The Sabletown delegates stated that in their opinion, there were two reasons they were treating Skyhold as equals. The first was that Skyhold had slain the Guardian Avatar, and the second was that June seemed to have a personal interest in their development. The mayor’s intention would be honored. But it seemed to be a difficult sell, as the cultivators gave the impression of having to force themselves to be polite.
Sabletown’s attitude was lighting a competitive fire under the collective asses of the top brass. If Hunter gave up his leadership role in this project, he’d be making a statement that the company’s leadership wasn’t intending to make.
All he could do was show up and learn as much as he can, as well as show Skyhold’s own domain of mastery. Hunter made the tough decision to reduce the artisans’ role in this project. Constructs were useful, but Skyhold’s mastery of physics was its greatest strength and most valuable asset to share.
The problem was, Hunter knew little about conventional physics and engineering. For that, he put his leadership modules into practice.
Hunter delegated.
----------------------------------------
Guard Captain Syler Hastham had gotten his assignment at the last minute. His job would be to escort young master Koar while he and the eggheads from both settlements band together to eliminate all races of the parasitic fungus from Skyhold.
The thought of being anywhere near that stuff was disturbing, but he wouldn’t complain. His job often took him places where he didn’t want to be, and doing things he didn’t want to do. Most of the time, it was for a good cause.
Hunter beamed at him, delighted by his arrival. Syler appreciated spending time with the Oberon heir. The boy had grown stronger and more confident, embodying the character that many would come to expect from the heir to a Council-level corporation.
Hunter wasn’t like Aera, nor was he like Trey. The daughter took after her father in a way, which Syler had seen Trey foster.
Ruthlessness, measured by a growing appreciation for Trey’s favourite word: integrity. Syler had his own phrase for it; he called it being a good person.
Being virtuous seemed like an unachievable feat for anyone, so acknowledging selfishness was the best course of action. Instead of denying their nature, they ought to embrace and channel it towards the betterment of themselves and others.
Understanding and integration. That was how one mastered themselves. By understanding himself, he could also understand others. Knowing what his enemy thought was as simple as knowing what he would think in their situation.
So knowing how much of a coward and a bastard he could be was a point of pride. A wise man once said that it’s impossible to change something that isn’t true. Therefore, if he wanted to improve himself, he needed to know who he was. If he wants to defeat people who were smarter and stronger than him, he needed to understand them as best he could, and adapt.
That explained why Trey had kept a Council seat during such turmoil, and why the Council had condemned him and his corporation. Trey had learned how to transcend himself. Something that most Council Seats couldn’t claim for themselves. He figured it made Trey able to act with genuine compassion and care where others wouldn’t even consider it.
Syler was seeing the same traits budding in Aera.
Hunter had a similar vibe. Syler perceived Hunter as perceptive but doubted he could be merciless without reason. That wasn’t a bad thing, at least not for most people.
But for leaders? Time would tell how Hunter would fare amongst the sharks.
“Are you excited?” Hunter asked him during their flight. Syler had shrugged, keeping his eyes on the ground and the sky, alert for anything that might resemble a threat.
“I’m excited,” Hunter said. “Formations are incredible. I’ve only started dive into the basics, so I still do not know what formations actually are. You know? They’re like constructs in a way, yet entirely unlike constructs at all.”
“Then I guess you’re the right guy to be studying them,” Syler said, only half aware of what Hunter was saying.
“Maybe,” Hunter said, “but to be honest, my plate is full. I need to wrap my head around this cultivation stuff. This Sabletown project will consume a significant portion of my time that I could use researching synergies, or helping plan navy upgrades, or—“
“You want some unsolicited advice, sir?” Syler asked.
“Uh, yeah. Sure,”
“Stay present.”
Hunter paused, squinting his eyes, analyzing Syler’s words. Syler scoffed.
“Its simple. You’re here, right now. This project is happening, and it needs you. So stay present, focus on what you need to do to get the project done.”
“Right,” Hunter said. “I guess I already knew that. Somehow, I find it easy to forget.”
“It’s a common failing in everyone I’ve met, myself included,” Syler said.
“That’s comforting,” Hunter said, “that the Sly the almighty might have a weakness as well.”
Syler let himself laugh a bit. Job’s like this required constant attention not only on what was happening around him and his charge, but what was happening within him. He needed a constant awareness of both his emotions and his thoughts. All it took was one minor slip in focus, missing one obvious sign of a coming danger, for everything to go wrong.
To remain focused for as long as necessary, he prevented his emotions from becoming extreme and avoided getting too involved in any single conversation. He’d done this enough times to know how to weave small conversational breaks into his focus, but he couldn’t allow himself to grow complacent.
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Complacency was a killer.
“Approaching the landing zone,” the pilot said over the shuttle’s internal speaker.
“I’ll exit first,” Syler said. Hunter nodded.
He watched through a window as the ship descended. A few hundred meters away, the great corpse of the Guardian Avatar lay in pieces. The dessication and shrivelling of its flesh had twisted its head to the side, forcing a contorted expression of fury and a silent roar onto its features.
Its missing arms and battle wounds contorted the section of its body from its upper chest to its toes into a shape that evoked sympathy for its agony. Its death must have been horrible.
Syler held no pity for the creature. Its ending was as destructive as its life, as far as he could tell.
The wreckage of the Cloud — picked clean of its most valuable salvage — trailed off into the distance. One day, someone would clean it all up. Maybe someone will reassemble the hull pieces, rebuild the ship, and create a museum.
Syler opened the door to the shuttle just prior to it touching down. He jumped out and assessed the surroundings. He and the kid were the last to arrive, it seemed. A Sabletown contingent — easy to spot because of their tendency to wear robes or more archaic-looking clothing — surrounded the ship. A quick assessment rendered them as only a minor potential threat. They seemed more curious about the shuttle itself.
Hunter exited after him, which frustrated Syler. He should have waited for Syler’s signal. He’ll have to talk to him later.
The first to reach Hunter was someone from Skyhold. Having stayed back from the shuttle’s arrival, they were less enthralled by the sight, commonplace on both their colony and Sanctuary. Many of them might have built shuttles like this for a living, especially if they had experience working in the navy.
“Sir, it’s a pleasure to meet you in person,” the man said to Hunter. He was thin. Syler estimated he was in his late 40s. He stood at around 5 feet, 10 inches. In the process of balding. Calloused fingers, sleeves rolled up. A man used to hard work, “I’m Gunnar.”
“Great to meet you in person as well, Gunnar. I’ve been looking forward to getting to know you and your team. What have I missed?”
Gunnar led Hunter to a tent they’d set up a dozen-or-so meters away. The shuttle lifted off, back to Skyhold for its next job.
“Not much. We’re still getting familiar with the environment,” Gunnar said, pointing towards a table with a large map lain over it.
“The latest aerial reconnaissance composite. The Sabletown boys loved it,” Gunnar said, a slight chuckle in his voice. “They seem fascinated by electronics.”
“They’re about as far beyond us in their understanding of etherium as we are beyond them in our understanding of more physical sciences. ”
“Sure, that’s my take as well,” Gunnar said. “I had wondered how far along they are in mathematics compared to us, and they seem on par except for things like statistics. They have calculus and from what they’ve told me, they’ve got a pretty mature architectural heritage. I assume they also have a quite advanced understanding of calculating mass, material science, and geometry.”
“You must be my new colleague,” a raspy voice sounded from behind them. Syler resisted the urge to reach for his pistol. He hadn’t even heard the man approach.
Syler disqualified the man as a threat. He must have been well into his 90s. Frail, short, walking with a cane.
But these were not conventional men they were working with. Cultivators were a different breed. He could never be too cautious around them.
“I see your people are catching you up with our current progress. Good. I have much use for your capacities. What was your name again, Ranger? Rancher? Something about wildlife, correct?”
“Hunter,” Syler’s charge said. Syler could recognize the forced smile on Hunter’s face. “Heir to the Oberon Corporation, at your service.”
“Indeed,” the old man said, unimpressed. “You may call me Senior. I’m leading this project. Please have your team begin a detailed scan of the body using rayer-dar technology.”
Syler could sense the minute changes in expression posture which overtook the Skyhold personnel.
Hunter didn’t move at all. That was another sign that the young man had undergone some changes over the last year.
“I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” Hunter said, “June gave me the impression that this was a joint project, with authority shared in equal parts between you and me,” Hunter said, and a small egg-shaped crystal manifested in his hand.
“I’m sure he won’t mind if I contact him, just to make sure we’re both on the same page.”
The old man’s posture changed as well. He bowed his head slightly.
“No need, no need. I wasn’t aware that June had deemed you fit to receive a storage ring and a direct line of communication.”
“Deemed me fit,” Hunter said, seeming to test out the words, “I suppose he has.”
Hunter’s attitude impressed Syler. The last time he’d met Hunter, he’d left with the distinct impression that the boy might snap in half if subjected to a mild breeze. He could handle himself under pressure, but not without nerves and the need for constant reassurance and redirection.
But now, he was unflappable. At the first sign of conflict, Hunter seemed utterly unimpressed and ready to bare his teeth.
“Well, the mayor has always been a madman. Very well, I’m assuming you’d like to assume some partial leadership—”
“We are equal partners in this endeavour. We will consult each other on every major decision. Your people will treat mine with respect and dignity. Or will that be too difficult for a great Elemental Initiate?”
The old man went silent, but Syler had learned to read the many shades of silence.
The guy was furious. Syler brought more focus to the man, alert to any sign that a fight might erupt.
“A mere Foundation Establishment whelp wishes to order me around, does he?” the old man rasped. It might have been more like a growl.
He took a step closer to Hunter. Syler stepped between them. He kept one hand on his pistol’s grip and held the other hand up to stop the man.
And yet the man advanced, and Syler felt like he may as well have been trying to push a truck for all the good it did him.
“Allow me to show you the difference between the heaven’s and the earth, boy—”
“—Grandfather, stop!”
The old man paused and snorted. A young man ran up from behind him, panting.
“This does not concern you, grandson. These people must learn to respect their betters.”
“The mayor himself has expressed his desire for peace with Skyhold! The friction between you two died as soon as he took office. Mayor June is Unbound. His will is law. Besides …” the young man said.
Syler inspected him. Long black hair, thin face with sharp features. In a way, he seemed somewhat regal.
“A friend of young master Aruon is a friend of mine. I believe this is a customary form of greeting in your culture,” the man said, holding his hand out to Hunter. Except his palm was facing the ground.
Hunter seemed surprised by the abrupt change in tone and stared at the offered hand with some amusement.
Although he was weary of the newcomer, he stepped back and let Hunter make his introduction.
“We shake hands like this,” Hunter said, holding his hand out. The young man clued in with a smile and grasped Hunter’s hand.
“Ah, you’re stronger than I had thought. Good!” the young man said, “I’m Jaspen Callen. Please forgive my grandfather. He was born in a harsh land, and is at an age where progress is a step in the wrong direction. I promise he isn’t always this bad.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jaspen. You can call me Hunter. Regarding your grandfather, I’ll have to take your word for it,” Hunter said.
“I’m glad to hear you’re willing to hold an open mind. I believe it will be necessary in the coming days and weeks.”
Syler held back his scowl.
“That bad?” Hunter asked.
Jaspen nodded.
“Unfortunately, yes. Those like Mayor June, Aruon, and I, are not in the majority. It will take time for Sabletown to accept a seemingly weaker nation, sharing borders on a world we had thought was ours to claim. I’m sure you can understand.”
“I understand. Many of us at Skyhold feel the same way. But we, like Mayor June, are interested in building peace between our people. And I think we’re off to a good start.”
Syler spied a look of disapproval from more than one of the Skyhold contingent. He’d have to mention that to Hunter later.
He could relate, though. They’d paid for equality in blood. Their people died defending this place against not only the Peacekeepers, but the creature that lay dead nearby.
That they’d have to prove themselves further didn’t sit right with him, but Syler wouldn’t complain.
He was used to doing things he didn’t want to do.