In a small town upon the salt flats of what they now call Baitan, a Gunslinger speaks his goodbyes. Gifts upon gifts rejected, the young man attempting to smile against the overwhelming generosity and gratitude of a saved life. The half circle of crowding townsfolk speak exaltations, words lost against one another as respectful handshakes and hugs are exchanged.

“Hey hey!” The man named Daniel Omen, a young doctor in training, attempts to intervene as he checks the supplies loaded upon the motor truck. A smile upon his face, his words meeting with some success. “Please, we’ll need to go if we don’t wanna be driving all night!”

Laughter, a recognition of parting as they step away from the flat bedded truck.

One remains; a little girl stepping towards the Gunslinger. Eyes watering from tears, her hands in movement as an unspoken language is exchanged. Will you return?

Alto Carrin gives a warm smile, his form kneeling down to her. A sentence understood, a belief wavering as he replies. Maybe we will meet again. But I know you will be safe, for the Five will watch and guide you in all your ways.

The girl holds back emotion, teeth gritted. That is a promise, A-L-T-O.

The Gunslinger smiles, a hand ruffling through the long, dirty hair of the girl. “That it is.”

The convoy of vehicles moves through a canyon network. Eyes scanning the cliff sides, armed hunters keeping watch in vulnerability. The final turn is reached, a massive salt-flat spreading out into the distance. Trails of compressed earth forming a crude road that snakes into the far horizon of dust, a general sigh of relief sounded across all as the arrival of general safety accompanies a barren wasteland.

Upon the bed of a cargo truck a group of Bounty Hunters sit in silence; the alliance of profitable conflict and grueling travel snubbing conversion. Situated between body armor and heavy ordinance, a bond forged in blood.

The twins sit at the very front of the cargo bed, guarding a collected horde of arcane items from uninterested gazes.

The girl asks the lingering question, the howling of wind at speed allowing for privacy against sharp hearing. “Where do you think Manara is now?”

The boy takes a moment to think. “She is on her way to Old Springs. It is a two day’s travel by vehicle, so I estimate she will arrive there within four days.”

They remain in silence, a disruptive influence heard as a voice is heard across the moving convoy. A fellow bounty hunter, leadership evident through carried orders from the arcane speaker at the front of the vehicle train. “We’re clear! All non-sentries stand down!!!”

The metal frame beneath their bodies rocks as the truck navigates through terrain, the girl once again whispering to her sibling. “Do you believe we will encounter her again?”

The boy blinks, a gaze remaining affixed to the plateau. A wall of rock shrinking from distance and speed, a past disappearing with a sheet of desert dust and sand. “I do.”

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

A night’s rest spent in the midst of urban development.

Within the saloon the Bandit and her gang sit in anonymity, listening to the movements of a city beyond thin concrete walls.

Automobile engines roar past alongside the voices of passing families, an acceleration of life unknowing of the scheme of the world. Empty stomachs fed on the knowledge of a richer strata, of a noble citizenry gorging themselves with the fat of a dying world. Brass and gold, soulless items left from gods undistributed the masses of the world.

“I’ll need a whisky before I think this’ll be a good idea.” Jacob comments as he downs a cup of cold coffee.

“It’ll work out.” The Bandit assures. “You don’t trust me?”

The Gang stares back with steady gazes, faith rewarded with a smile. Issac clicks his tongue as he shakes his head. “Trust is a fun word. I’d certainly trust you, but not Jacob.”

“Is this because I still owe you four dollars because I thought I settled that.”

“It is five.” The form of Rin speaks up from her corner of the table.

“Yeah it’s five.” Adami agrees as she sips her mug of beer.

The enforcer groans to himself. “Alright Issac, I'll pay you back after this job’s done. And Maddie, you sure we got this?”

Madeline McCormick chuckles underneath pressure, taking a moment to drink from a half-full shot glass. “You gotta stop worrying, we got this.”

The great city is named Centralis now.

Two and a half thousand years of empires and civilizations created and abandoned, forged by the hands of humanity. Structures built atop an increasing pile of ruins and rubble, apartment blocks and skyscrapers now reaching out beneath the great leyline tower nodes counted in five.

Sixty eight million souls packed in concrete slums across the pentagon sprawling endlessly into the wastelands, the heart of a new Federation splitting the lifelessness of a hostile world.

It's a strange system of justice, once born of a desperate land scramble now a central yet separate part of order within a chaotic world of dust and sand.

There are two forms fast walking towards the idle aircraft, faces held beneath wide brimmed hats the world takes great notice of the seven bars and one unfired bullet. Two Judges in the parting of the world, a middle aged man and an old soul in the midst of a final briefing.

The man is a prodigy, a rank of Senior despite his relatively young age. Two legs artificial, originals lost through improvised explosives mere years prior. He chuckles as he says it, a seriousness unfound between coarse friends. “Remember Murphy, trust nobody down there. Any of the Judges left could be traitors, even their Cadet.”

The old man nods carefully. “I understand.”

“Good, and while you’re there maybe consider bagging her too.” Wanted poster produced from within the dark blue duster, the printed form of Madeline McCormik staring back at the Judge.

“Still haven’t found the bodies?” Judge Murphy asks coldly.

“Well, you know it.”

The old Judge sighs, the roar of engines and moving air growing louder as they approach the flying machine. “She’s smarter than to go chasing planted rumors like the rest in Baitan. If I get the chance…”

“Remember your duty: March is first. Don’t let her get in your head.” The senior informs him, stopping at the held perimeter. “See you soon sir, Mar watch over you.”

The One is back in the world, a timeline resuming as the five fragments remain silent to wait for his continuation.

His own promise to her, now coming to fruition. Ar just stares at every single one, a feeling snaking through immense processors rising to its very apex. A control of his own mind lost, a consciousness screaming to him from within to just say the words.

To move an entire galaxy, the effort to just say the request in their language.

The Five watch as the One dictates it without emotion. “I require your assistance.”