Emish finished talking with the other elders of the local communities. They were very concerned. The Emish Proving was for adults who wanted to become Emish or right a wrong against them that normally wouldn't be. It was also set in a way that made normal folks fail and often die when they didn't know what they were doing and how to do it.
On the surface, it was a simple set of orders. Truthfully, it was anything but. You were shown to an empty wilderness big enough for a homestead, told to establish one, and then left to do it on your own. Depending on factors, you may be completely shunned and not allowed trade with neighbors, not allowed to talk, or only able to use what you make or were given by the elders.
This one was unique. It was intended for the twenty five year old daughter of the Emperor who had specifically insulted them and brought shunning upon the Royal Family. It involved a full shunning until she built a house and grew crops. It would take place on land that her brother owned, an old nature preserve that went defunct after the last catastrophe. It was surrounded on all sides by Emish communities. She would be given two items by the elders, wear Emish formal ware, and only use what she brought on her person or made.
They were not expecting the Royal Family to send Costan, the one who owned the land. It was good land, metal rich mountain in the middle of twenty thousand acres of prime forest with fertile soil, rolling hills, and a river. It was a prime tourist attraction back before everyone forgot about it and the regime changed left it up for sale until Costan bought it on a depression fueled interweb shopping spree when he was seven.
This was not the first time Emish had to remind a set of elders about how deed holders were not exactly bound by all the rules. This was the first time a thirteen year old owner of the trial land was sent in place of the intended. Most of the rules stayed in place. He would not be required to wear the dress made for her and he would have free run of his land, rather than just the corner near the river that flowed through the property.
Emish showed the elders out, then stepped out himself to address the new Justier. The late spring air was nice, and the sun was warm. He straightened up and spoke, words simple and straightforward.
"Justier Costan, the Emish Proving is often lethal. You will not be spoken to or to speak or trade with anyone until you establish your homestead. Everything expected of you in the Proving is written on this list. If you have any questions or wish to withdraw from the Proving, speak now."
"Do I have to wear the dress?"
"No."
Costan just nodded in return.
"Then go to your property and begin."
Costan was looking forward to it. Then a sketchy looking van showed up with government plates. Two suited figures got out, one carrying a tracking anklet. Costan readied himself for some of his family's bullshit. Emish saw them approaching Costan and cleared his throat, a very loud affair for an ancient man standing over ten units high.
"Respectfully Emish", one started but was cut off.
"Nothing is respectful about your visit here. If you wanted to give the Justier something, you missed your chance. Begone and do not interfere with the Proving."
They looked at each other for a moment.
"I said be gone." Emish was pissed, or at least angrier than most living people had seen in their lifetime.
"We are from the mandate... enforcement." The suit wearer swallowed hard and fumbled with his words as the gathered Emish, including Emish, drew handguns. "Beuro... j-just here to make sure he doesn't make a doomsday weapon or anything."
"You are on Emish land. Be gone or be dead." Emish and the Emish were having none of it. Costan used the distraction to nope out of there, off to his land and begin the Proving.
The gifts were an iron pot with a lid, and a dress. He took them, but wasn't ever going to wear the dress. He also was never wearing the tracking device, his chief officers of Talon Corps and Venom would never let him live it down if he did. He did a quick pocket check as he sprinted. Costan didn't pull anything out for fear of dropping any of what he was given.
He especially didn't want to risk dropping Grimclaw's knife. Instructor Grimclaw made it clear that it was being lent, not given. He also didn't want to drop the first firearm he'd been allowed to possess for longer than just range time. It might as well be a cannon to his little hands, but it was just the outmoded standard issue for infantry.
Back outside the house of Father Emish, one of the suits made a very big mistake. Younger people of the communities had shown up with firearms of various types, ready for anything. The suit pulled out a stun pistol and tried to level it at Emish.
Costan was there, only a few more units to the tree line, maybe six or so. The Emperor was only seven units tall, Costan found that thought amusing. His musings were cut short by the rumbling staccato of what his brain really wanted to be thunder. He knew it wasn't thunder, that was a lot of various gunfire blending together from being fired almost simultaneously.
"They're probably dead," Costan thought, but knew not to dare speak it. He wasn't to say anything, to anyone.
He gave a quick think over what he remembered from the surveys. It was years ago, and they were pretty in depth, but he recalled more than a little. North side of the mountain had hot springs and a sulfur vent, this thing, that thing, southeastern corner of the mountain base had caves, lots of loose stones, a cold freshwater spring that flowed year round from the snowy peak, not too far from the river or the fertile hills and valleys.
He had the perfect place to set up homestead. He could just follow the under brush that used to be a paved hiking trail under the towering old growth trees. Costan slowed his pace to a walk, he didn't want to surprise an elk, or get surprised by a bear. He turned his attention back outward and started scrutinizing his surroundings better after he remembered that this place had fucking bears.
He made it to the caves and, very carefully and sneakily, checked each one. No bears, no droppings, no signs of bears anywhere. He instantly got paranoid, where's the bears? If they weren't chilling near the caves or using them at all, then where were they hibernating each winter?
He forced his mind back to the tasks at hand. Water was right there. Shelter was available, but not secure. Food, he needed to figure that out if he didn't want to eat bailout bars and chromons "like true marine infantrymen". He quickly searched the crash bag now that he wasn't moving.
Weather proof matches, bail out bars, medical kit, gloves, flares, compact binoculars, fishing hooks and line... bingo. He entertained the idea of looking out at his lands in the dusk at sunset. It was beautiful, so he kept looking around. He looked down toward the river and stopped.
Down there, about two miles away, was a bear, one big enough to occupy most of the river. It was foaming around the mouth. The river wasn't the biggest, but it ranged from seventy to ninety units across. Bears weren't supposed to get anywhere near that big, the biggest on record hitting thirty units.
"Bailout bars will be fine for tonight," he thought, quickly finding the smallest cave and hiding deep inside it. He tried to sleep but, as soon as he began to doze off, something started sniffing around and scraping at the cave entrance. He wanted to scream and run away, but that never worked for him in the past. Then he remembered where he was and the bear, the softly glowing sun roots and faux fire really helped his groggy mind.
He didn't scream or try to run, none of that would work out well against a rabid bear. He drew the pistol and waited, for hours. He didn't make a noise, controlling his breathing and not moving a muscle. The bear finally left the cave alone a little before sunrise.
He knew it wasn't the last he would see of it. Bears were stubborn and persistent, and murderous when rabid. He wouldn't go outside until after he was sure that it had moved on. What was the least useful things he had at this time? Dental floss, an empty bailbar wrapper, and a pebble came together into a different kind of fishing setup.
Costan hadn't seen anything other than small creatures and birds, now that he thought about it, no signs of anything other than that bear. He tossed the now shiny pebble out of the entrance. The bear hadn't left. He was down twenty units of floss and an empty wrapper, but he was still alive. The bear didn't eat the pebble wrapped in shiny mylar, only seeking to maul it.
Being trapped in a cave by a giant rabid bear has a way of wearing on your psyche or, in Costan's case, your patients. He checked the pistol and chambered it, the bear was too busy roaring to notice. It wouldn't do much unless he got a lucky shot in the eye, ear, maybe up the nose? He didn't care, he was done with the bears bullshit. He would find a way.
He had a foil blanket from the crash bag, a pistol, a string to pull and lure it in. To top it off, he had seen the fields in which he would grow his fucks, but that bear was another thing on the list that wouldn't let him. He gave the floss a tug.
The pebble came bouncing back into the cave, followed by bear. It shoved it's big, ugly head inside, wedging it's shoulder in the entrance to get more reach. It came up short of Costan by half a unit. He tossed the blanket over it's eyes and maneuvered the pistol. It took ten shots in the ear before it lay dead.
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Costan had been bashed against the walls, deafened by the gunshots, and he was sure that something was wrong with his wrist, but he was alive. Pistol packed a lot of recoil, for someone his size. Down a full magazine and half of another, but alive. He rummaged through his supplies, maybe something for pain would help with the pain. He had to snap a chemical light to read the packaging.
Bear had the exit completely occupied. He would have to find another way out, but he found something labeled pain reliever and took it with whatever was in the flask in the jacket. It burned and tasted bad, so it was probably some kind of combat medication. He waited for the pain to subside.
Costan woke up to a dead chem light, a dead bear, and everything hurting. More hurt now than before. He took another swing from the awful flask and started to think. He started feeling better after a while and had three options. He could try to squeeze past the bear, try to move it, or just slice it up until he could do one of the others.
He could hardly move it's head, and it was wedged in so tightly that air was barely making its way past it. Costan was feeling wobbly, but better. He took another sip and started cutting a path.
He couldn't remember what all he had been doing the past, however long it had been, but his head hurt and his body felt like the time Instructor Grimclaw made him do max workouts multiple days in a row. The straw mattress was a nice touch in the stone hovel he was in. Then he remembered he was supposed to be making a homestead, not sleeping in someone else's home... shed... outbuilding?
Straw was correct, but calling a pile of it covered with a foil blanket a mattress may be a stretch. Costan found all his things near the straw pile, and gave it a good going through. His calendar had six more days marked off than he remembered, the flask was filled with water, there were empty wrappers from bailout bars, pain relievers, and one from something called amphetamine, not to mention the lack of chemical lights and the missing or used chromons.
Other things were amiss, but he decided that it would be better to survey where he was as opposed to worry about what was missing. He opened the door to see that, wherever he was, it overlooked the river. He didn't remember the river having a small boat dock dug out from the side of it. He also didn't remember that big brick and stone buildings between the river and the mountain or the trellises of something at the base of the mountain.
He went back inside to gather his things. Wherever he was, it wasn't where he had been. He took a drink of the bitter tea in his water skin. He knew it wasn't right, but he was supposed to be where? Everything was wrong, he couldn't hear and everything was slightly swirly? Bendy, maybe? As he got all his stuff gathered up, he realized that he didn't have an axe before... especially not one of stone... especially not iron ore stone, or a spear either. When did he get a water skin? Picking up the spear, some things came back to him.
He needed to finish the store house and get it stocked up. He didn't want another repeat of the last winters. He also needed more sun root, guarana berries, peyote, and ginseng.
A couple of years later, back at the palace, an aid was reading a report with wide eyes and an incredulous look upon her face. She was having trouble understanding exactly how to try and understand it. It was a full report from day one of the concluded Proving that Costan was still undergoing.
She kept reading, understanding the words and what they meant but being confounded by the contradictions. How is someone still undergoing something that was concluded? This was four years of something that seemed like it shouldn't have happened. It would sound insane if given voice.
"Karla, anything new?" The Emperor was under more stress than normal, with the extra responsibility of running so many businesses and accounts. Constant meetings from board members and stock brokers, just to balance the absolute insanity that was Costan's portfolio. He asked her a question and had no time for delays, especially not anymore.
"Emperor, it is a report on the conclusion of Costan's Proving." She didn't get to finish her statement.
"Hand it here, I want to look it over. Maybe they have pictures of the pitiful shack he built."
Thankfully, Emperor Karcos skipped straight to the pictures rather than reading about Costan slaying a murderous giant bear or tripping on shrooms and roots for the past four years.
The first pictures were a before and after series. One showed dense brush just off the road between ancient trees, while it's pair showed a stone paved road. Where there was just a stretch of river now had a dock with a canoe and fishing nets. A large, stocked storehouse where was just a hill. Cultivated wild fruits and vegetables where brush was, and trellises of various wild muscadine ran rocky hillsides.
Then came the weird pictures. A rudimentary kiln near a proper kiln and a furnace of sorts? A giant dead bear. A small stone shack with rough hewn stone tools near a cave. The cave where sun root was being cultivated near peyote was pretty and disturbing, the giant bear skull really put a vibe on the glowing masses. If it weren't for the captions at the bottom, Karcos would have needed even more explanations.
He finished by staring at the last photograph, a larger stone fountain with three walls and aqueducts from the cold stream and the hot springs. "Can anyone tell me what peyote and sun root are and if they are edible, or what kind of thing is being built here?"
"Sun root is very edible if prepared correctly, very nutritious and has an anabolic effect. If prepared wrong, it can cause hallucinations. Peyote is a hallucinogenic drug used traditionally for spiritual journeys and vision quests." One particularly nerdy aid was looking smug for that.
"So Costan has been doing this while tripped out on hallucinogenic drugs?"
"Yes, Emperor. It says in the report that he began his vision quest right after slaying Grimply, the giant, rabid, murderous, sun root munching bear that had been confirmed to have killed at least thirty experienced hunters. While the Proving has concluded as a success, the Emish will not interfere with the vision quest of a Justicar, someone who hunts killers."
"The difference in justicar and justier?"
"Justier is someone on trial, Justicar is the executioner or whomever is dealing out punishment for the crime. Most of them deal with minor incidents, few deal with murderers. Costan killed something that claimed multiple innocent lives."
"So, it's not just an honorific title?"
"It's similar to a policeman and executioner in one, like how the Dondoki Dynasty had Judges. It is a very serious title, recognized widely by law enforcement and officials."
"So, my... how old is he now?"
"Seventeen, sir."
"My seventeen year old child is effectively an Emish judge? Anything else that I should know?"
"He will, at the end of the vision quest, also be considered a shaman. So that would make him Shaman Justicar Costan, twelfth heir of Emperor Karcos, Engineer of physics, and CEO of multiple companies."
"How does this even happen?" Karcos buried his face in his hands.
"Apparently you put down a murderous bear while completing the Emish Proving, then do a lot of drugs, Sir."
Meanwhile, at Emish's home, Turnunder showed up. Turnunder was one of the sons of the black womb, the most spiritual and eccentric one. Everyone respected what Turnunder said, but took it with salt, assuming it was half metaphoric. They were not wrong, but also most of what he said was undeniably true.
Emish wasn't expecting visitors, but that's just why he readied his home for visitors. Turnunder didn't knock or anything, just showed up like always, startling Emish like always. He definitely wasn't expecting anyone this time of night, and smoking a pipe in his bedroom of all things.
"Nya! Turnunder! Why are in my bedroom?"
"Brother Emish, pangolo back."
"That is a new insult. What have I done to earn that?"
"No, pangolo come back."
"They are gone, have been so for a very long time."
"Shaman Justicar Costan, Echo of Nihil brings the pangolo."
"Stop being so philosophical and tell me, Turnunder."
"Come, we see together."
"Fine, but this better be good."
They left and walked all night together. They finally reached the hills on the eastern side as the sun began to rise. Emish wasn't amused when they looked over the valley and saw nothing but a passed out Costan in the grass. Then, there was a flash of light when the sunlight hit the dew laden grass. It wasn't a bright flash, but enough to make you squint or blink and miss it.
Despite their best efforts, they both were forced to squint. Turnunder had seen three instances of this, and had blinked the first time. Even though he still squinted his eyes, he knew what he just witnessed. "Ragdoki Scerdoskin Heqet." The ancient language was playful on Turnunder's tongue.
There was now a full herd of the long extinct pangolo, and even the naked eye could tell that many things had changed in Costan's territory. The air had an otherworldly energy, the ground almost hummed with a desire for life. Costan was still completely unconscious, his soul somewhere in the ether.
"You may be right to call him that, but what do I tell his father?" Emish didn't know how to proceed, and he liked the change of pace but knew it wouldn't last.
"Let us get him help. You know, it doesn't matter what you tell his parents if a pangolo steps on him."
"True, and I knew you were playing short spoken."
"It deters the dimwits and the impatient from wasting my time."
"But, seriously. Do I just say he's a war shaman law man and be done with it?"
"Juntjecar Justicar who really likes caffeine, hallucinogens, painkillers, and amphetamines..."
Emish chuckled, then pulled a very modern satellite phone from his pocket and called for a medical evacuation shuttle.
Costan spent three weeks in absolute hell due to the combined withdrawals and having his ears fixed without pain medication. Morphine and amphetamines turned out to be very addictive and had very horrific withdrawal symptoms. After the protracted time in his personal hell, he was given another five months in chemical rehabilitation with none other than Therapist Grimclaw.
Nobody even bothered to tell Costan what he got addicted to, assuming he already knew. Unfortunately his memories of those four years were few and very far between. Hallucinogenic drugs have a way of doing that. Grimclaw was not helping with the depression or memory issues. Grimclaw was just drilling the hell out of Costan, and only Grimclaw really knew why.
It was because psychedelic drugs like peyote and acid collected in fatty tissues and around the spinal cord. The only way to get it fully out of someone's system was to effectively destroy every ounce of fat and muscle a few times over until they no longer had a trip every time they stretched. Even then, back injuries could still cause them to have a trip. While the title of war shaman Justicar may skirt the ban on psychedelic drug usage in the military, best not to have him high from missing a meal.
To Costan's credit, he only tripped out one time from when Grimclaw punched him in the spine during a sparring match. Doctors didn't even have to patch him up afterwards. Costan pulled some of what Grimclaw referred to as quote, shaman bullshit, end quote.
Had a few burst disks in his lower back making him a lump on the floor one minute, and giving Grimclaw an actual challenge the next. Modern medicine had explanations for almost everything. Magical spirit crap doable only when tripping balls was not on the list of things explainable by modern medicine. Costan remembered none of it when he came down.
After his stay in hell, also known as drug rehabilitation, he was returned to his homestead sans Grimclaw's knife and any drugs that were left in the crash bags. Somehow he had found three old shuttles that had crashed near the mountain and had been taking those as well. The Emish gave him a warm welcome.
Emish and Turnunder showed up to personally congratulate Costan for passing the Proving, earning him a place in the communities. It was nice to have a place where he actually belonged, even if they called him shaman and lawman. He thought it was weird and unorthodox that they called him lawman, he just got out of rehab and they were having to show him what all he did.
It was sometime after dinner when some of the palace guards showed up. Dinner was a nice salad with stew, happy to learn the proper way to prepare sun root and being full, Costan answered his door.
Emperor Karcos wanted to have a chat, and Costan's attendance was nonnegotiable. They loaded him up into the shuttle and out of the window, he saw it. The shuttle was taking off, and there was a streak of light. An explosion rang out and rubble hit the shuttle. They blew up his house.