Corbin stepped into Norgaard's office, his eyes locking with the man who sat behind the large, imposing desk. Norgaard's face was a mask of inscrutable calm, but Corbin could sense the calculating mind that lurked beneath the surface.
"Well, Corbin," Norgaard purred, his voice smooth as silk. "I trust you have considered my proposal?"
Corbin inclined his head, his expression unreadable. "I have," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "And I have decided to accept."
[20mins earlier]
Kraven strode into the room, his arms laden with crates of food. His face was marked by the scars of a thousand battles, but his gaze was steady and sure. He dropped the crates onto the floor with a loud thud, the sound echoing in the quiet room.
Norgaard cocked an eyebrow, his expression intrigued. "Well, well," he said, his voice dripping with amusement. "What have we here?"
Kraven opened one of the crates, revealing a bounty of fruits, vegetables, and grains, all seemingly untouched by the taint of the wasteland.
Norgaard's eyes widened in shock. "How did you do it?" he demanded, his voice heavy with disbelief. "How did you manage to grow this food in the wasteland?"
Kraven's smile was cold and humorless. "That, Governor Norgaard, is a secret," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "One that I will not be sharing with you."
Norgaard's eyes narrowed, his fingers drumming on the surface of the desk. "I see," he murmured, his voice dripping with quiet menace.
"Very well," Norgaard said, a calculating gleam in his eye. "I accept your terms, Corbin. You will supply me with this pure food, and I will support your efforts to stabilize the city. But know this.
"I do not tolerate betrayal, Corbin," he continued, his voice hard and unforgiving. "Cross me, and I will not hesitate to bring the full weight of my power to bear upon you."
Corbin inclined his head, his expression unruffled. "And now, my dear Corbin, there is the matter of payment," Norgaard said, his eyes glinting with amusement. "You will find that my tastes are...particular. I hope you are prepared to meet my demands."
Corbin's eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint in his gaze. "And what are those demands, Governor Norgaard?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.
Norgaard's smile was a thin, cruel line. "Your presence," he purred, his voice dripping with innuendo. "I want you by my side," Norgaard continued, his voice smooth as silk. "Not just as an ally, but as a...companion. A confidante, if you will."
Corbin's eyes were cold and unyielding, his jaw set in a hard line. "I am not a toy to be used and discarded," he said, his voice like ice. "You will treat me with respect, or you will suffer the consequences."
Norgaard's expression hardened, his eyes flashing with anger. "You are bold, Corbin," Norgaard spat, his words like venom. "Bold, and foolish. Do you think you can command me, as if you were my equal? You are nothing more than a savage, a beast from the wasteland.
"Remember your place," he hissed, his voice low and dangerous. "And remember who holds the power here. You will do as I say, or you will find yourself on the wrong end of a blade."
Corbin's eyes were like shards of obsidian, cold and unforgiving. Norgaard and Corbin stood, their bodies coiled with tension, the air thick with menace.
"I am not a man to be trifled with, Governor Norgaard," Corbin said, his voice low and dangerous. "I will work with you, but I will not be a puppet on a string.
"You will treat me as an ally, and a friend," he continued, his eyes flashing with cold fury. "Or you will find yourself facing an enemy that you cannot defeat." Norgaard glared at Corbin, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. For a moment, it seemed as if the fragile truce between the two men would shatter, and violence would erupt.
But then, slowly, Norgaard's expression softened, a twisted smile curving his lips. "Very well, Corbin," he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. "We will be friends. Allies. For now.
"But remember, the wasteland is not a kind place, Corbin," he continued, his voice heavy with threat. Norgaard turned and strode out of the office, gesturing for Corbin to follow. Corbin fell into step behind him, his eyes fixed on the man's back, his senses alert for any sign of treachery.
Norgaard led him through a series of winding corridors and narrow passages, their footsteps echoing in the silence. Finally, they arrived at a heavy metal door, adorned with an intricate locking mechanism.
Norgaard punched in a series of numbers on the keypad, the door sliding open with a low, mechanical hiss. Corbin stepped into the room, his breath catching in his throat at the sight before him. The room was filled with row upon row of weapons, the polished metal gleaming in the harsh overhead lights.
There were pistols and rifles, laser weapons and plasma cannons. There were blades that could cut through steel, and grenades that could level a building. And in the center of the room, standing on a raised platform, was a suit of armor unlike anything Corbin had ever seen. Norgaard stepped into the room, his eyes fixed on Corbin, a hint of satisfaction in his gaze.
"Welcome to my armory, Corbin," he purred, his voice low and dangerous. "This is but a small sample of the technology that we possess, technology that we will give you in exchange for your food.
"With these weapons," he continued, his eyes gleaming with avarice, "you will be unstoppable. You will be a force to be reckoned with.
"And all you have to do is supply me with the food I require." Corbin stepped closer to the weapons, his fingers tracing the smooth lines of a plasma rifle.
"You have my agreement, Governor Norgaard," he said, his voice hard and unyielding. "But I will be watching you. I will be watching every move you make.
"And if you betray me," he continued, his eyes flashing with cold fury, "I will bring you down. I will destroy you, and everything you hold dear."
Norgaard laughed, his voice echoing through the room. "Oh, Corbin," he said, his voice dripping with amusement. Corbin surveyed the rows of weapons with a critical eye, selecting only the finest pieces for his arsenal. His men, including Kraven, moved quickly and efficiently, packing the weapons into crates and loading them into the waiting trucks.
Norgaard watched, his expression dark and inscrutable, his mind whirring with schemes and plans.
As the last of the crates was loaded, Corbin turned to face Norgaard, his expression hard and unyielding.
"I will be in touch," he said, his voice cold and dangerous. Corbin and his men climbed into the trucks, the engines roaring to life with a deafening growl. Norgaard watched as they drove off, his expression unreadable, his thoughts hidden behind a mask of stone.
As the trucks disappeared into the dusty streets of Rustenburg, a chill ran down Norgaard's spine. For a moment, just a moment, he felt a twinge of fear.
"Corbin," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. "I hope you know what you've gotten yourself into. I hope you know that you're playing with fire." In the darkness of his office, Norgaard paced back and forth, his mind whirring with schemes and plans.
"Corbin," he muttered, his lips curving in a thin smile. "A dangerous man, a man with ambition and power. A man who could prove useful, if only I can control him.
"But he must be watched," he continued, his eyes narrowing to slits. "He must be kept in check. He must be reminded of his place."
A slow, cruel smile spread across Norgaard's face. "We will use Corbin for as long as he is useful," Norgaard murmured, his voice low and dangerous. "And then, when his usefulness has run its course, we will destroy him.
"But first, there is the matter of the Etherwalkers," he continued, his eyes gleaming with cold calculation. "We must deal with them. We must send a message, one that will leave them in no doubt as to our power.
"And I know just the man to do it."
His smile widened, his eyes glittering with cruel amusement. Corbin and his men drove through the dusty streets of Rustenburg, their movements silent, stealthy, their every action a calculated deception.
They drove through the city, their headlights extinguished, their tires rolling over the dirt like ghosts, leaving no trace of their passage.
They took circuitous routes, their path winding and twisting, their destination hidden from prying eyes.
And finally, after hours of silent driving, they arrived at Caer Tempest, a fortress that had once stood strong against the storms of the wasteland. The walls of Caer Tempest were a sight to behold, their stone blocks massive and imposing, their battlements towering over the surrounding landscape.
The fortress had been fortified by Corbin and his men, its defenses upgraded and reinforced, its walls a solid wall of steel and stone.
As the trucks rolled through the gates, the men jumped out, quickly unloading the crates of weapons and moving them into the armory, their faces grim and determined.
Corbin stepped forward, his eyes scanning the fortress with a critical eye. He was impressed at how far his manor had become, from a manor with only old fencing to a fortress camp of 10 000 survivors.
Corbin stalked through the winding halls of Caer Tempest's manor, his eyes scanning the walls and windows, his ears attuned to the slightest sound. He moved like a hunter, his senses on high alert, his body coiled and ready for action.
He entered his office, the door shutting behind him with a click. At the center of the room was a large oak desk, covered with maps and papers, the walls adorned with weapons and trophies from his first battle.
Saskia stood at the window, his arms crossed over her chest, her eyes fixed on the rugged landscape beyond.
Saskia turned at the sound of Corbin's footsteps, his expression serious, his eyes hard and unyielding.
"We have completed the fortifications," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "The walls are strong, the gates are reinforced. We are as prepared as we can be."
Corbin nodded, his gaze distant, his thoughts turning to the battle to come.
"And our men?" he asked, his voice quiet and lethal. "Are they ready?"
Saskia's face hardened, her eyes glinting with cold steel.
"They are ready," Saskia said, hernvoice heavy with conviction. "They are trained, they are armed, they are prepared to fight.
"And more than that," she continued, her voice hard and unyielding, "they are loyal. They will fight for you, Corbin, and they will die for you."
Corbin's eyes flashed with satisfaction, his lips curving in a cold, humorless smile.
"Good," he murmured, his voice low and dangerous.
[2 weeks later, June 2024]
Corbin stood at the window of his office, his eyes distant, his thoughts distant. But then the door opened, and Saskia stepped into the room, her eyes bright with excitement.
"Corbin," she said, her voice breathless with urgency. "We've found it. We've found the gold bars and the jewelery manufacturing technology."
Corbin turned, his gaze sharp and focused, his expression eager.
"How much gold?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.
Saskia's smile was wide, her eyes gleaming with triumph. "The gold bars were in the vault of the old Standard Bank in the city center," Saskia continued, her voice steady and confident. "It took us some time, but we cracked the vault. We found thousands of gold bars, all stamped with the pre-War seals of purity."
Corbin's eyes widened, his lips curving in a cold smile of satisfaction.
"And the jewelery manufacturing technology?" he asked, his voice hard and unforgiving. "Is it intact?"
Saskia nodded, her expression unyielding. "The technology was hidden in the basement of a jewelry store on Oxford Road," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "It was protected by a sophisticated security system, but we managed to bypass it.
"The equipment is fully functional," she continued, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "We can use it to create jewelry of any design, using any material, to any specification."
Corbin nodded, his gaze distant, his mind whirring with possibilities.
"This is good," he murmured, his voice like steel. "This is very good. Corbin's mind raced, his thoughts churning like a maelstrom. Thousands of gold bars...each bar worth thousands of rand...it was a staggering amount of wealth, an almost unfathomable amount of power.
He thought of the pre-War economy, of the price of gold in the old world. He thought of the desperation of the wasteland, the scarcity of resources, the hunger for stability. Corbin's voice was hard, his words like steel. "Bring half of the gold and gemstones to the jewelery manufacturing facility," he ordered, his eyes fixed on Saskia. "Have our artisans create jewelry of the highest quality, the most exquisite craftsmanship.
"The rest of the gold," he continued, his voice low and dangerous,
"And the jewelery manufacturing technology," he said, his words cold and unyielding, "is to be kept here, in our manor. Food and other resources where kept in the Camp's warehouse, but Corbin's toys were kept in the manor warehouse. Nobody understood why he made them collect gold which was useless, worse why they had to make jewelries..however they stopped thinking too much since they were paid in aether crystals and food.