Firstborn of the Frontier

Family arguments are always messy, because can't no one hurt you more than family.

That's only part of it though. The other part is the fact that even if they feuding, they're still family in the end. Means that if someone who ain't family tries to step in, then most times, that family is gonna band together against the outsider, no matter who's side they take. That's why my daddy had a strict policy against getting involved in family disputes. Told me he once seen a Deputy go in to arrest a woman brandishing a gun against her husband in broad daylight on public streets. The Deputy snuck up from behind, snatched the gun out of her hand, and wrestled her to the ground, only for the husband to run in and club him right over the back of the head and yelling for her to run. Ugly business that, because even though she'd snapped and was threatening to kill him, she was still his wife and he was gonna protect her.

Ended up in a proper Charlie Foxtrot, which I take to mean is a big old mess. Gun went off, bystander got shot, the Deputy got hurt real bad, and both husband and wife got sent upriver to serve hard time. Ain't no winners in that story, except to say things always get ugly when it's a family conflict. When that family happens to be a notorious bunch of Alchemists with an Innate predisposition for Evocation Magics and a reputation for being so emotionally volatile that their potions will sometimes explode and take a fair few fingers with it, you can bet your bottom dollar that I ain't sticking my nose into that.

Problem is, while I'm more than happy to leave Harald to hash it out with his daddy Gunnar and hear about it after the fact, I didn't come all this way just to pick up my Arcane Grimoire. I'd also like to bring home my order of potions so I don't have to come all this way again. Ain't a long trip, but it's still the better part of 5 hours there and back, time which could be better spent tinkering, scripting, training, or prepping for my trip out West. As such, I got no choice but to hang around Providence and wait for the Askefjord Family argument to die down long enough for me to pick up my potions and be on my merry way.

With eight Vials of Impact Oil burning a hole in my pocket no less. Despite Harald's lackadaisical care in handling explosive potions, I can't bring myself to be so carefree, which is why I take the time to wrap each vial in whatever padding I got. My handkerchiefs, a set of extra socks, a leather change pouch with the contents emptied into a pocket, all this and more get pressganged into padding for them vials which'll likely do next to nothing if I trip over a rock or something. It ain't called Impact Oil for no reason after all, and even though Harald assured me they wasn't Primed and included a formula for the Cantrip needed to do so, I don't love having the vials all loosey goosey like they are.

It's a real head scratcher ain't it? Impact Oil ain't complicated. It's a shock sensitive liquid that'll blow a hole through fifteen feet of solid stone. And that's on impact mind you, just lobbed at the wall without any fancy shenanigans them miners use. I hear they'll drill a hole into the wall instead, then very carefully deposit the vial of Impact Oil before legging it away and detonating the potion from behind hard cover using a striker. Then there's the Rangers, who use Impact Oil in claymores to launch steel balls up to a hundred metres away in a directional arc to shred almost anything to pieces.

It's a beautiful thing, magic and physics coming together to work in perfect harmony and create something so violent and destructive. Never underestimate human ingenuity, as we're always working towards making ourselves more dangerous. One guy sharpened a rock, and another saw that and said, "What if we put the sharp rock on the end of along stick?" Then another guy said, "Great idea, but you know what would be even better? Put smaller sharp rocks on shorter, thinner sticks to launch at our enemies from as far as possible."

And that right there is the history of human warfare right up until the 13th or 14th century when we started using cannons, and even now, bows and arrows see plenty of use. Takes a whole lot more skill to use than an Aetherarm, but they got their upsides. They're pretty quiet for one, meaning you could sweep through the badlands with a band of archers without worrying about waking every Abby within 20 klicks. Lots of Spellslingers learn to infuse arrows with Spells too, by casting said Spell on an arrow and using it to deliver the effects from well beyond their basic range. A trick the European would-be conquerors learned the hard way when they invaded the Americas. Imagine sending an arrow soaring through the air some 200 metres away to erupt into a Fireball that burns everything in a 6-meter radius. Then imagine doing that in tandem with five or six other shooters, who've all had their arrows Imbued by the one Third Order Spellslinger in their midst. Add to this the fact that the Euros didn't know Magic was even a thing back then, and I can see why they learned to hate the locals right quick.

Still weird to think of a world without Magic. As recent as 400 years ago, your average Joe thought Spells were the stuff of children's tales, or worse, witchcraft and heresy of the highest order. Nowadays, it's baked into our every day existence, with magic to keep my food cold, boil my water right quick, and clean my boots of mud and worse with little more than a wave of a hand. Even then, Cantrips didn't see widespread adoption by the masses until the early ninetieth century. I remember seeing a play set in Victorian Britain, round about the early 1800s, and there was this one kid whose job was to shine shoes. For the life of me, I couldn't figure out why anyone would pay to sit there for a few minutes so some kid can scrub their shoes when you could do a better job in the blink of an eye using Prestidigitation. Hell, there are people alive today who don't got no Cantrips to their name, which is just wild. Got all sorts of reasons for it too, none of which makes sense. Don't need nothing to be said of religious taboos, but there's also fear of dependency, like magic makes you soft, or concern of dangers involved like how Aether gonna warp your brain.

I mean, it can, but only if you an Innate with an unfettered line of access to the Immaterium. Ain't ever been a case of an Orthodox Spellslinger getting touched by Aether like that, not unless they get to meddling with physical Aether and doing stuff like snorting or injecting it straight into their bodies. It's all in the Spell Structures, and I been told it's the difference between bringing materials in over a wall to construct the Structure versus bringing them straight through. In the former, you expose yourself slightly, but leave no breech behind, and thus are well protected. With the latter, you got a great big gaping hole in the wall which exposes you to the Immaterium 24/7, and you open up more holes with every Spell Structure you get. That's the difference between Orthodox and Innate, whereas Intuitive is something of an in between, someone with a foot in both worlds, but less exposed than an Innate would be for whatever reason.

Course, that's not to say slinging Spells don't do nothing to you. Magic do change a person over time, with the most extreme modification being whatever it is that makes an Immortal Monarch… not immortal, else they wouldn't die, but rather ageless. Timeless? I dunno what the right word for it is, but Immortal Monarchs got an unlimited natural lifespan, with the oldest recorded being Tian Zi himself who was born about 220 years Before Christ. All the imagery of him makes him look like he's in his mid-thirties, in the prime of life after shedding off all signs of youthful adolescence. Other Immortal Monarchs ran the gamut from youthful teens to wizened elders, and far as anyone can tell, there's no real rhyme or reason as to the discrepancies between the apparent age of Immortal Monarchs. Got nothing to do with the age they 'Transfigured', for lack of a better term, and none ever cared to comment on the matter, so until we get another Immortal Monarch to study and question, then all we got are educated guesses at best.

Either way, it shows that using magic can change you in the long run, even if this particular change only affects a select few. Never aging is a pretty huge benefit, one folks in the pharmaceutical and Alchemical industries have been trying to replicate since before they knew Immortal Monarchs existed. There are even tales of old Tian Zi from what most assume was before his Transfiguration, where he had a whole team of quacks looking into the secrets of Immortality, with their big takeaway being that mercury was the elixir of life. Seeing how drinking mercury would grant you the exact opposite, it's no surprise that old Tian Zi had all them quacks buried alive.

Then again, maybe he would've had more luck recruiting scholars, doctors, and Alchemists if he hadn't killed so many of them after shortly uniting the Qin provinces. Buried or burned them all alive alongside all their books, save for a few select 'scholars' who were really just poets he liked. No idea why, though I imagine it was probably because them other scholars said or wrote something bad about him. That there is an educated guess too, because he done it plenty more times over the years, including in recent memory before he died. For an Immortal Monarch, Tian Zi never really struck me as the smartest guy in the room, and I got no idea why the Qin still worship him.

There are other changes magic can make to a man, ones that come far more readily. Like my Portent, the rustling jimmies which done saved my bacon more times than I care to count. It can even evolve and improve itself with further practice. If I use a Divination Spell often enough, it's said your Portent can trigger off the information given to you by those Spells even if you don't have them going. It shows in my knack for knowing the weight of small objects, like how most 22 bullets are around 2.6 grams, while the one chambered in my Ranger Repeater is a touch overweight due to adding just a hair too much primer. That's due to using the Appraisal Cantrip as often as I can, which also lets me know the quality and composition of familiar materials. Handy when buying the cheapest brass I can find while keeping quality high enough for my liking, or knowing that the Imbued leather I buy from Mr. Wideheim is the best of the best.

There are limitless possibilities, ones I've been hoping to unlock with time, but have had little to no success. I could gain an innate sixth sense for knowing when Abby be around even without Detect Abby going, or an inkling for false walls or hidden rooms thanks to Hidden Objects and Magical Traps, and the same goes for the Locate Spells. There are prospectors who don't need no Spell to know when they close to a mineral vein, or travellers who just know where to dig to get to water underground, and farmers who can sense a weed taking root under the dirt before it's even poking out of the ground.

And that's just what a Spellslinger can get from Divination, one of the more subtle Schools of Magic. Them changes are even more apparent in Transmuters, like Marcus who had individual muscles with more definition than I got on my whole bicep. Most of it was hard work and training, but Transmutation Spells like Bull's Strength, Bear's Endurance, Cat's Grace, and all them other enhancements can change the way your body is shaped. Or how Cowie can go small with his Minify Spell and turn all cute and calf-like instead of a smaller bull like how the Spell is supposed to work. I hear if you use Eagle Eye and Darkvision often enough, you can gain those benefits full time, though there are downsides. With Eagle Eye, overuse can lead to muscle atrophy in your eyes, because you always using the Spell to focus instead of the actual muscles. Means that without the Spell, you're nearsighted and need glasses to see, while extended use of Darkvision can make you hypersensitive to light even long after the Spell ended.

Far as I know, there ain't no way to really pick and choose how the magic changes you. Yeah, using Divination Spells can bring you those benefits I talked about, but so far, I've only really picked up a knack for Appraisal and my Portent Ability. It ain't even guaranteed, as there are professional Diviners out there who don't got a Portent, with the most famous example being Drex Durden, the number one Scout this side of the Divide. He's got some other Ability, something to do with the twin scimitars he favours that makes his every strike dredge up your worst memories and inflict Mental damage with little more than a scratch. Hear tell he's also got that intrinsic Darkvision, as well as a Keen Eye that helps discern a living creature's weaknesses through his Portent, though I feel like most of those are self-evident without need for a Spell.

Don't need no Ability to tell me to shoot something in the head, though I suppose it might've come in handy against the Razorscythe who kept on fighting even after I blew his dome clean off.

As for me? I'd love nothing more than to Awaken more Abilities. You don't even need magic to do it necessarily, as I heard about folks developing fast hands or a keen instinct for parkour with little more than time and practice. Like them Battle Monks of the Republic, who got themselves some defense against the elements and even some form of enhanced natural healing. I hear tell that the greatest Battle Monks don't need to block Bolts like Sword Saints, because they develop Diamond Bodies that can shake off impacts with ease, or Diamond Souls to do the same to Illusions and Enchantments.

And all this? I'm barely scratching the surface of how using magic can change a person, and I could spend hours waxing on about the subject. The Action Surge Ao Tian and that Sword Saint used to strike at hyper fast speeds, Aunty Ray's Hypnotic Gaze which enthralls with a glance, stupid Errol's Lay On Hands ability to ease mental and physical fatigue while fighting off poisons and curses, the list goes on and on and on, with most being all upside and no downside whatsoever. That's the problem with folks who think magic is the devil or whatever. They focus on the negatives, without paying any mind to all the benefits magic can bring you, all so they can keep harping on something they don't much like for no real reason whatsoever.

A thought which becomes rather relevant as I can't help but overhear snippets of the Askefjord family argument. "I respect your dedication to helping mother and other Innates regain their original appearances," Harald says, raising his voice while sounding all prim and proper, "But I. Am not! Ashamed! This is who I am, how I was born, and I see no reason why I should have to change or even hide myself just because it scares some people!"

Yeah. If we talking downsides, Alice, Harald, and Astrid got some of the worst. Not just because they look different. There plenty Innates here in the village who were even more affected, like the bark-skinned giant of a tree-man, or Mr. Thornwick looking all fanged and feral like he do with his big old bug-eyes. In terms of appearance, the Askefjords don't got it all that bad, as their changes are more striking and not at all ugly. Problem is, red skin and black horns is awful close to what most think the devil look like, with the addition of cloven feet which the Askefjords don't got, but folks who believe that sort of thing usually ain't big on critical thinking.

Luck of the draw really. If Christian Devils were depicted as treefolk or bug abominations, then Miss Alice and her kids would be fine and dandy, no different from Tina and Chrissy really. A little exotic in terms of appearance, which might even help them out, but instead, they get death threats just for looking the way they do. Ain't fair, but nothing in life really is. Good to hear Harald's come to terms with his appearance, though I suppose it's easier for him because he ain't ever looked any other way. Miss Alice? She still remembers a time when her hair was blonde and skin as fair as Aunty Ray's, right up until she ate a Spell Core because she thought she needed it to survive all by her lonesome out here on the Frontier.

Got real unlucky Miss Alice did. Not just because her Innate Brand made her look like a devil, but also because the change was so comprehensive. If it was just red skin or black horns, then I don't think as many folks would get all up in arms about it, but put them both together and you got yourself a devil-look-alike. Unfortunate that the one Core was enough to do all that, while others could eat two or three Cores and still look more normal than Miss Alice.

"Howie?" Hearing my name gives me a start, and I fight the urge to duck and hide even though I ain't doing nothing but hanging around out in the open on their front lawn. Gunnar's head pops out from the front door and he waves me over. "Come on in."

Seeing how the argument don't seem over just yet, I ain't all that enthused about joining in, but ain't nothing for it. Once I'm inside, I get my boots off and hat on a hook, but keep my duster on just in case. Won't help all that much in a literal firefight, but it's better than nothing. The living room is so frosty I can almost see the steam coming off of Harald and his mama as they sit together and talk in hushed whispers while Astrid looks on with a subdued pout. A sensitive soul she is, fiery tempered but fiercely devoted to her family. Shows in her arguments about why she ought to come along. Didn't go on about what she could do in a pinch, but how she could help her brother, who got his own quirks just like Chrissy and Elodie.

"Tell him Howie," Gunnar says, throwing me right into the limelight without any warning. "Tell him what strangers will do when they see him for the first time."

Which ain't fair to put me in the hotseat, but probably needs to be said. "Well," I drawl, heaving a sigh as I gather my thoughts. "If you're lucky? They'll stare and avoid you as much as possible. Happens more often than not, as even I get the same treatment sometimes. That's the best-case scenario really, unless you lookin' for information or trying to resupply or somethin'." Harald don't look all that concerned, but it only gets worse from here. "Some folks might want to run you out of town, which can get real hairy if you've a need to be there. Shouldn't be too bad for us, as there ain't nowhere we really gotta stop at short of the Quarantine Zone around the Deadlands. If we do gotta go into town, you could always stay on the ship and out of sight, which might well be safest, but I can see you don't much care for the need."

Even if he don't seem like the type to sightsee, there's a world of difference between choosing to stay on the boat and being forced to.

Taking a deep breath, I feel compelled to say something in my own defense as Harald glares daggers at me and stews in silence. "I don't got nothin' against the way you look Harald, not personally. I'm just tellin' you how it is. Might sound silly comin' from me, but it's best to avoid conflict wherever you can while travelling about. Can't count on the law to come down on your side, because most Sheriffs are gonna favour their constituents over wandering vagabonds, even ones who're in the right. Makes it easier on them in the long run after all, as they gotta live with their neighbours even after we're gone."

"You say it's best to avoid conflict," Harald says, meeting my eyes head on without challenge or shrinking back. "Yet you get into fights more often than not."

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"Yeah," I say with a nod. "So imagine how many more fights I'd get into if I went out lookin' for them." Shaking my head, I explain, "If someone wants to start somethin', I ain't one to back down, but that's my cross to bear. Yours is the fact that there gonna be some folks out there who'll take one look at you and believe it is their God-given duty to put a Bolt through your skull. That right there is a fact, no two ways about it. An ugly fact that I wish wasn't true, but a fact all the same. Again, you ain't gonna be able to count on the law, because some of those folks might wear badges themselves, or will willingly look the other way because like I said, they gotta live with them folks."

Hurts to watch Harald's naïve outlook on life shatter like it do, and even more to see that Astrid already knew and accepted all of this. Guess that's why she's been so against going into town to learn from Danny, who can teach her more about Scripting and Etching Automatons than I ever could. Harald's always got his nose in a book, usually in the close confines of his home or lab, whereas Astrid got that wanderlust I seen in so many others close to my age, a yearning to expand her horizons as it were, one kept in check by her overwhelming fear of strangers because she understands there are gonna be some who want her dead for no real reason than just because.

Makes all my whining and whinging about looking Qinese seem real tame in comparison. At least I know there are others like me out there. Astrid, Harald, and Miss Alice only got each other, and I can only imagine how isolating that must be.

Always thought Harald was a calm and tepid sort, but seeing his veins pulse with a golden glow that lights up the room, I can only imagine the depths of his rage. His face don't show much more than a scowl, but I seen Astrid throw a full on fit and glow less than half that. I ain't done laying it all out though, so in for a penny, in for a pound.

"That'll be the biggest issue we face out on the road," I say, because even though I sympathize with their plight, I need them to understand that the odds are stacked against us. "Say we make it all the way to the Quarantine Zone without having to speak to a single soul, which won't happen, we still got a bunch of red tape to get through. They don't call it the Quarantine Zone for nothin'. It's a whole ring around the Deadlands that's patrolled by no less than four global superpowers, namely the Rangers, the Protectorate, the Chevaliers, and the Knight's Templar. Those are just the major players mind you, as there plenty of minor allies in the area who help out where they can. Means that anyone caught trying to sneak in is gonna be held under suspicion of being controlled by a Mimic, and there ain't no way to be sure you free of their influence. That sort of black mark will follow you around for years, and could well interfere with your ability to secure military contracts moving forward."

"You were planning to go in though," Harald interjects.

"Yeah, after reachin' out to a contact to make sure they can get me in all aboveboard." Giving Harald a look, I add, "I never said I could get you in too, which is why I'm bringin' it up now." Truth is, Edward probably won't think nothing of it, as he's always looking to help other Innates, especially ones who've been affected by their Brands like Harald. Problem is, Edward's idea of helping out is usually to get them a job with the Protectorate, which comes with a handler or two to make sure they ain't gonna act out due to their 'Innate urges'. Truth is, even though Americans got some hangups about Innates, the Brits are even worse. Their love of licensing means most British Innates are pretty much treated like criminals even if they ain't never done nothing wrong, in that they gotta prove they're fine, upstanding citizens rather than being assumed as such from the get go.

Ain't all that different from how the Qin treat their Innates, now that I think about it. Don't much like that comparison, but it's there, and from just what I seen, at least the Qin respect their Innates. The Brits seem to fear their Innates more than anything else, and I don't much like how that colours the way they interact with one another. Edward's a member of the nobility and afforded a number of rights that others can only dream of, but in the end, he's still gotta ask for permission if he wants to go for a walk in the woods, and he ain't allowed to go by his lonesome.

Granted, his family bloodline has produced a whole slew of serial killers, and that's without counting kills carried out during wartime. Far as I know, Edward ain't ever killed no one who didn't deserve it, but that's not the same as saying he ain't never tried. Then again, who am I to judge? At least Edward and his kin got an excuse. Me, I got something different about me that makes me care less about human life than your average joe, and I can't even say it's due to my blood. Most folks can't imagine taking another human life, but me? Most times, I never think twice about it. Fact is, I'm more torn up about putting Cowie's mama out of her misery than gunning down outlaws and criminals, because in my mind, all them other kills was justified. Cowie's mama? She deserved better, as she was just trying to protect her baby from Abby, and there wasn't nothing else I could do for her.

This ain't about me though. This is about Harald and his desire to head west and make a name for himself. Or I dunno. Start his own Alchemical conglomerate or something. Whatever the case, I think it's a bad idea, but I ain't his daddy. Gunnar is, and he shares my opinion, so if he wants me to say something on his behalf, then I owe him at least that much. He's always been good to me and my daddy, and never once tried to scam us on the potions we bought. Tried scamming us in other ways, like passing off quartz as diamond or fool's gold as the real deal, but that was just more incentive to get good with Appraisal.

"I have contacts in the military too," Harald says, hearing what I'm saying but failing to listen. "I am sure they will be happy to let me through once I explain my reasoning. The rising price of Phoenix Ashes is affecting them too, and the higher ups aren't acting because they are being paid to look the other way. Most care little if the government is overcharged, which is why our suppliers have yet to see any legal action against them, but I'm sure the boots on the ground have felt the lack of potions and other supplies."

"That's the other thing," I say. "You're messing with the livelihood of some very rich and very connected people who've already made it crystal clear that they don't much care for the way you look. That tells me there's gonna be trouble once they catch wind of what you doing, and something tells me they ain't inclined to talk things out. I ain't afraid of trouble, but like I said, it's best avoided, so I'm still thinkin' it's best if you stayed home and made do with whatever I can bring back for you." Holding up a hand to forestall his arguments, I continue, "I know it ain't ideal, but life rarely is. Plan for the world we live in, not the one we wish we had."

By the set of his jaw alone, I can already tell Harald ain't about to back down. "If I go through with this trip," he begins, picking his words carefully. "Are you confident in our success?"

Glancing at Gunnar, I can tell he wants me to lie, but I done already accepted Harald's deposit, so I feel like I owe him the truth too. Giving the father an apologetic look, I stifle a sneer as I turn back to the son. "I ain't afraid of no backwater farmers, no matter how rich or connected. Mind you that ain't the same as saying I can get you there and back safe and sound. Got no guarantees for you or anyone else, and anyone who does is lyin'. If we do this though, you listen to what I say and do what I tell you, and I give it a fifty-fifty shot of success. Either we make it back, or we don't. One or the other, no two ways about it."

Hardly my best pitch, but I ain't trying to sell him on the idea of going out there. Harald's made up his mind though, because he's young and optimistic. Taking his mother's hand, he touches his forehead to hers for a long second before turning to his dad. "You've been clear about the downsides," Harald says, looking calm and stoic as can be. "But you've neglected to think on the upsides. If this works, then we'll have secured ourselves a future on the Frontier, with enough money and connections needed to keep ourselves and the people of Providence safe. You won't have to sell your goods on the black market, or scam good people out of their money to fund your research. We'll have enough to build a wall around the village, even expand it and help others who want to live here among like-minded folks but can't afford the travel expenses." Standing up, he squares off against his father and says, "You always said you never meant to do any of this, create a safe place for Innates to live, but you did, and I want to expand and improve upon it. This is how we do it. We become suppliers of Pheonix Ashes and Impact Oil both, in quantities large enough that the Federal Government takes notice and offers us the same protections the give to Aultman and Sons."

Who I assume are the current suppliers of Pheonix Ashes. Name sounds familiar, though I can't quite place it. Probably read it in the papers or something. No matter. They're still farmers in the end, and while I got a healthy respect for folk who spend all the livelong day toiling beneath the sun outside of city walls, and even more respect for these particular ones who work in the Deadlands, I ain't none too fussed about going up against them. Not by my lonesome at least. Having one burden to take care of ain't ideal, but worst comes to worst, I can stow Harald in the ship's hold, then the wagon confines until it comes time for him to see what he needs to see. Won't be pleasant, but I made no promises with regards to fun or freedom on this trip out West.

At least it sounds like Harald got noble intentions for risking his hide. It's for money, but he wants to use the money for a good cause. Almost makes me feel bad for not wanting the same, but I got enough bills as it is keeping myself afloat, so I ain't about to take on the burdens of a whole village. Harald though? He got the drive to do stuff for others outside of his family, and I envy him that. My daddy had the drive too, but me? I couldn't care less what happens to most outside of me and mine. If Clayton, Carter, or Gunnar came to me to ask for help against an Abby attack, I'd be more than happy to join the fight, but if they asked for money, materials, or labour to help build a wall? I'd probably think twice about it.

My daddy though? So long as he didn't have more pressing matters to deal with, like a Ranger mission or missing children? He'd roll up his sleeves and get right to work. That's the biggest difference between him and me. I show up with a smile and disappear just as quick, while he'd wear the same sour expression all the livelong day and work harder than anyone else without asking for a thing in return.

I can almost see Gunnar thinking the same, because my daddy would've folded and done his best to convince Harald otherwise. Me, I think he should stay home, and said as much, but the way I see it, this is his life and his decision to make. A fact Gunnar eventually accepts, because he knows his boy ain't one to back down once he got an idea in his head. "You're dead set on making this trip regardless of what I say?" he asks, and credit where it's due, Harald nods all matter of fact without even thinking about trying to cover it up. "Alright then. We'll head west with Howie."

Too caught up in his apparent victory, Harald don't catch the twist. I most certainly do though. "We?" I ask, making a face like I done just been served a mushroom stew.

"Yeah," Gunnar replies. "Me, Harald, and Astrid." Doesn't give me a chance to object either, just talks right over Astrid's joyous squeals as she runs over to give her daddy a hug. "Don't argue. If you're fine with bringing Harald, then you should be fine with Astrid. She's got a better head on her shoulders and I'll make sure she listens to whatever you tell her."

"Not to make light of your skills Gunnar," I begin, even though that's exactly what I'm about to do. "But well-travelled as you are, you ain't much help in a fight."

"Then you best work hard to avoid one," he replies, taking no offense whatsoever. "I'm not gonna pretend I'm some hard-bitten mercenary, but I can at least help out on that front. I am a Transmuter after all." Waving a hand in front of his face, his appearance shifts from a scraggly, balding middle-aged man with wispy locks of hair to a veritable adonis of a gentleman. Granted, one wearing the same threadbare rags he always does, but if I didn't watch it happen, I wouldn't have even suspected this was Gunnar in front of me.

Even after studying his new face for a good long while, I can't see nothing that gives his disguise away. It all comes together perfectly, with symmetrical features all around that fit around a bone structure that's vastly different from the original, yet don't look out of place atop his neck at all. "You know," I drawl, shaking my head in admiration, "I always figured Enchanters, Illusionists, and Conjurors for the tricksiest of the bunch, but now I'm thinking Transmuters ought to move up the list."

As if I didn't have enough trust issues already… now I gotta wonder if everyone I meet is wearing their real face, and not just one covered in Makeup.

Gunnar smiles, then goes back to his normal face. "Let's just say I know a thing or two about avoiding a fight." Frowning, he adds, "More than you at least, so how about this? On our way west, you let me be the face, and only step in if things get ugly. Sound good?"

My first instinct is to bristle at course, because it sounds like he don't trust me to handle my business. Course, my next thought is that he done finessed me well, because my issue should've been about the two extra passengers I done been saddled with. He ain't no Aunty Ray, who can smile, bat her baby blues, and pretty much talk her way out of anything without promising nothing, but Gunnar knows how to talk to people. Given my horrendous track record when it comes to meeting strangers, I suppose there ain't no harm in letting someone else take the lead for once.

Who knows? Might be I even get through the whole trip without having to kill anyone for once. Wouldn't that be something? If the only time I ever drew my guns was against Abby…

"It won't be a comfortable trip," I say, still none too pleased about any of this, but the price is too good to pass up. I'd do it for the eight vials of Impact Oil alone, to say nothing of more later on down the line. "And I expect you to supply your own potions. The ones I bought are all for me." Getting one last thing out of the way, I look Gunnar in the eyes, then glance at Harald, Astrid, and finally Miss Alice. "Pack plenty, because like I said, I can't make no guarantees. I'm damn good at what I do, but protection ain't a part of it." Don't know what it is Miss Alice sees in my eyes, but her golden pupils soften to see it even though she's worried for her family. I can tell she wants to come along with, but is holding back because she don't want to add to our burdens. If Gunnar could cast his Spell to change her features, then he'd have done it every time they went into town, but I'm guessing Alter Self can only be cast on yourself.

Which makes sense, seeing how it's called Alter Self, but in my defense, a lot of Spells got stupid names that don't really make sense. Like Fireball. It should really be something like Flamestrike, because that's closer to what it do, but that's neither here nor there.

We talk a little more about expectations, but I don't got all that much to say just yet. Harald sprung this on me without much warning, so I gotta think on what to expect. Gunnar knows the score well enough though, and I can rely on him to prepare well enough. Even has his own guns and says Harald and Astrid know enough, but I've always been one to trust but verify. As such, we make an appointment for some training before we leave, and I head on out the village with all my potions in hand and a growing stack of worries weighing heavy on my shoulders.

That's why it's a welcome relief to cross paths with Elodie and Old Tux on my way home, as they both thundering down the well-worn paths with what looks like Carter and Raya, the ugliest damn horsie I done ever did see. In stark contrast, Elodie is the cutest darn pony, mostly because she gets to prancing all about on her coltish legs when she sees us. Can't help but give in to her unspoken demands that I follow her on home to the compound, especially when Carter gives me a nudge to say "Just go along with it."

Got no real pressing matters waiting for me back at the quay, nothing but some Scripting and Etches really, so I pop on into the compound for a hot mug of tea served up fresh by Miss Amelie while the others change forms and get dressed. "Elodie tells me you are headed West for the Deadlands," she begins, cutting right to the heart of the matter without any preamble as we sit on the mat across from one another. "From the sound of things, you are well informed of the dangers of the Soulless."

"This about what Elodie overheard during dinner?" I ask, giving her my most contrite expression. "Sorry about that. Aunty Ray was just worried and wanted to make sure I knew what I was up against, so she forgot Chrissy and Elodie were there with us. Hope it didn't scare her too much."

Smiling, Miss Amelie shakes her head. "Elodie has heard far worse. Some things are best left unsaid, while others must be told so that one might prepare for them." Makes sense, so I nod along and sip my tea because I don't know how to respond. Lucky for me, Miss Amelie don't expect one, and Elodie's arrival helps negate the awkward silence that's fallen upon us. Girl's awful well behaved in front of her mama, taking a seat on the ground next to her instead of sidling up next to me like she would if we was at the quay. "That said," Miss Amelie continues, smiling at her daughter beside her, "I believe it is time she faced some of those dangers herself, as she is soon to be a woman grown and no longer fit to be kept hidden from the world."

I disagree, cause if Elodie was my daughter, I'd hide her away for the rest of her life. She's too sweet, too kind, too pure to be sullied by the world we live in, and I'd do anything to keep her that way. Seeing my nonverbal disagreement, Miss Amelie smiles and says, "Yes, my husband feels much the same, but that is the way of men. Too often they forget that their job is to protect their womenfolk, not dictate how we live our lives."

I already got an inkling of where this is going, and I don't like it much. Like it even less as a sour-faced Carter steps into the room and looms over me from the side, just in my peripherals so I know that he's there, but not enough to see what he's doing. It's probably not on purpose, but then again, it might well be seeing how he done lost the argument with his wife and is laying all his hopes on me. Miss Amelie don't give me a chance though, as she simply frames it as if the choice has been made. "Elodie will accompany you on your journey west," she says, and Lord help me, the green-eyed girlie beams to hear it as she squirms in her seat. "She knows some of the Holy Way to help ward off the Soulless, and will learn more before she leaves, but in order to progress, she must put first put that knowledge to use."

"I appreciate the thought," I begin, all too aware of Carter's low, barely perceptible growl. "But it ain't as cut and dry as you think." Telling them all about the job I took on with Harald and co, I do my best to make it sound much more dangerous than I expect it will be. "So yeah," I conclude, after giving it all and getting nothing out of Miss Amelie besides her calm smile. "Things might get complicated, so maybe we ought to put a pin in this."

"This changes nothing," Miss Amelie says, glancing over at Elodie with a fond smile. "My daughter is stronger than you, her father, or even she herself believes, so I say it is time she learned this for herself." Turning back to me, she shows a small crack in her facade, one that says she ain't as reassured as she appears. "I understand the dangers of the Frontier, and place no obligation upon you. I only ask that you guide her and do what you can to see her home safe. She must see the world for herself, the world in its entirety. She has seen too much evil and has become blind to its beauty. There will be danger yes, but wonders too, and I hope that she can learn this for herself."

I only have a few more arguments, like how it'll be cramped on the boat and I'll be distracted looking after the Askefjords, but Miss Amelie is adamant in her decision and Carter wholly silent save for his quiet, rumbling growls. Eventually, I got no choice but to give in and accept, because truth is, I do want to help Elodie too. I saw how scared she was over labourers at the quay, and that ain't right. Yeah, she should be worried about strangers, especially armed ones, but that don't mean she ought to live her life in fear of them.

Ain't until I'm almost home that I realize there's another problem to deal with. Now that Elodie is coming along, there's a good chance Chrissy won't back down on her decision to come along. Regardless of what we told her about this not being a leisure trip, Chrissy's caught the travel bug and will sulk for weeks if I bring Elodie out on trip but leave her at home. Which again, brings up the issue of getting into the Deadlands, but here's hoping Edward pulls through.

So distracted by my concerns, I almost miss seeing the gangster waiting for me at the docks. Rather than inattention, I simply play it off as a lack of concern as I mosey on up to Revolvers Rossi to see what he's got to say. "Got another name for you," he says, but he don't hand nothing over. "You'll find it the same place as the last package." Meaning under Donna's welcome mat, which ain't at the very end of the quay, but ain't all that close to the big house either, so small chance of me accidentally shooting the messenger as he delivers it. "Little hitch with this one," Rossi continues, all professional like. "This one is unofficial."

Meaning no Federal bounty I take it, and I bristle to hear it. "He's still a scumbag," Rossi says. "I'd do him in myself, but it's complicated. Best to leave it to a third party."

"I ain't no hired hitter," I say.

Rather than argue the facts, Rossi simply sticks to them. "You owe us," he says. "The idea of giving you names was to make the other outfits think you threw in with us. That'd give us leverage against them during negotiations, except you went and killed one of ours on your way out." Rossi gives me a look that's almost like a shrug. "No real loss with the Pick Peckers and no hard feelings, but that puts us back to square one. Either you settle up, or we settle up with you."

He lets that hang in the air for a bit, then tries for the carrot again. "Target is no different from the other low-lives you killed while taking bounties," he says, before sweetening the deal with, "To make up for your losses, we'll pay out a bounty ourselves, say two c-notes?"

"Ain't about the money," I drawl, though $200 sounds mighty tempting after a whole slew of $50 bottom of the barrel bounties. "It's the principle of the matter. And the fact that I gotta live with the repercussions of my actions. I ain't no sneak thief or silent killer, so anything I do has gotta be clean and within reason."

"It will be," Rossi says. "Read the package. The target fits your criteria, so do like you've done before and turn on your charms until he goes for his gun. Then all you gotta do is shoot him before he shoots you." Says it like it's no big thing, and truth is, it ain't, not really. He knows the score same as me, because we both been through it often enough. "Won't interfere with your trip out west either," he adds, as he turns away to leave. "Fact is, you'll run into him along the way, so handle it and we're squared."

Or don't, and he's gonna come after me. That's the implication, one he don't press on as he saunters off all calm and confident as can be. Truth is, I'm a little tempted to welcome the fight, because even if he don't got no bounty on his head, he does have four revolvers I would love to claim for myself. Passed on my chance for my own Kalthoff original, but I could claim four if I just put a Bolt in Rossi. Rather than make a decision outright, I head on home to think things through and wonder how a simple trip to the Deadlands could have ever gotten so damned complicated.

One problem at a time though. Rossi and the Catteneos are high on the list, but they ain't my biggest issue and I'd like to keep it that way. First off, I gotta tell Aunty Ray what went down and work with her to find some way to let Chrissy down easy. Ain't looking forward to that, because for the first time ever, Chrissy can do something she ain't never done before, something I dread to even think about.

Because much as I love that she's communicating with us through ASL, that also means she can finally tell me how she really feels, and I don't think my heart could handle it if she were to ever say that she hates me.