Chapter 1
It was a bright day, the sun peeking out from behind the tall ramshackle buildings. Smoke wafted upwards, the furnaces heating up for another day in the broken-down city. People left their living quarters and began setting up shop and preparing for arriving customers. Snoring, Lucian slept peacefully, his alarm clock disassembled for parts the day earlier. His room was cluttered with half-built inventions and equipment strewn about the floor. Carver leaned on the wooden storefront, waiting for Lucian to hurry up, as he needed to get back to the guard post promptly. The day before he dropped off his sword to be sharpened and fixed, the handle was damaged and had to be replaced. Tired and angry Carver yelled, “ COME ON LUCIAN!” He started dinging the bell as fast as he could manage. “I’M GOING TO BE LATE.”
Lucian swore under his breath as his eyes fluttered open. Jumping out of bed he immediately tripped on his scrap metal toolbox and thumped on the floor. ”Hold on Carv I’m coming”
Tripping down the stairs, Lucian arrived at the storefront in a mess. “Hi, Carv! What can I get for you?”
“You know what I’m here for Lucian, don’t play games with me. I told you I needed it fixed for guard duty.”
Lucian racked his brain. It was all foggy and gray like a spring morning in the forest, where it was such a simpler life to live with his parents and only if he could go back he wouldn’t be in this mess and- - Mmmm I forgot about that Carv. Sorry man. I can have it done for you by the end of today, I swear, I can even give you a discount.
“I don’t want your cheap discounts Lucian-” Carver was immensely displeased now, slamming his fists on the storefront. People were beginning to take notice of Carver berating the local blacksmith, even if he was cheap and only an apprentice. “Give me my sword or I’m going to call the guards and have you thrown into the dungeon.” He whispered, palming his sword and glaring into Carver’s eyes.
“Whatever Carver, take your sword back, I don't even want to work on it.”
Lucian walked to the storage room while telling Carv how annoying and hotheaded he was. Throwing the sword onto the front table and walking upstairs to get his equipment, Lucian was already tired of the workday. Advancing back to the front of his store he flipped the sign to closed despite it only being the morning and unlocked the front door.
The air smelled of roasted meat and smoke, marketplaces open but few customers strewed about. Plagued by fear and corruption, the City was a centre of black market dealing and illegal activity, yet also inhabited by many families unfortunate enough to be stuck there. Motorcycles armed with guns and makeshift armoured vehicles zoomed across cracked roads, kicking up dust and spewing black fumes. Many of the populace were armed, one way or another. Too many robberies and murders for most people to feel safe walking around. If only half of the arms dealt were functional maybe the crimes would be reduced or increased depending on how you look at it. Either way, half were dysfunctional cheaply scavenged weapons that either shot or blew up. Lucian didn’t believe in carrying weapons, he thought that if you didn’t have trouble you weren’t going to get any trouble or something along those lines.
Scavenging was a big part of most City dwellers' lifestyles. If you wanted a chance to get ahead and find extra food, water, or materials, then you had to flip over every rock and explore every nook and cranny. You might just get robbed or shot but it was just how life was in the City.
Lucian strode around the city, looking for empty places to gather scrap parts. Alleyways filled with trash were a scavenger’s goldmine. Bending down and sifting through assorted trash, he scrunched his eyebrows together. The smell in the city was often disgusting and vile, and trash was hardly dealt with and often just tossed onto the floor. A broken chair, a busted photo, a rusted sword, clay pottery smashed to bits. None of this was what Lucian was looking for, he was expecting something cooler. Smelling the distinct smell of burning electronics and plastic he rose to his feet and attempted to follow the scent. An alleyway stuffed with trash stretched out in front. A singular metal object lay semi-buried, smoking and burning the surrounding trash. Rushing forward Lucian frantically dragged trash to the side. Digging through trash he found a small drone, one of the rotors aflame. It tried to fly away, accelerating the blades to maximum speed to no avail. Checking for trackers or cameras, rotating the drone around quickly, if he was caught he could be interrogated or killed. Lucian swore and unsheathed his dagger, plugging it into the mini camera concealed at the front of the drone.
All of a sudden footsteps and chatter echoed from the other side of the alleyway. It was about four, not five people making their way toward the fallen drone too. Sheathing his blade and stuffing the drone into a trash bag, he tried to retreat as quickly and as quietly as possible. Avoiding metal swords and trash bins he escaped the alley and briskly walked home, looking behind his back now and then. Lucian fumbled for the key as his hands shook, missing the keyhole several times before he shoved open the door and slipped inside. He ran upstairs and tore open the garbage bag, not caring when trash fell to the floor. After placing the drone on the workbench, he collapsed on his chair. Lucian opened his toolbox and got to work.
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*Bang* Lucian woke with a start. There was a firefight outside and he had fallen asleep at his workbench. Shots echoed through the city, but nobody was alarmed. People strode around tensely with their hands on their weapons, eyes surveying the urban battleground. Shopkeeps were anxiously double-checking firearms stashed under the counter. Chaos and riots could erupt at any time, and only slaughter followed. Fire and death plagued the streets when what little order the city had gave way. The city’s guards would come, often mercilessly slaughtering anyone in their path. It didn’t matter who lived and who died as long as the fighting stopped. Lucian rubbed his eyes and continued where he left off, plugging the storage unit of the drone into his makeshift mini PC. Proceeding to open up the terminal, he noticed that it contained multiple text files and images. The whole event was unusual because not many people had electronics in the city and nobody had this level of technology just lying around. Quite strange, he thought, opening the text files revealed an unencrypted series of messages. The messages seemed to consist of two people, debating classified plans- Operation Steel Plateau. They couldn’t seem to agree on how to execute the plan and referenced options one, two, and three often. Sometimes they would agree on meeting spots such as “The Still”, “The Fast Lane”, or “The Goblet”.
Luien’s eyes widened as he saw several cities mentioned in the conversation. Lübeck, as well as Corinth and Amiens, were three of the designated options for whatever plot was brewing. The three villages were relatively unremarkable on the continental stage, lacking industry or infrastructure. Lucian scratched his chin and stood up, pacing the room. Lübeck was the homeland of his family. Multiple generations and families resided there, and their livelihoods and lives revolved around the land.
The trigger clicks back, a hammer striking flint. Ignition. Building pressure, fire, expanding instantaneously. Rigid lines inscribe stability as metal grinds, twisting against metal. Like a volcano erupting, the pump-action spewed forth flame and steel, the front door flying off its hinges as it was effortlessly ripped apart by a slug. Footsteps downstairs, radio chatter echoing throughout the house turned into a battleground. “Search for the target upstairs!!” The soldiers ran up the stairs with their fingers on the trigger and guns pointed forward. Lucian ripped the storage out of his mini PC and shoved it in his pocket. One leg over the other and he was perched on his window, ready to jump off onto the garbage pile below. Instead of fleeing and risking being shot he climbed down and hung off of the ledge. Voices emanated from inside, rooms were cleared and furniture was overturned. He dangled precariously until the activity quieted down before risking a look inside. Straining muscles pulling himself up just barely enough to see into the room. Figure out later what the figures looked like. Lucian tried to relinquish grip and slowly descend but ended up slipping and falling loudly into the waste. With a crash and rattle he got up, brushing off garbage only to hear yelling in his house as he was discovered. He sprinted away, checking again that the storage unit was still in his dust-laden pocket. The city was no longer safe. Even though its sprawling expanse had many hiding spots he needed food and water and patterns would develop. Eventually, someone would sell him out and he would be captured. With only the cash in his pocket, Lucian would have to live elsewhere.
Lucian briskly walked toward the city gates, the bullet-pocketed concrete looming above him, telling a tale that was as worn as its inhabitants. Merchants and mercenaries alike walked to and fro the city, selling wares and always keeping a gleaming eye for trouble. Heavily armed guards stood to watch, chatting amongst themselves but always keeping a watching eye. Lucian trudged onwards, avoiding ramshackle cars and wagons scuttling past the dirt roads. The camp lay within a cleared field, gentle, sloping hills spread around it, trees shifting in the breeze, leaves changing color and carrying the distinct smell of fall arriving. Lucian stepped out of the city and looked back. Decrepit scrap and corrugated metal buildings lined the street, and trash piled on the corners. This was his home, no matter how bad it was living there. He sighed, and walked away, he had to lay low and try to uncover the secrets enclosed within the little device.
Hours later Lucian finally folded and collapsed onto a rock just a minute off the main road. His gut was killing him, cramps would seriously hinder his progress if he didn’t become accustomed to traveling. Absentmindedly he forgot to grab any food or water in the camp before he left, and his stomach begged him for sustenance. Figuring it couldn’t be that hard to find food he left the road and ventured into the forest.
Sticks crunching underfoot, Lucian didn’t see any animals anywhere. He was at his wit’s end and utterly exhausted so he sat down and began removing rocks from his battered shoes. Suddenly he had a stroke of brilliance- reaching inside his tattered shirt he pulled forth his salvation. A pair of wire cutters!
Daylight waning, Lucian held his finished wooden spear and inspected his handiwork. Although it was jagged and crude, it was sharp and mostly balanced. He stashed his wire cutters and crept around the forest, looking for an unaware creature to pounce on. A shallow lake lay within the ground before him. A wooden spear in one hand, and a careful eye on the waters. Lucian squinted, the fading light didn’t help him discern any fish in the water. The fish darted around the pool, disturbing the surface. Ever so often the fish would stop briefly to sess their surroundings and rest. Lucian stabbed forward but missed by a mile. Groaning in despair he hastily stabbed over and over. Pulling the spear out, only mud lingered on the roughly hewn shaft. He cleaned it off on the grass surrounding the pond. Exhaling and refocusing he waited for a fish to linger at the edge of the water, a swift strike, and the fish was impaled by wood. With a battery, copper wire and a quick short-circuit made ignition later, fish was cooking over a campfire. The chill breeze shifted the scarlet trees, cold ebbing and creeping, permeating deep into Lucian’s flesh. As winter drew near he would have to adapt to the frost or perish, and it was crucial he remembered the lessons he learned growing up, back at Lubeck in the village. The fish tasted surprisingly good for a half-burnt unseasoned dish. It was a stark contrast to the bland, slightly expired food sold in the bandit camp.
As the night passed and the fish was eaten, Lucian grew tired. He rose off the log he pulled over, joints protesting, and went in search of foliage to use as bedding. Trudging along he spotted a fern and pulled off the leaves, bringing them back to his campfire, now burning low. He laid them down softly and slumped down on top. The smoke clung to his clothes and bit his eyes but he was exhausted after the eventful day. Lucian soon fell asleep squinting at the stars painted across the midnight sky.