to say hi to a fellow Nexus Forcer!”

Stirling stared at the back of Dr. Jellyfish’s head. ‘No reason? No reason?!’ His grip on the clay mug tightened. This was 15 minutes of his life that he would never get back, listening to a crazed lunatic who didn’t even know his own name.

Jellyfish turned his chair around and pondered for a second. Raising one finger, he said, “Oh! I just remembered!” He leaned forward. “How are things going in the Nexus Force? Did they place my infinite cookie machine derived from one of Brick Fury’s implants in the Venture League break-room?” 

Stirling’s mug shattered under his white-knuckle grip, and with it, whatever semblance of casual conversation with this so called ‘doctor’.

“You- It- COOKIES!” Stirling spluttered. He found that his mounting frustrations could not be voiced properly.

“Yes! If only they were Dr. Camelfish’s cookies…”

“AUGH!” he cried throwing his hands up in the air, as well as coffee. This alerted the guard, who burst in with two swords un-sheathed.

“WHO DIED?! DO WE NEED A DOCTOR? I MEAN, ANOTHER DOCTOR! DOES ANYONE NEED CPR!?!” The tense guard said.

The intrusion of someone other than the torturous Dr. Jellyfish brought Stirling some semblance of sanity. He pointed at the relaxed, well groomed man in the chair.

“TAKE HIM A- ahem. I mean…” He looked down at himself, only now realizing he’d spilled Ankorian instant coffee all over himself. “I mean, Um. Nothing, guardsman. We’re both alright. I just spilled some hot coffee.” 

The now embarrassed guard slowly sheathed both swords and walked out of the room awkwardly.

“Oh… My.. Apologies.”

Jellyfish looked at Stirling nonchalantly.

“You should have asked him for a towel.”

Stirling shook his head. “I have one over here in the washroom,” he answered. He picked up his sword and walked over to the washroom, where he pulled a towel off a rack. Then he came back to his armchair next to Jellyfish and sat down.

“So, you were asking about the Nexus Force?”

“Yes! Specifically about the Venture League cookie machine matter.”

Stirling shook his head. “I’m afraid I haven’t been off the planet in a little over 6 years. And I wasn’t part of Venture League, but you know that, since you’re probably who identified my gear.”

“Oh. Yeah. Well, what was the state of the NF before you left?”

“Well…” 

Stirling and Dr. Jellyfish talked more casually after that, mostly about the Nexus Force and other extraterrestrial matters. Dr. Jellyfish would occasionally go off on tangents, and Stirling didn’t bother to try and steer the conversation anymore. 

Hours flew by, and both men found a way to enjoy the idle chatter. Eventually though, Dr. Jellyfish excused himself saying he ‘really had to get back to the rodents’, whatever that meant. Much of the day had already passed, and surprisingly, no other guests called upon his hospitality that day. 

Stirling was relieved to see the back of him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 9: A Warrior's Rehabilitation

Time continued to pass. The next few days were dull and forgettable compared to Dr. Jellyfish’s visit. Eventually, Stirling grew Stir-crazy and expressed a desire to take a walk. His eyesight was returning well, and no new symptoms were coming up. He felt almost well. 

After his next checkup with Dr. Skope, he agreed a casual walk would be most beneficial. Matheeas wouldn’t let him free in his city without at least one guard though, so the guardsman who usually attended Stirling and his room came along with him.

“Remind me what your name is, guardsman?”

“Chris the negative 2nd, at your service!” He replied.

“Negative 2nd?”

“One of my relatives was named Chris. The whole family liked the name so much, we all decided to rename ourselves Chris. I am the original Chris’s uncle, and I am the same age as his father. All of the Chris’s after the original Chris are named positive numbers, while all of the Chris’s before him are named negative ones. Thus, my name. Get it?” 

Stirling blinked twice. “Yes. But it still doesn’t make sense.”

They strolled through the streets, garnering the attention of many eyes, but most people left the soldier and guardsman alone, going about their business.

That is, until they came upon a children’s game of ‘pretend’. 

A boy and a girl appeared to be fighting some invisible enemy being puppeted by a younger girl, who appeared to be the ‘bad guy’. At least, that’s what Stirling assumed, based upon her adorable attempt at an evil cackle.

“You knights will never defeat my dragon-slave! Bwahahahaha!” 

“Gah!” “Oh no!” said the two knights, before the boy peeked over his toy wooden shield. “Then it’s a good thing we’re not alone!”

Right then, a short, round boy came from a nearby ally, dressed in a bath-robe. “BEHOLD! IT IS I, ROTUNDUS MAXIMUS! FEAR MY STICK OF SIZZLING!” he screamed, slamming his broom-handle into the ground. All four kids burst into laughter, with the ‘lady knight’ commenting, “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

Just then, the ‘evil wizard girl’ noticed Stirling and Chris coming around the bend. She turned quite red and whispered something to her friends. Chris gave them a smile and a wave.

The boy knight’s eyes lit up and he ran towards Stirling and Chris, much to the embarrassment of the youngest girl. (The ‘Evil Wizard’).

“Hey! You’re the foreigner, right?” the boy yelled, pointing at Stirling. The youngest girl facepalmed. The others weren't sure if they should follow or stay.

Stirling smiled, squinting as he tried to make out the finer details of the boy. “Well, I’m certainly not a local!” he replied jovially.

The kid finally came into Stirling’s focus as he stumbled to a stop in front of him. “The name’s Jonny. Those other kids over there are Blake, Rita and little Rosa!” He pointed at the others in turn. Both Blake and Rita waved.  Rosa tried to hide behind them.

“It’s nice to meet you all,” Stirling said. It had surprised him to run into kids here. Of course, it made perfect sense, now that he thought about it, but Ankoria hardly felt like the best place to raise a family. It seemed almost irresponsible to him…

Jon’s eyes lit up. “Hey! You were beat up right?”

Stirling stopped his wandering mind and looked back down at the kid. Jonny. “Who told you that?”

“I’ve overheard it at least three times now! My father mentioned it to me once.”

A wry grin settled on Stirling’s face. “Well you hear this then. Yeah, I was beat up, but it’s not about never falling down, it’s about always getting back up.” he flung his good right arm wide, his left one still in a loose sling. “And look at me, I’m back up again!”

Jonny thought for a second.

“Huh. I guess you're right. Anyway, do you want to be our prisoner? Joshua was supposed to be playing the captive king, but he got in trouble and now he’s grounded. So far, we’ve been fighting the evil Wizardress, Midnight Veil, for no reason whatsoever. It’s kinda.. Unexciting.”

Stirling glanced at his guard, who looked back at him with concern. Turning back to the kids, he smiled apologetically. “Maybe another time. I do appreciate your offer though.”

Chris visibly contained a sigh of relief, even as Jonny became slightly deflated.

“Oh. Ok. You’re welcome, Sir.”

“Come on, Sir,” Chris said to Stirling. “I think we should continue our walk and let the kids play.”

Stirling nodded in agreement. “It was nice to meet you, Jonny.”

“You too!” Jonny ran back to the others. “He WAS beat up! I told you so!” The other kids grumbled. Stirling managed to catch one of their statements, “You aren’t actually going to make me eat one of those gigfran eggs, right?”

Stirling chuckled to himself as they continued their walk.

~~~~

More time passed. Stirling’s arm was nearly healed. It was out of it’s sling now, and despite Dr. Skope’s best efforts and admonishments to take it easy, Stirling found ways to exercise it and get out of his apartment.  Since he was known around the city as a great fighter, (despite strong evidence to the contrary,) he was asked to spar. Stirling didn’t need to be asked twice. 

His ever-constant shadow, Chris, at first lent him his poor-quality one handed sword. It was heavy, but Stirling used it with the utmost skill. Nevertheless, he commented often to his beaten challengers that he could give a better lesson if he had his old Samurai katana.

It didn’t take long for word to get around, and. by popular demand, Chris showed up one day with Stirling’s Katana instead of the heavy sword.

From then on, Chris held the sword till they would go on a walk and get challenged by some foe or another, to which Stirling would accept the sword, win the sparring match, give pointers, and then hand the katana back.

At one of these points, Stirling and Chris were challenged by Stirling’s original attacker, Kevin, while passing the town square. He was followed at a short distance by a cloaked Kalaren. Kevin strode up, and began to speak.

“Hey, dude, up for a re-match?”

Stirling grinned. Clearly, this had been planned. A small crowd was hemming in the square. Quicker than normal.

“Why? You feel bad about losing before?” Stirling trash-talked.

Kevin stopped grinning and walking. His face reddened. He glanced around at the crowd, slowing his gaze ever so slightly at a small group of tittering young girls. He turned back to Stirling and said, “That’s not how I remember things.”

One of the people in the crowd spoke up. “Yeah! you told us you mopped the floor with him! Cleaned up every grain of dirt from the… Dirt!”

“Yeah! The mountain-top dirt!”

“Wasn’t it sun-down?” 

Stirling waved his hands. “Clearly, there’s a difference of opinion. How about we see the facts?” Here, Chris coolly handed Stirling his Katana, and produced a whistle and a black and white striped cap. He was suddenly turned into a referee. 

Stirling smirked at Chris. “Oh, you’re so official now,” he teased.

Chris raised an eyebrow. “You would be surprised.” With this, he stood in the center of the square as both Kevin and Stirling came forward.

“Ok, I want a good clean duel! I hope you two bathed recently. No dismemberment or extreme bloodshed. Remember, this is a friendly practice fight. The duel will continue until either opponent is forced to yield. So uh, hope there isn’t any blood feuds or anything, this isn’t a matter of pride. It’s a matter of the audience’s entertainment.” 

To this, Stirling raised a quiet eyebrow, but didn’t interrupt.  

“And lastly, don’t die, and don’t have too much fun.”

Stirling pointed his sword at Kevin. “You’re telling him to not die, and me to not have too much fun, right, Chris?”

“As referee, I am impartial...” Chris leaned towards Stirling and whispered, “But I’m betting my kid on you.”

Stirling’s eyes widened. “Surely, you jest.”

“No, no! My goat’s kid! That’s what you call them. Kids.”

“Oh. Right.”

Someone in the crowd called for the fight to start. Chris corrected them, saying this was more of an exhibition than a simple ‘fight’ and that started a conversation that derailed everything for about 3 minutes. Eventually, Chris just started the fight out of the blue, taking both swordsman by surprise.

The first to recover was Kevin. He swung his sword wildly at Stirling, trying to take advantage of his surprised state.

Stirling backpedaled from the center of the arena, giving Kevin plenty of room to flail. Stirling would have laughed along with the rest of the crowd, but he was too busy analyzing his opponent, now that he had the space to do so. 

Soon enough, Kevin stopped and stepped back, supposedly doing the same.

Various folks wished they had a camera, as the two opponents stared each other down in their two very different stances. Kevin’s stance was tight and controlled. He had both hands on his longsword. It was an aggressive stance.

Stirling’s by comparison, seemed quite sloppy. He held his Katana loosely in his good right hand, standing sideways to his opponent. He swished it lightly in the air, towards Kevin.

“Come on, ‘bro’. Come at me.” he taunted. Kevin considered it, but then relaxed a little bit and grinned.

“Oh no, dude, by all means, you go first.”

“Aha. You’re no amateur.”

Stirling raised his sword to point, in a more precise stance reminiscent of the corsairs. He jerkily shuffled through the dirt closer and closer to Kevin, who swung his sword in a diagonal downward swipe, trying to pin Stirling’s sword to the ground. However, his longsword was not fast enough for Strider’s lighter Nexus Force Katana though, which darted back to it’s owner’s chest, before zipping back out to tag Kevin’s neck with the flat end of the blade. Chris blew his whistle, and a disappointed sigh went through the crowd.

“You did well to be cautious, up until the point that you weren’t. I wouldn’t use such heavy swings against an opponent until you knew he or she would be too tired to dodge.” He paused, considering. “Or if they couldn’t see it coming.”

With this, Kevin stood up, deflated. He nodded in half-hearted appreciation before going into the crowd. 

Stirling felt just a bit bad about trash-talking Kevin so much now. After all, Stirling’s Nexus Force made Katana was just a huge advantage...

Chris stepped forward again and blew his whistle, “Next up, Kalaren Grimfire!”

“Wait, there’s more?” Stirling’s attention was called back to the spot where Kevin had exited the arena. There, his next challenger, Kalaren, was striding in with a spear. Today, he was very much bereft of his customary hooded cloak. Instead, he was dressed in light chainmail with a white tunic over it that displayed The Ankorian Resistance insignia. He had leather gloves and boots, and had a visored iron helmet on. Stirling noticed that there was some sort of dagger in Kalaren’s right boot.

“I see…” Stirling said. Undaunted, Stirling returned to the center of the ring, bouncing on the balls of his toes to get his blood pumping. Things were getting serious. Chris went through the rules quickly, not giving anyone amongst the crowd time to argue his semantics, and blew his whistle again. 

Immediately, Stirling jumped back to put distance between him and his opponent. However, Kalaren had been watching the previous fight. He threw his spear at Stirling, pressing the attack.

Stirling only just barely avoided the vicious thrust aimed at his torso, his attention was on the spear passing him by within inches. Turning back to his opponent, he saw Kalaren coming at him with his cybernetic right arm raised to punch his opponent.

“Oh. Right.”

Stirling lashed his Katana out at what would normally be a defenseless enemy, but Kalaren  was able to grasp the katana with his metallic hand and wrench it out of his hands, giving Strider blisters. Kalaren turned to thrust the sword away into the ground, giving Stirling the opening to slug him, with his non-sword hand, which dazed Kalaren. Unfortunately, that hand was connected to his bad arm, which he realized only after it twinged. Outwardly, Stirling muttered, “Agh, jeez.” Inwardly, he thought,“I’ll have to check that later.”

Though his hand was now cut, having struck Kalaren’s visored helmet, he was satisfied to see his opponent stagger from the ringing blow. Instead of pressing the attack, though, Stirling reconsidered how to defeat someone with such an overpowering right arm. Wrestling, pinning, fist-fighting, all out. He couldn’t disarm a weapon like that, it was a part of him, (And Chris had said no dismemberment,) so what did that leave?

Kalaren had recovered from his dizzy spell, and now pulled out the blade from his boot that Stirling had noticed earlier. Some in the crowd boo-ed at the fact a new weapon was being introduced mid-battle, but both opponents looked to Chris for a ruling. Chris was white faced by now, and asked the crowd for a knife.

“No, no,” Stirling said, neither combatant having moved. “I don’t need another weapon just handed to me. I’ll make do.” A young feminine sigh was heard from somewhere in the crowd, as well as whispering from the same area.

Chris sighed, sounding old and sad, and prepared to hand his kid over to Wilda. “Fine. But you better be right.” 

Stirling grinned dangerously. Chris blew the whistle, and Stirling dove behind himself for the spear Kalaren had thrown at the beginning of the match. Hearing Kalaren on his very heels, Stirling grabbed the spear, rolled, and twisted, landing the maneuver tightly crouched on his feet at the edge of the surprised crowd, the spear thrust outward towards Kalaren, who’s momentum carried him forward into a slide, and ended up underneath the spear butt.

The smallest of seconds saw the opponents staring at each other’s eyes in momentary confusion as to how this happened. Then Stirling turned the spear from it’s vertical thrust to a horizontal position, and tried to push it down onto Kalaren’s throat. At the same time, Kalaren tried to slash at Stirling’s neck, but it was blocked by Stirling’s pressing spear.

Chris then became a whistleblower, and blew the whistle. He then pointed at Stirling and shouted, “Winner!!” quite happily. Some were confused about who he was pointing to, including Stirling and Kalaren, but eventually the point got across.

“I won?” Stirling asked. “But, from what I understood, neither of us yielded,” he argued, still sitting on top of Kalaren.

Chris’s smile turned into a frown. Annoyed, he turned towards Kalaren (again, confusing.) and asked him, “Well, do you yield?” Kalaren looked down at the dagger and staff above his throat, gulped, turned back to Chris, and nodded. Chris nodded in satisfaction. He started to speak. “Well. I think that’s everybody so-”

“No! Not everybody.” interrupted a familiar voice from the crowd. Matheeas stepped out amongst much murmuring, and shrugged off his cloak. With his right arm, he was holding his helmet. He was dressed in full iron armor. His left arm had an iron buckler strapped to it, upon which, The Ankorian Resistance symbol was painted on. He spoke up. “It has come to my attention that there is an unbeatable warrior in this town.” He smirked and his eyes twinkled. “I decided to try my hand against him.”

Stirling stood up. Offering a hand up to Kalaren, he replied, “Well, you’re welcome to try.”

“Oh, I’ll try alright. And win. Even though I’m offering you a set of armor for this duel!” The murmuring intensified. As well as the whispering.

Stirling too, was surprised. “I…” he lowered his head in thought. Next to him, Kalaren shrugged. “You can borrow mine, I just found it in the armoury,” he offered, his voice tinny coming from the helmet. Stirling’s eyes darted to it. 

“Actually, I already have my Samurai Armor, though there are parts of it that I’ve lost over the years.” he said to Kalaren. Turning to his third, (and hopefully final) challenger, Stirling said, “I accept your challenge, and your gracious offer!”

Matheeas’s smile broadened, and he beckoned over to his armor bearers, who brought forth Stirling’s armor, which was quite similar to Matheeas’s, though noticeably lighter. They also brought out a buckler and kite shield, as well as a longsword, claymore, and broadsword for him to choose from. Stirling accepted most of the armor, as well as the buckler, for his left arm. Though he was loathe to not use his signature Katana, he took note of Matheeas’s broadsword, and regretfully handed the Katana back to Chris, who looked ready to faint.

“If I’m going to be losing my speed for defense like Matheeas, I’m going to need to pack a heavier punch.”

Chris wordlessly nodded, sheathing the Katana.

Stirling picked up the broadsword with both hands. He realized that his left strokes were going to be noticeably weaker, and realized he was going to have to fight off-stance for the strongest right swings he could manage.

Stirling blessed his lucky stars that he and Sir Thingguy had practiced so often with their respective off-handedness.

Chris hopefully ventured, “Shall the Commander have a handi-cap?”

Surprisingly, Stirling was the one who said “No.”

Matheeas turned to his opponent in mild surprise quickly, before turning to Chris.

Chris had lost all hope. His eyes bulged out at Stirling. “You’re killing me.”

Stirling shrugged as he got help getting his armor strapped on. “Hey, I signed up for one fight. These past two were not my fault.” He pointed at Matheeas. “Take it up with Lancaster.” Chris just shook his head and walked off while both duelists were preparing. A few minutes later he returned with a small chair and the goat kid. He sat down in the chair defeatedly and held the goat still. Snickers were heard from the crowd. Stirling was surprised at the goat’s size. It was the size of your average mature goat. Once he thought about it though, it made perfect sense. He’d seen the adult goats before on his walks; some were a little bit bigger than adolescent elephants.

Preparations were nearly complete, and it was blatantly obvious that the entire city had shown up around the town square, and adjacent buildings.

“HE’S GONNA GET BEAT UP AGAIN!” came a shrill voice from above. Stirling craned his neck to see a group of kids on the roof of a three-story building. He waved. They waved back. One of them almost fell over the side, but was pulled back.

The preparations were finished. Chris half-heartedly stood up.

“Do we need to review the rules? Again?”

“You’re the ref, you’re supposed to be told not to!” Stirling barked, his excitement getting the better of his tone.

Matheeas chuckled at Stirling’s joke. Chris just shook his head.

“I don’t have the energy to do it anyway. Go ahead and kill each other already.” Chris stepped back as the fight began…

~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 10: The Fate of Chris the Negative 2nd's Goat Kid.

Both Stirling and Matheeas rushed forward. Stirling made for a thrust at Matheeas, who parried the attack, changing his overhead swing to push the opponent’s blade towards the ground. Then he continued his forward movement and slashed diagonally upward to his foe’s neck, but was blocked by Stirling’s shield. Undaunted, Matheeas forced Stirling to step back and recover his sword, and followed this up with a series of vicious strikes that Stirling deterred. 

Backed up nearly all the way across the arena, Stirling blocked another brutal swing from Lancaster, before giving an almighty roar out of nowhere and putting his full body weight into his shield, ramming him bodily. This took Matheeas by surprise and knocked him down. Rolling away, Matheeas stepped back up to see Stirling charging at him, his open-faced helmet showing fiery eyes. Matheeas raised his shield and prepared to thrust. 

Seeing that Mattheeas had hunkered down, putting all of his     weight on his back foot, Stirling charged straight at him, spinning to his opponent’s right, in a terrific feint as he went for the back. However, Matheeas saw him at the last second, and raised his sword arm in an attempt to parry. However, he was too late to parry it fully, and instead Stirling’s full-blown, spin-aided attack ripped through the thin metal and shredded the chainmail underneath. Matheeas yelled in pain before turning around to face his attacker. He let go of his sword and his arm hung loosely. 

One of the bystanders yelled out, “Do we need an intermission?” 

“Nah! He’ll be fine!” replied Chris.

Stirling looked in askance at his sparring partner. Matheeas was breathing heavily, but shook his head.

Stirling unbuckled his shield, stepping forward towards Mathee- No wait. Stooping down, he picked up Matheeas’s sword, and advances on the sword-less Commander.

“Might as well finish it quick,” Stirling thought, hoping that the Commander was a good sport. After all, it wouldn’t be easy to lose with the entire Rebellion watching.

Matheeas wearily watched him. At least, he did until he threw his now unbuckled shield with full force.

The thin shield zoomed right past Stirling’s twin swords, the edge ramming right into his chest and face, where it’s spinning power made it run up into the air.  Entirely shocked, Stirling was sent staggering backwards, dropping both swords and landing in the dust. Extremely dizzy, Stirling was still coherent enough to grab a sword that had fallen close to him. Grabbing it with his left, he scrambled to get up, convinced that his enemy was about to pounce with the other lost sword.

Chris came over to check on him.

“You okay?”

He got a sword-point set inches from his neck. “Oh. It’s you Chris. Yeah, I’m fine,” Stirling said, even as he wondered when Chris had put stars in his hair.

“Yeah well, you better be better than fine! My goat’s at stake here.” 

“You can brand th’hat goat’h, it’s a’ good as’h you’s,” Stirling said, staggering to his feet. He turned to his opponent, who looked as tired as he was dizzy. 

“Lancat’her…” Stirling began, but no witty remark came to mind. 

Matheeas walked over to the other free sword and awkwardly picked it up with his left hand.

Stirling grinned. Suddenly, he realized there was blood in his mouth. He spat it out, along with a tooth.

“Aw Cru’th.” So that’s why his speech was off. He must look pretty ugly now.

Matheeas held his sword out towards Stirling warily, trying to assess the situation. 

Matheeas was bone tired, effectively one-handed, but otherwise, had escaped actual injury rather well. Stirling on the other hand, didn’t seem as tired as him, but somehow, looked twice as bad. Nevertheless, Stirling settled down in a two-handed stance with his broadsword, all the while grinning toothily. It was slightly unnerving. Which was probably why he was doing it.

Both advanced towards each other and did an upward swing. Their swords slid alongside each other, skipping the pommels causing the blades to end up near their respective throats. 

Stirling smiled and said, “Goo’th fight’h’.”

There was a stunned silence amongst the crowd, which Chris broke with a whoop.

“BEST OUT OF THREE! THE GOAT’S MINE!” Somewhere amongst the crowd, there was grumbling. Shortly after that, the crowd broke into loud cheering.

~~~~~~~~~