A puff of smoke escaped the long wooden pipe dancing with the harsh southern winds, its wielder bearing the signature exoskeleton of the Shek, a warrior-like race, as hardy as they are stubborn. This one looked somewhat different from most of his people. For one thing his left top horn had been wrenched in half, something usually considered a great dishonour for their people. He was tall, though not to the point of standing out. Wiry yet well built with clearly defined muscles. A few clear wrinkles betrayed his age, yet the eyes they highlighted were still filled with light. A lightly rusted katana sat on his hip and the light winds revealed a chain vest under his faded blue rags.

  He stood alone on a great cliff overlooking the war-torn region of Shun, not that there were many regions that weren’t war-torn these days. The old Sheks eyes squinted as he scanned the horizon, though whether that was to avoid the baking sunlight or because he had poor eyesight was anyone's guess.

  Of course despite the probable importance of his mountaintop perch, the Sheks' companions didn’t really care for it. ‘Hannen.’ The Shek twitched, then slowly turned his head, his pipe still hanging from his lips. He looked at the group slightly bewildered before smiling, removing the pipe as he did so.

  ‘Ah. Mr. James. I apologize. I appear to have found myself lost in thought for a moment there.’ He replied cheerfully. ‘Shall we continue our journey?’ The Greenlander known as Mr. James sighed, before nodding his head sheepishly. Hannen smiled once again before tapping the remains of his pipe on a nearby rock. ‘Good.’ He stated simply before slapping his companions arm.

  The Greenlander rubbed his arm as Hannen began the steep descent down the cliff, with the rest of his entourage not far behind. They had hired his services to guard them on a journey to a rather high-tech ruin that had been rumoured about in Drifters Last. He wasn’t a mercenary, but his sword skills had become a bit of a conversation topic around town, so they sought him out nonetheless. Hannen quite readily accepted as he had business of his own in Shen, of course, the money they offered didn’t exactly deter him either.

  He looked back at his charge. It was a small group, three, to be exact, none of which had any combat experience, which was quite hard to imagine in this world, especially considering they wished to explore the ruins of the old world. Mr. James was their leader, a slightly robust wealthy Greenlander merchant from the United Cities. Then there were the scientists, Wrinkle, a Hive Worker and Bick, another Greenlander. Bick had partnered with Mr James and Wrinkle had been hired by the merchant to deal with anything that required a certain level of intellect. Although, in Hannen's opinion, the old-world ruins required more brawn than brain. As he was about to turn his head back to scour the nearby cliffs, Hannen caught the curious Hiver staring at him. ‘Is something the matter, young Hiver?’ He asked.

  Wrinkle jumped, perhaps not even noticing his own stares. ‘I uh.. I… Very sorry. You’re just a bit different from most Shek I’ve met…’ The Hiver seemed to be panicking, his eyes wandering anywhere but Hannen's gaze. ‘They’re usually… Angrier.’ He muttered.

  Hannen smirked, stopping in his tracks. It was true that for a Shek he could be considered different and not just in appearance, for one thing, he preferred words to war. Although it wasn’t as if he was the only anomaly. ‘A Hiver that left the hive is telling me I’m unusual?’ He mused with a smug look.

  The scientist scratched his green scalp. ‘Uh.. Ha ha, very true.’ If Hivers could blush, he imagined Wrinkle would be doing so. Hannen smirked, turning back around to continue their journey.

  For a while the group was silent. In the spider infested coast of Shun, too much talking was as much a risk as anything. Even so, it did not appear as though Hannen was bothered at the thought of the infamous Flesh Spiders. He wore a jaunty grin and a leisurely walk, his hand resting gently on the katana at his hip. Yet his eyes were still trained on the surrounding cliffs.

  It was nearly halfway through the day before Hannen spoke again. His body twitched and his feet stopped. ‘This is a good place for a spot of lunch wouldn’t you say?’ He asked, looking back over his shoulder.

  His companions shared confused looks. They had been following the river that ran through Shen for the past few hours, the spot they were at now was in no way different than any other. None of the party decided to voice a complaint though, they weren’t used to such long journeys, so any break was a welcome one.

  Hannen took off his backpack leaning it on a nearby rock. ‘There’s a few bottles of sake in there if you want.’ He motioned towards the bag before turning back to the path ahead.

  ‘You goin’ somewhere?’ Mr James asked the Shek.

  ‘Just off to scout ahead a bit, I’m not that tired yet.’ He answered with a nod. ‘Won’t be long.’

  The group watched as their guard disappeared through the small canyons of Shen. ‘Not sure I feel comfortable being left without protection. Especially around here,’ Bick commented.

  ‘If Hannen thought there was any danger, he wouldn’t have left. Maybe this is a peaceful area of Shen?’ Mr. James replied. The other two scientists stared at their boss with black expressions. ‘Well… Peace is relative.’ He muttered.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  Taking his own backpack off, the Greenlander breathed a sigh of relief as the weight dropped from his shoulders. Generally he never left Drifters Last. Born, raised and thrived. That’s why he didn’t have regular paid guards, or even regular employees.

  Wrinkle came to Drifters Last some years prior, somehow surviving a journey all the way from the Western Hive. He was kicked out due to some determination to be on an equal level with the Prince. He shouldn’t have even had that level of thought. Then there was Bick, she overhead the rumours too and was the one to encourage Mr. James to get involved. For her it was the research, for him it was the profit. He wasted a good portion of his small fortune on equipment, and on Hannen as well.

  In fact, he spent so much money it made him thirsty and given how much he was paying the man, the sake in Hannen's bag called to him as the most powerful quencher.

  ‘Mr. James with all due respect I do not think it pertinent to drink alcohol just this moment despite our guards' offer. We are in the wilds without said guard right now, you’ll want your faculties,’ Bick made a fair point, but Mr. James didn’t particularly care.

  ‘I’m old. I’m sheltered and I’m unfit. Let us be honest, if Hannen abandoned us you’d leave me behind at a moment's notice and I would do the same to you. Filling my guts with sake is only going to help the two of you escape whilst the beasts feed on my rather robust form.’

  A groan of fear escaped from Wrinkle's elongated mouth. ‘That’s… Surprising. You are so comfortable with the idea of death Mr. James?’ Bick asked.

  He laughed sitting on the same rock Hannen's bag rested against. ‘ Ha! I’d rather live. No doubt I’ll run crying rather than nobly sacrifice myself when faced with a real threat, just wanted an excuse to drink.’ He took a deep swig of the ricewine. ‘Damn I’m thirsty. If we had brought slaves like I wanted we wouldn’t have to carry our own equipment and end up so exhausted.’ He grumbled.

  ‘And I told you that this journey would be without slaves. It’s a barbaric custom. If my research bears fruit we will no longer need to enslave our fellow man.’

  Mr. James took another few swigs in between a cackle. ‘Tengus codpiece you sound just as bad as those Antislaver bastards.’

  Bick seemed unamused by his words, not that Mr James cared, he was too busy relishing the fresh embrace of warm sake deep in his system. Bick decided against any further argument and sat herself down on a nearby rock as well, closer to the river than her rotund travelling associate sat. Finally, Wrinkle, unable to take the slightly awkward atmosphere, began fiddling with the straps on his own bag.

  The air lay thick and heavy upon all of them. Right in the middle of the day by one of the few clean streams of water on the continent, yet still Mr. James chose to drink alcohol. Though it was Bick who proposed this venture, she regretted not opening up her prospective partners. Mr. James was not the wealthiest merchant in Drifters Last, but he had been deemed the most approachable and more importantly the most sheltered. The man had never left the city in his entire life, that was something she needed, men like that were naive to the cruelty of the outside world, far more likely to fund a dangerous journey. Though she would have preferred more than one guard.

  ‘B-BICK! Look out, behind you!’ Wrinkles started panicking, pointing a long green finger to the cliff behind her back. She turned around to see half a dozen horrifying creatures running towards them, near silent as their pointed razor like legs dug into the rocky ground.

  ‘Shit! Skin Spiders!’ Bick got up and began sprinting away from them, towards the river, leaving her hefty bag behind. She grabbed Wrinkles petrified arm and pulled him with her. ‘Where the fuck is out so called guard?!’ she cried.

  The Spiders were already upon her resting spot, a leg going straight through her thick leather bag. She turned away from the creatures to see Mr. James still sat on his rock, drinking. ‘Mr. James you need to run too!’

  The man did not listen, even as the other two reached the edge of the water, he still sat there drinking, an uninterested expression worn on his face. Bick hesitated, she had dragged them into this mess, she felt somewhat responsible. The Greenlander pushed Wrinkle towards the water and winced, unable to believe what she was about to do. ‘Run,’ she whispered to the other scientist, herself diving for the merchant as the spiders were almost upon him.

  She wrapped her arms around him, not really thinking about what she was doing, about what she could actually do. It was stupid of her, there was no reason. He was selfish and oafish, but she couldn’t stand by and do nothing. Bick glanced behind them to see a snarling jaw only a foot from her, and tensed her body, ready for death.

  Then, nothing. She had not collapsed, she had not been stabbed. Instead, she heard the screams of beasts. ‘Heh. Bit late, but earning his pay,’ Mr. James grinned looking behind her shoulder. She turned too.

  There stood Hannen, pipe still in mouth. The first Spiders front legs had been cut clean off and his sword dripped viscous green blood. It screamed in agony as another two jumped for him, he deftly dodged under their claws, lifting his blade to glide through the head of one, cutting it like it was nothing but wheatstraw. Two more fell as he went on the offensive, ripping his blade through both of their faces with a wide arc. The last beast's instincts kicked in as it immediately retreated. The hired blade paused to suck in a fresh batch of smokeleaf. Then thrust his katana through the head of the first Spiders head, who still writhed in agony. He then pulled a cloth and wiped down the blood from his blade.

  ‘Wha?’ Bick started, unable to believe what she had just seen, also realising where had just gone. His scouting mission was just an excuse to find a smoke plant. He turned to them whilst cleaning the last of the blood off and took the pipe from his lips when his hand was freed.

  ‘Over scorching dunes,

  Beyond all the wicked winds,

  Hope still lingers on.’

  Hannen sheathed his sword and looked over at Mr. James. ‘When was the last time you felt hope, Mr James?’