That night, Jaspen had a long private talk with his grandfather. Whatever they discussed made the old man easier to work with. Hunter thought that the old guy would never change, nor that there should be any expectation for him to change. He hoped that once this job was done, he’d never have to see him again. There was a gap between their societies that needed to be bridged, and the old man lacked the tools to build that bridge from his end. But it wasn’t like Hunter couldn’t try to understand what the man was feeling.
He knew many in Oberon’s Guard and Navy held similar attitudes. In a world of such immense power, the need for accountability was clear. Abuse of power would come easily, and often, in a world where any passing stranger could hold the power to level a village. Yet most cultivation civilizations seemed to have leaned towards a style of punch-first diplomacy.
If anything, the man had been moderate in his approach to how he dealt with Hunter and the rest of the Skyhold contingent.
Hunter wanted to treat it like water under the bridge and move on, but something told him that this entire episode was important. So he paid attention and tried to figure out what his instinct was showing him.
After thinking about it for a while, he realized that their interactions with Sabletown were going to inform how Oberon Enterprises would approach other nations and settlements beyond Skyhold. A peaceful approach might make them seem weak. If they approached as peaceful visitors who would fight back when disrespected, others would see them as reasonable and worthy of respect.
At least, that was his initial assessment. He would defer to the experts, following their advice, as well as the lead of whoever would eventually oversee exploration and first contact scenarios. Thankfully, he would never be in charge of making the first mistakes in terms of first contact with potential enemies and allies. He didn’t envy the person whose shoulders that responsibility fell onto.
The next day, he met with Jaspen who, after negotiating with his grandfather, had taken the lead in negotiating leadership with Hunter. Hunter appreciated that, as the old man — whose name he still didn’t know — had proven to be an irritant. He was second guessing every decision Hunter made, as well as the judgement and expertise of Skyhold’s experts.
The gall of the man astounded him. Thankfully, the man only protested vocally. He never escalated to laying hands on people or stopping them from doing their jobs.
He could put in a call to Aruon, who would get a hold of June, and have the old man replaced. But what would that say to the rest of Sabletown?
Perceptions were important. He might be overthinking it, but he needed to make sure that Sabletown knew Oberon wouldn’t roll over for them. Not only was he representing the company, he was also representing the Oberon name. Cultivators respected the strength of leaders. Strength was their primary concern when negotiating with, and understanding, someone foreign.
However, with all that being said, social calculus was never his strong suit. So Hunter felt a little lost. He couldn’t predict with perfect accuracy how the Sabletowners would perceive his actions. So he’d play it safe and face by facing the challenge head on. He would be the opposite of the old man. He embraced the Sabletown researchers and formation experts and told everyone else to do the same. They would build the bridge between their societies not only from their project’s discoveries, but also from their willing inclusion and understanding of each other.
Before they began working on dissecting the great corpse of the guardian avatar, Hunter scheduled a demonstration to showcase what they could bring to the table. Hunter had his engineers set up a radar for a demonstration, letting them take the lead in explaining the technology.
Hunter did not know how it worked, so it was a learning experience for him as well. He stood right beside the radar operator as the man, Steven, explained.
“Radio waves are an electromagnetic wave with a wavelength which is much longer than the visible light spectrum. Visible light wavelengths range from 400 to 700 nanometres; radio waves are much longer, from millimetres to hundreds of kilometres,” Steven explained. The Sabletowners’ puzzled expressions prompted him to change his tack. “Basically, they’re invisible to our naked eyes. Using these invisible waves allows us to communicate at long distances and also allows us a way to investigate what the naked eye cannot penetrate. For example.”
Steven walked over to Jaspen, who was at the head of the Sabletown crowd. He handed the man a portable radio communicator. Steven walked away and whispered through his end, and his voice appeared in Jaspen’s hand.
Jaspen almost dropped the radio.
“I had wondered what these devices which you all carried around were for. This is fascinating. I cannot tell that there is a wave travelling between them. At what distance do these devices cease to work?”
“These babies can reach up to 25 kilometres. Not our most powerful, but we figured we wouldn’t need a more powerful model for this kind of job.”
“I have a question,” someone from the Sabletown crowd rose their hand. Steven pointed to them and nodded his head.
“If these radio waves are invisible, how are you able to detect them? How did your people discover them in the first place without the use of a Vital technique?”
By now, most of the Skyhold personnel had heard of Vita. Some men and women had taken to the word, as it rolled off the tongue a lot easier than etherium.
“It took very smart people working together for a long time to discover radio waves. I don’t know the full story myself. I know that there was some time separating the initial discovery of radio waves and the invention of the first device for capturing and emitting them. To explain radio waves, I would have to explain electromagnetism. And I think that’ll have to wait until certain negotiations have concluded,” Steven said with a wry smile. He’d told Hunter that explaining the background of the technology he specialized in was neither his strong suit nor his favourite thing to do. Censorship of their knowledge was just a convenient scapegoat.
Hunter appreciated the man’s patience. He saw the light of interest sparking in the eyes of more than a few of the assembled Sabletowners, and he felt a slight kinship to them. The world fascinated these people. While their approaches to understanding and using it differed, they all shared the same spirit of excitement for learning and discovery.
This project might actually work, Hunter thought. He’d always intended for it to go well, but the idea of success on multiple fronts was exciting. Especially since he was taking on a lot of responsibility for their initial working relationship with Sabletown.
“Now, this bad boy over here,” Steven gestured towards a large mobile platform hooked up to a diesel generator, “is called a ground-penetrating radar device. Everyone gather around.”
Steven activated the device and started moving it forward. A display produced a series of waving lines, kind of like ripples on the surface of a body of water.
“You can see why we call them waves,” Steven said. “This is a visualization of the radio waves reflecting off of objects in the ground.”
He pointed to a particular prominent wave which contradicted the direction of the rest of the waves.
“This right here is telling us that there is an object in the wave’s path. We can analyze the wave patterns we observe and infer certain properties about what we’re seeing. Different materials will reflect radio waves differently. After so much experimentation, we have a whole body of knowledge dedicated to decoding these signals. We’ll analyze this data to accurately determine the soil’s composition, any buried objects, and if there is subsurface water.”
“Fascinating. We have many methods to do so as well, but they are not as mobile. Many formation experts are insular unless they are a part of a sect, and even then, they keep their innovations and knowledge close to their chest. Your people appear to be far more adept at sharing,” Jaspen said, and a general murmur of agreement arose from the rest of the Sabletown contingent.
Hunter spied the grey hair of Jaspen’s grandfather nearby. The old man had expressed some curiosity about their radar technology. The old man’s interest in the item’s usefulness was surprising to Hunter. He scowled when he noticed Hunter’s attention, his demeanour returning to what it had been when they first met.
But he elected to stay silent and continue observing, which Hunter appreciated. It seemed he would honour whatever agreement he’d reached with his grandson.
“Our military also uses this technology to discover and track enemy vessels. We can also use it to find objects in the open air. Observe,” Steven said.
He fiddled with the device, and the radio antenna adjusted. Hunter could only guess that he was narrowing the spread of the waves.
“Alright,” Steven said, activating the device, “since the sky is clear, there should only be minute fluctuations on the screen.”
A loud blip emanated from the machine. Then another. And another.
“What?” Steven said, glancing up at the sky. “There’s something up there.”
He looked at Hunter, who frowned. Then he looked back at the display.
“Its descending.”
Hunter felt a hand on his shoulder. He glanced back and saw Syler, his other hand reaching back to his pistol. Hunter looked up, trying to see what the radar was pinging.
He saw a distortion in the air. The slightest ripple of visible light.
“Something up there is invisible!” Hunter yelled.
“Get behind me,” Syler said, backing away. A few of the Sabletowners manifested weapons, staring at the ripples in the sky.
Then the ship appeared.
----------------------------------------
Syler pulled out his firearm and cursed as a bright green formation flowed along the ship’s underside. He did not know how he should assess what kind of threat that formation posed, and he wasn’t about to wait and find out. He wanted to turn and pull Hunter to safety, but suddenly, he couldn’t move.
It wasn’t fear that kept him paralyzed. It was as if an invisible film and covered them and then solidified. He was breathing fine. He couldn’t turn his head, but he could hear Hunter breathing behind him.
One moment, and everyone was panicking. The next second, it was quiet. A subtle hum increased in volumed as the ship descended.
Syler grunted in exertion, trying to push against the strange magic with every ounce of strength he could.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
The gun in his hand shook.
Jaspen’s grandfather could still move, apparently. Slowly at first, and then with a growl, the old man punched through whatever resistance was holding him.
“It’ll take more than that to trap me!” the old man yelled.
Two men descended from the ship. Then four. Then there were over a dozen. They all landed in between the gathered engineers, formation experts, and researchers. One landed in front of Syler himself.
“Surrender,” one of the first men who landed said, his voice bored. Almost as if he didn’t care whether his captives complied with his order.
“Peacekeeper bastards! I slaughtered your kin decades ago, and I’ll do the same to you!”
Shut up, old man. You’ll get us all killed.
The peacekeeper snorted. His aura flared. Syler tried to prepare himself for the worst, but he was powerless.
He strained against whatever was keeping him still. It was useless.
The presence of the peacekeepers made him sweat.
Compared to June, who emanated a feeling of glory, these peacekeepers felt like what you might feel when surrounded by a pack of starving wolves in a dark forest. Syler was certain that they would kill them all at the slightest provocation.
It caused Syler’s gut to coil. He felt an instinctual urge to cower and whimper. He couldn’t help it. It wasn’t his first time facing killers. But something about these peacekeepers was worming its way into his mind.
They must be using something etheric in order to influence him. Was it the formation? Or was it the peacekeepers themselves?
Syler grunted as he strained. He couldn’t let anything happen to Hunter, and he refused to believe that he was as powerless as he felt. The man in front of Syler turned to regard him. He patted Syler on the head.
“You’ve got some fight in you. You’ll be the first one we break. Once we do, I’m sure we could sell you for thousands,” the man said.
Then he disappeared.
Syler heard a wet sound. Blood splattered against the ground.
The old man’s head fell from his shoulders.
The peacekeeper, who had moved almost too fast for him to see, was standing there beside the man’s headless body.
Then the old man’s arms fell from his torso.
He had already been dead. With the head gone, there was nothing to be gained from mutilating the man’s corpse.
Hunter vomited. Syler could feel it on his back. What remained of the old man’s corpse fell to the ground.
Jaspen was standing right beside his grandfather’s body. Powerless. Unable to move. Tears streamed from the young man’s eyes. Syler heard a strained sob escape Hunter’s throat.
The rest of the peacekeepers laughed at the old man’s demise. Not a hint of remorse or regret. Just businesses as usual.
Monsters, Syler thought.
But what could he do with this rage coursing through him?
He continued to strain. Pain blossomed along his limbs.
“This is the price of your resistance. We will bring you all on board and enslave you. It’s best you accept this reality now. I will reward your obedience, and I will punish your disobedience,” the man said, smiling and chuckling as he looked at the old man’s corpse.
“Let’s get them all on board. We’re running out of time.”
His whole body shook. Syler’s finger moved. Barely a millimetre.
The loud pop from the pistol his in hands attracted the attention of all the peacekeepers.
The icy feeling in Syler’s gut intensified. He hadn’t meant for the gun to fire.
He’d just put Hunter in direct danger.
A peacekeeper in front of him staggered backwards, inspecting the new hole in his gut. He glanced at Syler, and the gun, and then at the blood covering his hands.
“That fuckin’ hurt,” the man growled. He limped towards Syler and stabbed his sword in his abdomen. The man’s sword pierced Syler’s abdomen, and Syler could only endure the sharp pain.
The blade exited through his back. It shouldn’t be long enough to have cut into Hunter.
Syler could only let out a rasping breath from the pain. Blood pooled in his mouth and dripped down his chin.
“Jino! Get our man a tonic,” the peacekeeper who had killed Jaspen’s grandfather said. It was clear that he was their leader. “Just for that, kill half of them. We’ll only take the strongest.”
No, Syler thought, despair shooting through his limbs, sapping him of his strength.
Why had he pulled the trigger? Why had he continued to resist?
Syler could only watch helplessly as men and women from both Skyhold and Sabletown were cut down.
For the first time in decades, Syler cried.
There was nothing he could do to stop the atrocity he was witnessing. He couldn’t even close his eyes.
“Load them up. We’re running out of time.”
A man pointed a spear at Hunter’s head and was about to attack when the leader yelled for the man to stop.
“We’ll bring him along. If he was being protected, he might be important.”
“Wasn’t aware we were gonna ransom,” the spear-wielding peacekeeper said.
“Question me again,” the leader growled. The man beside Hunter scowled and set the butt of his spear against the ground. He pulled Hunter by the arm, dragging him across the ground like a rag doll towards the ship.
Syler’s eyelids grew heavy.
The world darkened.
His last thoughts before the darkness claimed him was that for his failure, death was the least of what he deserved.
----------------------------------------
They threw Hunter into what he could only assume was the ship’s cargo hold. They threw another body on top of him. Then another. He couldn’t fight against the weight pressing into him. Breathing became a struggle.
The time it took the peacekeepers to gather the living prisoners into the cargo hold could have been anywhere from a few minutes to an hour. All he knew was his breath. He could only take small sips of oxygen at a time. His chest started to burn. Finally, once the ship ascended, the formation restricting their movement deactivated. Everyone who had been thrown on top of him scrambled away from each other.
His first real breath tasted putrid. His surroundings smelt like piss and rotten food.
“I thought their fleet was defeated,” Jaspen said beside him. Hunter hadn’t noticed when he’d approached. “And now they can turn invisible. It must be an artifact, something they salvaged from a raid. There’s no way the rest of the fleet wouldn’t have used this tech. They must have remained hidden during the battle with your fleet.”
Hunter frowned. Jaspen’s words made sense, but what could he say?
Sorry, I guess we missed one.
Besides, the situation was straightforward. Nothing he said now would help, so he elected not to speak.
Every second that passed, they would move further from Skyhold. As soon as he saw the virtual particles manifest around them, he knew it would be too late for anyone to do anything to help them.
Unless the fleet could detect them. But without knowing where the ship would transition from, the odds were they wouldn’t detect it.
Jaspen had tried to engage him a few times, but he hadn’t responded.
Once they breached the transition zone, and there was no sign of the fleet intercepting them, Hunter pushed his despair aside. He pushed himself up from the ground, his rings scratching against the metal surface of the cargo hold.
Slapping himself in the face for being such an idiot, he turned to Jaspen.
“What are the odds they have a way of blocking etheric communication?”
Jaspen frowned and contemplated. Eventually, he shrugged. Hunter could only nod.
He willed Aruon’s communication stone to manifest. Holding it, he concentrated on it. He felt a connection form.
“Hunter? It’s good to hear from you. Are you among your fleet? It feels like you are quite far.”
“The peacekeepers have taken us. They had a cloaked ship. We’re beyond the transition point. Send help!”
The connection cut off.
A moment later, the door to the cargo hold opened. The peacekeeper who stepped through was one that Hunter hadn’t seen before.
“We just sensed a Vital signature emit from this cargo hold,” the man said, glancing at a researcher beside him and grabbing the unfortunate man’s hand.
“Who sent it? For every second I remain without an answer, this man will lose a finger,” the peacekeeper said, a dagger appearing in his hand.
Before he could do anything, Jaspen spoke up.
“It was me. I sent the message.”
Hunter’s breath caught in his throat. He wouldn’t let Jaspen take the blame for this. But before he could speak up, Jaspen glanced at him.
Hunter hesitated.
The peacekeeper smiled.
“And?”
“And,” Jaspen said, swallowing, “I sent a message to our settlement. Our mayor knows of your presence.”
“Mayor?” the man frowned. “The Adept?”
Jaspen nodded.
The man scowled. Pushing the researcher back and marching towards Jaspen. He grabbed Jaspen by the arm and dragged him out of the cargo hold.
Hunter wanted to intercept them. He thought that maybe if they had a hostage of their own, they could negotiate. Maybe find some time to get a message to the fleet, somehow.
But these people weren’t reasonable. They were savage killers.
Any more resistance would only hasten the end of their lives. Hunter would not give the peacekeepers an excuse to murder more of them.
Hours passed. Hunter estimated that they’d spent more than a day in transit. Every minute, he agonized over his failure to speak up.
Was he a coward?
No. He’d proven to himself that he wasn’t.
It was the look in Jaspen’s eyes that had stopped him from speaking up. He could see something in those eyes, something like a burning hatred. The peacekeepers had just slaughtered Jaspen’s grandfather.
Jaspen’s actions were a personal rebellion. Could Hunter take that away from him?
He thought about Syler. He’d almost puked when he saw the blade emerge from Syler’s back. As far as he knew, Sly was dead on the ground, his corpse cooling. Maybe June was there now, at their camp, counting the dead.
Hunter clenched his fists.
He concluded that either his message hadn’t gone through, or the peacekeeper’s tech had fooled June’s senses.
Either way, no help would come for them. Everyone seemed to realize the same thing. Everywhere he looked, he saw despondency.
But he also saw a silent fury.
When Jaspen returned, bruised, bloodied, and missing a hand, and he saw the defiance in the young man’s eyes, Hunter saw a kindred soul. There was no blame or resentment in those eyes. All Hunter could see was determination.
Aera had said something to Hunter, right before they landed on Skyhold.
She’d told him that his greatest strength was brute force and impulsive creativity.
He couldn’t tolerate the peacekeepers sharing the same sky as his family and his people. Seeing Jaspen’s refusal to give up, he knew he was not alone.
The peacekeepers would pay.
Skyhold hadn’t broken his spirit. The beastwaves hadn’t broken his spirit. The guardian avatar hadn’t broken his spirits. Neither had the Comics, the Council, or the abolitionists. Hunter’s will had remained strong. His desire to improve, to progress, and build a better life for himself — and now for his family — burned brighter than ever.
Yes, he would have to grieve. But he swore to himself that he would die before he let the peacekeepers do what Sanctuary and Skyhold hadn’t been able to do.
----------------------------------------
June considered the man bleeding on the ground before him and frowned.
If he’d arrived a handful of seconds later, they would have died. Him, and the rest of the survivors they’d found at the research camp. June narrowed his eyes, recalling the conversation he’d had with Hunter and his friends at the banquet hall.
This man was a captain of some sort. Captain of the Guard? That wasn’t right. But it was close.
Ah, yes. Guard Captain.
The poison coursing through the Guard Captain’s body would kill him if it were to spread for another few seconds. June didn’t have any pills on him that the foundation-level man could use. They would only poison him further. He focused on the poison, diving deep into its Vital structure. This was a new trick, something that he’d only been able to do after his breakthrough.
The thought made him sigh. If he was correct, a breakthrough would be this man’s only option. He recognized the poison. Not the exact poison, but he’d seen a few like it. The poison binds itself to its victim’s body. June could not remove the poison without removing a significant amount of the man’s organs.
It was only one solution he could think of. And based on their previous conversation, the dying young man wouldn’t be too happy with the outcome. But it came with a few benefits—call them opportunities—for the people the man cared about.
June bent down and removed the sword from the man’s abdomen, and before too much blood escaped the wound, he sealed it with Vita. Energy cascaded through the Guard Captain’s body, seeking to adhere to the poison’s structure. The Stellar Sword Vita he’d injected into the young man’s system would ensure that the poison would no longer spread.
He sighed once more and made a show of rubbing his hands. It was more of a habit than it was a necessity. With the thin layer of Vita coating his skin, no dirt could find purchase unless he willed it.
“Your cure depends on you now, young one,” June said, staring down at the unconscious form. If the young man didn’t break through into the Elemental Initiate realm, the poison would remain. The Vita June had gifted him would keep it at bay, but he would remain weak.
If, however, he accepted June’s invitation, then he would most likely break through in the course of a year or two. The man’s innate talent was satisfactory to gain June’s attention, if not his devotion. The poison would turn into an opportunity to strengthen himself further. His body could flush out the poison with a powerful influx of vita; he could also learn to circulate the vita contained within the poison through his channels. With the right foundation and guidance, it could provide the man with the foundation for an enhanced physique, and a rare elemental calling.
But it had to be the Guard Captain’s own Vita saturating his body, flushing the toxin away. June’s attempt would only aggravate the poison.
Vital poisons were the worst.
Damned peacekeepers.
Now the deed was done, and there was no reason to regret it. Besides, he’d decided that he could compromise just this once. If the Guard Captain didn’t become an official disciple, he could become a tertiary disciple, instead. It would justify the guidance that June needed to give him. He took a second to rifle through his storage ring, searching for an old manual he’d been carrying on him for years.
When he found it, he smiled. His sect had a thousand such manuals, all earned in battle or gifted by local organizations.
The Path of the Inevitable Dusk was no celestial-level method. But it was just what the man would need to build the right foundation. In fact, he’d most likely need to pursue a hybrid path. They would explore it together. If the man made the right choice.
With his job done, and the survivors handled, June returned to Skyhold to convene with their leaders.
They had bandits to hunt, and June wouldn’t rest until their stain was removed from this sector.