Eager as I might be to head into the Deadlands right quick, I am in no way ready.

Least I got some time to prepare, as setting out for a long trek in the early afternoon ain't ideal. Doesn't look like Edward was planning on leaving today either as he leads me over to the British section of Stillwater while regaling me with bird facts that may or may not be true. Ain't no point saying as much though, because Edward believes it to be true and that's good enough for him. If you want to change his mind, then you gotta be ready to batten down the hatches and ride out the storm of illogical fallacies he's prepared to bring up and poke holes in his twisted logic until it all unravels apart and you got no idea what point you were trying to make. Easier just to let him believe kiccaws are roundtail finches and can fly up to 12.6 kilometres per hour as opposed to the flat zero they can currently manage, because there's no harm in it.

Not unless he tries to launch a kiccaw off a cliff of course, but Edward's an old school birdwatcher. That means look, but no touch, a policy I imagine his teachers instilled into him early on due to his wickedly sharp talons and tendency to forget that most living things are soft and fleshy. Even the not so soft ones wouldn't fare well beneath his talons, as I seen him tear a pack of Armoured Burrow Hulks apart in close combat. Course, I got no reservations about him placing hands on me, because I seen how cautious and mindful he is of his talons. He can't make a fist without puncturing the palm of his hand, but he carefully folds his talons up and keeps them turned away while his arm is around my shoulder, and I can't imagine that's comfortable for him. Ain't a whole lot of people who care to be so close to the Protectorate's Jack the Ripper, but they don't know him like I do. They only see the killer, the weapon, the destroyer his government trained him to be, but underneath it all, Edward is…

Well, he's still a killer, just like me, but one who values loyalty and friendship while being starved for affection.

So much so that he's wholly focused on me and me alone, until we arrive at a fancy wooden cabin. The luxurious structure stands out from the rows of long log barracks and two-story offices which make up 90% of buildings inside the neat and orderly military compound. The cabin ain't what you would call stately, but it takes up the same frontage as the barracks next door, and boasts a solid oak door inlaid with brass filigree that's all curling curves ending in wicked points. The logs lining the walls have been sanded smooth and varnished to an amber sheen, unlike the boring brown barks or white woody grains seen almost everywhere else. Carvings reminiscent of Etches and artwork can be seen along each and every log, interspersed among knights fighting dragons and heraldic symbology scored into every available surface. The windows are tinted Aberrtin reinforced plate with wooden shutters carved in geometric knotwork, patterns that put me in mind of living Spell Structures or Aetheric Flows in the way they curl and twist and interact with one another.

And they might well be, because all the filigree and decorative artwork would've been done by Edward himself, who is a master of marquetry, or the art of adding decorative patterns or designs upon a structure. That's what he calls it at least, as he's too noble and highbrow for whittling or woodwork, but he's an artist through and through and I find his work mighty appealing. Probably because he's recreating what he sees in the world, and what he sees is more magic than most, more so even than Chrissy who tends to get lost in the flows.

The Princess loves Edward's art even more than I do, and she hops out the wagon and heads over for a closer look. Then and only then does Edward notice her presence, as he do have him a one-track mind at times and has never been good at picking faces out in a crowd. "Christine!" he exclaims in surprise, sounding almost giddy to see her as he strides over for a hug. One she returns as warmly as I did, because she remembers him fondly too. "Howie never mentioned you'd be coming along as well. What a delightful surprise." Then he falls silent for a bit, just heaves a long and heavy sigh as he hugs Chrissy close and takes it all in, overwrought with emotion but much too British to show it. Breaks my heart to see it, because I can tell how much this means to him, seeing us both here after he done been transferred away from New Hope almost ten years back.

Makes me feel mighty small for not making more of an effort to stay connected. I should write him letters more often moving forward, and send crystals with pictures of all the places I been and birds I seen. He'd probably get a real kick out of that.

Soon as he's got his emotions under control, Edward looks up and glances around in search of any other surprises. "Did Christina also come to visit?" He asks, with an expression full of hope and yearning as he adds, "And what of fair lady Rachel? Is she perhaps hiding in the wagon too?"

"Fraid not," I say, and my heart twinges to see it when I crush all his hopes. He been carrying a torch for Aunty Ray for years now, and makes no secret of it, though he ain't ever been anything but respectful of her boundaries all this time. Rather than a suitor, he's more of a not-so-secret admirer who gets all shy and nervous around her, which I always thought was adorable as all heck. To be fair, he gets like that around a lot of women, especially Innates, as he got a thing about… well… breeding and bloodlines.

Which seems real cruel for a guy who uhh… well… How do I put this delicately? You know how I said his armour is affixed to his skin? Grows right off it, like an exoskeleton pretty much, one that covers him from head to toe? Well, it's stuck on fast and don't come off. Nor does he have a panel for access to his uh… dangly bits, which makes… certain things physically impossible. Which, now that I think about it, is probably why he was sent to the Frontier instead of one of his many siblings, half-siblings, and multitudes of cousins from his noble house. That's what they call it at least, the House of Elton, when in fact it's an Innate breeding program set up by Immortal Monarch Bloody Bill. No point keeping Edward around in a breeding program if he can't breed, so might as well ship him off to the Frontier where he won't be missed.

Breaks my heart to even think about it, because that's probably why Edward refuses to acknowledge he's anywhere besides Britan.

Thankfully, he don't let Aunty Ray's absence get him down, as he recovers his good cheer halfway through my explanation. "Aunty Ray stayed back in New Hope as she got work obligations to attend to, while Tina's a full-fledged Ranger now, with a badge and everything." Albeit one in training, and will remain in training for a good few years, but that's par for the course. The Rangers are an elite branch of the Federal Military, Tier One operators who're separate from Army, Navy, Marines, Air Force, and Coast Guard. They recruit from all them other branches, but their only focus is on anti-Aberration actions, typically deep in hostile territory where the Army can't march a whole platoon or tank squadron into. Or in deep sea where even the Navy don't dare send a carrier or submarine. Or up top a mountain the Air Force deemed a no-fly zone because aerial Abby be too much of a hazard. In short, the Rangers do what every other branch of the military don't dare to, so they only recruit the best of the best, soldiers who done already proven themselves on the field of combat and are ready to step up to the big leagues.

Problem is, there wasn't no budget for any other branch of the military here on the Frontier, because the bigwigs who came up with the plan figured the Rangers could handle everything. As for our Aldermen, the folks who got the power to make decisions like funding a regular military to guard Federal borders and such, they decided it'd be more cost effective for every town and village to fund their defenses themselves, which is why you get such a wide variance in quality when it comes to townie guards.

That's neither here nor there though. What's important is that Tina's a Ranger who's working hard to meet the standard, with no time to go galivanting about like me. Though he's sad he can't see her, Edward's delighted to hear it. "How wonderful," he exclaims, gently lifting Chrissy with his forearms and twirling her about just like he used to, and the Princess flutters her feet in joy. "It's good to know Christina is carrying on the family military tradition." Glancing at Chrissy to address her, he adds, "You know Christine, if there ever were American Nobility, I believe you Bradshaws would more than qualify. Your mother comes from good, military stock, as her father, your grandfather, served in the NanYue war and returned home adorned with metals and honours."

And a whole host of issues that made him a terrible father, or so I've put together, but Aunty Ray don't like to talk about her family history.

Edward does, because he's a big military history buff. "Her grandfather and his father before him also served with distinction in both Great Wars," he continues, his expression melting into one of bliss as he no doubt imagines a life in which he married Aunty Ray and joined their storied lineages. "Go back even further, and you'll find a Bradshaw served in some capacity at one point or another. Several notable figures took part in the Indian Wars, the American Civil War, the Second Seminole War, and more, all the way back to the American Revolution even, a tradition upheld by both your parents and now your sister as well."

All of which may or may not be true, though Edward do tend to stick to real facts when he's not talking about birds or geography. Aunty Ray ain't ever brung it up though, and interested as I am to hear more, Chrissy ain't one for history. Instead, she meets Edward's eyes and signs something I can't quite catch since his profile is blocking her hands, but before I can speak up, Edward replies, "Aaron and Luthor? Oh you know them. Scoundrels the both of them. Punctuality never was their strong suit, but I'm sure they'll be along soon enough."

On the surface, that sounds harmless enough, except it's not even a little bit. More to the point, it only now occurs to me that their absence ain't right either. See, Aaron Bailey and Luthor Rawlings are also like family, as they was there with Edward, Aunty Ray, and the rest when my daddy showed up at their camp in the badlands with me less than a day old. Thing is, their relationship with Edward ain't as simple as friends and brothers-in-arms, even though they thick as thieves. Technically, the Warden and the Sentinel are also his minders, his handlers as it were, two powerful Protectorate Knights who could give any Ranger Captain a run for their money and have been tasked with keeping Edward from running amok, as he's wont to do every now and then.

So the fact that they're not here with Edward is probably something I should've pegged as soon as I seen him.

Looking back on our reunion, I now see why Captain Herrera and everyone else in close proximity looked nervous as all heck. They ain't used to seeing Edward unsupervised, and while I know he usually means well, they've probably seen him in action and heard all the horror stories the Protectorate works hard to keep quiet. While I've only heard whispers and rumours, I doubt things are even half as bad as it sounds, because I know what folks say about me and I ain't nowhere near that bad.

So sure, sometimes Edward gets angry at the establishment and tries to burn a government building down, and maybe he enjoys carving up Abby just a bit too much. That's only because he's passionate and loves his job. As for slaughtering outlaws? In his defense, the man is the product of centuries of breeding to create the ultimate living weapon, weapons old Bloody Bill pointed at his nobles almost as often as his enemies. If you gonna send Edward at some outlaws, then you really shouldn't complain when he kills them all in a gruesome fashion, because that's what he was literally born to do.

More to the point, he's a man of many talents, most of which are unknown, including his ability to understand ASL. "When'd you learn Arcane Sign Language?" I ask, because I don't remember ever seeing him use it. "Me and Chrissy only picked it up a couple months ago to help her with communication, and it's workin' wonders."

"Is that what this is?" Edward asks, putting Chrissy down to cast the Minor Illusion Cantrip to display a few Signs himself. Not proper ones I recognize, but they're close enough for me to glean what he's saying as he asks Chrissy about how she's been and she responds in kind. "A rather marvellous system of gestures and iconography to communicate with, though a little too rigid and simplistic for my tastes." He don't miss a beat while talking to me out loud, as he responds to Chrissy and holds a second conversation in a language he's learning as he goes. Glancing over at the rest of our group, who I only now notice all look pretty nervous aside from Elodie, Edward says, "Oh, but I've been remiss. Please Howard, come. Introduce me to the rest of your party." Peering at Harald and Astrid with intense curiosity as if he's only just seeing their black horns and red skin, he adds, "I do believe I've met their mother. Lady Alice, lovely as a summer day. I daresay I was stricken by love with but a single glance, and though I asked for her hand in marriage, she turned me down as she was already with husband."

And child to boot, or so the story goes, several months pregnant with Harald and visibly showing it at the time of their introduction and proposal. "Still is," I say with a nod at the man himself, who I daresay is punching way about his weight when it comes to his wife. "To Gunnar here, Gunnar Askefjord. Alchemist extraordinaire, and village headsman of Providence, a safe place that takes in all sorts of Innates who done been run out of town." I only mention this because when Edward asks for an introduction, he means a full-on introduction, not just a name and a handshake. "His son Harald here is an old friend, and he turns 18 this year, while little Astrid is turning 16, but they're both officially licensed Alchemists in their own right whose products I swear by." Tapping the skitterbot on her shoulder, I add, "Astrid is also a burgeoning arcana-technician who recently crafted her first Automaton, this little fella here. Sharp as a tack she is, and Harald too, though his interests lie solely in Alchemy."

That's all I got to say about them really, as I dunno how much they care to share with the world at large about what they can do. Moving on to Elodie, I say, "This is Elodie Willis," taking extra special care to say her name right because Edward likes to be correct and precise. Earns me a big, bright, beaming smile from the girlie when I do, then a pout when she realizes I've been saying her name wrong on purpose all this time because I like seeing her little glower. "She's a friend who came along to watch my back, same as Chrissy. Also turns eighteen in less than week, so she's here to see the sights and learn more about the Frontier."

"Bonjour," she chimes, all too happy to meet a new friend, even one as dangerous and powerful as Edward. She don't have her guard up though, which I imagine is rare for Edward who's more used to the Askefjords' reaction, as they all keep their distance and watch him close like a tiger on a leash. Rather than respond however, Edward just stands there at full attention, having a silent conversation with Chrissy while facing the Askefjords and Elodie.

Don't know why, not until he gives me a glance and blinks expectantly a few times. Only then do I remember a proper introduction goes two ways, so I step over to stand beside him while I address my friends. "Everyone, this is an old family friend, Lord Edward Elton of Chelveston, the Sovereign's Talon and Harbinger of the Crown." Which are his official titles, though most folks call him The Jack the Ripper, like there's more than one running around.

"I've also been appointed Lord Protector of the Deadlands," Edward adds, giving me a pat on the back in commiseration. "Don't blame Howard here, as the title was only recently conferred upon me by Governor Reginald Pensworth. The highest of honours, or so I'm told." Judging by the subtle sarcasm, there's a whole lot more to this that Edward wants to get off his chest, but he refocuses on the matter at hand as he steps forward with both hands clasped behind his back. "How very good to meet you all." Giving Gunnar a respectful nod, he says, "Word of your work in Providence has spread far and wide, good sir Askefjord, and I offer you my most heartfelt admiration. So much so that I have long since forgiven you for stealing the heart of a good woman out from under my nose."

Pretty sure he's not joking. Edward held a grudge against Uncle Raleigh for the same reasons, but it was never ugly or mean spirited. More pouty and sad, and Uncle Raleigh loved him like a kid brother same as it was with my daddy.

Smiling as he greets Harald much the same way, Edward says, "And you, young man. I have heard much about you as well, the boy genius who refined the formula for Impact Oil and cut costs by more than three quarters."

I didn't know that, and I'm mighty impressed, but Harald shakes his head and says, "My family did most of the research, while I mostly tested their theories out."

Edward don't really care, as he glosses right over it and says, "More recently, I've heard you possess a gift for destruction as well, one you put to good use in Ashbend, correct?" You wouldn't know it unless you knew Harald well, but he goes a little green at the gills while nodding in response, and Edward lets that hang in the air for a second before breaking out into a grin. "The first is always the most difficult," he says, reaching out to pat Harald on the shoulder only to stop himself when he sees the kid flinch. "Should you desire to expand your horizons beyond Alchemy and train your gift, know that I would be happy to teach you, or put you in touch with someone who can do so in my place."

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Moving on to Astrid, Edward beams as he offers her a courtly bow, and Astrid blushes to see it. Even though he's more than twice her age, he's a handsome man with fair skin and striking features. Young too, as far as old worlders go, younger even than Aunty Ray. His government shipped him off to the Frontier in spite of not meeting the officially agreed upon age of 20, as he was only 17 going on 18 when he stepped through the Gate. Only a year older than my daddy, who would've been among the youngest, which might well be why they got along so well.

Or maybe because my daddy was just as dangerous as he was. Edward's words, not mine, and like they say, birds of a feather, flock together.

Either way, that means Edward is only 36 this year, and while that's still much too old for Astrid, that don't mean he's out of her strike range. "Lovely to meet you, young lady," he says, studying her skitterbot more than her fetching features, which comes as something of a relief. Lot of folks seemed fine and kosher until Tina and Chrissy came into their feminine figures, so it's good to see that Edward ain't like that despite falling head over heels in love with almost every pretty Innate he meets. "I must confess I have little understanding of Alchemy or Arcana-Technology, but I find it all so very fascinating. With such a promising a start, I look forward to hearing more of your accomplishments in years to come. Should you also find yourself in need of a patron in the art of destruction, know that my offer extends to you as well."

"Thank you Mr. Elton," Astrid replies, eliciting a hearty chuckle from Edward.

"Oh please," he says with a little wave of his hand. "'Mister' Elton is a peasant. The proper form of address is 'Lord Elton', but I find such niceties so very burdensome amongst friends." He don't come right out and say to dispense with them however, which means he still expects to be referred to as such, though he don't ever seem to mind when I just call him Edward. Only ever called him Uncle Eddy once, and he didn't much care for it, and now that I think about it, he might well be the first adult I ever addressed by first name.

Brushing aside Astrid's stammered apologies with a smile, he gives her another courtly bow before moving on to Elodie. Sweet girl that she is, she's picked up on his desire to shake hands, but mistakes it for a desire to hold hands, so she holds out both of hers in invitation. Never one to offend, Edward goes along with it even though he clearly doesn't understand, putting his hands out in front of him like he's showing off his talons, only Elodie takes a firm grasp of his palms. That's all she does, though she do swing them a bit while bouncing on her heels, all too happy to leave it at this. His initial uncertainty soon melts away as his lips blossom into a warm smile once he realizes she don't mean nothing by it, and he's so tickled pink he glances over at me to make sure I'm seeing this. So of course I snap a Photo right quick, and he colours to see it before striking a noble pose and dignified expression like a Victorian portrait while Signalling for me to take a few more, and I do just that.

Of course, Elodie picks up on it and moves to stand beside Edward for a proper picture, still holding one taloned hand in hers, while Chrissy slides in to join them in this impromptu Photo op. That's all that really needs to be said between Elodie and Edward, and it don't take long for both girls to crack his shell and get him grinning like a fool while posing like family. When it's all said and done, he gives Elodie a warm pat on the head that she leans into and almost gives him a heart attack for fear of accidentally hurting her. I'm guessing it's been years since he's run into someone who wasn't at least a little afraid of him, and judging by his reaction, it means more to him than words can express. Yeah, Edward Elton is a killer to the core, but that don't mean he ain't human.

Killing is a pivotal part of human nature after all, even though most folks like to pretend it ain't.

"Edward, old boy! There you are." Despite the cheery, cordial tone of delivery, there's no mistaking the tension in the British delivery from the ruddy-cheeked veteran, a greying gent covered in sweat and grime as he saunters on up while still catching his breath. "I daresay we've been running around all morning looking for you, you cheeky bugger. Isn't that right Luthor?"

"Aye, it is Aaron. That it is." Equally covered in grime and sweat, the second soldier with a thick, red-brown moustache and a highland burr is far less cheery as he adjusts his beret and glowers at Edward, who's standing at attention with eyes averted like a schoolboy who's been caught out for cheating. "All fooking morning we been runnin', and you know I 'ate runnin'. Ah, sorry Chrissy love. Didn't see you there. I'd give ya a hug, but I'm all covered in mud. From the runnin' you see."

"Yes, lovely to see you again Chrissy," Aaron interjects, still all smiles and good cheer, but there's a look in his eye when it turns my way that's got me standing at attention same as Edward. "You as well, Howie. We must catch up, but I'm afraid there's no time for a happy reunion however, as we are technically still on patrol."

"Aye, that's where we should be," Luthor says, adjusting his big honking polearm with a tiny little hammer and sharp looking spike on the top and back. A lucerne hammer, while Aaron prefers the wicked looking glaive he carries over his shoulder, which I always thought of as a fat sword on the end of a thick staff. Add in their padded vests, chainmail shirts, a 44-40 El-Minister each, and 12 magazines a piece, and it's no wonder they're sweating after running for half the day. "Following our orders to patrol the Deadlands," Luthor continues, hammering his point home while addressing Edward. "Orders you swore an oath to Queen and Country to obey."

"And I did obey orders," Edward replies, forcing himself to relax with a conscious effort of will. "I accompanied you and Sir Hawthorne's Lance on patrol, whilst informing all three of you that I had a dire need to be in Stillwater by this morning at the latest. As Sir Hawthorne did not see fit to accommodate my schedule and instead ordered his Lance to track that throng of shamblers through the marsh, I simply took it upon myself to complete the remainder of our patrol so that I could greet Howard here soon after he arrived."

"Curious timing that," Aaron says, patting me on the cheek just a little too hard before turning to Edward again. "You, knowing Howie would be arriving here, today, even though a few days back, you claimed you hadn't the foggiest idea what he was doing so far west."

"As I recall, you specifically asked if I knew what young Howard was doing in Ashbend." Holding his head up high like he's won some moral victory, Edward retorts, "And I was wholly honest in saying I hadn't the foggiest. Stonesford is the much superior rest stop, only an hour's travel to the north with much cheaper docking fees and home to Madame Rousseau who makes the finest fish and chips in all the lands. I'm told it's due to the cooking oil she uses, pressed alabaster nut as opposed to the amalgamate vegetable oil most tend to favor."

Aaron smiles and chuffs to hear it before offering Edward a tilt of the head to acknowledge his loss, while Luthor hits us both with a glare. "And what precisely do the two of you gents think you're doing here then? Out with it now. Deadlands is no place for a lark, so if you expect the British Government to give ye the go ahead and piss off the Americans something fierce, then I'm afraid to say ye wasted yer time comin' all this way Howie."

"Hang on," I say, trying to salvage something from this rapidly crumbling situation. "Is this all because that whole task force thing? Because even if you send me away, I ain't workin' with no Qin. Half want me dead, and the other half want me back in the fold to parade around like a good little puppet until they get tired of all my lip and slit my throat."

"May be the case," Luthor replies, nodding his head in agreement, "But even if it wasn't, we still wouldn't bring ye in. Like I said, the Deadlands is no place for a lark, not for you and your friends here." Giving me a wink as he leans in, he whispers, "So which one of these girlies is it? The one you chasin'? Or maybe it's both, you dog you. Sorry to cut ye down in front of them like this, but I'll make it up to ye laddie, I promise."

Ignoring his well-intentioned query and shaking off memories of Josie, I struggle to keep my temper in check while processing everything he's said. "Wait, so you're saying you wouldn't help me get authorization even if there wasn't no task force? Then why didn't you say as much when I wrote you two months back?"

"I didn't get no letter," Luthor replies, before glancing over at Aaron. "You?"

"Can't say that I did," he replies, pursing his lips and furrowing his brow. "Perhaps there was an issue with forwarding our mail from our last address. We've only been stationed here for what? Nine years now? Blink of an eye, and as I understand it, these things take time."

Nothing like British sarcasm to make you think everything's alright until you read into it, but I don't got the time to pry just yet. "Edward sent me a reply, so he must have got his letter, and I sent them all to the same address," I say, and then it hits me. Same with Luthor and Aaron, as we all turn to face Edward as one who's back to being the shy schoolboy again, which is odd from a man in full dragon scale plate armour.

"In my defense," he begins, unable to meet our eyes. "I knew the two of you would tell Howard not to come, so I hid your letters from you. They're under the floorboards beneath your bunks, so you can go read them now, but seeing how he's came all this way, I see no reason why we should send him home so soon." Gesturing at me, he continues, "Just look at him. He's a man grown, with all his guns and his American swagger to go with his roguish good looks. I'm sure he'll do fine out in the Deadlands, just fine indeed. And if not? Well, do we not have an obligation to see to his education, to teach him as his father would?"

"Ming would want that," Aaron replies, smiling fondly as he gets lost in memory. "Last letter he wrote said he wanted to bring the by boy soon as he could convince Rachel. Howie was what? Thirteen?"

"Governor won't go for it," Luthor replies, which ain't exactly a no. "Gave express orders he did. Express. Orders."

"Well," Aaron interjects, leaning in for a conspiratorial whisper, "Express orders were given to Knight Commander Blythe, in that he was expressly forbidden from authorizing the Firstborn to enter the Deadlands."

"Authorization he will not be required to give," Edward continues, smiling as he gestures at himself, "As I most received no such orders, and as Lord Protector of the Deadlands, am well within my rights to bring young Howard and his friends beyond the quarantine zone, even if they will all make for rather tempting targets."

"I don't want none of you stickin' your necks out for me," I say, only for all three to wave my concerns aside and continue their conversation."

"Blythe will have a fit when he hears of this," Luthor says. "A right proper fit."

"Poppycock," Aaron replies. "Let him. His rear is covered good and well, so no harm, no foul."

"And if Governor Pensworth takes issue with me using my frivolous title, then he should have considered it before having bestowed it upon me," Edward concludes. "So? Are we in accord?"

All three of them turn to me, and I get the feeling I'm being judged harshly. After a long second, Aaron sighs and says, "Seems we are, old chap. Luthor, ask the good chap why he brought that steel monstrosity of a wagon to a swamp and see what you can do about making him ready, hmm? I'll bring Lord Elton to see the Knight Commander about getting us reassigned, and ensure the poncy old git keeps his head in the process."

"Don't work too hard," Luthor replies. "Do some good to put fear of Lord Edward into the Knight Commander. Remind him why we're stationed here year after year when most others rotate out after six short weeks."

"Seriously," I say, trying to rein them in even though I feel like I've completely lost control. "If this is a bigger deal than Edward made it out to be, then you don't have to do nothin'. I can find my own way in easy enough."

"Aye," Luthor replies, smacking me on the back of the head while Edward and Aaron saunter off like they didn't hear a word I said. "That's what we're worried about. Been some years since we seen one another, but we know you well enough laddie, so best you stick with us rather than have a go at it yourself. Last thing any of us need is to go out on patrol and come across your rottin', shamblin' corpse, or worse."

…What's worse than that?

"Luthor is it?" Stepping in to shake the man's hand, Gunnar shows why he's the people person and says, "Name's Gunnar Askefjord. I asked Howie to get me and my kids to the Deadlands here, and I appreciate your generous offer to help, but might be I can make it easier on you three with regards to the red tape. Pretty sure I can get me and mine authorized by the Feds, so I'll head on over and talk to Captain Herrera. Might be I could even do something for Howie." Clapping me on the shoulder, Gunnar gives me a look that is half commiseration and half amusement, as he understands how I feel but is tickled pink to meet some folks who are big and bad enough to treat me like a kid.

"Howie?" Sidling up beside me, Elodie looks all nervous as she glances about the outpost and fixes on the Métis quadrant. "Papa, he say that when I arrive here, I am to announce myself to our people, so I must go do that now."

"Okay," I say, not really understanding, but I'm happy to have something to do besides be all flustered and embarrassed for overlooking the simple fact that wagons don't do well in swamps. "Give me a second and I'll be right with you."

"Non," Elodie replies with a shake of her head. "I am to do this alone he say. Do not worry."

Even though she says that, she's the one who looks worried, so I reach out and give her hand a squeeze. "If you gotta do it, then you gotta do it," I say. "If you need help though, I'll be here, okay?"

Flashing me her silly smile, Elodie nods and gives me a quick hug before setting off to talk to the Métis. About something or the other, though I have no idea what, all while Luthor gives me a knowing look that makes my cheeks burn bright. "All right then laddie," he says, clapping me on the back with a smile. "Let's see what you've packed and how much we'll be throwin' away." Turning to Chrissy, Luthor beams and asks, "Princess, you didn't happen to bring an instrument did you? Been years since I heard a proper musical performance. You don't mind do you?"

Chrissy is game as always, and as she skips away to get her fiddle out of the back of the wagon, Luthor turns to me and says, "She can't be bringing no instruments out into the Deadlands. That'd be dead weight, so you'll have to break the bad news."

"…Why me?"

"I don't have the heart to disappoint the Princess," Luthor replies, grinning from ear to ear as he throws an arm around my shoulders and pulls me in for a big bear hug. "Ah, it's good to see you again laddie. Can't believe it's been so long and you've grown so much. Sorry we couldn't come visit, but we've been mired here the whole time. Orders you see."

Having picked up on a few sore spots over the course of the conversation, I give them the softest of prods to see what shakes look. "This have something to do with the Governor or Knight Commander keeping you here? Got the feelin' the three of you have had enough of these parts."

Luthor doesn't reply right away, as he's silently introducing himself to Cowie who was much too scared of Edward to come out and say hello. Scared enough to go full sized, but I'm afraid Edward has that effect on animals, especially Magical Beasts who can sense how much Aether he got at his very sharp fingertips. Rather than force the issue though, I figure I can let nature take its course and show Cowie he got nothing to fear from Edward. As for Luthor, he's having a grand old time petting Cowie and showing none of the customary fear that folks get when the big fella gets a little too friendly.

"Used to raise cattle when I was a wee lad," Luthor says, rather than answer my question outright. "Highland cattle, with the look of your friend here, only brown instead of snowy white. Cowie is it?" I nod, smiling not just because of how sweet they look together, the big, bearded thug of a soldier and muscular saint of a bull, but because Luthor's been keeping up with developments even though I was never all that good at it. They left New Hope when I was nine after all, two years before I found Cowie, and yet Luthor ain't none too surprised to see my furry white partner. "Aaron? He was a city boy, on track to go to Cambridge to study accounting. Then the both of us got it in our heads we wanted to come settle the Frontier for Queen and Country. Be like the pilgrims of old, except we'd remain loyal servants of the throne and bring about a new dawn for the British Empire, which last I checked was sailing off into the sunset."

Can't say I understand the lengths to which folks will go in the name of civic duty and national pride. It's one thing to be proud to call yourself British, American, or whatever, but another thing altogether to throw your life away for a government that won't shed no tears once your gone. I respect it though, except it sounds like Luthor ain't feeling as patriotic as he used to. "In those first few years after the Advent," he continues, still giving Cowie some good scritches and hardy pats, "I could see myself making a difference. Only it wasn't about Queen and Country. It was humanity coming together regardless of language or borders, and it was magical. We fought the good fight and kept our people safe, not the people of Britain, but our people all the same, working alongside heroes like your father and the Marshal to make the Frontier our own."

Heaving a long and heavy sigh, Luthor looks up and gestures at the compound around us. "Then we came to Stillwater, and we've been here ever since. Fighting a losing battle against the Soulless with no end in sight, because almost every soldier we lose adds another powerful combatant to the Enemy ranks. Not just a shambler, those mindless Zombie puppets, but maybe a true Wight inhabited by a Mimic who will make the most of that dead flesh. I've killed more friends than I can remember Howie, and I've long since lost the taste for it. Governor won't let us leave though. Needs us here you see, because there's no one who can do what Edward does, kill friends and enemies alike without so much as batting an eye, but it's taking a toll on him too. When he asked for reassignment, they stuck a medal on his chest and called him the Lord Protectorate of the Deadlands, but what he is in truth is our executioner. Should any of us fall, then he's the man they send after the corpse to destroy it before the Wight can grow in strength and become a powerful Wight Lord to match even the best of us. A necessary job, but a dirty one that will blacken your soul, and mine feels dark as night."

Always one to cater to her audience, Chrissy strums out the intro to 'Yesterday' by the Beatles, and Luthor closes his eyes to listen. Always said there's a magic to music, and I see it at work here and now as the melody washes over this grizzled veteran and cleanses aways a little of that darkness he's so concerned about. Might be I don't know what it's like, but I can see it's taken a toll on the man I once knew, a gruff but warm-hearted soldier with the mind of a philosopher and heart of a poet. I don't say nothing, just stand by him as he basks in the moment as Chrissy plays her song for all to hear, and soon enough, she gathers a sizable audience of soldiers who've been serving here in the Deadlands and have come to cleanse their souls as well.

Explains what Luthor was talking about when he was worried about something worse. It's not just about not wanting to pulp my head himself with his lucerne hammer, or torch the remains so that I won't ever rise again. A shambler is just a meat puppet on invisible strings, but a Wight is so much more, as the Mimic that puppets it can access the memories of the corpse alongside some Spells. Takes time to get at those, but nine years is a whole lot of it to see enough friends come and go in what I imagine to be one of the worst ways possible. Could I bring myself to put a Wight down if it was wearing Chrissy's face? I don't know, but I know it'd wreck me something fierce if I had to do it, and all of a sudden, I understand why most soldiers rotate out of the Deadlands after six short weeks.

No wonder it takes the combined strength of four major nations to keep the Deadlands contained. It's not that the Soulless are all that powerful, but the mental toll our soldiers take when fighting them off is too great to leave unchecked. The cost in manpower alone must be staggering, having to rotate soldiers out before the pressure gets to them, while Luthor, Aaron, and Edward have been here for almost a whole decade because the higher ups put too much on their plate. Even though Luthor implied Edward ain't affected by it none, we both know that's not true. He's just better at hiding it, suppressing it, because that's what he's been doing his whole life, suppressing the murderous instincts that were bred into him by an Immortal Monarch who was considered bloodthirsty even by other monsters of his calibre.

And what happens if he can't take it anymore? Fact is, he might be approaching those limits, or Aaron and Luthor are, else Edward would never have swallowed his pride to ask for reassignment. The man lives for killing Abby and Outlaws, so if he's asking for a vacation, then things have got to be real, real bad.

As for me? I think I can handle it, but I won't know until I know. Sounds like we'll be in for a rough ride too, as now that I think about it, four rather powerful Innates would probably make prime materials for a Wight Lord, while a Third Order Magus like myself would be only slightly less appealing. Edward knew it too, which is why he said what he said about tempting targets, and for the first time in a long time, I'm having second thoughts about moving forward with my plans, as I ain't been taking things half as serious as I should've.

Too late to back down now though. I got two packages to pick up and deliver to the Manfredis and the Serbians, else my friends might end up in prison or worse, while I'm stuck fighting a war against a criminal organization big enough to look down on a mob family as powerful as the Manfredis. Luka wasn't the leader of his gang after all, while the Don was there to meet him in person, and he wouldn't have done that if Luka wasn't deserving of the respect.

Meaning it won't be so easy to take out the Serbians, especially if the Manfredis are more afraid of them than they are of me.

Ain't nothing for it though. I'm committed to this course of action, with the best scenario moving forward being the Askefjords and Elodie having their Authorization denied. Then I can leave them and Chrissy here in Stillwater while I head out with Edward, Luthor, and Aaron to collect my packages then be on my way home safe and sound.

But like Aunty Ray loves to say, if wishes were fishes, then wouldn't no one have nothing to eat, and we all know that ain't the case.

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