The cargo ramp of the Redland Runner slowly hummed open. Sheah stood at its base, hands clasped behind her back, her nerves only just now returning to a state of collected calm following their latest harrowing Unbound encounter. Still, a swarm of worries buzzed through her head regarding this shady settlement. Simply being inside the gates did not mean they were out of trouble—not just yet.

  As the ramp gently swung down onto the brick of the town’s rotund plaza, Sheah stepped forth and let the sunlight warm her face. She couldn’t help but blink—not at the desert sun, but at the village itself. It was not quite what she was expecting, to say the least.

  Perhaps it was due to their depiction in the photoplays she had so frequently consumed in the cities, but Sheah had always pictured the wasteland towns as dusty, miserable collectives of rickety shacks, populated in turn by gruff, callous outcasts more content to live with the constant threat of death than suffer proper civilization. To her unimaginable surprise, the town appeared to be very much the opposite in practically every way. Sprinkled around the central plaza were clusters of stately square buildings stacked two or three high—weathered constructions from a bygone era, propped up and painted over with modern renovations, each of them coated in bright, inviting shades of greens and blues. Slowly emerging from the shops and homes were a host of clean and contented-looking people: elders, couples, and families among them, all casually making their way back into the streets after the alarm as if it were just another day.

  “…Well, I’m just happy I weren’t up there to see it,” mused Dez, reacting to Jira’s succinct description of the events a few minutes prior. With the ramp hissing to a standstill, the crew made their way down to the street.

  As Sheah’s polished shoes touched down onto the cobblestone, she spun around to address her team. “Okay crew—remember, we are still in a precarious position. I shall do the talking, and with any luck, we—”

  “Lange!” cried Kaelis with delight. She pushed past Sheah and ran towards a woman hopping off the Imperial warship’s lowest ladder.

  “Brighteyes!” Lange gleefully cheered upon seeing her friend. She scurried across the plaza, her arms stuck out wide. Squealing like schoolgirls, the two women collided in the middle of the square and embraced one another in a chummy hug.

  Miffed at the interruption, Sheah paced towards her companion, all the while curiously studying the woman called Lange. Like the rest of the village, she looked nothing like what Sheah was expecting. For one, she was quite young—maybe ten years Sheah’s senior, if that. Her eyes were inviting and radiant, and her attractively sharp nose and cheeks were speckled with golden freckles. Swept over her abundantly pierced ears was a ream of straight hair that shimmered in the sunlight like a curtain of water, flowing around a smile pulled wide with kindness and warmth. Sheah liked her immediately.

  “Lange! So good to see you!” said Kaelis. “How’s village life treatin’ ya?”

  “You’ll hear no complaints from me,” Lange smiled coyly. She thrust out her hip and gently slung her hand above the revolver dangling from her belt. “And it’s actually Sheriff Lange now.”

  “Shut up!” hollered Kaelis. “Sheriff!” Grinning brightly she gave Lange a light, complimentary shove on the shoulder. “Lange, congratulations! I knew you’d be runnin’ this town sooner or later.”

  Lange threw back her head and laughed. “Well, I wouldn’t say ‘running’, but I do what I can. Even got my own station and everything.” She pointed pridefully to a simple shack halfway down the main road with a crooked sign hanging from a post that plainly read: ‘Sheriff’.

  “How long ya been sheriff?” asked Kaelis.

  “Oh, ‘bout a year or so,” Lange answered. “The last Sheriff—Dusan, a good man, he… he took ill, succumbed to the shakes. Then not a day later did a pair of Unbound crawl their way over the cliffs. They attacked durin’ my patrol, and I just did the same thing anyone in this town would do. But the Mayor said he was so impressed that he gave me the position right then and there. And now, I can’t imagine doin’ anythin’ else. It just feels like the right fit.”

  “Well, I couldn’t think of anyone better for the job,” said Kaelis. “Speakin’ of jobs, you should hear what I’ve been up to. Boy, do I got some stories—”

  “Ahem!” Sheah loudly coughed, uninterested in being ignored any longer.

  Lange peeked over Kaelis’s shoulder and gave Sheah an affected once over. “Well, who do we have here?” she said with a growing smile. “Brighteyes, ain’t ya gonna introduce your friends?”

  “Oh, uh, right,” said Kaelis, the existence of her teammates having seemingly vanished from her mind. She hopped to the side and gestured to Sheah. “Lange, this is my boss.”

  “Sheah Ziedler,” greeted Sheah, thrusting out her hand cordially. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Constable.”

  Lange laced her fingers around Sheah’s and gave her a firm yet gentle handshake. “Pleasure’s all mine, miss,” she said with a wink. Sheah tried her best to hide the growing redness in her cheeks.

  “And this is Dez, and Captain Sirroza,” continued Kaelis, presenting her respective teammates.

  “Mornin’, Sheriff,” said Dez with a friendly salute. Jira silently gave her a nod.

  A glint of recognition wormed its way into Lange’s expression upon seeing Jira. Before she could confirm the Captain’s celebrity, Jira looked off into the distance, a stern look falling over her. Lange and the rest of the team followed her gaze.

  Marching towards them from across the plaza was the Mayor, his shoulders aggressively hunched. As he stormed into view, Sheah found that he, on the other hand, looked exactly as she had expected. He was a man of broad proportions and plain dress, a permanent scowl set into his scarred and scary face—the look of someone with no shortage of tasks, each more pressing than the last. A river of interwoven tattoos ran from his forearms down into his clenched fists.

  “Oh, Genzo,” said Lange, unbothered, turning back to face the team. “He’s just a bit stressed right now, but he’ll lighten up.”

  “Let us hope so,” breathed Sheah. “Perhaps he will listen to reason now that we are inside the gates.” She straightened herself with a dignitary’s poise before taking a strong step forwards to greet the approaching Mayor.

  A sturdy hand thrust in front of her, blocking her path. “I will speak to him,” declared Jira.

  “Captain, please” sighed Sheah, letting her offense be known. “I know how to broker a diplomatic agreement.”

  Jira shook her head. “He is my countryman. He will listen.”

  Without waiting for a response, Jira marched ahead towards the Mayor. Sheah folded her arms and pouted, beyond frustrated at yet another display of flagrant disrespect from her team.

  “Lega Xelon,” said Jira politely, bowing as the Mayor arrived before the group. “Lights guide you, my Diema.”

  The Mayor glared at her, his frown somehow sinking deeper, as though she had just ripped an old bandage from his remarkably hairy arms. Jira stared back, deeply puzzled by his steely, inhospitable response. Looking past Jira’s shoulder, the Mayor addressed the rest of the group instead.

  “You led an Unbound to our doors,” he growled. “What have you to say?”

  “Well, we helped you kill it,” offered Kaelis with a friendly smile.

  The Mayor’s lips pulled taut against his teeth. “Helped?”

  “Hey, we can all be friends here,” said Lange, jumping in between the parties. “What’s done is done, and ain’t nobody hurt. They’re inside the gates now, might as well treat ‘em like guests.”

  “The last thing we want is to cause a ruckus,” said Dez. “All we’re askin’ for is a place to store the Red fer a few days, and any parts and labor yer willin’ to spare. We got the funds to pay for it.”

  “Money is not tse issue,” bellowed the Mayor.

  Sheah stepped to the front of the pack, placing her hands together in a most respectful fashion. “Surely there is a price you would deem satisfactory?”

  “I will have no satisfaction until you botchers are out of my town!” the Mayor roared. “Tsere is no room, and our defenses are spread too tsin as is. If tse corporations come, we have no strength to turn tsem away. When tsey find you—”

  “But sir, we can remain hidd—”

  “When. Tsey. Find. You,” the Mayor growled. “Tsen we will be labeled conspirators, and tsey will have cause to level us. Evertsing we have built will be lost. It is out of my hands—I cannot allow you to stay. Sheriff, see tsem off.” Without waiting for a rebuttal, the Mayor swung himself around to leave.

  “Genzo, wait,” said Lange sternly. The Mayor shot a frustrated breath from his nose as Lange pulled him aside and spoke to him softly. “Listen, this here’s a friend,” she said, gesturing towards Kaelis. “We go back a ways. She’s a fighter, a good one. Her and her crew, maybe they can help us.”

  The Mayor seemed to consider it for a moment before shaking his head. “Tze. We have no need for outsiders.”

  “They took care of that Unbound well enough. And Lorell owes me a favor, we can stash ‘em in her garage.”

  “We cannot take tse risk.”

  “Look, I know you’re worried—I’m worried too—but if the corps come knockin’ we can deal with it. Ya got more to gain here than ya got to lose.”

  The Mayor scrunched his eyes and stroked his lengthy, braided beard. After a pained, protracted breath, he softly nodded and placed a strong hand on Lange’s shoulder. He slowly spun back around to face Sheah and the crew.

  “We can provide you harbor—”

  “Hurray!” exclaimed Kaelis.

  “On two conditions!” snapped the Mayor, silencing Kaelis promptly. “First: a docking fee of twenty-five thousand Imperial saebles.”

  “Twenty-five thousand!” gasped Sheah, utterly appalled.

  “Second—” the Mayor continued. “We are in crisis and have need for some muscle.”

  “What kind of crisis?” asked Jira.

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  Lange leaned in close, shielding her voice from any onlookers or passersby. “Something’s been coming ‘round here at night, breaking the enclosures, stealin’ the animals.”

  “Hm. Unbound?” asked Jira.

  “Don’t know. We ain’t been able to catch a proper glimpse of it. But it don’t act like any Unbound I ever seen, and it definitely ain’t no human, I can tell ya that.”

  “It is probably a stray bear,” grunted the Mayor. Despite his grounded speculation, his voice quavered with a subtle hint of fear.

  Lange shot him an incredulous look. “It ain’t a bear, believe me. All we know for sure is that it comes down from the Sarulean Manor.”

  Jira raised a brow. “The manor?”

  Lange pointed to the wall of the mesa that loomed over the town. Carved into the rock was a series of shallow switchbacks, crisscrossing their way up the length of the hill. The path winded up towards a decrepit archway at the peak, signaling the entrance to an estate beyond. Even in the morning light, it bore an ominous portent.

  “The old home of the Dukes of Saruleah,” said Lange. “The Sarul family were the lords of the region ‘til the Unbound came through here centuries back. They say the last Duke was a researcher of some sort, turned the place into a fortress in order to study the Scourge. The family sealed themselves inside and never came out again.”

  “Pretty grim,” lamented Dez.

  “That ain’t even the half of it,” said Lange. “You wanna know what the foreriders found when they cracked the house open after hundreds of years?”

  “Ooh, what?” asked Kaelis, wide-eyed with morbid curiosity.

  Lange leaned in. “Nothing,” she revealed. “An empty house, locked from the inside.”

  Sheah shuddered at the ghostly implications, a chill running up her spine.

  “Nobody knows what happened to the family. Some say the manor’s been cursed by the Angels—”

  “Cursed?” squeaked Sheah.

  Lange shrugged. “Apparently the old dynasty had a reputation for bein’ a bit Angel-obsessed—had hoards of artifacts and whatnot. Whatever was in there is long gone by now, but the townsfolk tend to avoid it regardless. I ain’t complainin’, mind you, I’d rather most people didn’t bother with a crumblin’ old building.”

  Kaelis looked up towards the hill, entranced. “Wow… I’ve always wondered what it’s like up there.”

  “Well, now’s your chance,” said Lange.

  “We should have burned tsat place down years ago,” growled the Mayor. “Now it is sanctuary for some unholy beast.”

  “Hmm,” grunted Jira. “Have your people looked into it?”

  Lange nodded solemnly. “We sent two of our own up to investigate a few days ago, but we never heard back from them… And with the Unbound breathin’ down our necks as of late, we can’t afford to risk anyone else.”

  “Hm,” acknowledged Jira.

  “How long’s this been goin’ on?” asked Kaelis.

  The Mayor frowned. “Weeks now.”

  “So what, you just want us to go up there and kill this thing?”

  “Kill it, scare it off, how is of no matter,” said the Mayor. “Just so it stops harassing us.”

  Kaelis nodded to herself a few times. “Okay, okay… One sec.” She exchanged glances with the crew and motioned for them to huddle up. Sheah shuffled in next to Kaelis as the team threw their heads into a circle.

  “What do you guys think?” Kaelis whispered.

  Sheah glowered, the first condition still rattling inside her head. “Twenty-five thousand. Absolutely ridiculous.”

  “No, about the job.”

  “I don’t know if we got a choice,” said Dez.

  Sheah sighed. “I suppose not. Captain?”

  “Fine,” Jira stated. “Vintra, you and me.”

  Kaelis did her best to temper her excitement. “Okay. Hold on.”

  Leaving the huddle, Kaelis turned to face the Mayor. “Fifteen thousand,” she said, throwing Sheah a sly wink. “Plus the suicide mission. Sound like a deal?” Kaelis held out her hand.

  The Mayor stewed for a moment, stroking his beard, ruminating on her terms. Sheah watched him intently, praying to the Angels he would agree to their altered offer. Fifteen thousand saebles was a far more acceptable fee, despite it still eating into their funds considerably. Still, it was the price to pay for safety.

  For the first time since they had seen him, the Mayor’s mouth leveled out, turning from a scowl to merely a slight frown. He took a step forward and squeezed Kaelis’s hand in return.

  “Accepted,” he declared. He tightened his grip, swelling Kaelis’s fingers to a bright purple. “Welcome to Concord.”

  “Sure, okay,” groaned Kaelis.

  Without a further word, the Mayor released Kaelis’s hand and promptly departed down the road, off to take care of the next order of business for the day.

  “…Friendly guy,” grimaced Kaelis, nursing her throbbing fingers.

  Jira folded her arms and narrowed her gaze, watching the Mayor as he marched away. Her eyes were hewn with conflict, doubtless distressed by her countryman’s cold demeanor towards her. After a moment she flared her nostrils, her mind made up. She stormed off on a quest to catch up with the Mayor.

  Lange watched Jira as she strode away, that glimmer of recognition returning to her face. “Your buddy there looks familiar,” she said, still unable to place it.

  “That’s Jira the Knife,” answered Kaelis with a boastful little grin. “You know, from the Rezna Expeditions.”

  “Oh?” Lange inspected Jira from afar, nodding to herself as she did. “Oh yeah, with the headband. Right… Interestin’.”

  “Yeah, we’re basically partners,” said Kaelis. “She and I are gonna go up and take care of your super-beast problem.”

  “Well now I feel bad for whatever’s up there!”

  “So, lawgiver,” said Kaelis, changing topics with a friendly smirk. “How’s life treatin’ ya? You gotta tell me everything.”

  Lange shot Kaelis a smile. “Everything, eh? Well, truthfully I ain’t got much to say. Biggest thing to happen since I got here was a quake that rolled through these parts a few weeks back. That really shook things up, if ya get me…”

  Sheah broke away from the pair, not wishing to distract them from their reunion. She turned to Dez as the two women gabbed behind them.

  “I think I too shall partake in this monster hunt,” she confidently declared. “Curse or no curse, it would be worthwhile to get ‘a piece of the action’, as they say.”

  “You sure that’s a good idea?” asked Dez, scratching his neck nervously. “Maybe best to let Kaelis and the Captain tackle this one.”

  “I can handle myself,” Sheah politely protested.

  “Let’s just play it safe fer now,” he urged. “Besides, we’ll be needin’ to stock up on supplies while they’re out. Why not head over to the general store instead?”

  Sheah let out an offended squeak. “I can do more than simply… buy things…” she mumbled, casting her gaze aside.

  “—Ah, damn, it’s later than I thought!” declared Lange, her sudden increase in volume grabbing Sheah’s attention. The sheriff stuffed a watch back into her pocket and threw Kaelis an apologetic look. “I’m behind on my paperwork as is. We’ll have to pick this up over drinks tomorrow. On me.”

  Kaelis chuckled. “I’ll hold you to that.”

  Turning towards the wall of the mesa, Lange signaled for Sheah and Dez to fall in. “C’mon, folks. I’ll quickly show y’all where you’ll be stayin’.” Diligently, the crew assembled behind her as she led them off towards a large, boxy warehouse sticking out over the huts a few blocks away.

  “Wait, what about the Captain?” asked Kaelis, looking over her shoulder.

  Dez waved away her concern. “She’ll catch up,” he reassured her. “She always does.”

  “I’ll have Lorell clear a space for your ship in her garage,” Lange explained as she led the team through the town like a guided tour. “Our main hanger is occupied right now—got a ship came in a few days back lookin’ to be patched up…”

  Kaelis slowed her gait, falling past Sheah and away from the pack. Sheah lagged as well, following her teammate’s preoccupied gaze. Together they looked off to see Jira fading into the distance, closing in on the Mayor.

  “Kaelis, come. We must prepare for the day ahead,” Sheah said, spinning back around. Kaelis softly nodded, and together the pair rejoined the group making their way towards the garage. Whatever was bothering the Captain, it was not for them to speculate on. For now, there were more pressing matters to attend to.

  Jira withdrew from the busy main street and ducked under the canopy of a nearby storefront. Leaning herself against a marble column, she watched the Mayor from across the road, waiting for her turn to speak with him. She’d just barely missed her window. By the time she had caught up to him, the Mayor was already engaged, thrust into an impromptu meeting with one of the townsfolk. The two men discussed town affairs in a stern yet manner-of-fact fashion, thoroughly examining the plaster patchwork applied to a thick crack running down the side of the local smithy. After an exchange of words, the villager departed with purpose, off to accomplish whatever it was the Mayor had asked of him.

  Before the Mayor was able to continue on down the road, Jira sprang from her post and marched across the street to intercept him.

  “Mayor Xenova,” she greeted, politely moving herself into his path.

  The Mayor grumbled to himself at her appearance. “What?” he flatly asked, more keen to inspect his pocket watch than to look Jira in the eye.

  Jira ignored his blatant disrespect, instead choosing to offer him a rare smile. “It is good to see another from the homeland,” she expressed.

  “Hm,” the Mayor dismissed. “You will find many of Dierros here.” With an even hand, he gestured to the villagers around them. Jira lifted a brow as she looked closer at the crowd. Interspersed within the mass of people were dozens of men and women bearing the stony features and interlaced tattoos of the Dierrosi. Curiously, many of them appeared to be around Jira’s age, and those that were carried themselves with military composure.

  “Or we once were,” the Mayor lamented, the distinct sting of betrayal coloring his voice. “We are citizens of tse Republic no longer.”

  Jira blinked, her mouth contorting, perplexed. “What?” she asked. “Why? How could you renounce the homeland?”

  The Mayor’s eyes drifted to her army jacket, glowering at the Dierrosi sigil sewn into the sleeve. “I do not tsink you would understand,” he judged.

  “…Have I done something to offend?”

  The Mayor remained silent. And yet he stood firm, refusing to walk away. Something was clearly on his mind, Jira could see it—a nagging, gnawing notion, just aching to claw its way out of his mouth. Whatever he had to say, Jira could take it. She threw him a knowing look. Finally, he caved.

  “You fought in tse war, in your eyes I see it,” he growled. “How can you carry your colors still after all tsat has happened?”

  Jira arched her brow. “What do you mean?”

  “Tse Republic of Dierros served us only lies. Tsey sent us into tse meat grinder, and what for? Justice for a ‘demigod’ slain? No, propaganda all, a sorry excuse to revive old quarrels. Congress cares for land and wealth, no other.” He spat on the ground, unable to hold his ire. “Swindlers and spiders, all of tsem.”

  Jira took a single step back. Even though she had thought herself prepared, his words still cut into her, fraying her composure.

  “…The war… was a mistake,” she finally croaked. With a deep breath, she forced herself to stand tall. “But that’s no reason to abandon your people.”

  “We were tse ones abandoned,” the Mayor barked back. “All of us. Dierrosi, Imperial—Our leaders left us in tse wasteland, told we could not return home without first soaking in our fellow man’s blood. Well, we are their pawns no longer.” The Mayor threw out his arms, proudly presenting the bustling town around him. “Togetser we came, soldiers of two nations—we found tsis ruined village and rebuilt it from notsing. Now it is a place of liberty, free from tse whims of politicians. Your devotion to the state is an insult to our suffering.”

  “I too have suffered,” Jira reminded him. “And I haven’t returned to the Republic in many years. But to defend the homeland, it wasn’t my choice to make. I still believe in our people. In the guidance of the Ehrla Var—”

  “Oh, tse Ehrla Var,” the Mayor scoffed. “Where were tsey when my Anaia were slaughtered in tse fields? What have tsey ever done to deserve our worship?”

  “They needn’t do anything. Our prayer and loyalty are rewarded with a place in the Ethereal Dream.”

  “Is tsat supposed to bring me comfort?” asked the Mayor with a decent sprinkling of sarcasm.

  “That is our faith.”

  The Mayor’s face swelled with bitterness. “Tse Ehrla Var, tse Angels, even tsat beast tsey found in the ground—tsey’re all said to guide our souls to the Dream.” He leaned in and looked Jira straight in the eye. “But tsey don’t even care we exist.”

  Jira stared back at him, an old sinking feeling digging a pit in her stomach. Once again she was seeing her own kin cast aside their culture, abandoning their gods—and it was all because of her. Everywhere she went, the poison of the Sky War still lingered, its effects running deeper than she’d ever thought possible. There was nothing more she could think to say, no words that would ever undo the Mayor’s pain. All she could do was stand there.

  The Mayor looked off and flared his nose, the slightest trace of remorse on his face. Quickly, he checked his pocket watch once again. “Good luck wits your task,” he grunted. Without another word, he strode past Jira and marched off towards his next appointment.

  Jira faded over to the side of the road, the conversation grinding in her head. She felt a surge of shame welling inside her—shame for her past, for ever believing she might be anything other than an outsider, even among her own people. But maybe it was what she deserved. After what she had done, loneliness was a fitting prison. She slumped her back against the wall, staring long and hard into empty space, surrounded by a sea of familiar strangers.