The sun was well past the dawn when we finally broke camp, stowing our gear and preparing for the journey ahead. The air was crisp, the early morning mist breaking up and hanging in wispy patches over the landscape, while the morning dew was drying on the grass and the leftover corpses of the rad-wolves. We moved in cheer, quite invigorated by the night’s events and well-ready to head towards the fabled ruins of Chic-A-Go.
“Everyone ready?” Sir Alain called out, his voice firm and steady. The knights nodded, grinning and smiling while Elli clapped.
“Let’s get moving already!” she cried excitedly, and we all laughed as we mounted the mechs to move out.
We climbed into the cockpits of the mechs, this time Elli and I getting into the Toxotai of Sir Conrad, and we listened as the systems hummed to life as fluids gurgled and cores reanimated to mechanical-biological life.
“You two ready for the lands of Illonoy?” Conrad asked, his gray eyes dark and probing. “It’s very likely we’ll get in a fight there.”
“I look forward to it,” Elli said with a smile, and he tossed his long black hair to one side.
“You’ve got the right ride for it. If it wasn’t for who my parents are, I’d be a knight proper, riding a Cataphract. We get in a fight, be ready to see some magic.”
“He thinks he is a wizard,” CD stated disdainfully and we both shared an amused look.
“Move out,” Sir Alain called out over the comms.
The knights responded with a chorus of affirmatives, Conrad giving the mid-tech speaking device the middle finger as he did so.
“What’s that mean?” I asked.
He grinned.
“It’s just what you do when your boss tells you to do something but can’t see you. An old-times custom. Used to mean, I should be the boss, not you.”
I laughed. Conrad had some real zest to him, and I was interested in seeing more.
I adjusted my seat, while the Toxotai stepped off, falling into formation and subtly shifting the balance of the cockpit. Elli was beside me, the brightness of her eyes almost their own light source as we moved through the wilds to find a place to cross the river.
We couldn’t see where we were going, not without a direct connection to the mech. But I soon found, that when I closed my eyes, I would get snatches of sight from the body of the mech as it tried to attune to me. I caught patches of ancient forest, noontime canopies, and flitting birds as we marched, and peeked over once to see Elli’s eyes fluttering whilst closed, no doubt experiencing the same thing.
While we lay and enjoyed our scattered sights, Sir Conrad stayed silent, the only sound the rhythmic thud of the mech’s steps and the occasional clang as the Toxotai clipped or kicked something hard from the outside world. Sir Alain led the way, the full plate of his armor shining in the lights as he strode forward on thick and powerful legs.
Though the shots of him were fleeting, it was easy to imagine the monstrous muscles pumping underneath the plates, flexing at the bolt points and working alongside the hydraulic pistons that ensured their constant and fluid motion.
The mech often turned to survey its surroundings, a whole body move that trampled smaller trees underfoot, and once I got sight of Sir Alain taking a playful whack at a particularly towering birch, slashing it in half and sending splinters splattering in an arc across his path.
Once I even got to see him fade and seemingly zip forward, no doubt a practice move done with the phase gem we’d found him, and that Elli had installed.
The trail left by the Cataphract was noticeable, giant footprints that wouldn’t be filled in any time soon. I wondered if that might be a problem since they’d be so easy to track, and quickly decided that anything that’d deign to track those prints couldn’t actually exist. They symbolized awesome power, and even the most bloodthirsty of monsters would think twice before messing with the thing that made them.
After the first night, across the river by means I never got to see, we had our first encounter with sapient mutants. We were passing through a narrow valley, the walls steep and covered in dense vegetation. We were riding with Sir Eadric, and he was the first to notice them, his mech coming to a halt, and his sudden apprehension seemed to magnify my attunement to the mech because everything rose in my mind clearly as if I were the pilot himself.
“Movement,” he spoke over the comms.
I could feel his eyes narrow as he peered into the shadows. It almost felt as if he and I were the same.
I followed his gaze and saw them—figures darting between the trees, their forms lithe and agile. They moved with an almost supernatural grace, their eyes glowing softly in the dim light. They had pointed ears and were the thinnest and tallest beings I’d ever seen. Their skin was like birch wood, very pale and lightly peeling.
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“Wooded ones,” Sir Eadric murmured. “Sapient mutants. They’re watching us.”
The wooded ones kept their distance, their eyes never leaving us even as they leaped and clambered through the bushes and trees of the valley slopes. Their eyes were larger than normal, like those of a cat, and I wondered if they too liked to lay in the light when no danger was in sight.
“They’re not attacking,” Elli observed quietly.
“They rarely do,” Sir Eadric said, his tone thoughtful. “The Church’s texts say they were once people, cursed by the rads and chems of Armageddon. Their humanity was twisted, but their intelligence remains.”
“Do you believe that?” I asked, curious about his take on the Church’s teachings. I knew them well enough, but never put a lot of stock in what they said.
I felt him shrug, and the attunement broke, my vision replaced again by the backs of my eyelids.
“I’ve seen too much out here to doubt anything outright. Maybe they were human once. Maybe not. What matters is that they’re not our enemies unless we make them so. No matter what the church might say about them.”
We continued our journey, leaving the valley behind. I didn’t see them anymore, but I imagined that the wooded ones watched us go, perhaps asking the same questions of us to their own church leaders.
Our journey took us through diverse terrain—rolling hills, dense forests, and vast open plains. The remains of ancient highways crisscrossed the landscape, their once smooth surfaces now cracked and overgrown with vegetation. We followed these remnants whenever we could, using them as guides to navigate the wilderness.
The next afternoon, as we traversed a particularly desolate stretch of road alongside Sir Oswald, we were party to a new and particularly memorable encounter. As we arched forward, the comms crackled and Sir Alain yelled something unintelligible, before calming down and broadcasting again.
“Grinded Hell Gears, that’s a biggie. Everyone, follow my lead. Time to take cover.”
Elli and I shared a look as we felt our Toxotai duck and sprint. I tried to close my eyes and see the scene, and for a brief second, I succeeded. There, roaming far across flat plains and across the shattered cracked land of a pre-apocalyptic crater roamed a massive reptilian creature, four-legged and long, its scales glinting in the sunlight. Its eyes blazed a neon ice-blue, and it was the biggest monster I’d ever seen.
CD’s voice buzzed in my ear, his tone incredulous.
“A creature of that size… fascinating. It’s likely a product of not just Torian gene tech, but also extensive genetic mutation. I’d love to study it up close.”
“Not now, CD,” I whispered back, my eyes never leaving the monster.
“Imagine the cores and gems we could get off that,” Elli said, giggling nervously as we both lost our tenuous sight of it.
“You too?” I asked, staring at her and we both cracked up, laughing hard, while Sir Oswald grimaced.
“Keep it down. That thing isn’t one that we want to be tussling with,” he said with a hint of nervousness.
We ended our trek for the day, the mechs moving into the ruins of a free-standing road bridge, its purpose unknown. The creature left soon enough, its castle-like body ploddingly slow to disappear over the Southern horizon as we chewed travel rations and quietly chatted.
And soon enough, the next day was upon us.
Our nights were spent in a more martial manner, with no fires to attract attention and only travel rations to sustain us. We maintained strict watches, taking turns to ensure we were never caught off guard. Each night, we camped on the highest ground we could find, giving us a defensive advantage and a clear view of the surrounding area.
Despite the seriousness of our situation, the atmosphere within our group remained hopeful and jovial. At camp, the knights shared stories of their past adventures, their laughter quiet but still present. They spoke of politics and life in general, revealing their disdain for the feudal system of Alnda.
“I’ve never been a fan of how things are run back home,” Sir Eadric admitted one evening, as we huddled together under the stars. “Too much corruption, too many people suffering because they don’t have the right blood.”
Sir Conrad nodded in agreement.
“It’s good to be the Duke. Not so good to be a serf.”
“Ah, the joys of human governance.” CD observed. “So inefficient, so corrupt. It’s a wonder your species hasn’t imploded yet. If we wait long enough, maybe it will.”
We continued our journey, and the next day we came into sight of the ruins of Chic-A-Go. The mechs stopped and all of us came out into the bright light of noon to peer over the city.
It was dazzling.
The first thing that caught my eye was the array of towering structures, their upper reaches shattered and jagged. These colossal remnants stood like the ancient ribs of a long-dead giant, reaching skyward. It was obvious that once they had been mighty pillars of stone and metal, but now, they were draped in a veil of creeping ivy and vegetation, making this grand city kingdom look almost like a jungle.
Sunlight filtered through the gaps in their broken forms, casting patterns of light and shadow across the landscape below. A landscape of gloom and cracked buildings, no doubt seething with mutants and monsters.
Scattered throughout the city were vast, elevated pathways wider than even the greatest king’s roads. They were broken and fragmented, with large sections missing, leaving dangerous gaps between them, and were supported by gargantuan pillars that rose up from the ground beneath. Rusted metal and crumbling stone abounded, and here and there, the skeletal remains of metallic carriages clung precariously to the edges.
A river, wide and slow-moving, cut through the center of Chic-A-Go. Its waters, dark and murky, reflected the brokenness around it. I could make out just a single bridge spanning it, something newer that looked mid-tech, but it, too, was crumbling and sagging. Along the banks, wild trees and shrubs thrived, some growing out of cracked and broken buildings.
All of it was haunting and awe-inspiring in equal measure.
“This is Chic-A-Go?” I asked, my eyes darting to a thick forest within, seeming surrounded on all sides by the towers of broken glass, rock, and steel.”
“Part of it,” Sir Alain said. “Chic-A-Go is larger than you could ever see from any one vantage.”
Elli kicked at the ground nervously, frowned, then knelt to dig at the dirt with her fingers. The rest of us came over to help, and soon we had a long rectangle of green in our hands, a wind-faded green and white.
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