The sun began to set, casting an orange hue on the tree tops. Puddles along the open field glistened as metal feet splashed across them at a steady rhythm.
Nick watched, his back flat against the wall of the pyramid. The droids hauled over gemstones, bracers, weapons, and anything else of value scavenged from the dead.
After he gave Osman anything needed for his return journey.
Blue screens flickered an arm's length from his eyes, visible to none but himself. He watched the figure under total mineral and total energy count.
10,458 minerals
12,323 energy
The number updating every moment as the droids tossed the loot into the refineries inside the ship's hold. Enough to replenish any losses he had suffered ten times over.
Yet, it wasn't enough.
He shifted his gaze toward the group of five ships that once made up the pirate fleet. Men, women, and even a few children were all busy moving sacks, barrels, and crates from each of them to one of the vessels. Nick heard Osman's voice barking out instructions even though he couldn't see him. The man certainly was a sailor. He had the same rugged quality that was common to all of them. It reminded him of an older Eric.
Most of the people were working hard. To them their nightmare was over, and they would finally return home. Or at least to a more familiar place.
There were however a few exceptions.
A dozen droids gathered around the eight or so prisoners. Pirates who chose to surrender willingly. They dug holes with shovels, burying the carcasses of those who died on the surface.
Across from them, Ali stood in front of a long line of people. A man with a belly stepped up and Nick could see Ali ask him questions. The man answered while Ali inspected him on the shoulder, the arms, the chest, and his cheeks. Checking their general health and well-being. A healer, a trained one at that, with a significant degree of skill in assassination. Nick didn't know what set of circumstances or decisions led him to this point in life, but it had to be abnormal.
Across from Ali, and standing by his lonesome was the man called Hwan. He stood with his arms crossed, the wooden mask once again etched on his face giving him the appearance of a crinkled old man frozen in laughter. A mask which Nick had to admit gave him the creeps.
Perhaps the most dangerous individual here. An easterner to boot, which made him a complete mystery. All Nick knew were ship-borne rumors of the people there, which made it difficult to discern fact from fiction. Nick didn't know how Hwan's abilities measured on the continental tier system but the fact he was able to hold a vampyr off on his own put him squarely in range of the third tier. And to top that off, the man could wield all five elements. Something which everyone would balk at as impossible.
Hwan cricked his neck once, then resumed staring at the ground.
Nick sighed. Among the many uncertainties he was certain of one thing. He needed to get stronger. Quickly if he wanted to deal with his intended targets on time. The Lycan, the vampress Civoly, and the Northlander Arne.
A wind breezed past, carrying the scent of fresh grass and bark. His black Imperial overcoat flapped. The air hauled heat and dried sweat off the exposed skin of his face while failing to penetrate the rest of his armor. A soothing balance that didn't overwhelm him with shivers.
Nick took a deep breath and swept the blue screens away with a flick of his finger, deciding to pore over numbers later. He caught sight of a cutlass jutting out from the pile.
[Potential Resource] Mineral Content: 38
The weapon's handle was wood, cheap and light. The blade was forged of regular steel, hardly suitable for extended aethereal combat and probably why the mineral content was so low. Nick had the impression the number of resources coming depended directly on the quality of the material. Gemstones, precious materials, aether-enhanced wood gave the highest amounts.
He also caught sight of knicks lining the edge of the blade. Whoever once owned this did a terrible job maintaining it. And here he thought an Adrestan noble would have instilled more discipline among his followers. Nick supposed that was a luxury a pirate leader could ill afford.
He drew his own sword, the one he had built off the forge, and compared both side by side. The contrast was apparent beyond their color. The black blade was sleeker, lighter, and also…
Nick focused his will.
"Activating: Empowered Weapon."
A violet sheen outlined the entirety of the blade, extending beyond the metal like a phantom. Unlike a phantom however, it could cut.
The violet energies emitted by the weapons still confounded him. It didn't match any of the normal aethereal elements or their hybrids. Unlike anything he knew of from literature or convention.
He waved the phantom blade across the cutlass, cutting it in two as if it was paper. The remnants of the blade clattered to the floor.
Nick tossed the cutlass back onto the floor. He had little need for weapons like those, especially when he could make better ones on his own. Better to just break them down to their components.
"Deactivating: Empowered Weapon."
A droid picked it up a moment later, taking it off to the ship with the other items.
He noticed someone staring, whipping his gaze to the left. A couple of the freed captives jolted as he met their eyes. They turned away, picking up some sacks of cargo and scurrying off to Osman's ship.
Nick snorted. They were scared, and with good reason too. He'd probably react the same way, if he was in their shoes.
It wasn't like it was any different than before. People always acted that way toward him back home. On the streets, at the Earl's manor. Then it was as if he was some sort of walking blotch in a world where he didn't belong. A normal human in a world of Nephilim and Innatum. Those who ruled over the common stock, as the philosopher Diderot wrote in one of his treatises.
Perhaps normal wasn't the right word. He always had the inkling he was anything but that, and now he knew beyond any doubt.
He looked down, his face he now bore mirrored on a puddle. Unnaturally pale hair. Violet lines and shapes weaving across his left cheek leading to an eye with a glowing yellow square iris. Inhuman.
What was he?
Grass crunched on his right. Nick readied his weapon, but lowered it upon seeing the shadow splayed just past the edge of the building. Too small to be a threat.
"You aren't doing a good job at hiding." Nick crossed his arms. "I can see your shadow."
The figure fidgeted as if surprised. Then it wandered forward, until a young boy appeared around the corner.
He was dressed in the same brown linen clothes as the rest of the captives. Freckles splotched his cheeks, which were gaunt and starved. Crumbs clung the sides of his lips. The boy must've taken some liberties on one of the ship's pantries.
"H-Hello," said the boy.
Nick raised an eyebrow, the one over the unnatural iris, causing the boy to flinch.
"Don't worry about the eye kid." Nick cracked a grin, and considered putting the eyepatch back on. "It does no harm."
"S-Sorry." The boy looked to his right. Nick followed his gaze and noticed more of the recently freed captives were watching them.
"Everyone thinks you're some sort of vengeful spirit," said the boy. "A ghost of the First Civilization haunting these lands."
"And what if I am?" said Nick.
The boy fidgeted, but stood his ground.
"My bad, I didn't mean to be mean." Nick slouched and shook his head. "I'm neither a spirit or a ghost."
Or was he? He pushed the thought away, not really wanting to entertain the notion.
"Besides," said Nick. "Why'd you come to see me?"
"Oh!" The boy reached into his shirt, pulling out a cloth wrap.
Nick took a closer look as the boy unfolded it, revealing a hard-tack biscuit with a spread of jam.
"Gran taught me it was good manners to gift things as thanks." The boy offered it to Nick with both hands.
Nick blinked twice, looking at the boy then back at the offering, not exactly expecting it. He wasn't hungry… but it would have been rude to not accept. The boy mustered up the courage and effort to come here. He might as well oblige him.
"Appreciate it." Nick accepted the biscuit and took a bite.
It tasted exactly as he expected. The crust was like sawdust and the jam was diluted to the point that it might as well be jellied water. However, he kept his expression thoughtful.
"Pretty good," said Nick, swallowing the bite.
The boy tied his hands behind his back and beamed. "Pa used to own a bakery, and I learnt it all from him. He made the best bread in the town. People from all over would come for it. He said it all had to do with the touch."
"M-hm…" Nick took another painfully dry bite. "I can say he'd be proud of you."
"Thank you!" said the boy, his smile growing ever wider.
"I'll be saving this later." He wrapped the remaining biscuit back up. "So, where are you from?"
"Girdheim." The boy followed Nick's gesture. "Just a half day's walk over the hills to Skravenberg where you can find the freshest strawberry milk in the entire Empire. You can't miss it, especially once you get on the golden leaf road."
"Sounds like a wonderful place." Nick nodded along despite not having a single clue where those places were. "Is that where you are headed?"
"Oh…" The boy shook his head. "No. I'm going with Ma to the Isles. We have an uncle there who also runs a bakery, but not as well as pa. Pa sent us there while he went to serve in the count's army."
"Count's army?" said Nick. "I didn't realize something is afoot in the Imperium."
"You don't know?" said the boy. "Everyone knows! The count has joined the call with the other nobles. Bad people have seized the south. I can't read too good but I saw the order. It was in our town square. They were Re-va… Revalutanari.
"Revolutionaries?" said Nick.
"That's it!" said the boy. "The bad people."
It was clear to Nick the boy had no idea what the word actually meant other than he thought it meant "bad people".
"Pa sent off me and my ma to the Isles until all was done. He said he'll let us know when it is safe to come back."
"Ah." said Nick. "I wish your father the best of fortune. I'm sure he'll send you word soon."
"You think he will?" said the boy. "Ma doesn't talk about it. None of the adults ever do."
Nick wasn't sure what to say. He knew little enough about the Imperium, but he knew that revolution had ignited its southern neighbor in a fervor which surprised nearly everyone in the world. Any attempt to subdue them had fallen astray, if the silence was of any indication.
He thought about what Lara said about the mysterious weapons and strange abilities of the Republic. Powerful enough to take out an entire Vislandan regiment. He thought of the blue screen from the aether musket, and the descriptions hinting towards the mountain regions in Adresta.
"I-"
"Greetings Mechanar." A support droid creaked towards them. "All materials have been loaded as requested."
The boy scooted back several steps, tripping over himself as the droid appeared.
"Easy there, kid," said Nick. "They're harmless."
"Damn right they are," said Osman.
Nick turned to see the old man behind him. Ali stood beside him with what looked like a medicine satchel tied around his waist.
"Come on boy." Osman pointed with his thumb over his shoulder. Nick saw a woman at the front of the other captives, not daring to take a step closer but terrified for her son. "Go back to your mother, she's worried sick about you."
The kid got up and ran across the grass toward the others.
"So," said Nick. "Apparently they think I'm some sort of vengeful wraith."
"People will believe all manner of things," said Ali. "Besides, there are no such thing as ghosts."
"I wouldn't be so dismissive." Osman shook his head. "You've got plenty of them haunting yourself."
Something ugly flickered in Ali's eyes but vanished replaced by his usual self. "Oh don't be so dramatic old man."
"Anyhow," said Osman. "Everything is set and ready to go. We've scuttled everything we can from the other ships. Shame too. Fine vessels they all are, even in the hands of pirates."
Nick nodded, they only had two navigators among them, and no others to crew the ones available.
"To the crux of the matter though," said Osman. "We're going to be sharing a hot meal before it gets too dark, especially given we'll be eating biscuits all the way until we get to civilization. Wanted to know if you'd be willing to join us."
"I'm telling you old man," said Ali. "Nezra here can whip up a fine meal, and with those droids of his, he can get the cooking done a lot faster than you can."
"I can't impugn him with something like that!" said Osman.
"Actually," said Nick. "It's okay. That being said…"
Nick nodded over to the gaggle of men digging graves.
"What about the prisoners?"
"We can always clap them in chains and sell them off," said Ali. "Give them a taste of their own medicine."
"And the want of pretty coins is the wrong way you should be thinking about it," said Osman. "We are discussing the judgment of people. Criminals yes, but people nonetheless."
"And all I'm doing is observing the benefits of the situation at hand," said Ali. "Nezra and I will be headed to a trading post. All I'm saying is we might as well extract some benefits while justice is served."
Osman sighed and shook his head.
"As for me," said Osman. "These men have done many wrongs, and even if I wished to, there is no room aboard the ships to bring them to trial. I myself will not impose judgment. For that, I leave them to you."
A silence fell as Nick contemplated what to do, then nodded.
"I'll handle it," he said, turning to the droid. "Bring a stove out from one of the scuttled ships. A barrel of hardtack and salted pork. Olive oil, salt, and a few other things."
"Yes Mechanar," said the droid who then wandered off.
Nick moved toward the group of pirates, who moved the last of their fallen into the grave-pits. Even from the distance he could hear their murmuring and grumbling.
Then one tapped the arm of another, pointing toward Nick. The rest soon turned their gazes towards him. All of them stood up while a few took several steps back. He could read the emotions on their faces. Unease. Disquiet. Anxiety. Terror.
Only one dared to step forward. The same man who greeted him and Ali upon their descent. A piece of cloth wrapped around his shoulder, covering up the wound left by Ali's dagger. His hand sat limp along his side, broken by Nick's boot.
The man moved closer, but didn't dare take another step beyond the perimeter of droids.
"So" The man gestured with his good hand, wincing. "I take it you're in charge, eh?"
"Cumberlane is gone," said Nick. "Everyone else who worked under him as well, with the exception of you few."
The man blinked and shook his head up and down. His expression was thoughtful, and calculating.
"Figured," said the man. "Ever since you all came up with all their gear. Listen. I… I mean we."
The man gestured with his good hand to the other pirates.
"We all can be of service. Nobody knows this area better than we do. You could use our help then, especially if you plan on taking over his turf."
"I don't plan on taking over," said Nick.
The man backtracked. "Well, uh, you need a navigator? I see four other ships out there that you might need help manning."
"What did you all do to get those?" Nick nodded at the black brands on their palms.
The man tried to laugh it, while hiding the brand by scratching the back of his head.
"Eh, just some minor quibbles. Well, surely it isn't too important."
"I'm very much interested," said Nick. "The mark of a shunned reclaimer is it not?"
"Look, it wasn't my fault," said the man. "I swear. You don't know what they do to people in that city. Reclaimers. Paragons. It's all a trick you see! The guilds run everything, and anyone without any connections are left out to dry. Four years of service, but the work they have you doing. It's a guaranteed death in the first month.
"I believe you," said Nick.
"You… do?"
"The guilds, the corruption, all of it. I'm intimately familiar with the workings of the reclaimers. What they should have been and what they have become"
"So." The man looked hopeful. "Will you…"
"Which is why I'll be meting judgment," said Nick. "By what you should deserve."
The droids moved as Nick gave out the mental order. Each one drew their weapons forward, bracing to move in on the prisoners.
"Wait, what!?"
"You never did bring up what you did," said Nick. "Robbing and murdering other reclaimers in the field for self-satisfaction. Trafficking humans. Lying under oath. All that and more. Are these not the actions that led to this"
The man said nothing, however, Nick could see the guilt painted on his face.
Nick plucked out the bundle of papers taken from the vampyr. "You were quite boastful about such tasks during your nightly dice games. Accolades as you called them. You and all the others."
"And you fled." Nick placed the papers back into his coat. "You chose to break the vows, and continue to wreak havoc and suffering on the lives of others. All for measly coin."
The man tried to run, but the closest droid in perimeter ran him through with a spear. His corpse fell flat on the grass.
The rest of the pirates panicked, scattering to escape. However, the droids drove in and cut them down.
Nick watched the butchery, screams turning to whimpers and whimpers turning to silence. He turned his gaze to his onlookers. Ali and Osman averted their gaze. Hwan stared at him, and Nick could feel a sense of approval through the mask of his.
Each and every one of the former captives, men and women alike watched however. They looked at him with silence, like a jury observing justice get carried out. He could see the boy, who peeked out from behind his mother's shirt.
He could see why they thought him of a vengeful spirit.
And now he had some cooking to oversee.