Jace leapt to his feet, stolen armor clattering, but he kept his knees bent to compensate for the shuddering floor. “The boiler…is it—”

“I’m working on it. Can you guide the dropship up to the Wall’s gate?” Kinfild demanded.

The Wall. Of course. They couldn’t just zip into the Starrealm’s territory from beyond the wall.

“I can manage that!” Jace stumbled across the rocking floor to the cockpit and dropped down in the pilot’s seat, then gripped the control yoke. Golden light peeled off the viewscreen More warning lights flashed, scorching his eyes with their red light, but he couldn’t say what they meant. He looked back at Kinfild and shouted, “So, did anything important break? Anything I should know about?”

“Coolant is leaking,” Kinfild answered. “It has spread across the three sensor systems by now. The QuarDy-Nine Detectors are down, as well as the repellers' precision nodes. The—"

“Are we going to die?” Jace demanded. “Immediately?”

“No, but landing will not be easy.”

Jace sighed. He kept a loose grip on the yoke and stared out at the void ahead. They approached the Wall’s gate amidst a thin stream of other starship traffic. There weren’t many trying to pass through this side of the Wall, but there were a few.

“All starships entering the Realm must be inspected,” Kinfild said. “Which may prove difficult for us. I will keep the furnace hot, but I need you to follow my instructions to the letter. We may not make it through if you deviate.”

Jace nodded, but he kept his lips tight. Following instructions might not be an option.

The front face of the Wall was flat and plain, but enormous gun placements the size of cities clung to it, and glowing orange, anti-hyperspace torpedo nets hung in front of it.

As they drew closer to the entrance, Kinfild instructed, “Approach one of the checkpoint stations!” He tossed a shovel-full of starcoals into the furnace, between adjusting levers and turning cranks.

Jace squinted. Floating just beyond the mouth of the gate was a cluster of column-shaped space stations—perhaps two kilometers tall, from the antennae at the top all the way to the pointed base. Thin tendrils of steel stretched out from all of its sides, and some of the tendrils bore holographic flags. They were all yellow, emblazoned with the red cross and black crest—the Starrealm flag.

Jace guided the dropship to the closest checkpoint, towards a gaping opening in the center of the station’s column. A film of nearly-transparent mist hung across the opening, holding breathable air inside the tunnel. “We…don’t have anything to bribe them with, do we?”

“We do not,” Kinfild said. “We’ll come up with something.”

“Why don’t we explain our case to them? What we just saw on Maehn, for one thing.”

“I’m sure they’re well aware of what Stenol is doing.” Kinfild took a break from heaving the starcoals and leaned against the engine room’s doorway. “And the Watchmen who aren’t taking his bribes already would gain much from a war between the Starrealm and the other nations—they won’t object. They, being some of the Starrealms strongest warriors and Wielders, would be made into generals, and they would lead great armies. We will find no friends here.”

Jace bit his lip. He could still pull on the control yoke and break away. “What’s to stop us from skipping it?”

“They’ll try to blast us out of the sky?” Kinfild returned to shovelling. “If not, a triple demerit on our license and the Cargo Registrar would dock our pay.”

Jace figured the second half of the statement was a joke. The first half…he grimaced. They could try it the proper way. He pulled the control yoke to the left sharply. The dropship passed beneath a flag. Then, he pulled back. The vessel lurched up slightly to enter the air-shielded tunnel. The misty gateway condensed on the viewscreen, then beaded off in the pressurized atmosphere.

“Lower the landing struts,” instructed Kinfild. “Unless you want to damage our under-hull even more.”

“And which switch would that be?” Jace asked.

“The small yellow one just in front of the control yoke.”

Jace flicked the switch. The landing struts extended out in front and behind the dropship. Then, he eased forward on the control yoke. The dropship settled down on the glossy white floor, artificial gravity holding it down. Kinfild flipped a set of switches on the engine room’s walls, and the thrusters quieted.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

“We should charge the hyperdrive,” Jace suggested. If they had to run, he’d like to be able to zip away before anyone could even think to aim at them.

“You’re welcome to. I’ll see if I can find some identification papers for us,” Kinfild said. “They might have something in here that we can pass off as our own.” He turned to the passenger compartment of the dropship, opposite of the sleeping bunks, and opened up a metal drawer.

Jace gripped the dial he’d used to charge the jumpstart accumulator, then turned it all the way. A hum built in the deck.

While he waited, he kept cycling Aes, maintaining the pattern Kinfild had taught him. His Hyperdash card and cooldown reset card now used hyperspace Aes, not pure Aes. He pushed the arcane energy close and around his core cloud, converting it to a faint blue colour gradually. He imagined he was swirling it with an invisible spoon, like he was stirring a pot of soup.

As he cycled, he watched what was happening outside the dropship. A trio of checkpoint workers—humans in bright yellow frock coats and kepi hats—approached. The worker in the lead held a clipboard, and the one behind him held a tablet covered in gauges, pixelated readouts, and antennae. A long wire connected the device to a creature that paced in circles around the man’s feet. It was a green, lizard-like lifeform the size of a dog, with a large snout and vibrating spines along its back.

“Ah, so they have a gysalemeer,” said Kinfild. “They can scan small starships quite well. Perfect for detecting bioweapons, invasive and illegal plants, and Mineral smuggling. Some say they can also smell light-aspect Wielders. They’re probably trying to figure out if they should demand a bribe or just report us.”

“How are you so nonchalant about this?” Jace demanded.

“I’m thinking of a solution…”

“Think faster!”

The checkpoint workers began to walk in a circle around the dropship. The gysalemeer sniffed and snorted, scanning the vessel from the stern to bow. When they made a full circle, the workers stared at the device they held in their hands. A few seconds later, they motioned with their hands off to the distant edge of the checkpoint hangar.

Jace leaned forwards, trying to see what they beckoned towards. A man in a long brown robe strode towards them. His clothing beneath was made up of interwoven leather bands that folded together like a wicker basket.

He pushed his cloak aside, revealing a sword with a crescent-shaped crossguard. There was a little gap between the crossgaurd and the scabbard, where lime-green glass peered through.

Jace’s mouth slipped open. “Is that…?”

“A Whistling Blade?” Kinfild completed the question. “Yes, likely. That is a Watchman.”

The Watchman walked with confidence, and, much like what Jace felt near Stenol, the air seemed to pulse. A feeling emanated out from the man, unpleasant and unnatural. The Split had a great dislike for this man as well, and begged Jace to kill him.

When the Watchman drew within ten paces of the starship, a tag appeared above his head: [Level 27 Watchman].

“And what’s special about…a Watchman?” Jace asked, leaning back in the seat to keep out of sight.

Kinfild said, “The Order of the Watchmen are supposed to guard the Wall and patrol the nebulae around it, making sure that none of the Enemy’s forces ever make it through. But over the centuries, their privileges have grown. They operate freely and without oversight.” He inhaled, set his shovel down, then added, “And, to make matters worse, they can all cultivate Aes.”

“Hm?” Jace tilted his head.

“Instead of being sent to Arcane Universities, they were taken from their families when they were young. They were trained in the arcane arts by other Watchmen of the Order, and they used to all follow light-based Paths. But times have changed. A faction of errant void-Path Watchmen set a trap and executed all the light-Path wielders.” Kinfild paused, then added, “Around the same time that such Paths were declared illegal across the galaxy—nearly simultaneously, by all of the separate empires.”

Suddenly, he wished Lessa was here. She could tell him how truly powerful this Watchman was, or give him a hint of what abilities the man had.

But the Watchman had to be more powerful than him. If it came to it, fighting would be unwise. The Watchman probably knew how to use his Whistling Blade much better. If it came to a pure swordfight, Jace would lose.

“We need to go,” Jace said. If what Kinfild said was true, there was no way that the inspection ended well. They’d find out he was on a hyperspace Path, and they’d execute him. “Fire up the furnace. I need as much speed as you can give me, Kinfild.” They just had to get out of the tunnel, aim at a patch of empty void, and shoot off into hyperspace. If they went fast, they might be able to make it before anyone shot them down.

It was their only chance.

“Jace…” Kinfild warned. He picked up the shovel and ran back to the engine room.

“We need to leave, Kinfild!” Jace set one hand on the control yoke, then reached over to the power shunting levers. He tried flicking the shield level, but they were out of shield-Aes. Nothing happened. “If we stay, they’ll find out who I am, and we’ll both die!”

“I—alright! Hold on, and don’t crash. Go straight.” Kinfild began to shovel starcoals. Jace clutched the control yoke in front of him and pulled up; the dropship lifted off the platform and hovered a couple feet above the checkpoint’s hangar floor. Smoke coughed out of the ventilation ducts, followed by a sweet, ozone-like odour.

It was time to go.

Jace held the yoke steady and called, “Full speed, Kinfild!”