There are a lot of advantages to having a control tower that is so tall. One of those is the ability to see over things. The hill in front of them, for example.

A group of armored knights crouched behind the cover of the Hill and prepared a frankly pathetic ambush.

They had dug a trench in the road. It was deep. It was not wide.

“They have seen the Waystation, right?” Bud asked incredulously as he stared down from the massive three-hundred-and-sixty-degree control tower windows. The windows were made of clear crystal, reinforced by magic.

The Waystation itself was massive, a moving outpost featuring a huge Lodge and restaurant, the Bear’s Fall, a Barn large enough to have room for everyone, a gatehouse, a drawbridge, and a massively tall control tower. None of that took into account the fact that it also towed the almost as large Trailer One.

It moved on a series of massive treads and was bonded to and built from a titanic hull of magically reinforced Sky-Ship steel.

All of that went through Bert’s mind as he looked over the hill at the trench trap that looked to be almost seven feet deep but only 5 feet wide. It also barely stretched beyond the borders of the road, whereas the Waystation itself was comfortably straddling the road with room enough for a couple of other roads to be built before even reaching the treads.

“Are they really that thick?” Bell giggled. “Because if so, we should kill them just to do the world a favor.”

“I mean, there must be something else, right?” Bert said suspiciously.

“A trap?” Bud asked.

“I’m thinking so.” He frowned.

“Well?” Bell asked, “Am I driving over them yet?”

“Not yet,” Bert sighed. “I better go have a chat with them, see what they are up to.”

“Boss!” Bud argued.

“You and the orcs get ready, just in case,” Bert said, striding for the platform that would carry him to the bottom of the tower. “Can I borrow a Multi-Bell?” He asked.

“Promise not to steal it this time?” Bell said suspiciously. “Last time I did you a favor, I ended up with a child!”

“Bell!” He laughed as a Multi-Bell, a copy of Bell, appeared on his shoulder.

Bert walked up the hill, his armor on and shield summoned. His magical prosthetic arm changed into the hybrid crossbow/nail gun, just in case of trouble.

The Multi-Bell sat on his shoulder, humming to herself as they crested the rise and saw the knights below.

“Evening, Gents,” Bert called amiably. “What the fuck are you lot up to?”

“Halt!” Several of them yelled, and he happily complied.

“Who goes there?” One of the knights called, red plumes in the helmet, which none of the others had suggested they were an officer.

“Bert J. Hudson, Caretaker of the Waystation back there,” Bert introduced himself. “And you are?”

“Ser Rikard, House Magnus.” He nodded his head once. “To which house do you belong?”

“None,” Bert shrugged. “We’re just passing through.”

“I suggest you return to where you came from, traveler,” Rikard said gently. “War is upon this land.”

One of the other knights, wearing worn and dented armor, whispered urgently in his ear. Bert looked around. The knights were alert, but no one had their hands on a weapon… a good sign.

“Do you mean that moving fortress?” Rikard asked, his voice awed. “You are of the fortress?”

“It’s not a fortress,” Bert corrected. “It’s a Waystation. We provide food, drink, and a place to stay for travelers.”

“Pull the other one; it's got bells on!” The dented armor guy called.

“You’re welcome to come and have a look yourselves,” Bert said calmly.

“Really?” Rikard seemed surprised.

“Of course,” Bert nodded seriously. “But I must warn you that there are rules.”

“Such as?” Rikard asked.

“No fighting, no attacking other guests or staff. We have several different species on board.” Bert said.

“Such as?” Dented armor asked suspiciously.

“Fae, Undead, Orcs, and several forms of plant life over on Trailer One.” He thought for a second. “Our farmer isn’t here at the moment, so probably best not to go into the fields.”

“Fae?” Dented armor sounded almost happy. “I’ve always wanted to meet one.”

“Nice to meet you!” The Muliti-Bell said, standing and beginning to glow gently.

“We would need to send one man aboard first to check for a trap,” Rikard said hesitantly.

“I’ll go!” Dented armor called quickly.

“Sure,” Bert laughed. “It’s just over the hill behind me.”

“How do we know that for sure?” Rikard said.

“Umm, are you blind?” Bert asked gently.

“No!” Rikard said quickly, “Why?”

“Look up?” Bert asked in bemusement. Only when they took off their helmets did he realize the visors must have restricted their vision. There were a few curses and whistles as they realized the colossal vehicle had been there the whole time. “Sorry, didn’t you hear us coming?” Bert asked in amazement. “Or feel the ground shake?”

“That last lot of Jura bastards cursed us,” Dented Armor said bitterly, “we hear and feel lots of things, most of them bullshit.”

“Forgive master at arms Peters; he forgets his manners,” Rikard said tiredly.

“No need,” Bert grinned. “I’m repeatedly told I haven't got any anyway.”

Peters rushed off up the hill as soon as he was given the go-ahead.

Bert wandered down to chat with Rikard while they waited.

“So, what’s with the trench?” Bert asked.

“There is a refugee camp up this road, and riders have been attacking it.” Rikard grimaced, “This should stop the next lot through, at least.”

“Refugees?” Bert asked. “What is their camp like?”

“Terrible,” Another of the knights answered. “Most of them don’t even have tents.”

“Maybe we can help out?” Bert offered.

“There is no pay, I’m sorry.” Rikard grimaced. “It is a mixed camp, refugees from all three houses’ lands. So no one will pay.”

“Who asked for pay?” Bert asked.

“Ser Rikard! Ser Rikard!” Peters came running back, waving frantically. “It’s true. Ser! It’s fantastic!”

“Care to come aboard?” Bert offered. “We can get your men some food and rest, then head off to the camp.

“Thank you,” Rikard nodded formally and waved his men over.

Rikard and his men proved to be excellent guests. It was the first time Bert had met humans in this world without the almost immediate urge to kill them. They were all courteous and polite.

They even bought the Orcs a drink and toasted them and their people. The only problem they had, was figuring out how much to charge them. Bert had not even realized that, except once, they had never actually charged the guests anything.

From the very first guests, a set of bitter and vicious nobles they encountered on the road, to the City of the Dead, which had offered friendship and knowledge. The only time before this they had charged anything was the brief stay outside the town where they picked up Scruff.

There, people simply placed coins on the table as they ordered. The money they had made from that mostly went towards the bribe to buy Scruff’s freedom. It was kind of weird to have gotten this far without fixed prices, but it had just never come up.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“Just pay what you can afford,” Bell shrugged and flew off to get more steaks.

“I see,” Rikard frowned but took out a heavy bag of coins, placing it on the counter.

“That’s got to be too much,” Bert said. “It is just food and board.”

“Still, my house would not forgive me for making a poor impression on a potential ally,” Rikard said.

Bert pushed the bag back toward him.

“Save your money, mate.” Bert smiled kindly. “We will take no side in this war of yours. So no need to spend your men’s wages on buttering us up.”

“Hmmm, are you sure?” Rikard asked.

“I am,” Bert nodded. “We aren’t interested in getting involved.” He thought for a second. “I mean, we may help people who need it. Like those refugees, for example, but we aren’t getting involved in a war.”

“I must say, I’m glad to hear it.” Rikard smiled tiredly, “A place like this could make a huge difference. I’d rather it was on the side of the people.”

“Good man,” Bert toasted him, “So, how about we get you and your men off to rooms for the night, and in the morning, you can take us to that camp.”

============

It really wasn’t much of a camp. A mess of tents in a muddy field, a rickety-looking tower made of whatever they could find served as their only lookout spot.

A rough group of about a hundred men and women had gathered, holding shovels, sticks, and what appeared to be hoes. They stood before the camp, grim-faced and dirty.

Bert went out to meet them with Ser Rikard and a Multi-Bell. There was a commotion when the red plumes were seen. A man pushed his way forward and started shouting.

“Get away from here and leave them alone!” He pointed a shaking finger at Rikard. “They are just peasants! Like us!”

Rikard held up a placating hand.

“Be calm; we don’t come to attack anyone here,” he said. “We are just showing these kind people where to find people in need.” He gestured to Bert and raised his voice. “This is the Waystation! It is neutral, from beyond our lands and those of your houses! They offer aid to any that need it!” He nodded to Bert again and walked back to the drawbridge, meeting his men and mounting up.

The people watched as they rode away into the distance.

“You really come to help?” The man who had yelled asked.

“We did,” Bert nodded. “I don’t give a fuck where you’re from, just want to lend a hand.”

“We sure as hell need one,” The man was suspicious, but Rikard leaving had made them more trusting. It was just what the Knight had predicted and why he had left. He had also admitted freely he intended to report everything about the Waystation to his house.

Bert had known he would, but admitting to it openly had definitely earned him a few brownie points with Bert.

“Where do you want to start?” Bert asked.

The angry man, Eckhart, turned out to be a healer and the unofficial leader of the Camp. He had been doing his best but was completely overwhelmed. There were simply too many people and not enough of anything to go around.

Bert sent the Multi-Bell back to the Waystation to tell them to start setting up while he walked the camp with Eckhart shaking hands with people and letting people see him. There were more than a few glances at his prosthetic arm but nothing that a few jokes and a small demonstration couldn’t fix.

Once people had a chance to get used to him, Bert and Eckhart led them over to the Waystation. Bell had set up long tables that she had filled with food, and she and her Multi-Bells were passing out water and plates to everyone as they took a seat.

While everyone was busy with the food, Bert set about creating a series of tents using their collected leather. Bert used the idea of bell tents. A single large circle of leather with a strip around the base. Add a tall pole and some ground ropes, and it was done. It was not as structurally sound as a Yurt, but he just didn’t know enough about those to recreate them.

Once they were all done, Bert and the orcs began to erect them around the outside of the Waystation. A man called Bruno and his wife May quickly came to help, and in no time, they were supervising crews of people to erect the tents.

Seeing everything was in hand, Bert dropped into the tides, creating long wooden structures to serve as toilets and showers.

Without the easy access to a forest that he had become used to, there was no chance of creating a wall, so he went for a moat instead. It took Way Way no time at all to complete the deep and wide moat. They didn’t have enough water to fill it, but at least it would stop cavalry from charging. They left a single access point on each side, creating a gateway at each one from wood and stone, complete with parapets.

By the time everyone was sitting down to an evening meal, Bert was almost done. He raised tall poles above the encampment, each one sporting a light crystal on top.

For the final touch, he had the Waystation draw the moisture out of the muddy field beneath their feet and flatten the ground.

By the time night had fallen completely and Bert had returned to the food area to grab a plate, people seemed almost joyous. As he passed along the line of tables, he had people lifting their tankards to him in thanks.

He joined Bud and the orcs at a table with Eckhart, Bruno, May, and a few others he hadn’t met yet.

“Everyone seems to be doing okay,” Bert said as he sat down. “Or better, at least.”

“Food, shelter, and a sense someone cares,” Eckhart said simply. “Small things until you don’t have them anymore.”

“Too right!” Bruno said grimly. “Tonight, we can sleep without waking to blood and hoofbeats.”

“We hope,” May mumbled around a huge mouthful of steak.

“How often do they come?” Bert asked.

“Riders!” the call came from the parapet above the North gate.

“Answer your question?” Eckhart grumbled, starting to stand.

“Stay and eat,” Bert waved him down. “Waystationers! With me.”

As Bert walked calmly towards the gate, he tried to hide a smile. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel any worry or anger. It was more that he actually got to say ‘with me’, and people he trusted just stood and followed. It was a kind of camaraderie, of trust, that was absent from his life before.

He heard the yelling as he approached the gate and broke into a run.

“Open the gate! I come in the name of House Jura!” An angry voice was yelling from outside as Bert climbed the stairs to the parapet. “Who rules this place?”

“I do,” Bert said before shrugging, “Or run it at least.”

“You trespass on Jura land, peasant!” The man spat.

“I camp,” Bert said calmly. “Or park, rather.” He pointed over his shoulder at the looming shape of the Waystation. “Not trespass.”

“I see,” The man settled down. “Yet you do not have permission to be here.” A vicious grin spread over his face, “Hand over all of those from Houses Magnus and Omis; then we will let you go free.”

“Let me?” Bert laughed at the pompous man, “How the fuck you gonna stop me?”

A Multi-Bell popped into existence next to him and whispered in his ear before vanishing again. “Oh, and this is Fae land for the duration of our stay.”

“Fae?” The man laughed. “Pull the other one!”

“Want me to pull it clean off?” Bert laughed back, allowing his knotwork mana channels to shine through his skin.

“Fuck!” The man shied away. “You’re really Fae?”

“We are.” Bert said clearly, “By right of the Fae, this land is ours until we move on!”

“We wish to speak to your Lord!” The man called. “By right of parlay.”

“One sec!” Bert looked over his shoulder, finding another Multi-Bell and whispering to her, “They want to speak to the Lord?”

“That’s you, dumbass,” It rolled its eyes. “The Lord of the Autumn Wind called you Lord Hudson, remember?”

“I thought he was just being formal?” Bert muttered.

“You check your titles?” The Multi-Bell asked.

“No?” Bert said.

“Dumbass.” She giggled and flew off.

Bert grumbled and checked his titles… sure enough…

Lord of the Fae (Court of the Travelling Lands)

Appointed a Lord of the Fae in recognition for aid in finding the Lost Court.

“Okay, I’m going to have to look at that later,” Bert mumbled before turning back to the Knights.

“Well?” The Knight asked tartly.

“That would be me,” Bert said tiredly. “What do you want?”

“May we speak inside?” The Knight asked, his tone uncertain.

“No,” Bert said. “Talk here or fuck off.”

“As you wish,” The man grumbled. “But I ask you to prove your Lordship first!”

“How?” Bert asked. “I can run you all over with the Waystation if that would help?”

“That- that will not be necessary, Lord.” the knight bowed.

“So, what do you want?” Bert asked.

“We wish to offer terms for an alliance with yourself and the Fae!” The knight said proudly.

“Riders!” The call came from the south gate this time. A few moments later, it came from another…

“Okay, I guess we are having guests,” Bert said with a grim smile.

Bert sat at a table with the representatives of the three houses. They were in the Bear’s Fall to spare the anxiety of all involved. Magnus had sent Rikard, and he had just met Ben-atal from House Jura. The last was Ser Winifred, a woman of striking features with long blond hair. She reminded Bert of the stories of Amazons back on Earth.

“We can offer more than any other house!” Ben-atal said proudly.

“You offer stolen goods and blood money,” Winifred sneered at the man.

“I am here at the order of my house, but I already have your answer, do I not?” Rikard said tiredly.

“Ladies and Gentlemen!” Bert held out his hands, quieting them all. “We are not here to take sides,” Bert glared at Ben-atal as he opened his mouth to argue. “We are neutral in this war of yours.”

“Not possible!” Winifred slammed a gauntleted hand on the table, earning herself a growl from the shadows. She turned, seeing the massive form of Slothy staring at her. She carefully sat back in her chair, sweating slightly.

“Why not?” Bert asked.

“You must take a side!” Ben-atal agreed carefully, his eyes flicking over to the looming shape of Slothy. “This vehicle alone could decide the war.”

“So what?” Bert asked. “What do I care about your war?”

Rickard chuckled in his chair.

“Then why are you even here?” Winifred asked.

“We are passing through on our way somewhere else,” Bert shrugged. “We saw a destroyed village and followed a trail of the dead… which led us here.” He left out their running into Rikard, which the man nodded his thanks for.

The next few minutes consisted of everyone blaming the other Houses for the attacks. Bert tried to be calm but lost his temper pretty quickly.

“You idiots do realize that I have spoken to the people here, right?” He snapped. “Riders from each house have attacked the camp. None of you are innocent of this!” He leaned forward. “A note for your Houses to consider… if one house had NOT attacked the refugees, I would have been tempted to ally my people with them.”

He let them argue for a moment before holding up a hand again.

“I have a suggestion,” He said, his tone suggesting it was no such thing, “We shall continue to act in a neutral manner, and all camps set up by us will be considered neutral ground. The people inside given sanctuary until the end of the war.”

“What do we get from this?” Winifred asked as Ben-atal tutted.

“Each house that respects the agreement gets a guarantee I will not side against them,” Bert said simply.

“House Magnus agrees,” Rikard said quickly.

“House Omis agrees,” Winifred said after a moment.

“We do not agree!” Ben-atal said, sneering. “We shall offer no quarter, give no safe ground!”

“Then we are done here,” Bert said, standing. “We will endeavor to make sure we stay on the land of the other two houses where possible.” He turned his gaze to Ben-atal. “As for House Jura, we make no promises of peace and will attack the instant we are provoked.”

Ben-atal opened his mouth to argue, getting a growl from Slothy. He shut it quickly. “If Jura wishes to amend their decision, we are not hard to find.”

Ben-atal turned at the door, “You will regret this, Fae Scum.”

“Oh, I fucking doubt it,” Bert laughed back.