What the sentry had neglected to tell Kaius was that the person he was looking for lived on burial grounds. It was a barbaric practice, burying the dead so they could rot underground. A pre-warp era custom that had fallen out of favor centuries ago.

The trek was hardly difficult, but something about the moldy headstones and the dark tombs struck him the wrong way. Kaius was no stranger to death, he had faced it head first a hundred times before. But to see it displayed in such a way was unnerving.

In the middle of the field of graves was a two-story building with a slanted roof.

Dead leaves crunched underfoot as Kaius made his way over to the house. As he climbed up the porch steps, Kaius caught wind of a familiar scent. Solsteel. Oil. The distinct odor of machinery.

Valuable commodities in a backwater like Yularia. However, with no major refineries for alloys or oil, the bulk of processed goods were imported from more developed systems at cutthroat prices. As such, the monarch held a tight grip on the distribution of resources. They would be stashed in the vaults of wealthy merchants or aristocrats, not in the hovels of gravekeepers.

Kaius rapped lightly on the door.

No response.

He frowned, putting more force behind his knocks.

The sound of a snapped twig spun Kaius around immediately, his hands falling to his hip holsters by instinct.

A spindly woman with a dome of greasy black hair stared at him, her eyes sunken and haunted. She wore a bland, dark smock, shapeless as a sack. Slung over her shoulder was a brace of rabbits, and on the other a dated beam rifle.

“I need a room,” Kaius said, cutting to the chase. “Preferably two, and I’m willing to let you set the rate as long as I deem it reasonable.”

The woman raised an eyebrow. “Well nice to meet you too,” she said. “My name is Versepara, but you can call me Verse.”

Kaius scowled. “Does it matter?”

“Yes,” she said, pushing past Kaius. “I don’t rent rooms to nameless strangers.”

“Even if I pay extra?”

Verse set the rifle down and leaned against the door. “Even if you pay extra,” she affirmed coldly.

His scowl deepend. “Kaius.”

“Well met, Kaius,” she said. “It’s not very often we get offworlders here.

“Your accent places you around. . . the Torval System. One of the core planets, but you could also be from a colony,” she said, lifting her chin at Kaius. “I’m close though, no?”

Kaius looked up at Verse with mild surprise. “You’ve been to Torval?”

“Only once,” she said, her gaze growing distant. “And I didn’t stay very long.”

He scratched the side of his face. “So you travel often?”

“As of late, not very often,” she admitted. “It's. . . complicated. Just had to get away from it all for a while."

He nodded. As much as he despised the backwater planet, he had to admit it was the perfect place to disappear to.

“But,” he said, meeting her gaze, “I didn’t come here to discuss my homeworld.”

“No, I suppose you didn’t,” she sighed. “You need somewhere to stay, none of the fools down there are willing to host a stranger. So they sent you to me, the witch living among the dead.”

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Kaius nodded.

Verse shrugged. “You're welcome to stay a night or two,” she said, holding up her palm, “on the condition your pistols stay with me.”

Kaius gave Verse a loaded glare as he peeled off his weapons belt. “I want these back,” he said in a low voice before kicking the belt over to her. It wasn’t very often that he was separated from his pistols. Without them, he felt. . . exposed.

“Naturally,” she said, scooping the belt up from the floor.

. . .

The scent of machinery was even stronger inside. Kaius strode through the living quarters, inspecting the piles of scrap and frayed wires. Uncut plates of Solsteel were heaped on kitchen counters, vials of mysterious liquids cluttered the shelves, and canisters of gas were stacked haphazardly under the dining room table. The workshop of a craftsman, he noted, a particularly unorganized one.

He was also pleased to note the crystal lamps distributed evenly around the room. The crystals were much better for light than Yularian candles. “You and your friends can stay up on the second floor,” Verse said, sinking into a sofa by the door. “It’s clean, relatively.”

Kaius only nodded as she began fiddling with one of his pistols.

“What are you doing?”

“I don’t recognize this model,” she muttered.

“Of course you won’t,” Kaius said flatly. “Prototype model, first of its kind. And the only one of its kind.”

Verse looked intrigued. “It resembles a modern laserarm, but lacks a magazine port.”

Kaius cracked a small grin. “That’s the thing, it doesn’t need one. It absorbs the particles around it and converts it into pure energy.”

Verse frowned. “Technology like that would-”

“Revolutionize war,” Kaius interrupted, his grin melting away. “Probably why the manufacturer never made another one.” He stepped closer. “Granted, it’s hardly perfect, overheats twice as fast as an ordinary beam pistol. But imagine, the same technique used on artillery of larger scale. It could devastate galaxies. ”

“Indeed,” the woman said, raising the pistol for closer inspection. “Then perhaps it’s for the better that such technology remains hidden away.”

Kaius nodded slowly.

A smile began to form on Verse’s lips. “I didn’t have you pegged as the talkative type at first,” she said, rising from her sofa. “You’re an interesting man, Kaius.”

Kaius froze, then looked away, hoping to hide the blush threatening to engulf his face. Odd, he wasn’t usually so talkative, especially with strange women living in strange places.

She sighed. “You’d be a lot more pleasant if you got rid of that phony exterior. Dark and edgy isn’t nearly as popular as you think.”

“And you’d be a lot more pleasant if you’d kindly shut up,” Kaius said, imitating her. “You’re not the only one who can make jokes.”

“Mimicry is hardly humor,” she said, sauntering over to the kitchen counter. “Care for a drink?” she asked, grabbing a pitcher filled with thick blue sludge. “It’s freshly squeezed.”

Kaius raised an eyebrow. “Squeezed from what?”

Verse poured herself a cup. “Secret.”

“In that case,” Kaius said, “I’m good.”

“Suit yourself,” she shrugged, swigging the cup down in a single gulp.

“That. . .” Kaius trailed off, “looks disgusting.”

She shrugged, and then poured herself another cup. “It’s not so bad once you get past the appearance, it's very nutritious too, lots of bugs and herbs.”

“Disgusting,” Kaius insisted. “Bugs? Only savages from underdeveloped regions eat them.”

“You’d be surprised,” she said, pouring a second cup. “The High Council of Torval considers Aguntha slug worms a delicacy. If those high and mighty prisses can stuff with their faces with bugs then so can you.”

Kaius grunted before reluctantly taking a cup. “This can’t possibly. . .” he said, taking a sip, “be good. . .”

Red Warden blaze him. It was good. Despite its thick texture, the sludge went down smoothly. The overwhelming sweetness of chadcai fruits, mixed well with the bitterness of the infused herbs.”

Verse stuck out her chest and lifted her chin. “Told you it’d be good,” she said with a toothy grin. “I’m something of an amatuer mixologist.”

At a knock, Verse and Kaius looked up at the door. Sigil let herself through the door, followed closely by Aria. “We’ve got a problem,” Sigil said. “Well, the villagers do at least.”

Verse frowned and stepped up beside Kaius. “You can’t just be letting yourselves into-”

Sigil held up her palm. “We can work out pleasantries later,” she said. “But you need to come to see this.”

Outside, the sun was setting below the horizon, and a plume of smoke snaked across the orange sky.