Firstborn of the Frontier

If New Hope is the crown jewel of the Eastern Front, then Riverrun is the whetstone.

Where New Hope got tall, sturdy stone walls and stately guard towers, Riverrun got a wooden palisade wall. Not even a proper palisade at that, with sharpened logs stuck upright in the dirt. Instead, they used flat wooden planks, which are sturdy enough to be sure, but give the look of a backyard fence as opposed to defensive fortification. They don't even got spikes at the top, just an uneven parapet made from different length planks that serves as crenelations and looks ramshackle as all hell. Ain't all that tall either at a measly six meters high, a height I could probably Jump with a little boost from my Shield and help from a Wildshaped Hand. To make matters worse, the walls are much too far from the pier running alongside the lakeshore or the many, many waterwheels built along the riverbed. Any guards stationed up on the walls can't do much of anything at all if danger should come from the water, as many a resident or visitor learned firsthand when Abby came a crawling out of the lake.

Them shabby defenses be largely due to the fact that New Hope is just across the lake to block the majority of attacks coming out of the Badlands, and the high number of Rangers stationed in and around the area. My daddy helped clear out almost every Proggie in the area outside the one lurking in the lake, so Riverrun's had it pretty safe since their founding more than a decade back. They had the occasional mudkipper or merhound show up every now and then, but never any real raids or concentrated attacks since the Proggie of Lake Last Chance was kept pretty well under wraps. Which is good, because a whole lot of the money earned over in New Hope gets invested here in Riverrun. Not in defenses, but infrastructure, like power grids from those many waterwheels to generate Aetheric energy with minimal crystal expenditure and power the entire town at rock bottom prices. Including the factories that use that cheap Aetheric energy to run machinery 24/7 and pump out guns, gear, ammo, and anything else a man might need in the war against Abby.

Hence the whetstone. Not exactly the most flattering image, but there ain't no denying that Riverrun is an integral part of the Blue Bulwark. Fact is, this town here can produce ammo and ship it anywhere along the Highway or Wayfarer for highly competitive prices. I don't pack my own ammo because it's cheaper, as I don't save much in cash and lose out if you account for time. No, I pack my own ammo because I got trust issues regarding quality control, and you never know if a bullet is bad until you fire it and your gun blows up in your hand.

Now granted, that happens a lot less these days, but not never. As for me, I ain't ever had it happen with a cartridge I hand packed, so I like those odds a whole lot more.

Either way, anything made in Riverrun is typically sold in New Hope, so I ain't ever had much need to visit. Especially since they don't got no mercantile district, or salesfolk at the warehouses looking to cut out the middleman. Believe you me, I've tried to buy ammo supplies in bulk or at least get the name of their supplier so I can contact them directly, but no dice. Would make things a whole lot easier if I could come here instead of New Hope to stock up on what I need, but outside of groceries, there ain't much shopping to do. Doesn't mean there's nothing though, and as I pull up to the dock for my custom's inspection, I turn to Elodie, Astrid, and Chrissy to ask, "Y'all want to go have a look-see around town after we get our paperwork? Got time enough to spare an hour or three to grab a bite to eat."

Despite her fears of towns and strangers, Elodie's curiosity wins out as she nods emphatically as ever, while Chrissy gives me one, big confident nod. As for Astrid, I figured she'd be the most excited of all as she been oohing and ahhing since the walls came into sight. Instead, she's got her hood up and a sheer scarf to cover her face, but it don't do nothing to hide her horns poking out over the conflict etched across her face as she looks to her daddy for permission. No, not permission, but support, because even though she wants to go, she fears for the worst. Gunnar's smile says it all, supportive but sad and conflicted as he gazes upon the apple of his eye and heaves a sigh. Looking at me, he says, "You'll stay with her?"

"Course," I say, as it's a given. "Unless she wanders off, but that's out of my hand." Holding up my left, I add, "Only got the one, and Chrissy's got dibs."

"Me too!" Elodie says, running over to grab my prosthetic in both hands and put herself in between me and Astrid. There ain't nothing mean-spirited about it; Elodie is just staking her claim to my hand and showing Astrid she's willing to fight for it. Then, in a conciliatory gesture, the green-haired girlie stretches out to take Astrid's hand in the other before swinging both arms about the goofiest and most genuine smile you done ever seen.

Gunnar sees it too and shakes his head, but in a good-natured way as he understands Elodie. Understands me too, and while he might have some reservations about his daughter showing too much interest in me, he don't mind too much about Carter's. "Alright," he says, waving us off. "You four head on out. I'll stay here with Harald and get our paperwork seen to. Where're your documents?"

Now my first instinct is to balk at ceding over any amount of authority, as them customs checks ain't nothing to sneeze at. Over in New Hope, don't no one care what you shipping, because if you want to get it to any real buyers, you gotta either take the Highway or the Wayfarer. With the former, there are customs officials working the gates of each and every city, while the latter got Riverrun to handle their business. No point checking a ship twice after all, so it's easy breezy over on the other side where I load up my ship after a shopping trip.

Here in Riverrun though? They inspect every last nook and cranny of ships passing through to make sure you ain't smuggling nothing. Including guns, of which I am carry an inordinate number of, all legal and aboveboard. Just because a Bolt won't do much to a Zombie or Ghoul don't mean it's useless. You just gotta shot a whole lot more of them, and I brought the weapons to do just that. There are also a whole lot of modifications I've made to the ship that could be mistaken as smuggler hidey holes, but is actually to store weapons out of sight so the Longhorn Belle don't turn into the Longhorn Battleship. That said, I shown most everything to Gunnar, so if he thinks he can handle the paperwork, then might be best to leave him to it. He done travelled a whole lot and gotten into far fewer fights, so might be he knows his business better than me.

So I show him the waterproof billfold with all my documents stored right next to the tiller and hand him the keys to my gun locker and storage area under the ship's floor. Or deck. Still ain't used to nautical terms as normally there ain't no cause to use them, but I might as well start now that I got passengers on board. Then, with me and Chrissy leading the way, we head up the dock in a human daisy chain to join the line of people and wagons making their way into town. Get us a fair few looks, but I can't tell if it's because of me or the girls. Chrissy is lovely as the day is bright of course, while Elodie got a natural, sun-kissed beauty that still comes in second to her bright and exuberant personality.

One that ain't on display here today as she glares at everyone who meets her gaze or moves a little to close to our group. I of course try to play peacemaker by offering wan smiles to appease the offended parties, while inwardly smiling at how adorable her emerald green triangle 'whiskers' look when she glares. As for Astrid, she's got herself a sort of regal air that ain't seen much in girls her age. With Josie and Noora, they had a girlish charm to their bouncy movements that exuded youthful energy, but Astrid has a composed and stately buzz about her. It's in the way she moves with grace and purpose, not exactly marching, but sort of gliding forward with even, steady steps while sticking close to Elodie who's sticking close to me. Her shiny black horns add to the effect as they protrude up and out before arcing back like some sort of wild crown, like a Viking helm commissioned for a British noble. Her perfect posture adds to it, and even when she stands perfectly still, there's a deliberate look to it all, not stiff or relaxed, only calm and composed.

Magnetic. That's how I'd describe her. Not necessarily beautiful, even though she is a looker with her neat, straight bangs and cheek length sidelocks that frame her strong Nordic features so well, to say nothing of her straight, waist-length, satin-black hair that almost glimmers in the sunlight. That said, even with her hood up and scarf worn, she's getting more than her fair share of attention despite the stiff competition. And not just because of the horns either, as it's more intrigue and curiosity as opposed to outraged fundies. Course, Astrid can't really tell the difference and wilts before the attention all the same, only she don't back down. Though she sticks close to Elodie and myself, she don't shirk or shy away. Instead, she stands taller and prouder, unashamed of her appearance same as Harald and all but daring anyone to do anything about it.

Which is fine and all, except I can see the glowing golden veins sitting at the surface of her red-skin getting brighter and brighter as she works herself into a lather imagining what might come to pass. Can't be having that, not while we just standing in line, so I get to making small talk as best I can. "What sort of food your dad and brother like?" I ask, and I gotta repeat myself before Astrid hears me. "You know," I add, as she gives me a blank look like I'm speaking in tongues. "So I can plan out where we go."

Shrugging, Astrid replies, "They'll be happy with whatever."

"Alright." And there ends the conversation, as I don't really got more fuel for the fire. Turning to Elodie, I ask, "How about you, Ella-dee? Any requests?"

Shaking her head, Elodie's eyes are fixed on the armed guards overlooking us on the wall. Even though she's excited to see new places, she's much too wary of people because every armed stranger is a possible threat. Which is true, but considering how many people walk around strapped, you can't be on your guard against everyone. For one, that sounds exhausting, and two, folks will think you got reason to be jumpy if you twitch every time they glance your way. Already, the guards are paying us more attention, so I give Elodie's hand a light squeeze with my prosthetic to get her attention. "Hey," I say, soft and gentle as can be. "They just guards here to do their jobs. No need to worry about them."

Can see that Elodie would like to disagree, and it breaks my heart to see it. She's one loud noise away from Shaping in plain sight, and responds to my gentle admonishment by shuffling in even closer to me. Which is counterproductive, because with Chrissy on one arm and Elodie on the other, I got no hands left to draw with besides my Mage Hands. Which I've dismissed since guards don't take kindly to visitors showing up ready to draw.

Luckily for all of us, the guards here in Riverrun are much more professional than the ones over in New Hope. Likely because they station their best and brightest by the docks where they make all their money, whereas across the lake, the New Hope dock guards are more like glorified parking attendants. I get a raised eyebrow when I declare I'm carrying 4 pistols, but one look at the company I keep is all it takes to see that I'm armed appropriately. If anything, I'm under geared seeing how I left my rifles on board so as to not alarm too many folks, as well as the Nagas because they're just too dangerous to use in town. In the same vein, I got Cowie in his Sunday best with a bright yellow kerchief around his neck and a basket full of kiccaws to charm and delight, because a smart man uses every weapon he can.

The animals do a whole lot of heavy lifting convincing the guards I ain't here to make trouble, even though they've had to have read plenty about me in the papers. Don't stop them from being professional though, which I can appreciate after so many months of anxious stare downs across the water. It's almost enough to convince me to come more often, except for the fact that Riverrun ain't built for convenience. Not for the visitors or the people who live here at least. No, it's built for manufacturing, and it shows in its planning. Or lack thereof, if I'm being honest, because we gotta walk past a whole host of warehouses and factories before we get to anything even remotely resembling a residential or market district.

Even then, it's a little bit of both, as in the stores are simply attached to their homes or part and parcel of it. That's the real issue with coming here, as there ain't no one stop for shopping like along the Main Thoroughfare of New Hope. Now I brung the girls out to a place I know has some good eats, but if I want the best coffee and baked goods, I gotta walk another twenty minutes to get to a different residential area where some fella got a little café sunroom built into the side of his house.

Granted, there's food outside by the docks, and plenty of places to cater to other sorts of appetites, but not only is that no place to bring three innocent and impression young ladies, them stores outside the walls ain't subject to Federal laws regarding food safety and sanitation. Least these mom-and-pop restaurants see a food inspection agent once in a blue moon, and many got their kitchens in plain view so there ain't too too much to worry about. Then again, I've eaten in places where I had to use Detect Poison just to be sure the food was properly cooked, so I got an iron stomach that can handle most anything I throw at it.

Again, we get a fair few looks as we mosey on through the bustling industrial town, and again, I got no idea if it's me or the girls attracting all the attention. Which is odd considering most the men are at least twice their ages. That don't stop most from getting a good eyeful though, at least until they catch me glaring. Chrissy pays it no mind, while Astrid does her best to do the same, but Elodie mistakes their admiring gazes for stares of challenge and gives as good as she gets. She ain't no wilting violet, and she's wholly on guard as we stride through the streets with her head on a swivel and jaw set in a scowl. An adorable one at that, which in combination with her long, disheveled locks held in place by a hairband bursting with pink ribbons makes her look as darling as can be.

Really serves as a source of frustration when most laugh her unspoken challenge off and keep walking instead of showing their bellies or whatever it is she thinks the proper response ought to be.

It'll take some doing to get Elodie back to the easy-breezy personality she had when we first met, all too happy to follow me home just because I gave her a bapple. Then again, she might never get that innocence back again, as it done been robbed from her when she watched Josie die right beside her. Must've been hard for her, but in all the months since, I never checked in to see how she was doing. Goes to show how I ain't much of a friend. In my defense, she seemed so normal and happy every time I saw her after the fact. Didn't even notice she was always in animal form, and it took me more than half a year to see the scars she picked up that fateful night.

Now? Now I can't stop seeing them.

It's a miracle Carter ain't beat me to a pulp for letting it happen, and even more of one that him and Miss Amelie trust me with Elodie's safety. That's why I feel compelled to help her recover, and there's no better time to start than now. As we arrive at the family restaurant tacked on the side of Mr. Serrano's house, I leave Cowie and the kiccaws outside with some food before heading in to take a seat at a table. Pulling out a couple bills, I hold them out for Elodie and say, "I'm beat, so you mind going up to the counter with Chrissy and Astrid to order? A chorizo bocadillo with all the fixin's. Oh, and a dozen churros for dessert." Seeing her eyes go wide, I joke, "The churros are for all of us, not just me."

I know that's not why she looks so spooked, as she can pack away as much food as me unlike Tina and Chrissy. No, Elodie don't much like the prospect of having to talk to a stranger, not even to order food, but Mr. Serrano is a sweetheart who wouldn't say boo to a ghost, so she don't got nothing to worry about. She ain't one to say no to a challenge either though, so after chewing her lip for a bit, she heads off with Chrissy only to stop short when she noticed Astrid ain't leaving with her. Instead, the raven-haired girlie takes a seat across from me looking all proper and demure as she shakes her head in silent refusal to go along with.

It's a world of difference from the bright, vibrant, and lively girlie she usually is back home. Guess Elodie ain't the only one with invisible scars, only Astrid ain't brave enough to face her fears. Instead, she pulls a book out and pretends to read while sitting on the edge of her seat both figuratively and literally. Rather than tell her to relax though, I simply show her that she can by relaxing myself. It's an empathy thing Aunty Ray taught me about. Social mirroring is what it's called, wherein you tend to unconsciously imitate another person's body language. They lean in to talk, and 9 times out of 10, you lean in without even thinking about it in order to hear what they got to say. Works with emotions too, in that someone who appears calm and collected will have a calming effect on the people around them. So instead of keeping my head on a swivel or watching the door like a hawk, I have myself a good stretch while watching Elodie and Chrissy out the corner of my eye.

And true to form, Mr. Serrano has picked up on Elodie's nervous cues and is playing the part of calm and placid shopkeeper, just smiling and nodding along while presenting his side to both girls. Don't think he's even doing it on purpose; he just knows how to read people and put them at ease. Chrissy helps too, as she orders off the menu by pointing at the picture of what she'd like, and showing Elodie too while helping her pick.

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All while Astrid looks like she's sitting on needles and ready to bolt at a moment's notice. Gone is the cocky, confident, and curious young alchemist, and in her place is a shy and reticent little girl who looks like she'd rather be anywhere but here. All the excitement has been drowned out by a surging sea of anxiety, one that pulses with the golden glow of her veins shining bright beneath her ruby red skin.

So to try and take her mind off things, I ask, "If Spanish ain't to taste, Mr. Serrano grills up a mean steak and potates. Or you could try the fish stew. It's real creamy with fresh caught bluefangs from the lake. Clams too, and while I ain't one for them usually, he makes them nice and tender with just the perfect amount of chewy."

"Sounds good," Astrid whispers, so quiet I gotta strain to hear it. "When it's almost time to leave, could you help me order three servings of fish stew to go?"

Because she doesn't want to eat here in public, since that'd mean removing her hood and scarf. Don't see what difference that would make. It's not like it hides all her red skin, as she don't even got gloves on to say a full-on mask. Trying the direct approach, I nod and say, "Yeah, I can do that if you'd like. You could too you know? I been eating here since Mr. Serrano opened up. Me and my daddy were among his first customers, alongside Marcus, Uncle Raleigh, and the Marshal too." Even though I been thinking of him as Uncle Teddy again, it don't feel right calling him that out loud, not even amongst friends. This ain't about me and my hangups though. This is about Astrid's, so I give her one last little nudge and say, "Mr. Serrano is good people, and he seen all types, so you got nothin' to worry about."

"That's what they always say," Astrid whispers, unable to meet my eyes as she hides behind the pages of her book. "They're good people, kind folk, wouldn't hurt a fly. Then those good, kind people see me, Harald, or Mama and fly off the handle like expected, but and no one ever seems to understand it. 'Never seen him like that', 'didn't know she had it in her', or 'Wouldn't have guessed they was like that'." Raising her head, she finally meets my eyes with a look that ain't burning with anger, seething with hatred, or even any emotion at all.

Her golden eyes are just… empty. Hollow. Lifeless as can be, because this here is a fact she's long since come to accept. "I have. I did. I would. Everyone has it in them to hate. From the nicest man to the sweetest lady. They just never had a reason to show it, not until they see the personification of the Devil in me or my family. I'm not ashamed of how I look, but I know good and well how people will react, so I'd much rather hide than go through that again." Taking a long, deep breath, she exhales slowly, and I can see it costs her something to ask me again. "So could you please order for me?"

Breaks my heart to see it. With Elodie, at least she's game to take on whatever challenges might come her way. Astrid avoids them, and that there is a distinction that makes for a world of difference. The first is scared, but still sees hope and wonder for the future. The second? She got no hope, no faith in her fellow man and no desire to even try and step out of her comfort zone, because experience has taught her that nothing good will ever come of it.

And the worst part is? I can't honestly say that things ain't all that bad. Because I agree with her. There is darkness in everyone, and the Frontier brought out the worst of it as folks went from a modern-day society to rubbing sticks together to start a fire. Some cling to their contemporary ideals and strive to make them work in this new world we've found ourselves in, while others embrace the feral savagery of lawless chaos. Me, I try to walk the fine line in between both worlds, which mean I seen the best and worst of it all, so I can't fault Astrid for losing faith in humanity.

Because truth is, I don't got much faith in them myself, and ain't nothing like religion to set someone off.

Makes my problems of being yellow in a white world seem small in comparison. "Yeah sure," I say, doing my best to wipe the pity off my face, because that ain't what she wants or needs. No, better to just be a friend and keep being me, a guy who don't care that her skin is red or horns black and just sees her for who she is. A brilliant Alchemist with a thirst for knowledge and a knack for magic that surpasses most. Gesturing at the book, I ask, "What you reading? It's upside down, so I can't see the title."

If she wasn't ruby-red to start with, I get the feeling Astrid would've gone several shades of pink. Does get her veins to glowing in pulses though, a phenomenon made more evident by her hood and scarf as the light reflects off it and illuminates her whole face. "It's 'Structure and Interpretations of Invocations," she says, flipping the book the right way up and showing me the cover even though I done already seen it. "I still don't get this part on Binding Loops and Control Structures."

"Neither do I," I reply, giving her a helpless little shrug. "Danny keeps trying to explain it, and I understand every individual word he uses, but when he puts it all together, it comes out as gobbledegook." That gets me a giggle out of the girlie, and it's good to see her bounce back so quick. Can't help but feel protective of her after all that, and that's on top of my natural tendency to look after every kid on the Frontier. Suppose that's part and parcel of why I went so easy on Ao Tian, who was sentenced pretty quickly and shipped off to a prison camp so they could sweep this whole thing under the rug.

I hope he got some sort of protective custody at the very least. A guard whose job is to look out for him and him alone, or maybe a work duty just for him away from all the other prisoners. Doubt there's many our age in the prison camps, and even if he wasn't Qin, I shudder to think what them prisoners would do to a young, handsome sort like him. Folks make jokes about Federal Pound You in the Ass Prison, and I used to laugh at them, but ever since my run in with that merchant which kicked off the whole kerfuffle with Wayne, Ronald Jackson, and Pleasant Dunes, I just don't find the topic all that funny anymore.

Coming back to the present, I do my best to explain nested commands in multi-Invocation Scripts, but it's a bit like trying to explain Latin grammar to someone who only speaks Qinese. There's no real foundation of understanding, so while the task is far from impossible, it takes a wiser mind than mine to really get the message through. That's why I stick to parroting Danny, and wouldn't you know it, Astrid follows along even better than I can. Don't take long for her to come up with questions I can't understand, much less answer, but she got the book and Danny said it's got everything a person needs to learn how to Script Invocations for a standard Automaton.

Which is what Astrid's trying to learn, as she don't got no missing hand to make up for. Her family got missing digits, but rather than jumping before she learns to walk like me, she's smart enough to know it's best to take things one step at a time.

By now, Elodie and Chrissy have come back with all our food, and the former is looking much more comfortable here in town. She's real friendly with Astrid too, choosing to sit with her instead of cramming in next to me like I expected. Mostly because Elodie don't understand why Astrid ain't eating, and keeps trying to entice her with the paella she ordered. Looks mighty delicious, but there are far too many clams for my taste, though Elodie slurps them up with delight and says they're better cooked than raw.

Probably because she just crunches right through the shells as a sea lion, but I got no idea how she'd shuck clams without hands. Either way, she makes a big show of eating her food and talking it up because she thinks Astrid is just being picky. It's adorable, and neither of us tell her the real reason because we don't want to explain the whole thing and disavow her of the notion that most people are inherently good.

I believe it too. Most folks are decent enough. Thing is, most are also weak and spineless, so when they see evil, they don't do nothing to stop it. Instead, they look away, and to me, that's almost as bad as piling on. Sure you ain't making things worse, but by pretending it ain't happening, you pretty much condoning it all the same. Someone once said that the only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing, and I do what I can to live by that rule.

Doesn't mean righting all wrongs and going on a crusade to change the laws. Could be simple as speaking up, or maybe helping pick someone up off the ground to show them that the world ain't all bad. That's what I'm doing here with Elodie after all, and I see no reason why I shouldn't include Astrid while I'm at it. She might never be comfortable going around town, and truth is, I wouldn't be if I was her. What I might be able to do is reignite a small spark of hope so she don't go through life thinking all of humanity is out to get her.

My chorizo bocadillo is so good, I end up ordering two more for the road alongside Astrid's stews, as well as another dozen churros since Elodie got a sweet tooth to match mine. Mr. Serrano's got a big bright smile as he rings up my order, and when I hand over the cash, he takes my hand and gives me a nod. "Howie," he says, meeting my eyes with warmth and compassion, something I ain't seen much of late. "I read the papers, know about your work." He don't say much more, but his eyes convey the whole story. Pride and fear both, because he seen me grow up and worries for me in the here and now. After starting and stopping a few times, he just shakes my hand and says, "Be safe. Come back again for more stew."

That's all he got, but it means more than he knows. Been at this for months now, and all I seen is criticism in the papers. While folks send me messages about outlaws and criminals, ain't no one tried to shake my hand like Mr. Serrano here, because even though they know it's necessary work, don't no one care to shake hands with a killer. That's because to do so means they gotta accept that they don't have to look away from the wrongs of the world. They just prefer to because they lack the strength and resolve to do anything else.

And while I don't do what I do for the accolades, it's nice to be reminded that not everyone is out to get me either, and doubly so when the reminder comes with extra churros.

Now to be sure, folks like Mr. Serrano are in the minority, as there are a fair few people mad-dogging me in the streets, and even more legging it of right quick when they see me coming. Luckily for them, I ain't sticking around, as fish stew don't reheat well so I'm bringing everyone back to the boat so the Askefjords can have their lunch while it's still hot. Chrissy seems a little sad to end our day's adventure so soon, but Elodie is more than happy to get back on the boat. Interacting with Mr. Serrano went well, but I get the feeling it was still stressful seeing how she kept checking her six to make sure there wasn't anyone sneaking up on her while she ate. Didn't do that before, and truth is, if I didn't know what to look for, I would've blamed it on her Wildshaped forms since most animals tend to feel vulnerable while they eat. Only been half a day, but I'm starting to see just how deep the damage goes and I keep kicking myself for not seeing it sooner.

Doesn't help when she's proven right as she stops short outside of the gates and about thirty meters from where our boat is docked. "Howie," she says as she goes on alert, and I gesture for silence because I long since clocked it too.

"I see it," I say, freeing my hands and linking Chrissy and Elodie together while Astrid looks on in confusion as I lead every to stand behind a line of labourers carting stuff off of their ship. "The three of you stand here a second, then head to the boat or back towards town depending of how things go. Watch for my signal okay?"

Elodie nods, and Chrissy follows suit a half beat later, which only goes to show she's paying attention. I didn't sign any of that, but the ASL is already paying dividends as she's more rooted in reality than ever. Really owe Jinfeng now, but that there is a debt to be cleared some other time. Here and now, I gotta figure out why a bunch of gun-toting thugs be watching me like a hawk from all angles along the dock. And it is me they're watching, as I establish after walking away from the girls and Cowie and seeing every eye stay on me. That's good though, because I can handle myself, and soon as I'm well enough way, I gesture towards the boat and sign for them to set sail asap.

If there's trouble, I don't want them tethered to the docks like sitting ducks. Nor do I want to be fighting from the deck. I made a fair few upgrades, but reinforcing the hull wasn't one of them. Long as they free and clear though, then I can handle business here without a care in the world. In the interest of keeping every eye on me, I touch the charm I since done welded to my belt buckle and Intone, "Lorica – Ex – Nihilo — Adesto!"

While pushing the Spell through the Eschew Somatic Components Metamagic bead, because I'll be damned if I strike a muscle pose in public.

Now granted, there are better Metamagics to use with Conjure Armour. Arcane Deflection to improve the chances of a ricochet. Layered Warding to meld it with my Mage Armour and really buff up both defenses. Hardened Aegis to add an Ablative element to the end result, giving the armour an extra bit of padding that'll chip or shear off and provide that much more protection. Even Extend Duration would be good, though I doubt I'll need the Armour for two hours. Besides the last however, my mama's Metamagic bead bracelet don't got any of those, which only goes to show she also believed that the best defense is a good offense.

For the Shield Spell however, I go through the words and motions both to Extend its duration from 10 to 20 minutes, because that might well make a difference. Might not, but better to have and not need than the other way around. The best part is that under the Accords, casting Spells of a purely defensive nature ain't considered a threatening action, so there's nothing my watchers can legally do except watch me gear up. Course, they don't strike me as law-abiding citizens, not with the way they straighten up and look ready to strike, with a few even putting hand to weapon and giving me all the justification I need to kill them dead.

A year ago, I might well have opened up on them here and now. Better to shoot first, shoot most, and shoot last, then shoot some more when things look like they about to go south, but I'm a changed man. Not necessarily a good man, but still better than I was, which is why I keep my hands clear of my guns as I Conjure up a pair of Third Order Mage Hands under my duster to rest on the handles of both Judges. That one could get me in trouble, seeing how it ain't a purely defensive Spell when I use it, but I get away with it as most of them gangsters all be watching and waiting for their cue.

From someone not on the docks or even behind me towards town, because they ain't glancing around or looking past me. No, they're waiting for orders from someone they can't see, and my stomach drops when I realize where those orders could well be coming from.

Taking a deep breath, I stomp down on the panic and rage as I make a beeline for my boat, where it still be moored. On deck, the girls sit quietly on the side as two thugs watch over them with hands on their weapons. Dead men the both of them if they so much as touched Chrissy, Elodie, or Astrid, but from the looks of things, the three of them are alright. Same goes for Gunnar and Harald, the former of which gives me an apologetic look while another two thugs watch over them, but this ain't on him. They commissioned me to bring the west safely after all, and not the other way around, so it's my fault for leaving them unprotected while expecting the town guard to keep them safe.

Aside from the four thugs, there's another unwelcome passenger aboard my ship who's acting like he owns the place. Ain't the biggest or most intimidating man I ever seen, but he got the look of former military from the way he stands, at parade ease with feet exactly shoulder width apart and hands folded behind his back. Even got a starched collar on his ironed button up worn under his vest and an overcoat draped over both shoulders like a cloak. Stylish that, but it's more on the man than the fashion itself, because if I tried to do the same I'd look like a child trying to stay warm in his daddy's coat. Got a steely gaze to match his air of authority, one that don't shy away as I meet his eyes and promise death to him and everyone he holds dear if he dares to hurt any of my people.

Gives me a look as I approach, then signals to his thugs to stand down when he sees I'm angry, but not spoiling for a fight as I got my Mage Hands in plain view and my Shield settled in behind my back. Even gestures to welcome me aboard my own goddamned ship, which earns him even more style points that I can't help but give him. To make matters worse, I've finally met my match in the art of wielding silence, as he don't utter so much as a peep as I square off against him. Me, I use silence t like a club, let it hang heavy over the heads of my foes and mash it down until they feel compelled to speak. This fella though? He exudes quiet reticence and calm stillness like an untouched cave 500 meters under dark. Soaks it in and drinks it up like a fine wine, luxuriating in it even like he can stand there all day without so much as uttering a peep.

I could too, but he got me at a massive disadvantage. Even if I disregard everyone on shore, I ain't confident I can kill him and his four thugs without collateral damage. That's why he got the girls and the guys on opposite sides guarded by two a piece, so I gotta pick and choose who to save and who to risk. Fucker probably even knows I'd go for the girls first and warned his men about it, meaning the two guarding Harald and Gunnar are probably primed and ready to kill me dead the second I make a move, with the full confidence that I ain't gonna shoot them first.

And they'd be right too, because there ain't no way I'd ever risk Chrissy's life, to say nothing of Elodie or Astrid.

"So," I drawl, breaking the silence and ceding the advantage so we can go about our business. "To whom do I owe the pleasure?"

"Paolo Vigliotti," he says, and his eyes widen ever so slightly when he sees me tilt my head in further question. Ain't ever heard of him, so got no idea why he's here to ruin my day, and he didn't expect that. "I work for the Zampano's."

"Ah," I say with a nod, though I still don't get it. "Didn't know there was bad blood between us. Fact is, I figured on the opposite." Because I took out their biggest rivals last summer, and anyone who knows anything knows it.

"We've raised many a glass to you," Paolo admits, giving me a cheers with a phantom glass and a soft smile that ain't much of one. "Cursed you out a fair few times too, what with that business in Pleasant Dunes and how you keep turning away our shipments at your daddy's docks." Gives a little nod of respect as he says it, like he respects why I do what I do, even if he don't understand it. "Water under the bridge though, until recently when our… affiliates started disappearing en masse."

"Good help is hard to find." But anyone who hires an outlaw shouldn't be surprised when they up and rabbit at the first sign of trouble. Outlaws ain't necessarily the worst of a bad bunch after all; mostly just the ones dumb enough to get caught in the act.

"Especially when someone as accomplished as you has been hunting them without rest." Again, he says it like he giving me kudos, even though he clearly ain't none too happy about it. "So when we heard you were here in town, some of my men thought that you might be coming for them." Shaking he head, he gives me a look, a cold, hard stare I'm well familiar with seeing how I've given out so many of them myself. "Me, I told them 'Couldn't be. He's practically a friend of the Family, so he wouldn't be so stupid as to eat where he shits.'" Patting me on the shoulder with both hands, he clamps down tight and pressed down. Not hard, and not enough to make me strain to stand. He just adding weight to his words as he leans in and asks, "Right?"

Rather than answer right away, I meet his eyes and give him my coldest smile. One to say that he done fucked up, because now I know there be bounties here in town. He sees it and knows I ain't here for them, but that might change in the future. "Paolo," I drawl, and seeing how the corner of his eyes tighten to hear it, I really grind his gears by asking, "You mind if I call you Paolo?" Don't wait for an answer, because I know one ain't coming, so I just continue on with, "I ain't here for no bounty. I just stopped in for a bite to eat on my way down river. Got a long trip ahead, and lotta klicks to cover, so don't have time to spare for sport." Won't always be true though, so maybe next time. That's what I convey through my eyes, and Paolo don't like it much.

But he didn't come here to kill me and mine. He's just here to warn me off, except I was about to leave anyways. He sees as much, can tell by the fact that my story matches up with whatever Gunnar done told him, and now he regrets coming out because he done gave away too much. Not just the outlaws in his midst, but his reluctance to take me out. The Zampanos work out of Riverrun, everyone knows that, which means they're privy to all the stories about me since a whole lot of folks working here live across the pond. They know better than most how many connections I got, and don't want none of that heat coming down on their heads. Granted, I doubt there are many who'd lift a finger to avenge little old me nowadays, not after I done burned so many bridges, but it ain't none.

So I push my luck and flash a grin. "That said, if you know of any outlaws here in town or out and about, then you let me know and I'll see what I can do."

Paolo scoffs. "Yeah right. You got one over on Rossi, but you ain't getting one over on me." Patting my shoulders harder than necessary, he gives me a smile. A genuine one from the looks of things. "You got stones kid. But here's the deal. You don't step on our toes, and we won't crush you underfoot. Clear?"

"Crystal. Before you leave though," I say, turning aside in the man's grasp to look at Chrissy. "Princess, did any of these men here hurt you or anyone else?"

Blinking as she parses the question, the half-second of silence must feel like an eternity to Paolo, who gets to sweating when he realizes my intentions. See, the one things criminals fear most ain't the lawman. What they fear is someone like them, someone who don't give a fuck about the rules and got an axe to grind. The law they can navigate, but I've shown I am not a man to be fucked with, because I'm just crazy enough to take matters into my own hands.

Just ask Ronald Jackson or the Puglianos. Oh wait. You can't.

Luckily for everyone involved, Chrissy shakes her head. Then, in a stunning show of initiative, she points at Paolo and asks, "Bad man?"

Rather than answer for fear of what she might do, I glance over at Paolo, like I'm expecting him to answer for me. Rather than say anything, he smooths my duster and turns to Chrissy with a smile. "Sorry if we scared you Chrissy. We just wanted a word with Howie. We'll get out of your hair now."

Sweet girl that she is, Chrissy takes him at his word and nods. Even waves goodbye as he leaves, and I think the thug is somewhat charmed. Not in a creepy way, which is good for him, but in a fatherly sort of fashion. Hate seeing the human side of criminal filth, because it makes it that much harder to hate them. It's there though, because you can't expect them all to be hateful and irredeemable. Would be a whole lot easier if they were, but no one ever said life was easy. Fact is, nothing in life ever is, but easy or difficult don't change the facts none. Should someone so much as lay a finger on my sorta sister, it don't matter who it might be. I'll put a Bolt through their head and call it a job well done.

The law be damned. Some things, you handle in house, because that's what you do for family.