Somewhere Someplace

After some delay, what was ostensibly a United Company resupply wagon and attached escort made way through the streets of Coastfield, and with rather the speed.

At the supply wagon’s front was yet another wagon or…carriage rather, as well as another directly behind; ten Company soldiers were transported in each, twenty in total. Leading this convoy at its front was rather the muscly stallion upon which was seated a low-ranking Company officer—an ‘ensign’ to be exact. Once out of the city, the convoy was to be joined by four horse-mounted carbineers in order to provide both additional escort and scouting capabilities.

This Company resupply mission was…both a facade yet also legitimate. There was a Company outpost in the Huckleberry Dutchy in need of resupply and reinforcement; even before this sudden…joint-operation of sorts between the United Central Trade Company and the Adventurers’ Guild, this resupply was going to happen; it just so happened to now include two…additional persons.

The lead stallion came to a gentle galloping halt as the Company ensign whistled a pause, having now come to face towards a gate…one which was a part of Coastfield’s outer-wall; one which had been…coopted by the Company for exclusive access and usage.

“[Resupply and regarrisoning; we’re heading to the Dutchy of Huckleberry; priority task]” so answered the ensign well before the approaching gate guard had even asked.

“[Priority? For a resupply of…one supply carriage?]” the guard questioned, slightly confused, for indeed, this did not seem urgent from his point-of-view.

The ensign simply handed the guard a specific piece of paper which detailed rather specific things, the guard’s goggle-obscured eyes…stared as they read.

“[…ah, priority priority it is, then]” the guard remarked, before hailing with his hand, “[Open the gates!]” He handed the paper back to the ensign, “[Good luck with your ‘resupply’]”.

The gates opened; the wagons swiftly recontinued, galloping onto the road beyond Coastfield, the wind blowing as the green…but perhaps ash-contaminated…grass glistened in blow. Having exited the city, it was not long until those four carbineers joined the rest, two flanking off-road in front, two flanking off-road behind. Though, trailing the entire convoy from above…was quite the strange night-blue shadowy corvid—by no means an ordinary animal.

Despite trenches having been dug and artillery placements having been made, the Company’s direct hold over the County of Coastfield in entirety was…not that large. Besides the city and its immediate surrounding periphery, the rest had long been devoured by scavenging vultures.

And the Company ensign…already anticipated…that leaving the now defunct County of Coastfield would be…no simple feat.

-|-

“So yeah… Huckleberry is berry much the mess” thus Novea finally exhaled out in conclusion, all puns intended. Her throat was…clearly no longer happy.

Antica, however, tilted her head. Her brain was still…parsing through all of that information—what she…had paid attention to at least—yet now…it was trying to unravel what Novea even meant to imply by saying ‘berry’ in this context.

Berry was a type of…‘fruit’-thing, not… Had she meant to say ‘very’? But…those were completely different words…

Hmm… ‘very’ and ‘berry’… ‘eirreve’ and ‘eirrebe’ in local tongue… Oh, wait, yes, now she understood it. Huh… rather clever and interesting, indeed… though, utterly irrelevant.

“You are very strange, spy” Antica somewhat…blurted in remark.

This sudden remark ambushed Novea, who blushed immediately; “H-huh? S-says you… pfft, you know the things your profile states about you? Huh? Pfft…” she stated in flustered reply.

“No, I do not. Certainly, spy, tell me, for grace” Antica replied…her voice unserious even if largely hollow.

Novea stared; “Wow…you marched me straight into that one, you’re such a frozen serpent sometimes…” she replied in cordial remark.

Yet all so abruptly, the wagon came to a grinding halt.

Interim

“OI! Halt! Halt! At once!” so imperatively exclaimed a guard of sorts; despite having been seen in advance, his spontaneous shout still seemed to have caught with surprise.

The road ahead was blocked by an improvised gated-checkpoint of sorts, hastily made from wood—yet supported by armored men and pointed steel.

The ensign groaned in an ugh… “[Father’s salvation, already?]” his ughing breaths silently muttered, before raising his hand up high, whistling the convoy to come to an abrupt halt. His white stallion approached closer, as did the guards…who were by no means friendly.

“Ye be attemptin’ to enter these dominions of the Grand County of Warmful Smile! State yer business an’ provide yer clearance for entry to our sovereign’s dominion, or back-turn to whence ye came!” so demanded this guard of sorts.

Typical for these lands, armored in mail and plate—albeit only moderately so—and equipt with a poleaxe of sorts, a sharp one at that. Contrary to the realm’s name, the heraldic device emblazoned upon the chest-piece was, in fact, not a warmful smile—a rather menacing one, indeed.

“And be sure to provide yer clearance for entering the Borderdom and Vice County of Menacing Smile, the liege of which we serve and for whom these roads now be belongin’!” so demandingly specified another guard…

Ah, that would explain it: Menacing Smile, a subordinate vassal realm of Warmful Smile.

The Company ensign ughed; “Can’t you see, we are a supply escort for the United Company! On route to our outpost in the Huckleberry Dutchy! Now step aside!” he reprimanded, “and last I recall, we are still within the recognized boundaries of the County of Coastfield! You have no business being here!”

“Myes, and the last I be recallin’, your company hasn’t any business in our lands neither!” the guard counter reprimanded.

“And our liege in Menacing Smile is the rightful inheritor to this county, in which you be trespassin’!” so rebuked the other guard.

“To the contrary,” the ensign began to explain, “according to the treaties signed more than seventy-five years prior by Warmful Smile, Coastfield, and the majority of the ‘realms’ of this…”—he hesitated—“lovely continent, the United Central Company does have business here… and we have the right of free passage through the signatory sovereignties and their subsidiaries in order to resupply and reinforce Company facilities, outposts, and other sanctioned properties without any need for your… ‘clearances’ ”.

“Ah, and those same treaties said ye wouldn’t be invadin’ and occupyin’ any of the signatory realms, yet…here ye be!” the guard countered, “besides…those treaties be signed with our sovereign, not with the Bordermarsh and Vice Count of Menacing Smile; even if ye had the right of passage in the grand count’s dominion, ye be not havin’ it with Menacing Smile!”

“…” the ensign stared rather the glare; “That…is not how…any of this works and you know it, and I said all of the subsideri—” he was reprimanding, but…

“We be not ‘subsidiaries’, but realms with our ordained rights and privileges! A treaty made with the Grand Count of Warmful Smile only be applyin’ to all vassal realms and titles swearin’ fealty at the moment of signin’, and Menacing Smile be a new title created after your treaty been signed! So, we be not a part of it!” the guard cut him off.

The ensign ughed an even grander ugh. “You claimed your petty count is the rightful ruler of this county? Well, Coastfield is a signatory, and if your liege claims to be Coastfield’s true count, then Coastfield’s treaty with us now applies to him due to the treaty being bounded by title and thus per titular inheritance” thus he stated.

The guards looked at each other before back at him. “Which ye be occupyin’ in violation!” the guard reiterated; “Now enough talk! Provide yer clearance for entry or pay the fee for passage, otherwise return to whence ye came! And be prepared to pay the associated fees and penalties for illegal entry, yer stead’s hooves be touchin’ our liege’s dominion!”

Although on the decline, such ‘border clearances’ and ‘checks’ were a traditional commonality in these lands, and not just for entry between sovereignties, but also for their vassals, their vassals’ vassals, their vassals’ vassals’ vassals, and so forth.

Ostensibly, such was to control the movements of peasants and especially serfs, however… the price of obtaining a clearance pass and the fees associated with entering without one tended to be an important source of revenue. This was especially so for vassal realms and their subordinates…which tended to be...financially… not-so-sound—no thanks to the multi-layered web of ever-compounding feudal obligations and taxes they were so entangled in.

The consequences for being without varied between realms, ranging from a simple passage fee, penalty fines, or…at worst, arrested and potentially sold into slavery, all of which were also a source of revenue. Although, even if one had a clearance pass, they could still occasionally be faced with spontaneous ‘entry taxes’ arbitrarily enacted by the guards—yet another…source of revenue.

However, it was very clear to the ensign that this exaggerated display was no clearance check, but rather an act of intentional hinderance. These guards, and along with the rest of these vulturous realms, were most certainly trying to hinder the Company’s usage of these roads with such…technicalities, no doubt to isolate occupied Coastfield by land… a diplomatic siege in effect.

The ensign groaned; “Enough of this charade! Step aside, now!” he demanded in shout, raising his hand into the air authoritatively, whistling make ready; the soldiers seated on the transport wagons immediately responded, standing up and doing just that; the carbineers reacted in kind, galloping forth to encircle.

“Ha! I dare ye! Show all the thousand realms what ye aliens truly be wantin’!” so taunted the guard; “Ye ain’t be enterin’ without clearance or payin’ the associated fees, in addition to the penalty fines of illegal entry, and…now the fine for threatenin’ our liege’s men-at-arms…which all be amountin’ to…two platinums, and yer purse surely be havin’ more than that!”

“Ludicrous. [Infantry, dismount!]” the ensign ordered.

Interim

“Yep. That sounds like…a clearance check about to turn sour…” Novea, ears snooping, remarked; “Company men sure can’t let go of their pride for one Trinity’s damned moment…” she added with a sigh.

“A… huh? What are these ‘clearances’?” Antica inquired, somewhat curious.

“Y-you don’t?—rightly, you, nevermind—ahem… Border clearances, I’ll explain…later, best I interject before we have an…incident and another bombarded city…” Novea replied, standing up…and fixing her Raven cloak and gear, adjusting her hood; “Anyway, time to have a sweet little…chat; stay here, I’ll be back” she said before hopping out through the covered-wagon’s entry-split.

Antica stared as Novia departed…and whose footsteps she could hear drift away towards the front and towards…

Hmm…from her own ears alone she estimated…five…armored men?

Hmm…her ignited eyes glanced around. She was alone, she comprehended; she might as well…take this time, then, to…do a little test. Surely, they must be bored just overwatching from above.

Her finger moved to within her hood, gently pressing at the communicator-scanner device in her ear, a small cyanic light blinking in response.

« Bí, mandatù novù, scanná numerá-que targettarùm: Quot de novais denizenibos contactais? »

Thus, Antica quietly communicated to her personal sentinel unit, dubbed ‘Bee’.

{S-v-n}

Bee, communication capabilities irreparably impaired, gave a somewhat garbled and glitched reply. Though, she could tell…‘seven’… Hmm…so, she was off by two, then?

« Optimë, et…quot me-com? »

Bee did not reply with its glitched synthetic voice this time, instead it simply bweeped and beep-booped in charming reply—the most common sort of communicative sounds Bee made. Antica, however, was beyond merely attuned to her sentinel; these ostensibly random noises were practically a quasi-language only she could understand… for the most part.

And she could tell from…the patterns in the tone and pitch… ‘two’ and ‘nine’ which put together made ‘twenty-nine’. Twenty Company soldiers, four calvary, three drivers, one officer, and one Novea: twenty-nine.

« Exçellenter façhitù, mí Bí; síc ad príorem regredzí »

She exhaled a light breath…her finger withdrew from her communicator-scanner, the cyanic light fading. She did not need to hold her finger in place onto the device to communicate; there were alternatives such as a single press, voice commands, and such… but this was just what it was set to for now. Though, she will…probably change it to a single press.

Likewise, she did not truly need to ‘test’ her personal sentinel’s functionalities in such a way; she knew Bee was more than capable. Truth be told…deep down within, she just wanted to…interact with them again; it had been…far too long of a short insignificant time.

Interim

The border guards of Menacing Smile…stared…at the Raven now standing before their eyes, utterly unaware that she was even part of this convoy; taken off guard completely, they had been, by her sudden emergence.

“Does this suffice?” Novea’s voice inquired, presenting her own special Guild-exclusive clearance pass which applied to all…recognizing realms.

“Uhm, well… Warmful Smile don’t be recognizin’ yer guild’s special privileges no more—” the now more…cautious guard was replying, but…

“I would appreciate it if you spoke in typical accent.” Novea cut him off, her voice respectful yet wisping with passive malevolence.

The guard snapped shut his mouth, aheming; “Sorry, I will try, but uhm… as decreed by our sovereign, Grand Count Smileburn the Twenty-Sixth, the Grand County of Warmful Smile does not…recognize your guild’s special privileges and exemptions anymore…”

“…and I am supposed to care…why? It is a clearance, no? And besides, if I recall rightly, I overheard you saying we needed clearance for entering the domains of Menancing Smile regardless of exemptions made by the sovereign of Warmful Smile… so, does that not apply to prohibitions, too? Has Menacing Smile…explicitly retracted its own recognition of the Guild’s traditional and inherent clearance privileges?” thus Novea stated rather firmly.

“…” the guard had no reply, his own dubious justifications having been spun back to him.

“I mean, alternatively, we could simply kil—” Novea was about to say, but…

“You can go through, let them pass…” the guard acquiesced, “we don’t want a mark placed on our balls… This’s clearly beyond us if your kind are involved…”

The guards stepped aside and away, the improvised checkpoint now opened and free to pass through.

Novea sighed in relief, stepping away as well.

The Company ensign sighed in much the same; “[Standdown and back as was…]” he ordered with a wave, his men returning to their prior…sitting and doing nothing, the carbineers returning to formation. He then shifted his eyes down to the Raven; “Thanks for that… Quite the reputation I’ve heard, but to see its effects… even when outnumbered” he thanked in remark.

Novea sighed again, though more lightly; “Well, it is not just me but…also what I…what we represent and…can get away with” she remarked, not necessarily delighted; “Anyway, best I return… and also, the next time this happens, just pay them… You were given the coin for that reason, rightly? Don’t fall into their serpent’s trap…”

-||-

Silent. It was largely silent, besides the sounds of clopping hooves and turning wheels. Novea was rather dozed off, it seemed; having spoken quite a lot this single day alone, she was no longer in any mood for conversating; neither was Antica, to be frank.

Thus, there had not been that much discourse between her and Novea for the last…however long it has been.

One hour…two hours…three hours, she did not know. All she knew were these crates, sacks, barrels, and such; that was all she could see.

The greater lands beyond were, quite literally, obscured. No doubt, by now they were beyond Coastfield…now galloping into that terrestrial sea of shadow and unknowns, even though she remained boxed in within this wagon’s covering.

Truth be told, deep down within…her curiosity had only grown. She wanted to know; she wanted to see; though, she could already predict…that such was not so different from what she had already seen.

This continent seemed rather homogenous in its temperate climate and grassy environment, at least according to what she could recall from before.

Indeed, her original point of arrival was more in the ‘central lands’ of this continent. She and her former associate—or ‘Gunslinger’ as the locals most knew her as—had traversed all the way from that region to Coastfield after she had been so ‘rescued’ after that ambush…more than a year-and-a-half ago prior. Yet at that time…she had not been necessarily paying the…same attention to the world as she was now; much was foggy despite being in memory.

Though, thinking about that journey in retrospect, one detail that she had no memory of was…

“OI! Halt in place! In the name of…” so echoed from the world beyond as the wagon… came to a sudden and sharp halt, the Company ensign’s grand ugh reverberating through the air around.

…these rather frequent molestations by these so-called ‘border guards’ for these so-called ‘clearance checks’.

She and Gunslinger had not been heckled once…throughout their entire journey to Coastfield, or at least…she did not…remember being heckled. Did such imply, then, that they had been traversing ‘illegally’ that entire time?

Antica sighed somewhat, “Another one, so it sounds? I thought that…we already…did one…thirty-minutes ago?”

Although Novea already had explained the…details of these ‘clearance checks’ and associated absurdities, Antica was still rather…baffled. Not necessarily in the logic of needing to…control, maintain, and enforce a zone of authority, but…rather in the sheer frequency of these stops and the apparent quantity of such zones of control.

Novea was slow to reply, still rather dozed off. “Huh?” she mumbled, realizing words had been said; “Oh…yeah, seems like it” she finally replied.

“This is very stupid.” Antica bluntly blurted.

Novea let out a humored breath; “You think so now, but just wait until we reach down central and Huckleberry—it’s even worse…believe me, the central realms farthest from the coast are…a lot more traditional…” she said; “I mean, right now, we are about to enter… Treegate, I think? So… which means we are approaching the inner-northern realms… and there’s just so many small sovereignties in this region that it seems excessive, but…once we reach Huckleberry, it’ll be every single vassalized ‘Vice Barony of Blah Blah’ and ‘Sub Vice Barony of Yardy Yar’ ” she explained.

“Thus, I stand correctly: that is very stupid.” Antica…bluntly replied.

Novea giggled lightly; “Well, on the sunny side, once we reach and pass Tinfield, we’ll be entering…fatter and more sovereign-centric realms; so, besides maybe one check, we won’t gallop into anymore as often; as I said before, a lot of realms don’t even practice this anymore, or as…strictly… It’s archaic” she explained.

The wagon convoy finally began to move once again, the road ahead…being somewhat bumpy.

Hmm… ‘Treegate’, was it just said? Antica pondered. Was that…where they were now? Hmm… strange name… Did that mean this locality had many trees in it? She did not know, which irritated her…because she wanted to know… Did this ‘Treegate’ even have any trees? Or was it just another predominantly grassland?

Ugh… would that she were alone, then she could simply use her forearm-attached auxiliary terminal device to observe the world outside from Bee’s visuals…or—much better—from a surveillance automaton—which she did have stored on her person.

She sighed; oh well, there was not much she could do, and there was nothing for her to do, besides dozing off into an empty abyss.

The day had yet to end; it was still the same day. She had not slept the night before due to her…pre-departing preparations. Her bagged cyanic eyes felt…so heavy and strained, burning. Tired…she was rather tired, quite so. She was still not used to…being tired so frequently… Every day, every night…

The solution was rather simple, nevertheless.

Her eyes began to slowly shut…as she retreated into her mind…which itself began to fade. Slowly but surely, slumber’s obscurity took hold…as time began to pass as if a flowing stream.

-||-

Novea stared…eyes peering…at the motionless Antica whose ignited own were closed; still in the position she was prior, albeit…more slouched and…relaxed… napping away, so it seemed.

“H-hello? Don’t mean to…disturb you but…we’ve stopped now and…will likely stop for the day, since…the day is ending… So, you can come out and stretch and…do whatever…” Novea said.

No response, however. Antica was thoroughly gone, so to speak.

Novea…began to peer even closer. She took off her corvid mask as to not accidently…peck Antica. “…and I really believed you…couldn’t get weirder…” she murmured as her potent hazel-amber eyes…simply stared.

For someone such as her, Antica certainly seemed docile as she slept… breaths so faint, hard to even know if she were even alive.

Though, quickly, Novea’s attention shifted…to that…dark-violet hooded-cloak of hers.

Temptations…entered veins. Hypothetically, what if she were to…make a small poke? Just a gentle touch of this…strange hexagonic cloak. Besides, maybe that could wake her up?

Thus, Novea promptly did just that. She gently…cautiously…felt the alien and synthetic material of Antica’s cloak, stroking it; “Yep, it looks strange and…feels even…weirder, what even…is this?” she mumbled in remark.

Her eyes then shifted back to Antica’s face, still half-obscured by that facemask. Although at a distance it looked…like any other black face-covering, now that she was close…it did seem rather…atypical. Though, of course, her attention was at the exposed face. “I’ve…noticed this before, but your skin is…remarkably pale…” she remarked.

New temptations took hold… Hypothetically, what if she were to…make a poke to the cheek…

With a single finger, Novea made ready to do just that…as if a force had possessed her being. Her finger making way, it abruptly froze in place along with she herself, as Novea saw…Antica’s ignited eyes spring wide open, her hand flinching as if about to intercept and twist the would-be poking finger.

“…what are you doing, spy?” so interrogated Antica, eyes staring into Novea’s own and with attention.

“…” Novea swiftly withdrew away, her exposed face turning rather pinkly red. “…s-s-sorry… I-I…” she…nervously apologized, flustered in mind. Though, she quickly calmed, becoming more…firm; “ahem—I was trying to get your attention… You were not…waking up, so… you know…” she stated, still slightly awkward.

“Oh, I give…apologies, then” Antica…apologized, her hand standing down. Her ignited eyes scanned around, noticing…“…I see that it is darker…and that we have stopped…”

Novea nodded; “Yes, it is: day is ending, and we stopped for camp; so, you can step outside, but…try to keep your eyes…obscured when you are close to the others, but…feel free to look around when you aren’t” she stated.

“Of course, that is obvious, but… where are we?” Antica asked.

“Oh…rightly, Rainy Day” Novea answered.

Antica tilted her head; “…rainy day?” she repeated, “I asked where are we, not what…”—she finally realized— “Oh… Rainy Day… that is…”

“Yeah: Rainy Day—anyway, Nil…Antica, maybe you’ve noticed I am…jittery, I’ve been holding something for the last…entire day, sooo I’ll have to leave you… If you choose to wander, stay close to the wagon…and don’t go far, got it?” Novea quickly instructed; indeed, she was…rather fidgety, legs specifically.

“It is gotten” Antica acknowledged.

Novea quickly redonned her corvid mask, exited the wagon, and rapidly made off and away to…wherever minute degree of privacy could be afforded. Denizens had their denizen needs, after all; Ravens were no exception, even if they had skillfully mastered the art of holding it in.

Antica, now alone, simply eyed around… Well, she might as well step out in kind. And thus, she cautiously exited the wagon, stepping out at last…into the nightly world beyond.