Firstborn of the Frontier

My journey to become a better, kinder, more merciful Howie is off to a rough start.

Least that's how it feels as I resist the urge to brandish my guns while listening to the three 'Freight Captains' air out all their grievances. Apparently, it ain't fair for me to threaten their hardworking employees with the law and throw off their schedule, which will bring down ruin upon all their heads because it'll put them behind for the next month. I been patient and silent while doing my best to channel my daddy to appear calm, collected, and utterly disinterested, but as per usual, it ain't doing for me what it did for him.

Got no idea why either, because I done practiced in the mirror this morning while brushing my teeth. Think I done a good job of it too, and I'd say my irritated impatience ought to give it an extra bit of pep too. These glorified teamsters don't seem to notice though, and just keep going on and on about how I shouldn't be picking on their lowly wage slaves and hurting their companies' bottom line on account of their people just trying to stay warm and fed in this cold and inhospitable location. To hear them tell it, it's tyrannical and unamerican, not to mention cruel and inhumane, so why can't I just call it water under the bridge and let their people go back to work?

After what feels like forever, one of the 'Freight Captains' finally thinks to try a different tack. "How 'bout this," he says, pulling his threadbare jacket in tight around his torso in a futile effort to ward off the cold winds coming off the lake. "We pay you a nominal fee for use of your properties, say a fifty cents a night per head? That's a fair price I'd say, better than fair since we – er, they had to do everything themselves and you wasn't even here."

The other two echo their agreements while I give the lead idiot a look. "Even if I was open to the idea, and I might be, I ain't about to clean up after you and yours. You gonna make sure your people pick up after themselves?" The three of them trade a look that I know all too well, so I really hammer the point home. "How bout this instead," I drawl. "I'll pay the three of you two dollars per trespasser to clean up their mess, replace everything they stole, and fix all that they broke. If fair is fair, then my offer's better than fair, so what's stoppin' you?"

Makes me sick is what it does, the sheer hypocrisy of these three fools. They ain't wrong in saying 50 cents is a fair price for a bunk, but that's with guests who behave themselves. Them labourers done trashed most of my properties and stole food from my plate, and these idiots want to smooth that over with a few measly dollars? Even if they offered a better than fair price, I wouldn't want to accept it over the sheer principle of the matter, in that if you do the crime, then you best be ready to do the time.

A concept these middle managers can't seem to grasp, or think that if they whine and wheedle enough I'll be ready to compromise for the sake of seeing them gone. That ain't me though, not anymore. 2007 Howie would've dropped a few choice words and veiled threats by now to run them off. Instead, I grit my teeth as they wave off my arguments with more rhetoric about a schedule to keep and profits to make which I doubt they even benefit from. It's amazing how folks will go above and beyond for a company that is clearly screwing them over, these Freight Captains included, but I suppose the minor pay bump and job title makes them feel extra special and important.

That don't impress me much though, so when they get around to the third time saying how there ain't no food or shelter to be had, I finally snap. "So what?" I ask, cutting them off mid bellyache. "I didn't ask y'all to come here. I don't benefit from the traffic. Feds collect the dock fees and your companies pocket the lion's share of the profits, so what obligation do I have to provide food and shelter for you and yours?"

The three fools' glance at one another, and the bravest or dumbest one among the bunch says, "Well, we'd pay for it, same as we paid Lu – er… the former residents." They're so spooked by the rumours, they won't even say their names for fear of summoning calamity down upon them, with Lusia being the most feared name of all.

"So that means I should drop everything to become an innkeep? Abandon all my aspirations to cater to you and yours?" I can't help but curl my lip into a sneer, though I manage to stop myself from spitting. "I got nothin' against no one working hospitality, but that ain't ever gonna be me. Now, I sympathize with your plight, I really do, but you still ain't told me how it's my problem to fix. I came into this property more than half a year ago when the days were balmy and the skies clear, and I ain't done a thing to suggest I might fill that niche, meaning you and yours have had that much time to prepare. Ain't my fault you ain't done shit in the time since, and ain't on me to make up for your failings. Your companies send you out here to make a profit, so I reckon they ought to be the ones to do something about your situation."

"Oh come on," the dumb one says. "Be reasonable."

"This is me bein' reasonable," I say, all calm and collected with only a touch of heat. Okay, might be more than a touch as all three men flinch, but I ain't the unreasonable one here. "If I was feeling uncharitable, I'd've come home in the dead of night and hogtied every man trespassing on my property before haulin' them in to New Hope come morning." Or worse, as I imply by giving them each my best glare, because I ain't feelin' all that reasonable anymore. "You think I enjoy this? That I want to be standing here making sure the work gets done right while takin' names of folks who drop in to right the wrongs they committed? Or comb through three weeks of footage for faces to bring to my lawyer so he can file a lawsuit? I got better things to do, like rebuild my broken prosthetic or sleep in because I done been stabbed and gutted just last week!"

It's only after it's all been said and done that I realize I'm shouting, so I take a deep breath and settle back on my heels while them middle managers recover from my tirade. Aunty Ray would've said it all with a smile, like it was some joke between all of us and she wasn't pleased about it neither. Would've earned some sympathy from the others and they all would've come out of it with some understanding, but me? I sound whiny and entitled, like I'm too good to work an honest job and would rather sleep the day away. Which I would, but there's too much work to do, and not enough hours in the day to get through it all.

Can't do none of it while I'm stood out here in the cold, with dumb, dumber, and dumbest here. For some reason I cannot fathom, they're all too happy to play patsy for their companies and explain exactly why the people who hired them shouldn't have to spend any money on the wellbeing of their employees. Ridiculous is what that is, because a couple mobile yurts or even permanent canvas shacks are cheap to source and easy to put up wherever you like. I told them straight up that they could do whatever they like outside of town, but alls I see are personal tents and ramshackle lean-tos put up by the workers. Don't no one care to build anything more permanent, and I can easily imagine why. Can't lay claim to nothing built on unclaimed land, so if someone builds a half-decent shanty, they got no recourse if someone moves in while they out working their day job. Even personal tents are at risk of being occupied if left up for too long, and some folks are just too gutless to stand up for what's theirs.

Stupid is what that is, and I won't ever understand it. The thinking goes that they don't want to get shot or stabbed over something silly as a tent. That's why you gotta go in with the conviction to shoot or stab a bitch for taking what's yours. Simple is as simple does, but they can't even commit to that, much less find the spine to suggest to their corporate overlords that they do something to improve the safety and comfort of their employees out here.

Perhaps sensing my temper has come to boil, the three middle managers finally beat a hasty retreat, but not without muttering up a storm of grievances that I know ain't gonna help my rep. Don't much care though, because they can grumble all they want so long as my properties are all cleaned. It's one thing to be kind and generous, and another altogether to be a doormat. I ain't even asked them to fix what they broke or replace what they stole. Just clean up after themselves, which wouldn't be such a big deal if they didn't live like fucking animals.

So I settle in to stand vigil over a bunch of reluctant workers cleaning up after themselves, when I'd rather be doing almost anything else. To make the most of my time, I get to practicing my Spells, but not the same ones usually practice. Had a lot of time to think this last week while laid up in bed, and I made a few decisions that I ain't entirely sure of just yet. Like how I gotta put some time aside to learn how to fight in melee combat, which includes practicing all them Spells like Spiritual Weapon, Conjure Weapon, and now I'm thinking Conjure Armour too. My fleshy bits are soft and vulnerable, but at least they fix themselves so long as the damage ain't too too bad. My Automaton prosthetic though? Sure, the prototype was cheap as chips, but I got plans to use the Orichalcum from Mikey's Abjuration Badge on the final product, which frankly is more Orichalcum than I can afford to replace.

Add in the fact that Orichalcum is about as soft as copper and you got a fragile and delicate Automaton that when push comes to shove is gonna be used to smash peoples faces in. Means I gotta do something to protect it, and while traditional armour made from Steel, Darksteel, or even Adamantine would work wonders, that'd also mean wearing a heavy gauntlet 24/7 whenever I'm out and about. Not ideal for comfort, or for Spellslinging either, as wearing armour tends to inhibit you from completing your Somatic components. Doesn't matter if it leaves your fingers free to waggle uninhibited; the extra weight or discomfort alone might well throw you off, because there ain't no magic in the movements. The magic is in the sensation of those movements and the feedback it elicits within your mind, like a Pavlovian response you create for yourself to tie those movements to a Spell.

Which would mean more practice to learn how to sling the same Spell with and without armour. Using the Spell Conjure Armour don't have those drawbacks, because whatever armour your Conjure up will fit like a second skin. Could have both hands fully encased in full on steel gauntlets and still waggle my fingers without weight or restraint, which would go a long ways towards protecting my Prosthetic and keeping it from exploding again.

To say nothing of my one remaining hand should I ever have to grab a knife again.

Having come so close to death, I got myself a clearer vision of my Spell Loadout moving forward, at least when it comes to combat. The best defense is a good offense, but that don't mean you want to all out naked as the day you was born. So I figure I need to make some changes to my loadout, except the problem is I don't got the room to make all that many. The Scouting stuff I gotta keep, no two ways about it, and same with the Big Spell because I love Fireball almost as much as I love me my guns. Misty Step ain't a Spell I use every day, but when I need it, I really need it, so I ain't about to drop it from my list. Same goes for Expeditious Retreat, and I'd be a fool to drop Mage Armour when there ain't a single Ranger that goes without.

All told, that leaves me 3 Spell Slots to play with. Ones I usually fill with Grease, Force Barrier, and either Spike Growth or Web, which ain't terrible. There is a Spell above all others I'd like to add into my every day Spell list however, namely Shield. Being a Spell that requires Concentration from the get go is a big ask though, because I need to dedicate my Concentration to maintaining it in battle. This means recasting Floating Disc every hour on the hour if I'm travelling by it, as I wouldn't want to drop Concentration on my means of escape to throw up a Shield. Well worth the cost when I can spare the time, and might well save my life moving forward, especially if I don't gotta worry about taking a big hit and finding myself with only my own two feet to get outta dodge with.

More to the point, I had to commit to the Spell in order to convince Tina to keep the Shield necklace I done crafted for her. She kept saying how I needed it more than she did, and while she might even be right, that won't stay true for long methinks. Come tomorrow, she's graduating from the additional 6 months of boot camp the Rangers tacked on after the kerfuffle in Pleasant Dunes, and she'll be deploying Monday for on-the-job training. Might not be out in the badlands, but there's plenty of Abby just a day's ride away who don't hibernate for the winter, so Tina will have her hands full handling that. I ain't about to take the Shield from her, because unlike me, she can't even cast the Spell manually. What's more, her Mage Armour is barely worth the Aether to cast it, so I'd feel better if she had some means to protect herself.

That ain't the only reason either. I overheard Qian talking to the other Qin and calling me the 4 armed 'Xiu Luo'. Got no idea what that means and didn't care to ask. I would look it up, but the thing about Qinese is that you gotta know how to write a word before looking it up. Can't sound it out phonetically like in English, albeit with limited success because English is a mishmash of languages. Either way, I like the 4-armed part, and the idea of being Four-Hand Howie speaks to me, as it's a nice nickname that ain't got nothing to do with the Firstborn or Yellow Devil I've used in recent years.

Like a clean slate, sort of, and I like having a theme to my Prepped Spells. First off, it lets others know what I'm capable of, allowing friendlies to better coordinate without having to talk it out beforehand. What's more, it'll mean my enemies focus on what I'm best known for, and won't be expecting it when I pull out a different Spell from the usual suspects.

Like Fireball. No one ever expects the Diviner to throw out a Fireball.

Now granted, the Shield Spell ain't exactly like an extra hand, but I can control it like one. Figured that out last week while playing around with it. It's the same principle as using my Mage Hands really, with the only real difference being that the Shield is more limited in ways it can move. Also gotta remember to brace it to stop it from moving, else momentum can send it flying or right into my face. Don't care to share how I learned that particular tidbit, but at least Chrissy was the only one who saw it. Either way, as I'm never one to waste time, I get some practice in here and now using the curved face of my Shield to play keep up with a rubber ball, albeit with limited success and plenty of help from my Mage Hands.

Ain't like I'm limited to Shield either. If I get good enough with Abjuration Spells, I can learn Warrior's Ward later on down the line and really buff up my defenses. Both the fatty and Sword Saint tanked two Bolts a piece from my Rattlesnake and survived to tell the tale, which speaks volumes to how powerful the Spell really is. Granted, some of that could've been on the Spellcaster, and if he hadn't blocked two Bolts with his sword, I'm pretty sure both of them would've died. Well, I'd bet good money on it at the very least, because while my Rattlesnake ain't the hardest hitting Aetherarm in my arsenal, it's plenty powerful enough, and frighteningly accurate to boot.

…Or at least it was. The Shortsword falls woefully short in comparison. On paper, it got all the same specs, but in practice, they feel worlds apart. Can't quite put words to why that is, though I suppose all those years of dedicated practice might have something to do with it. I doubt a new Rattlesnake would change things, because it's been a long time since Mr. Kalthoff built one from scratch, and while he likes me enough to skirt around the law, I don't think he likes me enough to spend a week or two churning out a hand-crafted Rattlesnake just so I can see how it holds up to the original.

In keeping with the theme of Four Hand Howie, I also practice Spiritual Weapon by Conjuring up a glowing white fireaxe that gets to chopping firewood. It's an impressive sight, as the razor-sharp edge of the construct cleaves through wood like a hot knife through butter without me having to so much as lift a finger. Do have to pay attention though, as I use the back spike to pick up logs and set them down before turning the weapon about and cleaving straight down. Still, I feel downright proud as the labourers I done press ganged into cleaning up their own mess get a good eyeful of me standing around while my glowy white woodaxe churns through a whole stack of logs in 40 minutes flat. Much as I'd love to keep at it, that there was 2 casts of Spiritual Weapon Metamagicked with Extend Duration, and I'd rather not blow through all my Spells in the morning. Then again, after the late night and early morning I've had, I could do with an early afternoon nap, so I cast Spiritual Weapon a third time and get back to work replacing all the firewood them trespassers blew through.

Another debt I ain't calling to collect, which really goes to show how much I've compromised. Don't earn me no gratitude for it, but if anyone complains, the Photos I done took of the mess the workers left behind ought to shut them up right quick. Don't much like the prospect of doing that though. Makes me feel too much like I'm on the back foot, reacting to criticism instead of squashing it out flat. Probably because I am, because my rep is gonna take a big hit when these 'hard working' men head home and tell everyone how the Yellow Devil forced them to work for free under threat of litigation. I'm sure they'll make it sound like they was oh so reasonable, just taking shelter for the night in my glut of properties which I refuse to open up out of sheer greed.

Whatever. I ain't ever been all that concerned about being liked, so it is what it is. I ain't about to accept no half measures either, which is why the first two times them Freight Captains tell me the work is done, I do a quick walk through and point out all the areas they lacking. Like how one group of fools dumped their garbage in a closet full of what used to be clean linens, or another swept literal shit under the rug like I ain't gonna smell it. Only makes things worse for them, as now they gotta wash them linens and carpet too, because I sure as hell ain't gonna do it. Tell them straight up they can leave, but I'll be bringing my case against every last one of them. Well, aside from Gordie and a few others I've noticed going the extra mile, but I don't say as much, because I wouldn't be doing them any favours for it. Fact is, those who didn't trespass are being punished by this too, because they're forced to pick up the slack while their peers clean houses, but that ain't on me. It's on the lawbreakers who done me wrong, and I ain't gonna apologize for it.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Takes more than half the day, but it turns out third time really is the charm. After another walk through, I give the Freight Captains a nod and say, "Good enough. Get gone now."

"So we're good then?" Dumbest asks, as the other two are smart enough to walk away. "No lawsuit or legal action?"

"None against those who helped out and got their name on this list," I say, waving the piece of paper where I done recorded every worker's name. Got Photos to go with it, which was good practice using the Cantrip with only the one hand, and I can cross reference those with the Videos and only go after the labourers who thought themselves too good to lend a hand. Like them ruffians I spotted in the crowd and done already seen on video wreaking havoc in a drunken fervor. If they think I'm even remotely afraid of them like their coworkers are, then they in for a rude awakening.

And from the looks of it, the idiot Freight Captain has put two and two together and knows exactly what I'm planning to do. "You should know," he says, lowering his voice as he leans forward in a conspiratorial manner. "Them fellas you was mad-doggin'? That's Skinny Sam and his crew. They ain't porters like the rest of us. Not really I mean. They got the job, but I wasn't the one who hired them and ain't about to tell them to do shit if you know what I mean."

I kinda do, now that I know to think about it. They're smugglers most like, or enforcers for an outfit smuggling goods in and out of Rimepeak. Probably mob related, now that I think about it, because Skinny Sam did look a touch Sicilian. Besides, it makes sense considering how blatant they were about breaking and entering, even though they'd've probably been better off keeping to the straight and narrow. The stupidity of criminals never fails to amaze me. You'd think someone in the process of committing a crime would want to lay low and avoid catching any attention instead of committing even more unrelated crimes along the way. Only makes sense after all.

Utterly unconcerned by the prospect of facing off against criminal scum who ain't even as organized as the Puglianos, I give the other man a bored look. "If I'm pickin' up what you puttin' down, then that means they connected." he Freight Captain nods and taps his nose, so I continue right on saying, "Then that also means they can afford a good lawyer, because I ain't about to let them or anyone else skate free."

Might be I should just handle things my way if that's the case and find some reason to kill them all here and now. Or, if I can't find one, engineer one, because there ain't nothing wrong with some good old fashioned justified self-defence. No. That's what the old Howie woulda done. The meaner, angrier Howie, a kid who was always spoiling for a fight just to prove to himself and everyone else that he wasn't scared, even though he was. Well, I ain't anymore, so I might as well live and let live. If them thugs wanna come at me from the shadows, then I'll handle them as they come, the same way I done handled every other group of smugglers and hitters that come at me before.

A message I convey in not so many words as I face down against the Freight Captain, only to grimace and remember I'm trying to be nice. Besides, it ain't like this fella has got it in for me, and he even saw fit to warn me, so I ease off and give him a nod of thanks. "Appreciate the heads up," I say, holding out my right hand for a shake only to belatedly remember that it's just a prosthetic. The fella takes it all the same and gives it a good clasp, after awkwardly fumbling a bit since I can't exactly grab his hand back. "What's your name, friend?"

"They call me Rhodey," he replies, flashing a tentative smile before glancing at my list of names to see if he's on it. "Hugh Rhodes is the name my mama gave me."

"Well Rhodey," I say, using the nickname to put his mind at ease, "Sorry for messin' up your day like this. You seen the mess them boys left behind though, so I hope you understand why I couldn't just let it pass."

"Yeah, I get it," he says. "No hard feelings?"

"None from me," I say. "We even stevens. If your boss gives you shit, then you tell him I says I'm happy to set a meeting and set the record straight." Doubt it'll come to pass, or even help all that much, because if Rhodey's boss is right hopping mad, the only person he can really take it out on is Rhodey and them other workers. Whatever though. Seems like a shit gig anyways, carting cargo from the quay to Rimepeak and back for the Federally mandated minimum wage. Them workers spend every other day away from home, and the nights they do make it back, they probably don't get home until late at night. Wonder how many of them porters got kids that are starting to forget their faces, all so they can earn a pittance while the fat cats who own the whole operation are sitting pretty at home.

Ain't for me to right those wrongs though. That's on the workers themselves, which shouldn't be hard seeing how most typically outnumber their bosses by at least 100 to 1. Me, I got a whole bunch of doors and windows what need fixing, as well as a soggy, shit-stained carpet to burn, because I ain't about to keep that. No, I only made the fool wash it out of the sheer principle of the matter, and I ain't shy about showing it either. Put the Grease Spell to good work burning the whole damn mess right on the line for the workers to see, then head on in once its all good and incinerated. The doors and windows can wait, as I done sealed them up already, and I've also used more than two thirds of my daily Aether expenditure. As such, I fix myself up a sandwich or three before settling in for a nap with my best bird Stella, only to be surprised by Frowny when he hops up onto the couch to join in on the cuddle session.

He don't let me cuddle or pet him like Stella does, but he does plant himself on my lap all the same. Maybe he done got used to cuddling with Elodie or something and just wants to steal my warmth, but I'm more than happy to let him as I drift off to blissful, restorative sleep. Not restful however, as I'm plagued by anxious nightmares of everything I need to get done before Spring. Making them repairs, practicing my Spells, and building me a new Automaton prosthetic is only the start of a long list, as there's almost more that needs doing.

Take Gordie for example. If he decides he wants to move out here and we come to some sort of agreement to sell him some property, then that means I'll be burdened with the safety of him and his family. Not legally speaking, as this here is a village rather than a proper Federation Town. Won't have no Sheriff here to keep the peace or Civil Guard to stand atop the non-existent walls should Abby come a calling. While the Rangers do a good enough job keeping Abby contained to the towns themselves, the chances of a band of Ferals slipping past the battlelines to come a raiding all the way up here ain't exactly zero. Got no Nahuatl Priestess of the Faith warding them off no more, or rival Abby to contend with, so I need to come up with a plan to help keep my future neighbours safe and sound.

Especially with the Watershed still lingering over the horizon, and with it the promise of wave after wave of Abby to come a knocking. So far, all I really have is an inkling of an idea to turn the big cavern under the barn into a big old panic bunker, with room enough to all the residents and animals to hide in. Carter's folk too, if the Watershed gets bad enough, because while I don't doubt they can put up a good fight, they can't keep it up day in and day out. Enter the underground bunker, which I'm pretty sure was also used for all manner of Nahuatl Rituals over the years, but I reckon they was more… hedonistic in nature as opposed to sanguinary and sacrificial. Which is gross, but also largely benign, else them Catholic Priests would've sensed and sanctified the cavern too. Then again, it could be they just didn't know it was there, because I sure as shooting didn't tell them. In my defense, they never asked, and it sorta slipped my mind at the time as I was still super broken up over losing Josie. Plus, I myself didn't even explore the cavern until weeks after the fact, so it wasn't like I hid its existence on purpose.

Either way, the cavern will make for a great fallout shelter should the worst come to pass, but I'd also like some sort of defense that doesn't require cramming a bunch of people into a dark and poorly ventilated cavern. Had me a wild pipedream of installing mechanical walls that pop up out of the ground, but that's more of a long-term project which might never come to pass considering what I imagine will be an excessive price tag. Besides, while tall, sturdy walls are great and all, I ain't never been one to stand atop them. No, if an Abby attack comes to the quay, I'd much rather be out on the forest floor drawing the bulk of them away, or running them back and forth while my neighbors gun them down en masse.

I could do towers though. Sturdy sharpshooter platforms that offer some safety from Abby, as well as good sightlines over the entire village and its mostly open layout. I got a whole network of Wards to alert me to intruders already, and I could set up more cameras to show me even more of our surroundings to defend against Abby and outlaws both. More active Wards would probably cost too much to power and maintain unless I do something to funnel Abby into chokepoints. Like build walls that'll ruin the gorgeous views and peaceful ambiance of this quiet lakeside village, a commitment I ain't all that ready to make. Nor will I commit to just yet, not all by my lonesome, because if I'm gonna have at least 38 new neighbours, the least they can do is help pitch in to defend the place.

I ain't being stingy. What I am is cash poor, so I gotta watch my spending for the next little bit. Just until Spring when I can get to earning again, because the last thing I want is to make a trip into New Hope and get gouged by any store big enough to buy the things I'd be selling. Won't come to that if I'm careful though, so the first order of business after waking up from my nap and fixing myself a proper meal is to work out a budget for everything that needs doing before Spring.

It's a long, long list, starting with getting neighbours and putting in defenses before Abby come pouring out of the badlands during the Watershed. I've also gotta go over the notes Mr. Kalthoff gave me to see what he's got to say about my newly acquired Dragunov Rifles. Done some research of my own, and far as I can tell, the SVD makes for a welcome addition to the armoury, but it also has the potential to be even better. Speaking of Aetherarms, I gotta cast and pack a whole slew of cartridges to make up for what I done spent these last few weeks. 22s, 44s, and now 7.62s it looks like, A costly expense, but I already bought most of what I need before leaving town. Hurts my wallet something fierce, and even more knowing I had to leave all that good brass and valuable Aberrtin behind in the badlands, but ain't nothing to be done about it.

Next on the list is all my gear which needs fixing and maintenance, starting with the armoured plate carrier which just barely managed to stop Ao Tian from spilling my guts out. Didn't even notice it in the heat of the moment, so things could've gone a whole lot worse, which is just extra incentive to learn Conjure Armour and encase myself in some magically protective gear. Also gotta Mend a whole host of dents in the wagon, check the saddles and reins for damage, craft ammo for the Big Stick, and wash out the undercarriage to get rid of all the juices from Abby and human corpses.

And maybe most importantly of all? I gotta get me some new and better gear. I wasn't lying when I said Ao Tian almost did me in with a knife and a length of rope, and the only reason I came out ahead was because I had all my gear. Thing is, getting good has always been on the books, but it's just taking longer than expected, so to make up for my failings, I gotta get geared. More mundane armour is a no go, not unless I can get some Mithril half-plate or something, as that'd be light enough not to inhibit my movements. Much as it pains me to say, I also got enough guns now that I'm adding the Dragunov to my loadout. Add in the ammo, grenades, and potions I never leave home without, and I'm pretty much maxed out on the amount of gear I can carry, but that just means I gotta get creative.

Possibly by building a standard Automaton. A simple Skitterbot I can cast Clairvoyance on would make for a great mobile scout, and I could add a Spell Core to really up it's utility. Maybe not a full on Aetherarm, because that would be tricksy to Etch and program, but something simple like a Fog Cloud or Grease would add a fair few tricks to my playbook and free up a Spell slot for other things. I got a few other ideas tumbling around in my head, but that right there is the best one that I can probably get working before heading out in the Spring, so I'll be devoting all my attention to that.

After doing all the other necessary work like crafting a new prosthetic and fixing my wagon of course. Could go on and on listing out all the minor jobs I gotta do, but one I can't skimp out on is prepping materials for Aunty Ray to replace the spent Cards in my Deck of Illusions. The price tag on the ready-made inks and papers was mind boggling to behold, so I picked up the ingredients so I could save a fair bit by preparing it all myself. I know the long and short of it, and I can ask Gunnar, Miss Alice, or Astrid for help, as it's more or less a form of Alchemy. Not so deep into it that you gotta be a pro, but maybe not so simple that anyone can pick up. Won't know until I try though, and the savings were substantial, so I figured worst comes to worst I could always ask Astrid to prep it for me in exchange for lessons on Etching Automatons.

It's something that's gotta be done soon though, because the sooner I get them inks and papers to Aunty Ray, the sooner she can fill out the rest of my deck and get started on her own. The whole reason she made it for me was so that I'd have more options when my backs against the wall, but clearly she can get more use out of it than me. Unlike Tina however, Aunty Ray stuck to her guns and refused to take the Deck, because it was a gift she done made for me and that's that. Even Chrissy refused to take it even though she looked like she really wanted to, and the worst part is you can't really split a Deck among different people. It's fine if you intend to use the Card right quick, but leave it out of the sleeve for more than a day and the Imbued magic will start coming apart at the seams.

Hardly unexpected when you Imbue something onto ink and paper, materials which tend to degrade when exposed to heat and sunlight. That's why it's the Deck of Illusions, not individual cards, because the biggest magic is in the case. A soft leather one, with an inner surface coated in an Imbuement that helps preserve the cards stored within. Since Aunty Ray wouldn't take the deck, giving her a card wouldn't do nothing either, not if she didn't use it right quick, so the best way to see that she's loaded for bear is to supply her with enough materials to make a Deck for herself and Chrissy to boot.

So on top of learning new Spells, Etches, and how to Script, I'm also gonna dabble a little in Alchemy to boot. Doubt I'll ever go so far as to learn how to make proper Potions like Fog Cloud or Gaseous Form, but learning new skills can't ever do you wrong. Folks from the old world like to say that 'a jack of all trades is a master of none', forgetting that the rest of the phrase goes, 'but oftentimes still better than a master of one'. Not to knock specialization, as there's good reason why most militaries swear by it. The Rangers are one of the few who put a strong emphasis on generalization though, requiring enlisted soldiers to have three specializations instead of one, and I don't see why that should stop at Spellslinging.

Course, I may have bitten off more than I can chew, especially since I still got a whole Arcane Grimoire to comb through. This 'gift' from my mother's brother almost cost me my life, but I didn't dare bring it out while I was in town. I'm almost certain there be illegal Spell Formulas inside, so if Sheriff Patel caught wind of that fact, then he'd seize the Spellbook and charge me with possession in two shakes of a lamb's tail. Now that I'm home safe though, I still don't dare crack it open just yet, not until I get a professional Appraisal saying it ain't trapped or Ensorcelled or nothing. Even though I've opened and closed it a fair few times, and seen Jinfeng flip through it right quick, that don't mean it's entirely safe. It's more than just a book after all, as she said it's a Spellcasting Focus, and having felt the pull of its power, I wholeheartedly believe her.

An Arcane Focus is a wonderful thing, a tool no serious Spellslinger will ever go without. Time was, folks used big honking sticks that they called a Staff for no real reason than to sound fancy. Then they switched over to wands, which were smaller, skinnier sticks which just didn't feel as satisfying to hold in hand. Then we progressed our understanding of magic far enough to not really need an Arcane Focus anymore, not for the most part at least. You still see them from time to time, though mostly as jewellery like rings, bracelets, or necklaces. Oftentimes they bear religious imagery or arcane icons, and they mostly help the caster attune to the flows of Aether around them and better carry out their Rituals or whatnot.

An Arcane Focus like this Grimoire though? It most certainly does more. Don't know how a Focus like this is made, only that there's more to the creation process than meets the eye. Its not solely about technique or materials, no more than an Etch is a squiggly line on an Artifact, and is something akin to an Imbuement or Augmentation that makes the Focus more than the sum of its parts. Once completed, these special Arcane Foci can put some extra oomph into a Spellcaster's slinging, though the effect varies. Depending on the Focus in question, it could allow the Caster to Eschew certain Material Components, saving them some pennies every time they cast a Spell. It could also make their Illusions more believable, Enchantments more compelling, Evocations more deadly, or Conjurations more durable. It could also do any number of other things, of which there are too many to list out in the here and now, and unless the instructions are written somewhere inside of the Grimoire itself, I'll have to figure out the effect through trial and error.

I ain't dared to start translating it though, or even do more than glance at the pages. Not just because I'm worried about traps or Spells or whatever, but also because I ain't looking forward to the translation process. It's gonna be a whole ordeal seeing how I ain't really read or spoken Qinese in the better part of four years, and it wasn't like I had a strong grasp of the language to start with. Add in the fact that translation ain't exactly a 1 to 1 equivalent, especially when it comes to highly technically writings like say a Spellbook, and I'm thinking it'll take some doing. No help for it though, as I simply gotta break out my daddy's dictionary and put in the work, even if it's tedious as all heck, and there's no better time or place for a project like this then the dead of winter in a village of one.

Last but not least, I've gotta build me a new prosthetic, as I so emphatically brought up earlier. That's the first course of business I get to once I'm done making my list, and it's a real treat to sit down and feel like I know what I'm doing. I'm thinking I build another cheap prosthetic out of wood and brass, as I hardly got any time with the first one. The whole idea was to use a cheap Automaton so I could learn what I needed without having to break the bank every time I wanted to make a change. Once I got all the basic kinks ironed out and know more about what I need to fix, then I can think about using more expensive materials to craft a better, more fluid, and maybe more durable prosthetic.

Course, that don't mean I can't make any changes just yet. Even got one specific addition in mind as I set to work, namely turning my index finger into a cattle-prod to really mess up someone's day. Soon as I crunch the numbers, I realize I'll need a bigger and more efficient Aetheric Dynamo to power it, so I crunch some more numbers to see how much juice I'll actually need to kill a man should push come to shove.

Go big or go home, that's what I always say. What's the worst that could happen? The bigger, badder Dynamo explodes and takes my handless forearm with it. Big whoop. I'll just add a forearm to my prosthetic, and everything will still be the same even if Wildshape Hand don't upgrade to Wildshape Arm. Then again, when I currently use the Ability, it attaches to my flesh and blood, so if there ain't no flesh and blood forearm there to attach to, will the Wildshaped Hand still appear?

Something to chew on, but not in the moment, as I got far too much on my plate right now. Wasn't planning on making a trip back to New Hope anytime soon, but if I can't restock on food in Rimepeak for cheap, I might have no other choice but to. All the food in the big house went untouched, but I gotta replace the long term provisions which Skinny Sam and the rest plundered while I was gone. Cheapest option would be buying in New Hope, but might be I could restock up in Rimepeak. If I do gotta get back to New Hope though, I need to do a full re-seal on the catamaran before I set sail, a task I add to the list before deciding I should probably also name the ship while I'm at it.

All boats got names after all, though Lord knows I'm terrible at coming up with them, so I've been going with the HIN or Hull Identification Number, a 12-digit serial that was assigned to me. HWZ 14184 H707, that's my catamaran, and it's a real doozie. HWZ is for Hao Wei Zhu, while H707 is the month, year, and model of the ship, with the only real important bits being them 5 numbers in between. If I was a superstitious man, I might well have asked for a different number, because 14184 is all sorts of bad juju. 4 is a homonym for death in Qinese, and 14 is 'certain death'. Course, it's balanced by 18, or 'certain fortune', so I suppose a way of interpreting the numbers is 'Great fortune found within certain death', with an extra emphasis on the death.

Or a more generous interpretation might well be 'great fortune found where others find certain death'. Could also be death and fortune intertwined, meaning I'm bound for trials and tribulations aplenty, but will benefit greatly from them so long as I survive. That last one seems most true of all so far, though I don't put much stock in these things. I just been thinking about them because my daddy used to say stuff like that, and Jinfeng's whole spiel on the Classics of Changes put me in mind of it.

Death don't scare me though. Not mine at least. Only the death of my loved ones. I'll fight tooth and nail to keep it from happening, overturn heaven and earth if I have to. If worst comes to pass however, I ain't no stranger to death. Neither is anyone else on the Frontier, no one over the age of 10 at least. We all done lost plenty along the way, and stand to lose even more as the years pass by, but one thing is for certain. Regardless of what may come, the Frontier will keep on keeping on, so the survivors got no choice but to do the same.

That's why even though I miss my Josie something fierce and would love to see her, our baby, and my parents to boot, I can't go running off into the great beyond just yet. Someday, we'll all be together once again, but until the day comes that I've got no one and nothing left to live for, I will do anything in my power to put off that blissful reunion.

No matter how much I might truly want it.