Firstborn of the Frontier

As expected, after getting a clean bill of health and a pat on the back from Uncle Art, I head out to find the Sheriff waiting to escort me out of town.

Was expecting as much, which is why I got the wagon fully loaded and parked in front of the hospital, alongside Cowie and the horses. Say my goodbyes to Chrissy and Aunty Ray right here too, instead of having them walk me to the gate. Already said goodbye to Tina this morning before she ran off to training. Ain't ideal that, but it's still a weekday after all, which means folks got things to do. I'm also a little worried after our near scuffle with them vagrants earlier today, and while the Sheriff's presence might be enough to prevent an encore performance, I figure it's better safe than sorry. "I know you sad to see me go," I say to Chrissy, hugging her oh so tight as she refuses to let go of my jacket. "I'm sad to leave, but this is how it's gotta be."

True though my words my be, it leaves out one important fact. I made my choices and did what I did, and I don't regret it one bit, but that ain't the same as saying I don't care for what it cost me. I thought Ronald Jackson done took my future when he had Franky take my hand, but that ain't true in the slightest. Wasn't Joey Jr. who took my future either when he killed Josie in the streets, nor does the fault lie with Francis and Mia who were the architects behind it all.

No, the fault lies with me, because in my thirst for vengeance, I done thrown away my future myself. My lack of remorse, my refusal to reconcile, my inability to admit my faults, and refusal to let go of my rage and sorrow to appreciate what I still had left to me. One by one, I done burned almost every last bridge I got left to me over these last six months, or let them rot without so much as even trying to fix what I done wrought, all because I couldn't be bothered to care. The only reason I still got Tina, Chrissy, and Aunty Ray is because they refused to give up on me, and they done shown me just how much I still have yet to lose out on.

So this right here? This is on me. Not just my difficulties and hardships adjusting to the new normal, but theirs too. I was ready and willing to live with the consequences, but I never considered how my loved ones would have to live with it too. Hurts Chrissy something fierce to see me go, more than ever before, because even though I was out on the road more often than not, she at least knew I'd be coming home eventually. Here and now, we got no earthly idea when we'll see each other again, so I tell myself I'mma get myself together and stop living in squalor and jumping from house to house as I please. "Gimme some time to tidy up," I say, still hugging Chrissy tight and dreading having to leave. "Then I'll invite you all over for a weekend getaway. Sound good?"

Chrissy nods, but still refuses to let go, so I rock her side to side while finalizing things with Aunty Ray. Which is mostly repeating all her instructions that she expects me to follow to a tee, including a thrice weekly check in over the radio at 8pm every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. It's always embarrassing to talk about personal matters over the open airwaves, though to be fair, it's not like there'll be everyone and anyone listening in. Problem is, I'm a private man who likes to keep things private, so saying 'I love you' over the Radio for anyone listening to hear always heats my cheeks to a deep shade of scarlet, and I'm just dreading the day when an unknown voice replies back. That's how it is with the Radio though, so my paranoia will need to accept that our randomly chosen frequencies is good enough.

Besides, I gotta do the check ins for more reasons than to hear Aunty Ray's voice and make small talk. Now that I'm no longer her ward, I've given her Power of Attorney so she can do stuff like pay my bills at the bank or demand an explanation from the Sheriff should I ever get arrested. There were a whole stack of legal documents to go through in order to get it done, but it was necessary so she could make decisions for me in Dave's lawsuit and the District Attorney's case against me. Beats paying Mr. Tillman's fees for a whole 8 hours plus expenses every time he's gotta get on a boat to come out and see me when something time sensitive is afoot. Silly that I even had to bother, because even though we family all the same, the government don't see it that way. Time was I thought it didn't matter what some file the Feds got says about me and mine, but nowadays, I'm thinking different. Even if it wouldn't change nothing in the end, I think having a paper that says she's legally my guardian would've meant the world to her, but it's too late for that now.

"No need to fret," I say, reaching out to take Aunty Ray's hand while still hugging Chrissy, which leads to a group hug that's got me feeling all warm and cozy inside and out. "I'll only be a few hours away, and if I get to feelin' out of it at any point at all, I'll hop on my boat and be right back here in a jiffy." To see the doctor of course, because infection ain't no small thing. Maybe it was back in the old world where they had all manner of anti-biotics and sterilized equipment and such, but here, it can easily be a death sentence if not treated post-haste. Lot of folks learned that lesson the hard way, mostly second hand because those who learned first-hand didn't survive to make use of their newfangled knowledge. "And you just let Mr. Tillman work his magic without bothering him at every hour of the day for updates. If there's something you ought to know, he'll tell you, but lawsuits ain't a quick process to get through."

He's got it all figured out though, because he saw this coming from a mile away. Soon as the D.A brung charges against me and let Dave go scot free, Mr. Tillman knew this was a strong possibility and came up with a whole strategy to deal with it. One which involves a civil countersuit for aggravated assault seeing how Dave drew his weapon on me first, as well as a demand that criminal charges be drawn up against him, one that hopefully picks up traction in the papers as well as the courts. Don't no one like corrupt figures of authority, as we've all been through it at one point or another. Could be as simple as a gate guard demanding a bribe for expediting the inspections process, or goods taken without any intent to pay just because they carry a weapon and 'defend' the town from Abby and outlaws when they ain't nothing more than glorified customs clerks 365 days of the year.

Helps that the Sheriff kicked Dave to the curb after reviewing the footage, so it'll really be a bad look for the 'tough on crime' District Attorney who let a corrupt guard caught intimidating a civilian off without so much as a slap on the wrist.

That's the problem with having elected officials. Don't get it twisted, I think democracy is great and all, but mostly in theory. In practice? Why should a District Attorney need to consider how it'll look come election time when he's picking and choosing what cases to try in a court of law? The law is the law, so if the masses have an issue with a certain law, then it's the lawmakers who ought to be concerned for their jobs, not the folks responsible for seeing said laws upheld. Instead, it's the D.A, the Judges, and the Sheriff's Office taking the blame for something some unelected fat cats out on the west coast decided over a lavish dinner at the expense of the taxpayer. Or worse, one paid for by a third party with some vested interest in seeing certain laws passed, repealed, or gently swept under the rug without any fuss.

Which you might think is a bribe and therefore illegal. Alas, it's not, as that's simply lobbying, which is completely different because it's certainly not a tit for tat exchange. No, some corpo money just happens to end up in the lawmaker's pocket for no particular reason, and it's got nothing to do with said lawmaker backing a law that benefits said corporation. Meanwhile, the folks who took an oath to uphold those laws take all the flak for doing their jobs and might well lose them come election time, while those same fat cats continue to do what they do without any repercussion.

That's democracy at work folks, or at least democracy here on the Frontier as I understand it. That's why I ain't all that excited to vote even though I'm old enough now, as I don't see any real point in casting my ballot until we got some real wide-scale governance going on. They've put it off for more than 18 years now because 'the logistics' are too hard to work out, they can't be sure they've gotten word out to every American on the Frontier, or some other pitiful excuse, and folks lap it up and carry on because they're too busy striving to survive to do anything but. Meanwhile, the rich get richer, and everyone else eats shit for it, on top of being told they ought to be grateful for being a part of the greatest country in the world.

Okay. I admit. Getting Exiled might've soured me on the Federation as a whole, but only because it's made me take a long, hard look at how things are done. The rose-coloured glasses have come off, though I will say I'm probably being extra harsh on account of my hard feelings. Then again, I ain't seeing much of a difference between The United Federation of American States and the People's Republic of Qin in terms of how their respective governments operate, so might be I ain't harsh enough.

Can't really say that out loud though, because Americans don't take well to criticism of their country. Can't blame them for loving it, as they made huge strides in a short time, but the idea of what America stands for and what it really be ain't exactly overlapping circles from my perspective. This here is a country built on the backs of immigrants, and they did such a fine job of it they drove away most of the original inhabitants, those that they didn't kill of course. Nowadays though? Even black and brown Americans ain't American enough for some, and them who hold that opinion are the loudest of the bunch it feels. They're happy to put immigrants like my daddy, Mr. Kalthoff, and Sheriff Patel to work, but they'll also be the first to remind us that we ain't 'real' Americans. Meanwhile, the Red Americans who factually would be the most American of all don't ever make so much as a peep, probably because historically making a fuss has ended in disaster for their folk.

Whatever the case, I ain't feeling all that proud to be American adjacent no more, nor do I think I'll ever reclaim that spark of awe and wonder over America the Great. That's how they get you, methinks, capturing your love and patriotism while you young and impressionable, because they tell you we got it so much better than other folks out there. Which is sorta true in many ways, and not true in others, but you so much as even try to suggest American could stand to do better and most take that as a personal attack.

Got nothing to do with my current situation though, or at least not enough to matter. Nor can I really blame the Sheriff for doing his job, so once my farewells are said, I peel myself Chrissy off of me with help from Aunty Ray. "Tell Tina I said goodbye," I add, after giving each one a peck on the cheek that's got my ears burning red. "See you when I see you."

Having seen Chrissy and Aunty Ray off, I turn to the Sheriff and ask, "So off to the office right?" To pick up all my guns, since we wasn't sure which gate I'd be leaving by given the weather conditions. After the flurry last night, the East Gate would be my best bet, though either way Cowie and the horses are gonna need some overtime pay since they'll be trudging through deep snow most of the way home. He don't mind though, and if the horses do, ain't much I can do about it except put them behind the wagon. Fact is, Cowie looks happy to be headed out, because he's right lonely in the barn all by his lonesome without his ladies or the kiccaws to keep him company, as I think he finds horses dull and boring to be around.

In reply, the Sheriff nods, then does something highly out of character for a man like him. He hesitates, before saying, "It may be best if you head to the gate alone. I will bring your weapons to you shortly after."

"No need to lug it yourself when you can put it on the wagon," I say, because I do have a lot of guns I'm bringing home with me. "Plus, I was hoping to have a word with the prisoner who stuck me. Not to gloat or nothin'," I add, gesturing at the sling my left arm is being held in, as bones don't heal that quick or feel all that great while doing it. "Just wanted to get some clarity on the situation is all."

Rather than reply, he studies me for a good long half minute with that almost neutral but mostly disapproving glower he wears all the livelong day. "You think this wise?" he asks, which throws me for a loop, as he ain't one to ever really ask. "There are reporters outside of the office, and it will not reflect well on you when they report your visit in the papers, much less a discussion they will no doubt learn of soon after the fact."

"Yeah," I drawl, having figured out as much myself, but there ain't no helping it. "Gotta be done though, for my peace of mind."

The Sheriff don't say nothing else, just waves for me to follow behind as we head on over to his office. Like he said, there are reporters just waiting to hear the latest on what's to be done about the Qin prisoners, and though they swarm him asking all manner of questions, I note they steer clear of blocking his path despite tripping over one another to block mine.

"Are you here to be questioned over your links to the Qin Republic?"

"How was it that you came across of Qin Vanguard during your travels in the badlands?"

"Have your yearly trips up to the mesa been for the sole purpose of making contact with your Republic handlers?"

The questions come rapid fire as they all shove their big microphones with Record Audio Spell Cores contained inside to capture their juicy sound bites. Thems simply the most egregious of the questions I caught, but it goes to show how they ain't even trying for neutral in the hit pieces they're writing about me. Turnabout is fair play however, so I wiggle my fingers and intone my chant to throw up a spectral blue Shield, one that's perfectly round and more of a buckler than a proper heater, kite, or scutum as most would use. That's on Uncle Raleigh, because he put all that comic book nonsense into my head, stuff about Captain America fighting the Nazis and whatnot. I fell in love with that round shield bearing a star and stripes, so my Shield Spell kinda looks like it minus the decorations. It's also better at blocking Bolts than the base Spell since it covers less area, or at least that's what I hope. I ain't ever been shot at while using the Shield Spell because I've always had the Shield bracer which I repurposed into an amulet for Tina. With all them Metamagics tacked on, the amulet is a much better barrier to Bolts than my flimsy base Spell, but it's still good enough to push my way through the crowd with no concern as to who goes down.

A chorus of complaints follow as I bowl over a good half dozen reporters, most of whom make a fuss about it and complain to the Sheriff standing right there. He ain't impressed though, and just asks, "You block the path of a man and are surprised when he steps over you?"

He gives me a look at the end that says I'm treading in dangerous waters, but I move my Shield behind me and continue on into the office ahead of him, because I've no desire to be shot in the streets. I know just as well as he does that me moving forward behind my Shield means the fault lies on the reporters for falling, especially since I wasn't running or even moving all that quickly. If I'd've used my hands to push them, assuming I had full use of both of them, then an argument could be made to charge me with assault. I don't know the specifics as to why that's different, but it is and I ran it by Mr. Tillman to be sure. It's just one of many hypotheticals I've posed to him since he entered into my employ, because if he gonna charge me for the full hour, I might as well get my monies worth.

Once inside and free of the press of reporters, the Sheriff walks me through the secure double gates and brings me in to see the prisoners in their cell, which sits open to the floor of the office proper. There are rooms for a private discussion, but I couldn't care less if anyone overhears my talk with Ao Tian, because it ain't like I got anything to hide. "I hear you didn't listen to a word I said," I drawl, standing well clear of the bars as the kid leans in against them like a caged tiger ready to pounce. "Told you how this would go so long as you kept quiet, then you went and opened your mouth to stick your boot right in it."

"Is that why you have come?" Ao Tian asks with a sneer. Kid looks a little better than before, but not by much. Got two black panda eyes from the broken nose I'd given him with both boots to the face, and his cutes and lacerations from the beating have yet to fully heal. Means he ain't getting multiple daily Minor Regenerations like I have, nor can he cast it himself on account of the anti-magic manacles strapped to his wrists. "To laugh at my plight?"

"Nah. More to make sense of it." We ain't being all that circumspect, and I glance around to see everyone listening in while working real hard to appear like they ain't. "I really don't get it. If you kept your mouth shut, the Feds would've contacted the Republic and they'd have you out of here by spring. Why take sole responsibility for a crime we all know you was ordered to commit?"

"You do not understand because you think like a foreigner." Again, I get that word thrown at me like it's a dirty slur, and I'm almost starting to hate it as much as I hate being called 'boy'. "You do not understand what it mean to work in concert with your people in pursuit of a greater goal. That is why you will never be Qin."

"So being Qin means giving up your youthful years so the Republic don't get embarrassed over a failed assassination attempt?" My tone is harsher than intended, and it might be because I see so much of myself in Ao Tian, the old Howie who was so gung-ho about America until they disavowed my daddy. "You know you lookin' at ten years minimum for attempted murder right? To a maximum of twenty-five, which you sure to get if you keep talkin' the way you do instead of gettin' a lawyer like you should."

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"No matter," Ao Tian declares, putting on a brave face even though I know he's scared, because who wouldn't be when looking at a prison sentence that's longer than they've lived? "The Republic will prosper. You know my father was declared a traitor for his actions? Your father was the true traitor, but mine was labelled so for doing his patriotic duty, and though the people of the Republic will never thank him for it, I will forever remember his contributions and follow in his example. I will uphold the honour of the Republic, and that itself is reward enough."

That is some next level dedication right there, to double down on a Republic that done disgraced his daddy. Don't know if Ao Tian is stupid, simple, or just that lost in the sauce, but my next question drags him right back to reality. "And what happens to Long Ao Tian then?" I ask. "What happens after he spends the next twenty-five years in a labour camp full of prisoners just lookin' for an excuse to hurt someone they don't like? Assuming you live that long. I hear prisoners segregate themselves by colour and race, so you ain't gonna have no one to talk you while you in there, much less anyone watchin' your back."

The blood drains from Ao Tian's face, but before he can answer, a scoff sounds out from within. "He is no dragon," Gao Qui declares, but he freezes up when he sees the promise of death in my gaze. Halfway through standing up, the kid falls back down on his ass to take a seat on the bench, unable to meet my eyes much less finish whatever derisive statement he was about to make followed by blowing smoke up my ass.

So I let the silence marinate for a bit before finally speaking up against. "I was carryin' all my guns and gear when we fought," I begin, before nodding at the other man. "He had nothin' but some rope and a bayonet knife, but even then, he took a run at me and almost won." Glancing at every face in the cell and quite a few outside of it, I say, "If Ao Tian ain't no dragon, then the Republic don't got a single one. Just carp dreaming of leaping over the gate or whatever it is you folk say." Focusing on Gao Qui, I add, "Like you, you gutless worm. You the one who freed him from his bindings and handed him your knife, but you don't got the stones to own up to it. Least I can respect Ao Tian for coming for my head. You too scared to even try, much less admit your part in it."

My piece said, I heave a sigh and turn back to Ao Tian instead of shuffling away like I planned. "Got anyone you want I should send your sword to? For safekeeping or whatever."

Was thinking about keeping it, but it ain't a weapon I care to learn. Ao Tian is as contentious as ever though, and simply hits me with a sneer. "Keep it," he says, glaring at me for all he's worth. "I will come take it from you once my time here is done."

Try as I might, I can't help but admire the kid, because he got gumption in spades. God damn, what a pair we would've made if we was fighting on the same side. No sense saying as much though, because his daddy killed mine, and I killed his, so our stars are about as crossed as they can get. Instead, I give him a small shake of my head before stopping in my tracks once more. "Don't think I've ever said this out loud," I begin, speaking past the lump in my throat that magically appears. "I regret killing your father. Him and them others up on that mesa. I should've brung 'em in alive, made them stand trial for their crimes, even if it would've just gone to shit all the same. Least then people could watch the Federation trample all over my daddy's legacy, instead of letting them sweep it under the rug without so much as an apology." Shrugging, I add, "If it means anything, your daddy died well. Looked death in the eye without flinching, and went out like a champ. My first kill."

"Then he died with honour," Ao Tian replies, puffing up to hear it. "The first of many to fall before the Firstborn. Continue to build your legend traitor, one corpse at a time, so that mine might shine all the brighter when I take your head and end your tale."

It says something about me when an outright threat like that brings a smile to my face. Perfect delivery, then he sits back down to mediate like he'd just ordered his lunch and is waiting for it to arrive. Stone cold is what he is, and I respect that. Even makes me worry some, because I got enough problems as is, but so long as the gears of justice don't slip out of the socket and roll on down the street, I'm pretty sure I won't have to worry about Ao Tian for at least a decade. Which is more sad than anything else, because he's a victim of the Republic's ways same way as I'm a victim of the Feds. He just don't see it yet, though a few years in prison is sure to open his eyes.

Out of sight, out of mind though, so I head on out to the waiting area until the Sheriff returns with my weapons locker in tow. A heavy burden he refuses to set on the wagon, not even in the driver's seat which I ain't sitting in, because he's a man who likes to be in control like that, so I leave him to it as we head on out the east gate. Thanks to his stern and dour presence, the guards are quick to hop to, or quick as they can be while following every protocol as outlined in the book. Which given their unfamiliarity with the subject matter would beg the question as to why they don't got it down pat just yet, but that ain't for me to say nothing about nobody. Instead, I mull on the sort of stories I might read in the papers these coming few days regarding my exchange with Ao Tian. No doubt there'll be claims of coded messages being passed back and forth in plain sight, with holes poked into our 'story' of how we're enemies and other foolish nonsense. Makes for a great bit of fiction, but goes to show how even if I tell my side of the story, them so called journalists will just twist my words to make it sound like I said something I didn't.

Either way, it's a long and cold journey home as me and Cowie make our way up the Highway as far as we can before cutting into the forest proper. Then our progress slows to a crawl as he hoofs it through snowbanks almost as high as his chest, and we stop for a break in Gunnar's village which I've only recently learned is called Providence. Now if that ain't irony, I don't know what is, but I don't say word one because they've been good to me in these last six months, whereas I could stand to be better to them. Especially Gunnar, who's still cagey over how I leaned so hard on him for Impact Oil, but begrudgingly invites me to rest and warm up in his humble abode nonetheless.

Not my proudest moment that, especially when I see Gunnar go a little white when his wife Alice offers to host me for the night and let Cowie get some more rest before we head home tomorrow. "Offer's much appreciated," I say with a shake of my head, and I see Gunnar deflate out the corner of my eye. "But I'm of a mind to be home today though, and Cowie's more than good for it." My partner lets out a big bellowing moo from his place over by the fireplace, where he's warming up, drying off, and enjoying the attentions of curious little Astrid. The ruby-red skinned girlie has got a big bright smile on her face as she strokes Cowie's head that's resting atop her lap, but I don't pay too much attention to the girl lest she or her parents get the wrong idea.

Don't get me wrong, she's lovely as a rose, what with her bright golden eyes to match the glowing veins under the surface of her skin. Let's not forget her silken, jet black going down to her waist, and even the horns poking up out of her forehead are pretty, with a glossy, ebony surface that just drinks up the light. I also ain't blind to her interest, showing up wearing her Sunday best while pretending like she don't got nothing better to do than listen to my stories. Don't none of it matter to me though. A pretty face is just that, nice to look at, but no more, because I ain't all that ready just yet.

Unless it's Noora's pretty face, which I reckon stands a whole lot higher than just pretty. Wish I had the courage to go find her for a chat, but I couldn't think of anything worth saying and was too much of a coward to go say goodbye for real. Easier to just let her go as is, because then it's out of my hands, as I can't hold onto nothing if I never get close enough to grab hold of it to begin with.

So I make small talk with Miss Alice discussing my plans for the quay and what I'll do come spring. Aint' so bad, as there's plenty of hot coffee and sweet biscuits to be had in exchange for fending off Astrid's endless litany of questions regarding my prosthetic and Mage Hands as she hasn't forgotten my promise to teach her some of what I know. I do promise to bring some books by once I copy them down though, and that plus a few tales of how their potions saved my bacon out in the badlands is enough to buy me some peace until it comes time to leave. Don't see hide nor hair of Harald the entire time, their other child who's only half a year younger than I am and no doubt stuck in his lab researching something or the other. Kid's a bonafide Alchemist and a damn good one too, even though he done lost 3 fingers in an alchemical accident early on. Fact is, Astrid's the only one the family with all her digits, and probably the only one careful enough to keep them, as she done seen the mistakes her family made.

Yeah, they're a solid bunch, Gunnar, Miss Alice, Harald, and Astrid. Good, salt of the earth people, ones who ain't treated like 'full' Americans either. They've carved out their own little piece of the Frontier here in Providence for themselves, but the thing that bothers me is how there shouldn't have been any need to. Astrid and Harald should've grown up in New Hope just like me, Tina, and Chrissy, but fear of crowds and what folks might do to black horned, red-skinned, devil-looking Innates kept them all well away. And not without reason either, as history has shown, but we all make do as best we can.

Not gonna go so far as to say the Qin have it right regarding their treatment of Innates, but at least they strive to understand the issues inherent to being one instead of pretending they don't exist. A low bar to limbo under, but the Feds do a remarkable job of clearing right past that minor hurdle and slinking on down into the negatives. Can't be no problem if they don't acknowledge it as one, so everyone just looks the other way when folks get up in arms about 'unholy' or 'unstable' stable Innates living close to home. Fact is, I'm right worried about Chrissy after this trip to the mesa. She stepped up in a big way, but what if she got too comfortable slinging Big Spells willy nilly? What happens if she slings one when she gets scared in a crowd, or gets surprised by someone coming around a corner too quick? Or, heaven forbid, throws one out in a pique of rage, like she almost did with them vagrants earlier today?

I know exactly what happens. It won't be three strikes and she's out, or even a straightforward punishment to fit the crime. No, if Chrissy ever has the misfortune to show herself as a threat to the public, the best she can hope for is a life spent shackled in anti-magic manacles under close, 24/7 supervision. It's like the crazy house, but for the magically inclined, and the residents weren't already crazy going in, they will most certainly go crazy from all the drugs and 'therapy' they put you through.

I'd sooner see the whole Frontier burn then let Chrissy suffer such a fate. Should it ever come to a choice between one and another, I'll bring matches and smores so we can have ourselves a treat while we watch everything go up in flames. That there is a promise, and you can quote me on that.

Intrepid trooper that he is, Cowie makes quick work of the snow laden trails and gets us to Carter's compound in two shakes. It's still early afternoon, but the compound seems mostly empty as the inhabitants are all out doing their thing. Swimming in the lake, thundering down trails, or climbing trees and whatnot I suspect, but hopefully there'll be someone around to help me pack up the kiccaws before I leave. Just as I'm about to knock on the main door though, Cowie lets out a happy moo as the flutter of too-tiny wings descends down upon me, with them nubby limbs having next to no chance of keeping the round, rotund body they attached to afloat. Luckily, them birds be real light since they're 90% feathers, so the silly kiccaw lands softly in my arms without any chance of hurting itself.

Warmed by the joyous greeting as the bird buries its flat face in my chest with a whole cacophony of kees and caws, I respond with a big smile and small nuzzle. "That you Stella? Guess you missed me huh? I missed you too, as you my best bird for a reason." Glancing up at the top wall with the faint hint of a frown as I wrap the bird in my duster, I inwardly wonder how she got to be a hopping around by her lonesome while outwardly I ask, "Ain't you a bit under feathered for the weather? Best get you someplace warm and dry right quick."

"Elodie." Spoken in the gruff tones of a man who is still trying to be stern, but has all but resigned himself to knowing it won't work, Carter opens up the door I'm parked in front of and says, "That is no way to behave in front of guests."

Now normally, I'm pretty quick on the uptake, but between all the injuries, the subsequent recovery, and just general overall fatigue, I ain't at my best or brightest. As such, it ain't all that strange for me to not figure it out right away. Instead, I rubberneck around in search of the silly green-eyed girlie only to see neither hide nor hair of her. Then the hammer of realization hits hard and I feel the blood rush to my face as I peer down to see Elodie's big green bird eyes looking all sad and contrite in front of her daddy as she peaks her round birdie head out from under my duster. While my arms are wrapped around her no less, though in my defense, I really did think this was my best bird.

So I hand Elodie right over to her daddy, and can't help but chuckle at my lacking awareness. Despite knowing I'm coming up on a colony of Wildshapers, I still put too much faith in what my eyes can see. That's why I'm so concerned about Illusions used against me, because even Aunty Ray don't got no way to guarantee I see through them each and every time. Still, I should've clocked something odd about the bird. Not only was it strange for Stella to be wandering about in the cold, she also ain't ever been half as enthusiastic as Elodie. The green-eyed girl got a real joi de vivre that I ain't ever seen in anyone else. Where Chrissy's Innate quirks make her emotions appear muted and sometimes non-existent, Elodie is the exact opposite, always wearing her emotions on her sleeves which makes her joy and excitement over seeing me arrive a real heartwarming treat.

Hell, she even greeted me like she normally does when she spots me from up top the walls, which should've been a dead giveaway that it wasn't my best bird, but sweet Elodie in bird form.

Who apparently has graduated to Third Order Spells, since turning into a kiccaw most certainly would require a bit more juice than a baby diamondclaw. It ain't necessarily about the strength of the creature, but rather the mass, because the conservation of mass still applies. Even though as a kiccaw, Elodie is light as a feather, all of her mass didn't just disappear. Instead, it's been stored in the Immaterium, and when she or someone like Cowie wants to go bigger, they draw on Ectoplasm from the Immaterium to do it.

Putting mire mass away takes more energy to do, ergo Wildshape Kiccaw is almost certainly a Third Order Spell. Or Ability. Whatever. Thing is, when I congratulate Elodie on her advancement I get a little birdie tilt of her round head like she don't know what I'm talking about, so I just let it drop after glancing at Carter and seeing his face stay decidedly neutral.

"The limits of our magic are not so easily defined," Carter explains, and it tickles my fancy to see him holding Elodie the same way I hold Stella, with my palm cupped so she can stand or sit as she pleases. Elodie of course sits and rests her birdie chin on her daddy's fingers, which give her a little scritch for good measure. "Come in out of the cold while we gather the birds and cattle."

Now normally, I'd politely decline the invitation, because I know they a private people who don't much like strangers in their territory, but with the weather how it's been and Cowie pushing himself so hard, I can't deny him a happy, heartfelt reunion with Dumpling, Momo, and Samosa, all but prancing on in to give them all the cuddles and kisses he can, and they're plenty happy to see him too.

"I see you found trouble out in the badlands," Carter says, still cradling Elodie in the palm of his hand while his wife Miss Amelie hands me a steaming hot mug of tea which I happily accept with a Mage Hand.

"More like trouble found me," I reply, heaving a long sigh and just happy to be among folks who ain't acting all suspicious of my motives. After a good, long sip, I tell the story to them straight, which takes some doing as I gotta go back to touch on how the Qin killed my daddy which ended up with the son of my daddy's killer in jail and awaiting trial for attempted murder. "Worst part is?" I conclude, with a big shrug to show my confusion. "I can't help but like the kid. He's got skills, drive, and dedication, if not much in the way of smarts."

"Of course you like him," Carter replies, flashing a rare sorta smile that's not really a smile, but is about as close as he gets. "You are nothing if not proud, and this Ao Tian is so very similar to you."

My first instinct is to deny it, and I even open my mouth to start in on it, but rather than lie and make a fool of myself, I breathe out and say, "Yeah." Waving my hand to clear the air, I add, "All water under the bridge though. Now that I'm back in Federal Territory, I doubt the Republic will risk sending anyone after me, not with tensions high as they are. Long as I steer clear of the south, I should be safe enough, though might be you and yours will want to be wary of slant-eyed strangers in the coming months."

"The eyes of my people are no less slanted than yours," Carter retorts, his half smile gone as quick as it arrived. "And make no mistake; they are your people. Denying it will not turn a lie to truth, and embracing a lie is a fool's truth." Don't rightly know how to argue it either, because if this was last year, I'd get angry and list out how the Qin ain't ever done nothing for me, but now I'm starting to think America ain't done nothing for me neither. Nor has the Frontier, but that ain't personal. The Frontier don't like any of us invaders, whether it be humans or Abby, and I can't rightly blame it for that.

Besides, Carter's disapproval is about more than my choice of words. It's about racism as a whole, and I can't say I ain't been racist against the Qin. I know better than to judge a person by the color of their skin, and yet I feel comfortable doing so whenever that colour happens to be yellow. A personal failing that, but being the pragmatist that I am, I ain't about to welcome no Qin with open arms, not even if I see them coming at me with palms forward and arms out to the side.

So I apologize for my unsavoury comment, and tell myself not to make the same mistake again, or at the very least not do so out loud. To show that there ain't no hard feelings, Carter claps me on the shoulder and gives me a nod. "Do not make the same mistake as others," he says, giving me a look that speaks volumes to the weight of his own experiences. "You of all people should know better than most how it feels to be painted with a broad stroke, especially in light of the raids down south." Truer words ain't never been spoken, which I suppose makes me something of a hypocrite then. Something I ought to work on, but truth is, I'd rather be a living hypocrite than a dead virtuous man. That's how I know I ain't a good man like my daddy or Uncle Teddy, because I don't got it in me to care about others more than I care for me and mine.

Least I can do is try though, and in doing so, maybe stop trampling all over what's left of my daddy's reputation. Or becoming an even darker mark on Uncle Teddy's, because I just know there are folks out there criticizing him for taking me on as a Disciple, and I can't keep proving them right.

Course, it's easier said then done, and I find myself tested again soon after bidding farewell to Carter's ilk. Elodie looks oh so adorable waving one nubby wing goodbye, especially after I tied a scrap of red ribbon into a bunny ear bow atop her big bird head. Did one for Stella too, who greeted me almost as warmly as Elodie, while the rest of the kiccaws were ambivalent at best, except Frowny who was angry as all hell. Doing my best not to dwell on how delicious kiccaw meat be, I bring them all back to the quay where our home awaits, which is when I find my temper tested. Every house I pass shows signs of forced entry and next to no effort to conceal it. Not exactly what you want to see after a long trip and rough recovery, but not entirely unexpected either.

Doesn't change the fact that it makes me burning mad to see it, especially when I spot the workers spotting me and quickly spreading word down the line. It takes every ounce of self control I have not to fondle the Shortsword on my hip. The revolver is smaller than the Rattlesnake, which wasn't all that big to begin with, but was more of a decidedly average gun with a 5' barrel. The Shortsword is the same length, but skinner on almost all fronts aside from barrel diametre. Feels odd in the hand, or at least odd in mine, but I leave it in the holster and continue on my merry way to the Mueller's house. The front door ain't been broken into like every other house I've passed, but only because I put up Shock Wards to protect me while I sleep.

Doesn't cool my temper none, though I ain't about to lose my head. Doesn't mean I'll wash my hands of all this, but I can't go running off with a gun in hand ready to shoot any fool who irks me, no matter how much I wish I could. There's few things more therapeutic than killing the right man for the right reasons, but that sort of thinking is what got me into trouble in the first place. Instead, I check in on the cameras and am glad to see that the extra crystals I installed ain't all used up, meaning I've got the last few weeks all on recording and will soon see the faces of them who wronged me.

You come at me with head on? I can respect that. Don't no one respect a sneak thief though, one without courage to come at me while I'm here but is more than happy to take what isn't theirs so long as I ain't around. So I get to cleaning and scheming before remembering to check in with Aunty Ray, who no doubt is sitting at the Radio and just waiting for me to let her know I got back safe and sound.

Time was I'd rankle at the thought of having to do this, but today in particular, it fills me with warmth and sadness. Warmth because there's still people out there who care for me, and sadness because I can't be right there with them. My fault that, but I get the feeling my next move ain't gonna make me any more popular with the common folk. Then again, what do I care for their love and respect? My daddy had that, or their respect at the very least, and what did that get him in the end? A whole lot of nothing, that's what, and I ain't gonna make the same mistake.

And therein lies the rub. How do I follow in my daddy's footsteps and at least strive to live up to his ideals, while simultaneously eking out every advantage I can to keep myself alive? Gotta strike a good balance between the two, and while it might already be too late to get back in good standing with the masses, I can at least claw my way back to neutral. Or you know… feared and respected. I can settle for that. The Tim Hayes special as it were, or maybe even be more like Edward Ellis, who's allies fear him almost as much as his enemies do, and yet everyone leaves him be all the same.

So long story short, I gotta find my own path, one that maybe won't be as straight and narrow as my daddy's but not so winding as my own. Gotta be good, but not so good as to let the bad bunch walk all over me. At the same time, I gotta be dangerous, without being a threat, and the way it starts is by showing people of Rimepeak that don't no one trespass on my property without paying a price. A price which that falls within reason of course, and whether that price be in cash, time, or blood is up to them.

As for me? I'm open to accepting all three, and I don't care much which one I get.