When travelling through the lands of the northern tribes, and especially when passing through the lands of the prince of Bend it is common to hear tales about a strange man from the southern nation. According to the traditions of the local tribes he had startling blue eyes, and he carried the most well maintained firearm anyone had ever seen. The legends tell of him passing out the kindest justice seen in those parts since before the reckning, and his doing had been directly responsible for keeping the Imperial border from creeping any further north than it had gotten. In the eyes of the Northerners he was a liberator, a law bringer, and he could have been an empire builder had he not refused the opportunity. Once a year, every year, the people of the Northern lands still hold a festival in his name. The tribes view him as the closest thing there is to a Northerner hero, and from Coover to Porttown his name still inspires courage in the hearts of men.

Isak thinks to himself, he was made to endure such a dreadful carriage ride at the emperor’s request for such a tall tale as that? He couldn’t help but disagree with the mission he was on, and as he looks out across the rolling green fields that he knows will give away to the nauseatingly thick foliage of the north he mutters to himself.

“Damn Barbarians…”

He looks down at the note in his hands for the millionth time. He wanted to be here as much as a soma dealer would want to be in front of a magistrate, but when you get a note with the emperor’s seal on it telling you to do something? You do it. His eyes wander back up to the passing scenery, and he taps his hands against the carriage’s walls in boredom. He’d never been this far north before, and if he was being honest he never wanted to be this far north. But here he finds himself, with the air quickly becoming more and more humid in the somewhat crisp autumn air. Finally, Isak realizes the futility of thinking about the note any further and lays his head down against the cool leather cushion. He closes his eyes, leans over a little bit, and falls asleep.

Chapter 1:

Isak didn’t know how long he slept, but after some time he was finally awoken from his only somewhat restful sleep.

“Sir. Sir…”

Isak snaps awake and makes an odd surprised grunting noise. He looks around his surroundings before realizing where he is. He looks his right, and sure enough, the carriage driver stands there, just outside of the carriage.

“Sir, we’re here. There’s a man named Oliver waiting for you.”

Isak yawns and blinks a few times, rubbing his eyes.

“Thank you.”

Isak gets up from the cool leather of the carriage and crouch-walks to the door of the carriage. He walks down the fine step painted black with luxurious dyes of the shortlands and turns to the back of the carriage. He picks up his bag from the small trunk and slings its rough fabric across his back. He walks to the front of the carriage and, with a tip of his hat, thanks the driver before handing him a small handful of copper coins. The driver accepts it gratefully before giving the horse in front of him a sharp whip and driving off into the distance. Isak turns away from the carriage after a moment, and looks at the fort stretching in front of him. The construction is nearly all wood, and despite its modest garrison of two hundred odd men he knows that it’s doubtlessly the safest, most civilized place north of Yuba. Isak begins walking to approach the large open wooden southern gate of the complex when another man, old and gruff looking, approaches him. When the two meet in the middle between them the man extends his hand. Isak grips it and shakes in the imperial fashion.

“You’re Isak, I assume?”

Isak nods in response. The old man looks him over. His lips curve into a smile and he turns.

“Come, talk with me. I’m Oliver. I’m told that I’ll be your guide from here to Coover.”

Isak nods again, as he realizes who the man is he takes on a slightly more arrogant tone.

“I had heard about you. It’s good to know that I’ll have a native with me during my travels.”

Oliver shakes his head at this, chuckling slightly to himself.

“Boy, if you think I’m a native then you’re in for a shock, and you don’t scare me anyhow.”

The two reach the gate, and as they pass under its oppressive shadow Isak considers retaliating, but drops the subject instead.

“So did they tell you why I’m going north?”

“Nothing more than that it’s imperial business, and I don’t need to know more neither.”

His tone had diminished in self-importance now that they had passed the gate, and Isak can’t help but feel that he was being much more curt with him now. Once inside the fort Isak makes an agreeing noise.

“That’s for the best, but tell me, where is our transportation north? I was under the impression I’d have an imperial envoy waiting to help escort me north, complete with a full retinue of guardsmen.”

“Then you must be mistaken, it’s just you, me, and…”

“Hello!”

A young man, in his early twenties approaches the older pair. He’s wearing a rather dirty looking infantryman’s uniform, complete with missing buttons and dirty breeches. Isak mutters something about disgrace as he approaches the two of them. When he reaches them he crosses one hand over the other and extends them forward, grabbing both their hands at once before shaking them. The two men just look at him in shock.

“I’m Bill. Bill Lincoln. My friends call me Bill. One guy called me Billy, but he doesn’t walk so good no more.”

He breaks his hands away from the other two and laughs at his own joke.

“Seriously though, it’s nice to meet you two. I’m your translator and guide according to the captain.”

His legs angle themselves at an almost unnatural angle and he leans right in between the pair’s heads. He puts his right hand next to his mouth, blocking its movement from anyone not a part of the conversation. He whispers.

“Although if I’m being honest I think that’s just because I’m the only one who speaks Haid’ this far south and he just wants to get rid of me.”

He chuckles again and resumes his regular stance. He puts his right hand in his vest’s inner pocket and pulls out a small steel timepiece. He looks at it and grins.

“But enough about me, it’s almost the best part of the day. Dinnertime! You two look exhausted, let’s get some food in ya’ at the cafeteria.”

He wheels about on his left heel and starts walking off towards one of the large stone buildings within the wooden walls of the fort. The two stand there, dumbstruck for a moment before Isak opens his mouth.

“...THAT’S our guard? I wouldn’t trust him to guard a wingless fly from getting out of a jar!”

Oliver sighs and nods.

“I agree with you on that, I can’t believe that he’s our guy. But… We’ve got to work with what we’re given. I don’t know about you, but I’m famished. I’ll take my chances in the cafeteria with him.”

And with that Oliver begins walking after Bill, who had since taken off his cap and revealed his messy orange locks to the world. Isak balks for a moment but then begins walking quickly after them, realizing the hunger in his own stomach is quite real.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 2:

When Isak reaches the inside of the cafeteria he looks over the rows of hungry soldiers eating their food at the heavy oak tables set for them. Isak finally spots his two companions getting their food at the metal serving counter. He picks up his rough ceramic plate and looks around the well lit cafeteria. Lanterns hang on every wall every few feet and it contrasts against the dusk of the outside. Isak quickly receives his food from the soldier on the other side of the serving area and thanks him. He goes and sits down at the open spot next to Bill, across from Oliver. He goes to pick up his eating utensils when he realizes there are none. He turns to Bill and asks incredulously.

“Where’s the silverware? I assumed they’d give it to me at some point, but I didn’t see any up there.”

Bill nearly chokes on the water from he’s drinking from his canteen and bursts out laughing. After a moment though, he calms down.

“Silverware? Up here? I’m not sure where you’re from, but here you’re lucky they gave you a plate. Wait a minute… What did you pack for the journey?”

“Mostly just clothing.”

“Did you even bring a knife.”

Isak shakes his head, Oliver and Bill facepalm in unison at this. Oliver pulls his knee into his chest and fiddles around under the table before handing a pen knife to Isak.

“Here, use this to eat. We’ll have to remember to sell most of your clothing before we leave tomorrow and buy some actually useful gear for you.”

“What!? No way I’m eating with this! Was it in your boot?”

He sets the pen knife down on the table.

“And you’ll do no such thing! My gear is my own responsibility, and I’m not letting you throw a single one of my suits away!”

Bill shrugs.

“Fine, have it your way. Either eat with the knife, eat with your hands, or don’t eat at all.”

Isak exhales through nostrils in disapproval, but picks the knife up and begins eating the meal of pork, bread, and carrots. Afterwards, he eats the peach that had been set aside on his plate and sighs, feeling satisfied from the meal. He turns his head to see that it’s now significantly darker outside than it had been before his meal. Oliver gets up from the bench and brings his plate to the area where all the dirty dishes went. He takes a quick swig from the decanter in his coat.

“I’m going to head to my tent now. Isak, we’re tenting together so if you finish soon you can come with me.”

Isak sets his half eaten peach down and stands up. Bill looks at it as he finishes his own.

“You going to eat that? It might be some of the last fresh fruit we see in a while.”

Isak shakes his head and brings his plate to where the rest are. Oliver turns to leave and Isak follows him, quickly picking up his bag from under the bench in the process. He’s quite ready to turn in for the night. They leave the large stone structure of the Cafeteria, and as Oliver leads him to their tent he asks.

“Did you seriously pack only clothes?”

Isak nods.

“Like I said, I was expecting something… A bit more than what I got.”

“Well, that doesn’t change the fact that we need to do something about that. There’s a store for civilians in the fort. We’ll stop by there tomorrow and get you packed for the journey. Speaking of which, they didn’t specify, is there any particular route I’m supposed to take you on?”

“No, just that I’m supposed to get to Rupertsville, and you’re supposed to take me just as far as Coover.”

“Fair enough.”

The two reach their tent. Isak sets his bag down onto the raised wooden floor of the tent and throws off his suit coat onto the small steel-framed bed. He unties his black bowtie and rolls his shirt sleeves back before kicking off his shoes. Oliver does something similar and strips down to just his undershirt and black pants. He walks over to the entrance flap of the tent and tugs it down. Isak lays down on the bed, enjoying the fact that the crisp, lukewarm air makes it unnecessary for anything but a pillow. He puts his arms behind his head and closes his eyes, slowly drifting off to sleep.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------