The 60-something candidates that were still left over were already nervous as hell about meeting with this kind of man. Outside of the building sat 30 Animalia, 20 Humans, and 10 standard Mechanoid units. While the weight of the camp was tense, the man who sat in front of them certainly didn’t match that tone. He was known as Viare Diamo. While he was known within the Union for fulfilling a more “hands-on” niche, his skin was as fair as any piece of silk, and his eyes were as blue as any sky. Auburn hair wrapped in a ponytail and a sharp smile looked out at the crowd of novices as he twirled a butterfly knife in his hands, in suspense for some fated moment. As Lucia pulled up a chair next to him, a look of disappointment entered his eyes, while a look of barely restrained annoyance entered hers.
As the two stared at each other with disdain in their eyes, it was at that moment that a lagomorphic beast-kin raised his hand.
“May I ask what we’re supposed to-”
Before the rabbit could even finish his sentence, an ashen gray blur flew between the paw gap of the lagomorph, and with a small buzz piercing through the air, it landed in the wall of Lucia’s former office space. The rabbit could only look down at his paw with gratefulness that it wasn't skewered.
With a simple whistle and look at the distance his blade traveled, Diamo could only say -
“God, I love doing that.”
Lucia responded to this statement by smacking her coworker in the back of the head.
“You’re gonna get yourself killed one of these days.”
Diamo could only look at her with a sly smile. “What? By some bolt-action idiot? It’s just a bit of hazing, Lucia. They’ll face worse as a Runner.”
“You’ll face worse if you don’t sit down and shut up. And stop with the knife throwing, we’re renting this place still.”
“I’ll have you know that these are premium steel throwing knives and they’re worth more than you’ll ever make.”
Lucia put a hand on her chin in thought. “How much do you think they’ll sell for if I melted them down? Since you love tossing them around so carelessly”, she sarcastically queried.
Diamo hugged himself and his sleeves rattled dramatically.
“You wouldn’t dare!”
As the both of them argued over the merits of decorative knife work over welding it to the owner's head, Rhys looked around at her fellow potential coworkers. The chrome heads were definitely the best out of all of them, outright reflective by how much they shined. She was also sure one of them was buzzing which did not help soothe the tenseness of the overall situation. The other species were wearing scraps and some looked about a day away from keeling over. Humans and beast-kin were known for being mangy and while not feral, they were certainly desperate. No one was completely sure what a Notary job required but with how the Union was going all in on advertisement and the meeting of the Heads, it was bound to be important. Jobs like this with this kind of security didn’t come often and they certainly weren’t going to be picky. While the Runner’s Union accepted everybody, their numbers and turnover rate were certainly something that turned people away. More of the sentient populace would’ve joined but they had their reasons.
One by one, the representatives of the major populace, save for the Mirepods, were put between Lucia and Diamo. All of them stood together, but at differing heights and different levels of presence. While Frida held her same energy of discipline and focus and Reimos a pillar of fear and respect, Ivy stood taller than them all, and eyes focused on her lacked respect or fear. The Mutts, the Lagomorphs, and all other subspecies looked at her with the oddest yet most familiar emotion to Ivy. Inherent Rejection. Finally, the pillars of the community properly gathered as the next man approached the stage. Vig Hartland.
One of the major issues of Mash-Al was that the different bickering societies that had crashed onto the planet’s seemingly endless surface had found themselves irreparably divided. Distance certainly played a factor of course, for it it's much easier to dehumanize a being when you are not within shooting distance. Numerous other factors played a role in strained relations between the species: the Mirepod Landpools, the Vegas Brigade, the Dran Damo catastrophe, and everything to do with the landing of the Mechanoids amongst other things. To put it simply, there was no shortage of issues that plagued any sustained attempt at diplomacy. However, among the few connecting threads that kept the Spheres attached like a patch among a patchwork quilt of conflict, there was Vig Hartland.
In the most basic terms, he was a larger-than-average man. Above average build, someone made for the hard labor and lifting heavy crates. Hartland radiated physical strength but he seemed to hold something more than that. Humankind and to an extent, the Animalia were all comfortable with him. However, it was his connection with the more sapient Mirepods that led to him holding a foothold above the average leader and his relationship with the Mechanoids that was his bridge to the elites. Yet above all, it was not his connection to these races but instead his disconnection from their interests. No matter the species, his services were free and no matter the job, he was willing. There was little magic in what he did and little enhancement other than pure strength, but that helped make him a pillar. He was as close to a hero as the world could get. A big man who walked softly with a big sword on his back. No.. no self-respecting blacksmith would ever call what he wielded a sword. What he carried on his back was an impossibly large hunk of jagged metal strapped together with a cloth hilt and enough steel wire to create 20 swords over. It was a walking time bomb for whenever the scrapyard steel would fall apart and the wire would explore and decimate whoever he was around. As he strode onto the stage, the eyes on him were some of respect, reverence even. He was defined by a solid darkness atop his hair broken by white streaks, an x-shaped scar crossing his right cheek, and within his eyes came a confidence of an unbreakable will. He need not speak, nor make a grand gesture. Simply a look out to the meager crowd and even those of a metallic persuasion somewhat understood the meaning of his presence. If he was here, either they would succeed, or they would perish. Both by his hand.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
Shoa was less than impressed with the sight of him. A human but slightly bigger, he had seen that before back in the Metro but judging by the sight of people around him, other than the Mechanoids, they were all enraptured by him.
“Does it really take someone big to impress these people?”
If this Vig person was worth knowing about, he would’ve been informed but to be fair, with the amount of polio-stricken yeomen that were surprisingly prevalent during his journey outside the Mechanoid sphere, new developments were possible. As the large human took his seat, Shoa looked out to the rest of his associates. Other than the Mechanoids, they were unkempt, malnourished and some seemed to still contain oil and other greases on their person. Whatever matters they sought to accomplish here, they wouldn’t last too long. But they didn’t matter at this point, not right now at least.
From the gathering of the reps came the head. As Ivy approached the podium, and her people looked at her with a mix of respect and rebellion, her voice came with no hesitation, no doubt, and no sway. Only confidence and a cold professionalism matched only by the assurity of nature escaped her maw as she spoke.
“Animalia, Humans, and Mechanoids. We of the Runner’s Union thank you for volunteering your services to come here and be a part of a larger whole. For some of you, the trek here risked much more than employment and we will not waste that investment you’ve put into this effort. The journey you’ve taken was proof enough that you have the will and this will be the last trial you will have to undergo to prove you have the character to follow through.” As she extended her hand to gesture to the meat mountain behind her, Hartland stood up and the heft of his pressure seemed to resonate through the ground.
“You will accompany Hartland on a full journey to a Co-Op that has not been reachable as of late through the usual means of communication. The assumption is that this will be a matter of recovery. Reimos has fortunately provided multiple means of storage and transportation once you reach your location.
For Survival and For Love, may your journey resolve peacefully.”
As soon as she finished, Reimos stood to his feet and approached the board, pushing out Ivy in a way that was both dignified yet undercutting.
“For clarity, you will be walking with Hartland. Food, water, and temporary shelter will be given out per person after a headcount. Due to budgetary concerns, proper transportation will be delivered after your location is confirmed by your management. You are not disposable. If anything goes wrong, recover what you can while prioritizing your health and structural integrity.
For our Order and For the Future, you will succeed.”
The news hit like a hot wind to the face of a fever-ridden man. Discomfort spread through the crowd faster than a plague as the idea of such a walking so far began to truly set in. Many were only able to reach Waning Rock through a shared carriage ride from their respective major cities. This feeling was not assayed when the distance was pointed out to them by Frida.
“The journey will take 2 days at the minimum. Judging by the number of you, we have enough supplies to last for 5 if things get bad. Diamo was the last one there and according to his information, the path’s more an issue of length than quality. As long as you stay the course, nothing will happen.”
With that explanation out of the way, Frida shifted her position on the podium.
“Regarding your duties after with the Notary, it is with a pure belief in their decision making that you will be under their purview. The common Runner will act as government-sponsored guardsmen, tradesmen, to fulfill a swiss army knife’s worth of jobs due to the necessity of governmental cooperation.”
The mention of the swiss brought a more cheese-lined thought into the heads of those more unfamiliar with the expression.
“To be clear, A Runner holds no inherent loyalty to their government and their government holds only as much power as they cede to the Union. You are - by definition - a contractor. A Notary position is no different, only more consistent. To record information from the people as you are deployed among the spheres and beyond. To write, record, dictate, and whatever else to ensure that the common history stays away from the opinionated and stays as current as need be. People will try to mislead you, leave you high and dry, and for what you offer to the world, they will try to bury you. When we all found ourselves in this land, we were in disarray, self-destructive, but most of all divided. The fact that Union has held for years is proof that we grow not in synchronicity but instead as a group. Our strength is our unique skill set and our faith in our organization. For Tenacity and For All, we will all exceed ourselves!”
As Frida’s portion of applause came down, Vig Hartland began to approach the front of the crowd. Suspenseful eyes focused on the man and all sentient noise quickly ceased.
“... I understand some of you may be mad about the walk, but I assure you, it wasn’t my call.”
A small amount of chuckling rifted through the audience with the levity of an interrogation.
“I don’t really see myself as important to Union business as everyone else does but I’ve been given the platform, might as well use it for something good. Fact is, most of you weren’t prepared for a journey for what sounds like a desk job, but I know that you’re capable of it. This journey is not only proof of your commitment but your introduction to what the Union does within society. This journey isn’t about your Strength, Speed, or any one being’s quality. It is about our collective will to never give in to our own self-doubt or our own failures. We are all the pillars that hold this organization up and by our Strength, our Intelligence, and our Will that we continue to hold ourselves high. I promise that by my will, you will make it to our destination and by our will, you will return stronger than you were before. “
A hand as rough as sandpaper beat against a darkened chest. As Hartland’s black pupils looked out into the small crowd, they looked back into unwavering obsidian. Even with the joke, his words were as firm as the steel on his back. There was not a droplet of doubt in his voice nor overconfidence in his motions. If he stated at that moment that he would hold back every evil that existed, no argument against his ability would ever be able to form.
“For all of us, I swear myself to you.”