We had two of the Guts and were driving across what used to be called Minnesota, but was now just ‘The Frontier’, on a giant Old Road that us folks back east knew as an I-State. Mara was driving the lead vehicle, and I was driving the second, with Cal watching everything I did like a hawk.

“Why are we doing this?” he asked for the tenth or maybe the fiftieth time.

“Because the Duchess said we needed to,” that had become my stock reply and had stayed that way because it was generally true. Mara.

He shook his head, “If I hadn’t seen how things work, I would swear she’s a sorceress,” he nodded at my arm. “That, for example. You say it feels and works just like your old one?”

“Took some practice, but yes.”

“And you have seen mechanical limbs, not like pegs or hooks?”

“Veterans of one or the other of the Empire’s wars, but generally only on officers or families with the funds to afford it, rank and file get pegs and hooks. You know, if I had stayed at the Academy and become certified as an Apprentice to the Builders’ Guild, I would have likely had to serve with the Imperial Army or Navy for two years as a Guild Contribution…and that was right in the middle of the war with the Kingdom of the Sun…It is quite possible I would be sporting an artificial limb, only not quite as refined as this one.”

“Bonchance, you have a strange way of speaking, like the bankers in Rice. Was your family rich?”

“My father was a high-ranked steam engineer for the Imperial Inspection Services, so yes. Then he was killed on the job, and the Guild took all our money as a ‘penalty’.”

“A penalty?”

“The poor workmanship that killed my father had been approved by a more senior member of the Guild; if they had been found at fault, it would be politically unfortunate, so someone like my father needed to be at fault. The fact that all my family savings went into the Guild coffers was a pleasant side-effect.”

“That’s obscene.”

Shrugging, I turned my attention back to the road, “That’s life in the main body of the Empire, destroyed by those above. It’s physically more dangerous out here on the frontier, but in some ways far less stressful.”

“And I understand it’s at war again?”

“Probably…the Southlands and the Empire have been fighting each other for decades. It’s an excuse for His Imperial Majesty to parade his forces, for his Generals to give themselves medals, and for the Great King of the South and his Generals to do likewise. The soldiers and sailors will die, but at least Imperial and Royal honor will be maintained.”

“That’s very cynical.”

“It’s the way things are,” I shrugged again.” The Security Police make certain the Imperial Throne is protected from internal revolutionists; they are slavishly loyal to the Emperor, at least in a matter of lip service, because they know if he falls, so do they, and then those that they have wronged will be very eager to reclaim their pound of flesh. The Guilds support the Emperor because they have unlimited control over their respective fields of skill. The banks, the railroads, the factory owners…all owe their wealth and level of control to the Imperial Throne, and all are jockeying for Imperial Favor.”

“You hear nothing about that out here.”

“The railroads didn’t make it out here until ten years ago,” I replied. “The Duchy of the North Star was independent until then and the Imperial Annexation. Now, there is supposed to be an Imperial garrison there, but with the war pulling all the troops…”

“So, do you think the Empire knows about the Duchy of Ceedo?”

“I’d be surprised if they didn’t. I’m certain that there are agents of the Security Police in North Star. Probably not many; a place that far out on the frontier would be considered a punishment detail, and that also brings exactly how competent and diligent they are as a matter of pure conjecture. “

“Incredible.”

“I suppose that is one word for it. I have a number of others, none of which are polite.”

Cal laughed, “The Duchess has a few, too, and she’s not shy about using them.”

“She has far more than just a few…” I replied with a grin, “…but you are very accurate with her lack of shyness.”

“Bonchance…” he suddenly became hesitant, “I’ve been meaning to ask…”

“Yes?”

“Are you and the Duchess…?”

“No,” I had been fielding variations of this question for several months now. “She’s my friend and my Duchess. Nothing more.”

He nodded, “I’d been wondering. You seem so casual with each other.”

“She was a soldier in the Final War; propriety was not advantageous when they had their backs against the wall, and though my speech is formal, I have been on the move and avoiding the Guild’s wrath for quite some time. That does not encourage formality in any other way.”

“Aww, you’re my friend?” came over our private channel.

I switched off the helmet’s external speaker before I responded, “I like to think so. You just can’t help but listen in, can you?”

“I’m physically tied into the commnet. I can’t help it.”

“Uh huh…So, yes. I like to think you’re my friend. Am I mistaken?”

“No. Not in the slightest.”

That made me feel better. I hadn’t had an actual friend since I left the Academy.

“So Milord, thank you for the description of how the Empire functions.”

“I thought I had gone over that with you?”

“Not in that kind of visceral tone.”

“Does that change your plans?”

“I’m not sure yet, but now I have some other ideas. I need to visit Rice.”

“And the Dark Warriors?”

“We’re on the way to them. They get some loving first…then comes the Empire.”

“As you command, milady.”

_____________________________________________________

It took another several days of driving before one of the Gut drones spotted a horse-mounted two-man patrol heading in our direction. Zooming in with the drone’s vision revealed a saddle blanket with the finger-bone markings of the Dark Warriors.

“We’re going to intercept. We need intel…information. I’m going to try to take one alive.”

“How?”

“Curiosity killed the bandit…” she said as she pulled to a stop right out in the open. “Pull in right behind me and polarize the windows.”

I did as she said, and our windows went dark as something in the glass changed when I pressed a switch on the dashboard. I unstrapped and moved into the back, where five of our ‘Edgerton’s Rangers’ sat in the armored transport module. The Rangers were the selection of the Duchy’s militia that had received extra training on ‘small-unit tactics’ and Old World technology. Mara had named them after an Old World style of skirmisher, adding that, “…if Robert Rogers or William Darby could, I can too”.

“What’s up, milord?” Simon asked.

“The Duchess is up to something. I’m very certain that she has already given Wallace his orders in her vehicle, so what we do now is wait and be quiet.”

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

As I was speaking, I was watching what my Gut’s drone was seeing on the inset window of my visor. Mara had climbed out and had circled in the brush to a point fifty yards in front of where she had stopped her Gut. Panning up, I saw the horseman had noticed our vehicles and were heading in this direction. I began designating both of them from the drone.

“Not necessary, but a good thinking,” came over our private channel. Panning back, I could barely see where she had dug herself into the high grass off to one side of the I-State. Widening the drone’s field of view, I headed back to the driver’s seat; the two scouts were cantering up, then slowed to a trot and then a walk.

“What do we do?” Cal asked.

“She wants us to wait…so we wait.”

Just then, it struck me how odd this would seem. You are riding on patrol in a very empty part of the frontier when suddenly there are these two large metal boxes of a design that you have never seen before, especially if you grew up out here, and they are parked right in the middle of a place you have more than likely seen many times before. With the windows darkened, it was impossible to see inside the cab, and the Rangers were very good at staying still.

One of the scouts dismounted and handed his reins to the other to hold before slowly walking toward the lead Gut. As he did that, and the still mounted scout was focused on his approach, I saw Mara rise up from her hiding spot and quietly make her way behind the horses before reaching up and grabbing the mounted scout’s boot and yanking him off, catching him as he fell and clamping her free hand over his mouth so he didn’t even have a chance to squeak as she rolled behind a chunk of broken cement from the frost shattered roadway. The horse started in surprise, and the scout that was nearing the Gut wheeled on hearing its whinny only to see his associate had vanished.

“Johnny!” he called out. “Where the hell are you?!”

‘Johhny’, at this moment, was being choked into unconsciousness by Mara. When the first scout came closer to the disturbed horse, she stood, blocked from his sight by the bulk of the animal. Moving to the front, when he moved to the rear, he turned only to find a figure in black coveralls and a smooth black helmet punching him in the gut.

“All clear?” I asked.

“Come on out. Wallace! Set a perimeter front. Cal, to the rear. Bonchance, to me.”

We all exited the Guts, and I walked over to Mara.

“Told you curiosity killed the bandit…or at least got him…them…captured.”

“I see,” I said, bending over them and quickly emptying their pockets and pouches; then I saw their rifles, “This is interesting.”

“Lever guns?”

“Lever action carbines…and this manufacturer, DeWalt and Sons. I’ve never heard of them, and this isn’t an Imperial, Sunny, or Southlands proof mark.” I pointed at the stylized animal stamped into the side of the barrel where it fit into the trunnion. “And this ammunition,” I held up one of the steel-hulled cartridges, “has manufactured primers. These are not hand-loaded either.”

“What’s west or south of here? Any other Empires or Kingdoms?” she asked.

“I’m not sure. I really can’t see why there wouldn’t be…and to hold land, you need weapons.”

“Like an arms industry?”

“Exactly,” I replied.

“How common are weapons like this in the Empire?”

“Lever action? Not very; bolt and falling block actions are far easier to manufacture. The military does have self-loading actions, of course, and rapid-fire designs, too.”

“You have mentioned that before…why are black powder flintlock weapons so common if you have the more advanced designs.”

“Ammunition. The Empire finds it easier to control the manufacture of ammunition than of the things that fire it. You have to be a skilled chemist to produce the proper kind of propellent to function well without fouling a complex action. This gives the Army an advantage in reducing civil unrest if they can fire more rapidly and accurately.”

“Has that happened?”

“What do you think?”

She sighed and nodded, “Anything else?”

“Some money…Imperial coins…Southlands too…These I don’t recognize,” I said as I handed her a few silver and copper coins. They had a stern-looking man’s face on one side, and the obverse was struck with a single five-pointed star. The silver were marked One Dollar. The copper were marked either Three Cents or One Cent, depending on the size.

“These are nicely made,” she said as she looked at them, “so are the Empire’s,” she tapped the Southland coins. “These are much rougher.”

“You’re right. Wherever these were made has a good mint.”

“Could they make rifles like these?” she patted one of the lever actions.

“Probably.”

“Interesting.” She picked up one of the rifles and worked the action, catching the ejected cartridge before it could stray too far. “Smooth.” She slid the ejected cartridge into the loading gate and pressed the safety in. “Time to ask some questions?”

“Why not?”

She pinched the ear lobe of the one she had yanked off the horse until he yelped awake.

“Good afternoon,” her voice had changed to a cold, flat tone. “You are going to answer some questions for me.”

The raider scout stared at his reflection in the smooth visor of her helmet. She had her grip on his shoulder, and I was certain she was just applying enough pressure to make the scout know that he had no chance of breaking free.

“Who are you?” the scout gasped.

“HARI-9, but that’s not important. What is important is you answering some questions. Milord, some water for this man.”

Nodding, I pulled the canteen off my belt and poured some in his mouth.

“Thanks...” he said and recoiled slightly as he saw my helmet as well.

I attempted to move as calmly as Mara and replied as flatly and emotionlessly as possible, “You are welcome.”

“Excellent.” The cold voice Mara was using came through my helmet. “Continue with that attitude and tone in all interactions with the prisoner.” She started speaking aloud again, “What is your name?”

“Johnny…”

“Thank you, Johnny. Who do you work for?”

“Lord Malcolm…Ruler of the wastes.”

“The same Lord Malcolm that leads the Dark Warriors?” she asked.

“You have heard of him?”

Mara nodded, “He has some measure of fame. I would like to meet him, but before that, I need to know some things. Let me make your friend comfortable, and then we can have a talk.”

_____________________________________________________

The two scouts were left tied up and on the ground with a knife and two canteens each. They could get free if they were calm about it. But Mara had warned them that if they went toward Malcolm’s city or northeast, they would regret it. We were apparently three days’ ride from the city, and so I was on one of the horses and leading the other while the Guts whirred along.

A day’s ride out, we pulled into a stand of trees, and I dismounted.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Mara asked. Her voice and attitude had returned to normal after she had finished the questioning.

“Of course. Did you think I would trust anybody else with your safety?”

“Well, if we start now, we’ll arrive tomorrow midday.”

“Then we had both better get ready.”

She had come up with this plan, which was a variation on the one she had come up with for the compound attack. Walking over to the Gut I had been driving, I switched out my L70 and spare magazines for a snaplock rifle and powder horn and set my helmet down before inserting a small device in my ear. I still had an Old World pistol and vest concealed under my homespun shirt.

“You ready?” Mara asked as she walked over; she was wearing a ragged dress that covered even less than the one she had worn before. Her hair was now filthy, and she was covered with dust. She tossed me the length of rope, “Let’s do this.”

I tied her wrists and ankles together as tightly as possible, then slung her over the back of the horse I was riding. I had already stained the blanket, so it was now a dull, muddy brown, faded in parts, but the finger bone art was missing, “Are you all right?” I asked.

“I’m fine,” her voice whispered through the device in my ear. “I was not expecting the horse, but it does make things easier in some ways.”

With that, I took off riding toward the city.

The road was clear enough, and eventually, when night came, I stopped to camp, lifting Mara down and untying her. She had wanted to travel this way in case we encountered a patrol.

Building a small fire, I heated some water to make a salt venison stew.

“You’ve done this a lot, haven’t you?” she asked.

“What?”

“Slept under the stars.”

“Most of the last several years.”

“I was in the Army, and I hardly ever did. My missions took me into cities and enemy camps, and those were tents or buildings.”

“Huh. Why did you join the Army?”

“After college, I wasn’t sure what to do, so I Enlisted mostly as a way to force myself to decide.”

“College is where the big thinkers and doctors go. What did you study?” I asked

“English Literature. Not really a lot of work for somebody with those skills, so I enlisted and went into Military Counter-Intelligence because it sounded interesting. It was, so I reenlisted, and right after I got promoted to Master Sergeant, the war started.”

“How old are you?”

“Not counting my time on Stand-By? Thirty-three. You?”

“Thirty next month.”

“So you’ve been roaming for eleven years?”

“For about eight. I tried my hand at working at a general store for a while because I wasn’t allowed to use my skills.”

“The Guild?” she asked.

“Yes. So I did that for three years and hated every moment.”

“You’re something else, Mister Magellan.”

“What do you mean?”

“You refuse to let somebody else tell you what to do or not do.”

“I let you tell me.”

“Only because you want to do whatever it is anyway.”

Raising an eyebrow, I looked at her, “I see.”

She smiled and leaned back against the log, “I could not have been awakened by a better noble.”

“That remains to be seen; I’m quite certain that once you meet a real noble, you will forget all about me.”

“Somehow, I doubt that will happen,” she replied dryly.