Salvage Union: Floodplain Part Four

Salvage Union: Floodplain Part Four

The backup weapon looked like if you carved a sitting three-legged dog out out of a hunk of metal. Nia had known about cannons, distant weapons some theorized that they could one day be brought to bear in war. Argenta had said the "mortar" was like a cannon, down to the munitions inside, but Nia didn't know what a munition was or what a cannon looked like. It was a silly, small apparatus to see parked on a hill with their cart and horses. The munition was a packed metal ball the size of a fist. Argenta wasn't being careful with it; Nia kept her distance regardless. They sat, almost like a picnic, as they waited for the skies over Roden to clean, eating stewed vegetables and chunks of bread. Her goddess was developing opinions on her cooking and enjoying it. She didn't enjoy it enough to not talk with her mouth full. "It's funny. At the end of the day, it's basic math, cheap geometry. Being able to calculate arcs, parabolas." She smiled around a spoonful of roots and chewed. "The mortar, the explosive, it's all fancy. It's no more sophisticated than your bows. One day, you're going to have the tools to do what I do. But you'll always have known what I know, y'know?" She didn't. She nodded as if she did. "They gave us idiot-proof stuff. All point and click, no need to understand how it worked. My mother and father wanted me to, years ago, before I went to the stars. I didn't get it." She tore a chunk of bread with her teeth, muttered around it. "And then I saw how they took it for granted, pretended they had magic and miracles. There's no such thing as a miracle, Nia. There is only opportunity and coincidence. People will call what we do here a miracle, an act of god. That's only half-right. Me and my boss...we made this mortar, we made this payload. And I am your goddess. That doesn't make it a miracle." The sky didn't clear up. The goddess shrugged. "Tomorrow, then." They made camp and waited together. It would be three more days before the skies cleared. https://thecoffin.club

Salvage Union: Floodplain Part Three

The star was a small box with a handle to hold or anchor for a latch. Falling from the stars scorched its casing; they had to wait until it cooled before they could dig it out of the hillside. Nia would glance at in the back of the cart and flinch away. It reminded her of a child's casket. The strider plodded along through the forest, her goddess at the reins. Within the dawning of the next day, they were out of the woods and onto the Grand Roads of Djartola. It was slow going. The Roden soldiers traveled the paths, and Argenta had to respond accordingly. They shied away from large detachments and stuck to the lesser-known roads; Nia's experience studying maps was finally paying off. But it was inevitable. The pilgrims needed places to rest and sleep, as did the soldiers. Argenta looked for homesteads, farms, towns where the least soldiers were occupying and steered the strider towards those lands. She would leave Nia at the cart with the gun. The Bullet of Justice had her own guns, one for each hand. Heavy things wrought of metal and stone, small enough to use two at once and not knock yourself over. Nia could hear them roar and echo through battlefields like the rumblings of brass lions. When Argenta was finished and Nia would bring the cart closer, the places her goddess blessed looked as if a storm had fallen upon them and torn the world to shreds. She was precise enough to leave intact shelter and resources. They left what remained of the bodies where they lay. This was the path by which judgment crawled to Roden and arrived two and a half months later. https://thecoffin.club

Salvage Union: Floodplain Part Two

They ambled through the forest on a stolen cart. The city burned in the distance behind them as they rode in silence, lit by the light of the moon. The strider was nervous, but Argenta would click her tongue in such a way that it would listen and continue without fuss. The first time she did that, Nia stared at her in surprise. Her goddess smiled. "I grew up on a farm." Questions on questions on questions bubbled up. What farms are there on a moon? What gods were that beyond her goddess? Why was she so capable with a gun? Argenta had her own questions. What was the relationship between Roden and Djartola. Why was the Roden army attacking Djartola. What was going on across the continent. In fact, what other countries were there, what was even going on? Nia answered as best as she could. Roden was forming an empire, Djartola controlled the trade lanes, a contract had been broken between them. Better to annex a neighboring country. The continent was afraid of Roden. There had been many smaller nations once. Now it was Roden, Djartola, Paraleaux, Svatkopt. Soon, one nation less. They rode on, beneath a shooting star. Argenta nodded up at it. "Extra supplies. We're going to need them if we're going to kill the Emperor of Roden and his Inner Council." Nia's blood turned to ice. "What?" "From what you told me, if we kill the Council, it'll spark a war of succession strong enough to tear the empire apart. Fastest way to protect your nation with the least collateral damage." Nia thought about the soldiers in the streets. The hands on the citizens as they fled in fear, of hiding and staying quiet as the troops burned the city. "Are you sure?" she whispered. Argenta sat up at the reins, cleared her throat. "I have done this before. I will do it again. You have called down the power of the Moon to protect your chosen people. It will be done." A smile, a wink, a hand on a shoulder. "It'll be okay, kid." Nia didn't respond. All she did was nod and stare at the stars. https://thecoffin.club

Salvage Union: Floodplain Part One

Nia did not hear her goddess' arrival. She hadn't heard much in the past few hours. The gun was loud. It hit her in the chest with every shot. She'd braced herself against a dresser in the sisters' quarters to steady her shaking hands, protect her begging shoulder, bruised ribs. The soldiers had followed her, but she knew the building. Once the dead started piling up at the door, they stopped chasing her. Or she hoped they had. It was hard to think, move, lean. Her goddess moved in through the doorway. She fired without thinking. There was a corona of sparks, a tired look, and the gun was taken from her. Her goddess was saying something. Nia's mouth was dry, voice a whisper. She reached into a pocket and withdrew a tube. With one swift motion, she pressed it to Nia's neck. A click. A hiss. Sweet relief. Nia was awake. Her body felt fine, her hearing dialing into focus. She could see straight. All she could see was her goddess. Pale skin. Red hair in a long braid. A full, heavy body clad in a full-body singlet, pouches and tools slung across her body. Her goddess inspected the gun as Nia caught her breath. "Can you hear me?" Nia nodded, rubbed her fingers as circulation rushed back with a roar of blood. "Alright. You did well. Who needs to die." https://thecoffin.club

Salvage Union: Saltlick Part Two

"Pick it up." Mother Argenta told her how to bypass the Head Sister's locked door; her voice followed throughout the building. She pointed her at the bookshelf, told her how to move it to the side. There was a safe on the other side, something she'd only seen in banks, but smaller. Mother Argenta told her how to open the safe as well. Inside was a long branch of black, polished metal with wood on one end. It was cold to the touch, heavy, a few hands long. Near the wood were buttons, latches, a catch made out of metal on the bottom. https://thecoffin.club "What is it?" Nia whispered. "A gun." said her goddess. "A shotgun. Good at most ranges." "What does it do?" "It kills." Her goddess' voice was dry, dismissive. Nia's hands shook. From the weight, from her words, from the circumstances. Too many good reasons. "Oh." "The metal end. With the hole. Never point it at anything you do not want to kill. Especially loved ones. Especially yourself. The gun will defend you by killing. It won't do anything else. And it's always dangerous. Do you understand?" "No." she whimpered. "Nia, you asked for my help. This is my-" "Argenta." A new voice. A man's. Smooth, low, controlled. Warm, like a fire about to swell. "Hey-" "Seriously?" Disapproval. "Yes. She asked for my aid. This is the best I can do on such short notice." "Don't lie to the girl because you're lazy." Commanding. Humoring, but the tone beneath. "Who are you...?" whispered Nia. A pause. "I speak to the monks, little sister. I am the Sword of Justice to her Bullet of Retribution. Isn't that who you are supposed to be, Argenta?" Another pause. "What do you propose, then." "Divine intervention." "I can't be there until tomorrow." "But you can be there." Nia held the gun close. "Please?" Her goddess groaned. "Okay. Sure. Stay safe until then, alright? Oh, the switch on the side is the safety. It won't shoot if it's on. And remember, don't aim it at anything precious, okay?" The air shifted. The voices left. All that remained was Nia and the gun.