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The Golden Lance (rough draft)
The Age of Blood and Steele

The Age of Blood and Steele

The Age of Blood and Steele

The seconds dragged by like hours as Nameless clung to his sleeping bag, terrified of sleeping again. He checked his watch: four o'clock. Barely an hour of sleep, now his sleeping bag was drenched from sweat, and his friends thought he was crazy. He huffed, slowly, and stealthily opened his sleeping bag and snuck out. He was accustomed to the dark, using his memory to accurately calculate how far he had to go until he reached the door.

As he moved slowly with his hand outstretched, it contacted the door, just as he predicted. He slid his fingers down the cool metal surface until his fingers wrapped around the door handle. He gingerly twisted it open, soft metallic creaking drifting from the handle. Nameless winced, listening for movement behind. Aside from a few rustles from the sleepers in their bags, no one seemed alerted to his escape.

The long hallway was empty aside from the periodic guards manning the entrances to the dark rooms. He slowly inched the door open, letting a small slice of light enter the room as he squeezed through the opening, careful not to wake his friends. He pulled it shut, cutting off the soft sounds of Aj and Hera's snoring.

Outside the briefing room, he slipped his cold feet into his unlaced combat boots, letting the laces dangle as he stomped away. As he passed each pair of guards, they held up their rifles in salute. He returned the gesture with his upright fist, the Martian Mercenary salute.

Having exited the long hallway, Nameless was met by the empty courtyard. As he scanned the open expanse in front of him, he noticed a solitary figure sitting alone with their hood up, stirring some kind of pot or kettle on top of a burning fire. The simmering embers from the cooking stoves wafting sparks skyward into the cavern's ventilation shafts. The soft thrum of engines and machinery echoed through the tunnels as soldiers and people went back and forth underneath the city.

Nameless made a wide berth around the figure, careful not to disturb their peace. He continued his way across the courtyard, making it halfway across the yard when he saw the side view of the person. It was Guild Master Ardo, quietly stirring a kettle with a wooden stick. Curiosity burned inside his chest, but he respectfully kept his distance.

“Can't sleep either?” a distant voice called.

Nameless looked back, seeing that Ardo was looking right at him, a kind smile framing his hooded face. Nameless nodded. The old guild master gestured to a metal stool in front of the fire. For a moment, the bounty hunter hesitated, then went over and joined the Guild Master.

“Master Ardo,” Nameless said groggily but respectfully.

“Nameless,” the old man said melancholically.

“Can't sleep either?” Nameless asked.

Ardo slowly nodded. “I suspect this night, the past weighs heavily on both of us,” the old Guild Master said as he gazed into the fire.

Nameless shrugged, about to say something tough. But he stopped and nodded.

“I do not hate you,” Guild Master Ardo said abruptly.

Nameless looked up startled, searching for whatever the old Master could possibly hate him for. Jesse, of course.

“I'm so sorry,” Nameless began.

Guild Master Ardo held his gloved hand up, halting whatever excuse Nameless was about to say. He reached downward, pulling the kettle off the fire, pouring the frothy dark brown drink into two cups. He let the metal cups simmer as he sat quietly, then offered Nameless one.

“It is called coffee. I am afraid you shall find it most necessary the longer you live this kind of life,” Guild Master Ardo said as he held a cup out for Nameless.

Nameless nodded in gratitude, taking the cup. The heat wafted through his hands, the strong scent filling his nostrils. As he drank, his heart sped up, and he felt his pupils dilate. Guild Master Ardo watched with a smirk and a twinkle in his eye as Nameless choked the disgusting drink down.

“Forgive me, in my old age and tenure of this profession, I tend to appreciate the stronger stuff,” Guild Master Ardo chuckled as Nameless choked quietly.

“It's-its good,” Nameless gasped.

Guild Master chuckled, his laughter fading slowly as he gazed out across the courtyard.

Nameless followed the old man's keen sight, seeing small, distant objects concealed by dark sheets lying next to each other by the dozens. Human-shaped objects, resting under blankets.

“It is natural to feel guilt for one's only loss, in the face of the numerous lives spent. It is important to mourn each precious life gone, just as much as we mourn the masses,” Guild Master Ardo said slowly, his voice heavy.

Nameless followed his gaze, nodding.

“I didn't know him well, but he was a fine warrior from what I saw,” Nameless said carefully.

“Thank you. That means a lot, coming from you.”

“I'm just a bounty hunter,” Nameless said quickly.

Ardo looked at him. “And I am just an old man, who sent dozens of young men and women to their deaths, like my son,” Ardo said softly, his voice shaking.

The two sat in silence. The faint thrum of machinery continued.

“Their mother died from a job for the clans many years ago, an assassination of all things. I swore to her on her deathbed I would protect our five children. Now our last is training to replace me, hellbent on revenge. It is easy to allow our pride and emotions to override our creed. Do not allow such petty things to override your close ties,” Ardo said softly. “Guard your friends closely; they are far more important than money, fame, glory, and whatever else the priests promise you.”

Nameless looked at the old man, taking in the sight of Ardo hunched over his cup of coffee.

“You don't plan on coming back from this, do you?” Nameless said softly.

Ardo shook his head. “This quest must be completed. That vial must be taken off this wretched world. If my aide and sacrifice help even a little, then I know full well the welcome I shall receive when I see them again in the afterlife.”

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“What was their mother's name?” Nameless asked gently.

“Sofia.”

The Old Guild Master bent over, clutching his coffee with white knuckles. His body heaved, his chest rising and falling as he sobbed. Nameless sat awkwardly, unsure of what to do, trying to respect this moment as best he could.

“I might not know this pain, but I do get losing everything,” Nameless said encouragingly.

“Sofia, Abraham, Michael, Alexis, Jesse,” Ardo sobbed softly.

The Guild Master pulled his right sleeve up, showing Nameless the names tattooed into his skin. A fresh new tattoo had just been crudely carved in at the very bottom of the list. Jesse. Nameless 's chest twisted.

“I will make sure Anna makes it until the end. She will see the grass grow again on the surface,” Nameless vowed solemnly.

Ardo shook his head kindly, giving a tearful smile to Nameless.

“It is not your place to promise such things, as much as it means to me. The gods alone determine our ends. I do not weep for my son's abrupt end; I weep that there will be much time before I can embrace him again,” Ardo said softly.

“You will all embrace each other in the Thirteen's Hall one day,” Nameless said gravely.

Ardo nodded.

“I appreciate you placating an old man; I understand you do not follow our creed,” Ardo said thankfully, wiping a tear.

“I respect what people fight for,” Nameless said.

“And what do you fight for, young Nameless one?” Ardo asked.

Nameless was silent, gazing into the fire. Without answering, he looked back at the metal door of the briefing hall. Ardo followed his gaze, smiling softly.

“Perhaps, in a way, that is a far more noble cause than religion or money. It warms my heart that you fight for them. They were quite worried about you, you know?” Ardo said as he dried his eyes with the corner of his cloak.

Nameless scoffed silently.

“They were!” Ardo chuckled. “They fought the hardest I have ever seen to get to you. They found me and gathered every warrior they could. Did you know that Julia led the charge to the factory? Wounded and furious, she was the first to enter the factory. An angel of death that young lady is.”

“See now, that part I knew,” Nameless chuckled. “I woulda figured they hated me.”

“For what?” Ardo asked, startled.

Nameless sighed, his head bent. “I fell, literally, into a trap. If I hadn't been such a dumbass, we could have gotten the Professor out quickly.”

“And Florence would have risen from her hiding place, furious that her plan failed, and decimated our forces,” Ardo said reassuringly. “It is good you feel guilt for the failure of your plans, but that is war. A good leader is vulnerable and flexible, or they are invincible. Never both. I have found that the latter is impossible in the fog of war. You did everything correctly, and when you were down and needed help, your friends came to assist you. That is the very definition of a successful small unit.”

Nameless looked at Ardo, wordless.

Guild Master Ardo nodded softly. “Will you allow an old man to continue preaching?” he asked respectfully.

“Of course,” Nameless said softly.

“Thank you. In my days of leading people, I have found that no matter how good a plan is, something will always go wrong. When, not if that happens, all you can do is rely upon the courage of those who follow you. It is their willpower and training that defines your comrades. Your entire friend group was subjected to the fires of true war and made it all out alive.”

“Barely,” Nameless scoffed, looking into the fire.

“But you are here!” Ardo said. “You survived; you are a symbol, a rallying cry to those weaker than you, and a warning to those far stronger. Is that not all we can ask for as warriors?”

Nameless nodded.

Ardo patted Nameless 's knee.

“You are a good leader. This is the burden of command. I wish I could say it gets easier, but it doesn't. You are doing your best, and I am grateful that you came to Oasis when you did.”

Nameless looked at the old Guild master, and for a brief moment, saw an older version of himself in the old man sitting beside him along with the campfire.

“They depend on us. Let's not disappoint?” Ardo offered as he stood up, evening his weight on the crutches.

Nameless also got up. “Thank you.”

“Sometimes, all we need are words from one who has walked the path we are currently on,” Ardo said. “Thank you for your kind words. My children would have been proud to follow you.”

“And we would follow you,” Nameless said.

The two slowly strolled back towards the briefing hall. As they walked, the courtyard slowly rose groggily to life.

“What did the contacts have to say to Professor Zion?” Nameless asked, the two walked.

Ardo sighed. “Everything will be revealed in his briefing, but between you and me, the fleet vastly underestimated the Martians by sending him here.”

Nameless nodded.

“They assumed by sending one of their most learned men, the masses of Mars would rally to his side immediately and overthrow the yoke of oppression. Reality could not be farther from the truth. He is now nothing more than a supporting character in the great drama that is this war,” Ardo said adamantly.

“Figures,” Nameless sighed.

Ardo nodded as he used his crutches to move forward.

“Martians do not respect outsiders. They couldn't have cared less when he arrived, preaching about democracy and freedom,” Ardo said.

“So that's how he got caught?”

“Indeed, snatched up in the wastes by Florence's men only a few days after he arrived. Starving, his rations and fuel run out, he was nothing more than a small animal taken in for slaughter. And that was months ago. It took the entire might of our and Mai's guild to even find the poor fool in that dungeon.”

“So now what?” Nameless said.

“As we speak, the Martian sectors grow restless,” Ardo said. “Word has spread of the defeat Florence has suffered here. Hope is a potent weapon, but it is not enough. The fleet wishes for Zion to be the face of this rebellion against our oppressors. But we both have seen firsthand what happens when reality mixes with ideology. He is a good man, a fine teacher, but he is not a warrior nor a man of the people. He is not a leader,” Ardo said simply.

“So, now what?” Nameless asked.

“So, now we need a true leader to free this sector.”

Nameless stopped walking, turning to the Guild Master. “I'm already on a fucking quest,” Nameless growled.

Ardo turned and looked Nameless in the eye. “And you shall complete it. But look around you. Imagine Zion leading this army toward the city. Once that vial is off-world, it would be his duty to liberate this sector and prop up a government for and by the people.”

“I am trying to get my friends and me a farm on some colony. We're basically just kids. He's a fucking professor! He's been to every planet and moon; he said so himself,” Nameless argued.

“You can learn every word in every book and still not be capable of leading a dog to his food bowl across the kitchen!” Ardo said vehemently, stabbing his crutch into the dirt. “We need someone who knows Mars, someone who deeply understands the sting that the shackles of slavery bring.”

“I can barely lead my friends across half a city block,” Nameless spat.

“Imagine Zion leading that rescue! Imagine him trying to get your friends out of the camp! Do you truly want Mars's future shaped by an Earther?”

Nameless paused.

“Lead us to the city, send that vial off-world with the Professor. We guild masters shall do the rest. We trust you and only you. We need someone at the front of all this. Someone whom Martians respect, and outsiders fear. Do you truly believe the rest of the solar system will just sit idly by while we fight amongst ourselves, forming a baby democracy, sitting on vast resources? Has the history of Earth taught you nothing?” Ardo pleaded.

Nameless was silent, weighing what this meant.

“He said they didn't want anything from Mars,” Nameless said finally.

“Okay, then let's say that Zion actually believes that, with all his soul, which I, for one, genuinely do not doubt. Did it ever cross your mind they may have lied and manipulated him by appealing to his good nature? That they may be using his vast knowledge to leverage the people of Mars against their oppressors? Corporations and warlords are not limited to Mars, my boy.”

Nameless sighed. “Let me hear his briefing; I will decide then.”

“That is all I ask,” Ardo relented. “Thank you for listening to me.”

“Thank you for understanding,” Nameless said.

The two shook hands.

“I have no doubt your namesake is looking down, proud of you,” Ardo said firmly.

“And I have no doubt you shall sit with your children at the Gods’ table,” Nameless said.

The two shared a brief, respect-filled moment, one warrior to another.

“This is the age of steel and blood. The learned men shall shape tomorrow, but today we must strive forward,” Ardo said firmly.

Nameless watched as the Guild Master continued toward the hall. He didn't follow. Nameless crouched down, his knees cracking as he knelt with his feet flat. He folded his hands, his mind reeling. Everything the Guild Master said was true, no doubt. It wasn't a question of whether a Martian should lead this. It was whether Nameless was that Martian.