“S’truth Howie. Been in town for all of five minutes and ye’ve already killed a man.”
“Must be a new record. I get a prize?”
There was a time when Errol might’ve chuckled at Howie’s swagger and bravado, but he’d since come to see it for what it really was. The cold-hearted callousness of a ruthless and remorseless killer, one who’d earned every bit of ire directed towards him through his deeds and his actions. Not that it seemed to bother him as he sat at his desk, cleaning his gun with a rag while pointedly ignoring Errol. More importantly, Howie wasn’t looking at the other man in the room either, Knight Captain James Rigsby of the Catholic Templars, the Preacher of the Flames and Errol’s commander on this mission of peace in New Sonora.
“You nonce.” Sighing in response to Howie’s carefree response, Knight Captain Rigsby shook his head and took a seat at the end of the desk in a friendly and familiar manner. “Ah, thank ye love,” he said, accepting a mug of coffee from Aunty Ray with a smile and a slight incline of his head as he held his leather bush hat to his chest. “Yer a lifesaver. You and the girls all right? Especially Chrissy. Must’ve shook her right up havin’ front row seats to the shootin’.”
“We’re doin’ just dandy, thank you for askin’,” Aunty Ray replied, handing Errol a mug with only a brief smile while telling Knight Captain Rigsby all about how this wasn’t Chrissy’s first rodeo and how she’d saved Howie’s life in the Deadlands. Errol accepted the drink with a smile and inclined his head same as Captain Rigsby, but Aunty Ray had already turned away. For the warm and loving woman, this was practically giving him the cold shoulder, which was still warmer than Howie’s reaction, as he’d barely even glanced at Errol before ignoring him completely. Not an issue since he wasn’t here to be friends with the Firstborn, but Aunty Ray’s snub hurt Errol more than he expected. She’d been so kind and inviting before, but he supposed she’d heard about how he left things with Sarah Jay and wasn’t much of a fan anymore. There was no helping it however, because Errol was simply following God’s plan, and Sarah Jay thought differently. He hadn’t left because of her, but he couldn’t stay for her either, not when the Templars were his one true calling.
And much as he loved and missed Sarah Jay, if God wanted them to be together, then she would be here at his side today.
Walking away from New Hope without her was the hardest thing Errol had ever done, but it was what he had to do. The Knight Captain didn’t take Errol as his Disciple, but he saw to it that Errol was trained properly as a Paladin of the Knights Templar. They had their own program for training young novitiates, one that started earlier than the Rangers but covered the basics slowly over months and even years as opposed to cramming it all into a matter of weeks. He’d done a lot of catching up since joining the Templars, and befriended plenty of his fellow novitiates who awed him with their skills, but he was all too aware of how the Firstborn was still standing head and shoulders above the pack.
Since leaving New Hope, Errol had kept up with Howie’s misadventures, as it was a popular topic among the novitiates. They all read about Howie’s clash with the Qin in the Badlands, and his subsequent part in the Harpy attack, one that seemed harsh and biased even to Errol. Yes, Howie broke down a door in the midst of the attack, putting more than a dozen civilians at risk to get Chrissy to safety, but the fact that they refused to open their doors in the first place rubbed him the wrong way. It was one thing to take shelter and hide from the fight, and another thing all together to deny that safety and shelter to their fellow townsfolk. Chrissy was an innocent soul, so Errol could understand why Howie did what he did, and might even have forgiven him for his actions if he’d stayed to defend the store.
But he didn’t. Instead, he ran out to fight Harpies not to save lives, but because he was a thrill-seeking glory hound who only fought because that’s what he loved.
He loved it so much he went all the way to the Deadlands to find more Abby to fight, where he unsurprisingly got mixed up in a suspicious robbery that saw 20 French Foreign Legionnaires killed during an illegal and unsanctioned attack on a Pathfinder patrol. Both nations were still butting heads over the incident, one that culminated in Howie getting shot by a Chevalier Capitaine trying to bring him in for questioning. The papers didn’t have much in the way of facts regarding that particular exchange, which meant they didn’t reflect well on the French Capitaine Philippe Moreau, who’d since been relieved of duty and was under investigation by the French.
Not by the Federal Government though, which was odd considering Howie had still been a Freeholding Landowner at the time, but maybe they’d seen the writing on the wall and knew he’d be declaring himself Independent soon enough.
And now Howie was here in New Sonora, looking meaner and tougher than ever. He’d put on a decent amount of muscle and healthy weight, looking almost bulky in his armoured duster with the plate carrier underneath. There was an edge to him that wasn’t there before, or rather had been better hidden away and was now unsheathed at all times. Maybe it was because someone tried to kill him not thirty minutes ago, but if Howie was a wulf, he’d be sitting there with fangs bared and hackles raised in an overt show of threat, instead of rigorously scrubbing away at a silver gun that was already clean as a whistle. There were no soft edges to him anymore, no easygoing manner, just a furious, surly man who’d already killed today and was ready to kill again at the drop of a hat.
Which made Howie’s presence here in New Sonora all the more curious, as these were supposed to be peace talks and the Firstborn was the last person who’d call for peace. Odd that, but the Qin delegation had demanded his presence as a ‘neutral’ third party. That made even less sense, especially since Howie claimed the Qin government sent a kill team after him in January and the Feds sent someone to jail for life over it. The papers said the attack had not been a state sanctioned hit by the Republic, but rather a rogue group lead by a boy only two days younger than Howie, the same boy who’d been sentenced to life in prison. Ao Tian was his name, and his father was one of the men who killed Howie’s father, only to be killed by Howie in turn. More of those swings and roundabouts, because an eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind, but Howie was more than happy to keep at it while burning the whole world to ashes around him.
Before retreating to a quiet room to clean his guns, just like he was doing now. Had a fancy new one these days, a modern-looking six-shooter with a rectangular frame and more Etches than most rifles. Must’ve cost him a pretty penny, but he had money to spare after helping those Nahuatl Cultists murder a mob boss and who knows how many of his thugs in cold blood. Not exactly blameless victims, but it wasn’t Howie’s place to judge, and for all his anti-Aberration sentiments, he didn’t seem all that concerned about working with people who fed Aberrations on a whim. That’s why he was in this mess now, because Mexican and South American religious extremists had marked him as a friend to the Nahuatl Cultists, and therefore an enemy of the state. Not officially of course, but the Mexican Government’s official stance rarely mattered when it came to the actions of the extremists.
Some of whom were government officials themselves, and thus unlikely to care much if Howie dies on their soil. Knight Captain Rigsby cared though, and so would the Federation and the Republic. The former because they’d been the ones to issue the invitation to the now Independent Firstborn to come act as a neutral third party, while the Republic had been the ones to suggest it and for all intents and purposes were acting like Howie was one of them.
Which Errol was pretty sure wasn’t the case, since Howie hated his own people with a vengeance. They’d killed his father after all, and Howie loved his father as much as any monster can love someone. No, that wasn’t fair. Howie was a monster, but still human yet, one capable of love, compassion, and even doing good things. That’s what made his sins all the more monstrous, because even though he was as human as Errol, he was capable of doing inhuman things without so much as a batting an eye.
Howie wasn’t the Devil in human flesh. He was far worse; a human who aspired to Devilry despite having been raised better.
This wasn’t on Aunty Ray, who loved Howie in spite of all his faults and was trying to stick around to act as a buffer between him and Knight Captain Rigsby, but he all too happy to catch up with the other woman and talk about this or that. It was a rare thing for the Knight Captain to look so laid back, sitting there in full military uniform and a green stole draped around his neck while sipping a cuppa as he’d call it. Man was even smiling underneath his big bushy beard, with the faintest wrinkles visible around his one good eye. Smile lines, Sarah Jay called them, and the Preacher of Flame had precious few, but he’d gain a couple more after today.
As for Howie? He kept right on cleaning his new gun without paying the Knight Captain any mind, but anyone with eyes could see he was furious as can be.
Which was probably why Knight Captain Rigsby was happy to chat with Aunty Ray, though only for a few minutes before he said, “Well love, much as I’d like to jaw away all the livelong day, I’m afraid I came on a bit of official business as it were. You mind giving us the room?” A spacious hotel room larger than the one Errol shared with five novitiates back in Redeemer’s keep mind you, with Howie renting out five of them for his party of eight according to receptionist downstairs, and only because that’s all the rooms the hotel had left. While the Firstborn might well be morally bankrupt, he was doing financially well it seemed, and while Aunty Ray looked like she didn’t really want to leave, she glanced at Howie who flashed a strained smiled and nodded ever so slightly before excusing herself to check on Chrissy and Tina.
Leaving Errol and the Knight Captain alone with Howie, who went right on doing his own thing without any care at all for filling the silence.
That’s how Howie was though. Quiet. Standoffish. Self-absorbed. Very different from the image he put out, a pantomime of a laid back and outgoing guy who was all big smiles and meaningful advice. That was a mask he wore to fool the people around him, but there was no point trying to fool Errol who’d already seen past it. As for the Knight Captain, it was hard to say if he knew Howie for who he truly was, as he had a soft spot for the boy he’d baptized out in the Badlands on the day of New Year’s Eve.
The first New Year’s anyone had seen on the Frontier, and one that provided the Knight Captain with the hope he so desperately needed to keep on in the face of adversity. The Badlands were one thing, but the Divide another entirely, or at least that’s what all the Knights and soldiers who’d been there claimed. Like looking into the abyss, the deepest pits of hell, and the maw of a hungry, cavernous beast, Errol had heard it described as such and more, because even if you stood at the very edge at high noon, the bottom of the Divide was still wreathed in dark and murky shadow.
That’s where the Firstborn chose to make his second home, lending weight to Lieutenant Wayne Marlon’s accusations that Howie killed a merchant and his guards before disposing of the evidence in the Divide. An accusation that no doubt got the Lieutenant killed, before Howie eliminated all witnesses and burned away the evidence to boot. Ronald Jackson’s revolvers were hanging not two feet away from Errol on the Firstborn’s bedframe, yet the Feds did nothing to prosecute the man who murdered him. Was he wholly innocent? No, not at all. He was a criminal mired in drugs and illegal weapons manufacturing, but that didn’t give Howie carte blanche to kill an American citizen out of hand. No more than it gave him permission to eliminate the Puglianos with help from a group of Nahuatl Cultists, but at least the world was starting to see him for the man he truly was.
And maybe the Knight Captain had too, else he wouldn’t have asked Errol to come here.
Despite his concerns, the one-eyed Australian preacher didn’t seem like he was in any rush to get to questioning Howie, and instead opened up a dialogue by asking about his new gun. “Shiny new toy ye got there,” he said, gesturing with his mug before taking another sip. “That one of Kalthoff’s?”
“That it is,” Howie said, his eyes gleaming with pride and delight as he snapped the last few pieces together and held the weapon up for inspection. It was a blend of old-timey revolver and futuristic semi-automatic, a shiny steel Aetherarm with a sleek and angular rectangular profile like a 1911 while housing a hexagonal chamber of a 6 chambered revolver. There was a thick and weighty look to it, more so than almost any other 44-40 pistol Errol had seen, with proportions that seemed oversized despite it all coming together so perfectly with the redwood grip.
“This here is a gen-u-wine Kalthoff original, as in a design completely of his own make rather than a modified schematic,” Howie began, doing a few spins and tricks with the gun that were pretty impressive until Errol realized he was doing it with his prosthetic, which made it even more impressive to watch. “This is the first of many Mr. Kalthoff intends to put out to market later this year, and the one he sold me here is his latest pre-production model. Got all the kinks ironed out and everything, but unlike the ones that’ll be sold in stores, this was hand crafted by the man himself, just like he crafted my daddy’s Rattlesnake.” Howie’s expression dipped just a bit, and Errol was reminded of how proud he’d been when talking about his daddy’s gun, only to go and replace it on a whim. “Broke it in January when the Qin tried to take my head. That Ao Tian kid cut clean through the barrel and frame with nothin’ but a pocket-knife. Wasn’t no comin’ back from that, but then I brung a Shortsword up to the Deadlands and realized twenty-two-ten don’t cut it no more, so soon as I was back, I went and bought me this baby right here.”
Swallowing the bitter taste of his pre-emptive judgement, Errol had to admit it was a beautiful handgun. Much nicer than the beaten up Bashere 1915 pistol he’d been issued by the Knights Templar. It was a semi-automatic weapon of Sicilian make, chambered in 9mm with an 8-round magazine, but even then, he’d rather go back to using the single-action Squire. For one, 9mm cartridges were a lot bigger than 22’s, which made them easier to load and handle, but you couldn’t carry as many as you’d like. Not to mention needing magazines too, because it wasn’t like you could hand load the gun in the middle of combat, but Errol was only issued two spares meaning he didn’t have much leeway when things got dangerous. Lastly, the pistol itself was pretty ugly, as someone decided the pistol’s frame didn’t need to cover the entire barrel, so it didn’t have that nice rectangular profile like the 1911, and instead looked like someone took a pipe and bolted a pistol grip to one end and called it quits.
Nor was the Bashere 1915 all that powerful a gun, as every last Grainage that went into the Metamagics was dedicated to making the gun shoot faster. Errol had long since been saving up for a better sidearm, but even though his room and board was covered by the Order, he had precious little time to earn money and spent most of it doing charitable work instead. Howie though? He had a whole village of almost forty houses just drop into his lap, no doubt a price he demanded in return for helping those cultists kill the Don of the Pugliano family.
And all Howie had to do to earn it was kill the Don’s son. Drowned the kid in a bucket of water and made it look like he was killed by another family of mafiosos no less, making Howie about as blackhearted as they get.
A reminder Errol held fast to as he watched Howie light up while continuing to describe his shiny, new, and probably very expensive pistol. “Calls it the Overture, Mr. Kalthoff does,” Howie began, giving the gun one last twirl before passing it over to the Knight Captain butt first for a look. “That’s French for ‘opening’ in a musical thing, like a ballet or opera or whatnot. 44-40 with all the bells and whistles, including picatinny rails for a sight, light, and laser, with a clamp you can fix a bayonet to if you really need it. Came standard with just some regular pine for the grip, but I carved me my own from redwood to match the Nagas. The frame and barrel is the same Mithril-aluminum alloy as the Merlin 45 I got by the bed there, and the casing around the barrel? Lead-lined blued steel to keep the Etches inside from interfering with the Etches outside. Which were all done in Orichalcum mind you, meaning it glows a glorious blue when fully primed, but have a gander at that tab right there and give it a good pop.”
The Knight Captain did as he was told, and the frame came right off in two pieces to reveal the cylindrical barrel underneath. Aside from a few connection points, it now looked like a standard revolver without a front iron sight, complete with Etches and everything. Begged the question what the Etches on the case were for then, as they clearly weren’t connected to the rest, but there was something housed in the case itself that would ordinarily sit underneath the barrel when it was all put together.
A question Howie answered without needing to be asked, as he was much too excited about this show and tell. Pointing at the pieces of the frame in the Knight Captain’s hand, Howie said, “That there is a completely separate Aetherarm, an underslung barrel that sits right beneath the regular one. Takes a unique half-packed fifty caliber cartridge which you can only load one at a time, and you fire it by pumping the fore-end like a Blastgun. Little finicky all things considered, and hardly all that accurate, but it’s nice to have extra options when all the chips are down.”
“Fifty caliber?” Knight Captain Rigsby asked, sounding comically scandalized. “That’s sized for some hard yakka mate, a Second Order Core at the very least. Maybe even Third Order if you got the right Core. What’re ye packin’ in yer peashooter now, Howie? A bleedin’ Lance?”
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“I wish,” Howie said, and he sounded like he actually meant it. “You seen Lance Rifles and how bulky they be. Recoilless Rifle my backside. Almost ripped my arm off shootin’ one for the first time.” Up in Pleasant Dunes, a day Errol remembered well as he’d been right there with Howie while training with the weapons. Howie remembered it too, as he briefly met Errol’s eyes as he glanced over, only to falter and work doubly hard to maintain his smile as he turned back to the Knight Captain and gestured at the fancy modern revolver. “Nah, nothin’ all that fancy, but you’ll have to excuse me if I keep what it does to myself fer now. Mostly because I ain’t entirely sure as to the legalities of the weapon, as you know Mr. Kalthoff got a real yearning to see Abby dead.”
“And no stomach for bleedin’ American gun laws gettin’ in the way,” Knight Captain Rigsby replied, nodding along like it was perfectly fine for the Firstborn to be walking around with might well be an illegal Aetherarm. Giving the weapon a good spin while hefting it to feel the weight, the Preacher shook his head and said, “Man knows his work though. Got yerself a real cracka of a weapon there, Howie. Real quick on the draw.”
“Only when I need to be,” Howie replied, all his humour and good cheer melting away to reveal the frosty killer underneath. He didn’t miss out on the Knight Captain’s subtext, and was quick with his excuses as always, leaving Errol scrambling to activate his newest Ability, the whole reason he was here to begin with. “Like when some spic bursts out of a second story balcony waving a rifle overtop my head and screamin’ bloody murder and death and whatnot.”
“Watch your tongue, ya big galah,” the Knight Captain growled, and to Errol’s surprise, Howie even looked properly contrite. Nor did he appear to be offering deliberate falsehoods, as he sensed no intent to deceive or manipulate, even though his training and experience said that Howie was a silver-tongued charmer who knew how to get you to like him. Like how he threw in a bit of Aussie slang into the conversation while talking to the Knight Captain. ‘Have a gander’ and ‘bloody murder’ wasn’t a part of Howie’s regular vocabulary, but they were a part of Knight Captain Rigsby’s, and hearing your own lingo from another person typically made you like them more than you otherwise would. Whether this was intentional on Howie’s part or just something he did in the Knight Captain’s presence was a matter for debate, because even now, Errol’s Detect Evil wasn’t picking up on any signs of malevolent intent.
To be fair, the Ability’s name wasn’t even remotely accurate, as there was no such thing as pure, unequivocal evil. In fact, Detect Evil couldn’t even be used to determine if someone was a murderer or criminal, as it had nothing to do with legalities or even morality. A cold, calculating slaughterer of men could be sitting before Errol and his Ability wouldn’t alert him to the fact, nor would it do anything if he was facing a woman who’d strangled a thousand babies in the crib. If only it could, then the Knights Templars could do so much more, but alas, Detect Evil was named in simpler times when a Paladin’s instinct and gut feeling was enough to go on, whereas nowadays they required things like proof beyond a reasonable doubt. Not that there was anything wrong with that, as Errol would be uncomfortable putting so much power in the hands of a few even if he wasn’t among their number, as it was all too easy for that power to be abused.
That said, the Ability was quite useful for getting a read on a person, though Errol’s instructors had all warned him of the dangers of preconceived notions. The Ability was a similar to a Divination Spell, in that it didn’t read minds or give hard facts, only vague notions as to the subject’s intent based on their body language, and whether those intentions spoke of a darker nature hidden beneath the surface of an otherwise calm exterior. It was far from fool proof, or even all that useful for most people, because it wasn’t exactly geared towards reading people, though Paladins of old believed otherwise. That’s why Errol was having such a difficult time getting a read on Howie, who kept pointedly ignoring him while matching stares with the Knight Captain.
Only for the bearded, one-eyed Australian to crack first. “Pickin’ up all sorts of bad habits,” the Knight Captain muttered, taking a swig of his coffee before continuing, “Soon you’ll be soundin’ like a bogan on a bender ye will, and then we’ll see what yer Aunty Ray has to say about that.”
“Personally, I’d say using a slur against someone who tried to shoot me dead is fair play,” Howie replied, taking back his gun and loading it up. “And yeah, he was gonna shoot me if I didn’t shoot him first. Seen it in his eyes, and in the way he looked my way before walking into that building, so I didn’t wait when he burst out with rifle in hand. Clocked him and three friends watching me from the streets, which was why I was ready and waiting for trouble when trouble come for me.” Giving the gun one last flourish, something he’d come down hard on Tina for doing the same in Pleasant Dunes, Howie slammed the gun home into his holster and said, “If you can’t take my word for it, then you’ll have to wait to watch the crystal after my lawyer has it notarized.”
“Nah, no need,” the Knight Captain replied, even though Errol knew good and well the Templars had already requested a copy. “I trust ye and trust yer instincts. I’m just worried is all. Bad look opening up peace talks by gunning a man down.”
“Be worse if I got gunned down, but I hear ye,” Howie replied, still sitting with back straight and sounding genuine as can be. Felt genuine too, not exactly murderous and bloodthirsty, but not exactly warm and cuddly either. If Errol had to describe it, Howie’s emotions were like a cold burn, same as what he got from the Knight Captain himself, a man who believed himself in the right and acted accordingly.
Which given Howie’s history was terrifying in and of itself, as this made him not only a wicked man, but one who believed he was wholly in the right.
“You aren’t wrong there,” Knight Captain Rigsby replied, finishing off the last of his coffee with a smack of his lips. “You need to be careful, Howie,” he said, staring into his mug without lifting his head. “I told ye to give the land away and move elsewhere, said it plain and simple. Fruit of the poisonous tree I told you, but you didn’t listen, and now you’ve gone and rubbed some crazy galahs in all the wrong ways. Could be one a dozen different extremist groups, all of who want ye dead now. Especially seeing how you done just come back from the Deadlands. Historically, the most powerful Nahuatl Cultists were all partnered with powerful Mimics or Soulless Deviants to become more and less than the sum of their parts. That right there is enough for some to judge you guilty by association it seems, and I can’t say I’m surprised. These people don’t fuss about with Cultists. Too much hate and bleedin’ history there for it to be anything but ugly.”
“I ain’t ever concerned myself with what others might think,” Howie replied, and Lord help him, Errol couldn’t help but admire the man for it. “As for giving the houses away, I considered it. Might’ve even gone through with it if I had anywhere else to live, but I didn’t. Didn’t much care for any goodwill either, not when I get clapped in anti-magic manacles every time I want to visit town. So no, I didn’t give them houses away, because I gotta live there since there ain’t nowhere else I can go. Can’t put a claim on any Federal Land besides what I already had, and wasn’t about to up and leave for good either, because I still got Chrissy, Tina, and Aunty Ray there, now don’t I?”
Howie was picking up a head of steam, and his turmoil made it easier to read him as he sent his Mage Hands for the coffee pot to refill the Knight Captain’s mug. “So since I’m living there, that means the people who live there with me become my people, and I look after my own. Can’t do that without money though, so I got them all cheap loans while selling at a low price, giving me the cash I needed to jumpstart their livelihoods by building new buildings and putting in pipes and power without havin’ to do it all myself. The rest of the money will be fer more houses, investing in a project I got goin’ with Gunnar, and buildin’ defenses to hopefully help us weather through the Watershed, though I ain’t entirely sure I can manage that.”
Unfortunately for Errol, Howie was reading like a calm lake on a clear day, wholly honest and genuine about everything he was saying. There was only a minor ripple as he resisted the urge to touch his pistol or glance at his expensive new carbine, because he certainly wasn’t shy about spending some of his newfangled wealth on himself. Bought Aunty Ray some jewellery too, or so Errol assumed, as the woman hadn’t been wearing any the last he’d seen her, but was sporting a pair of big, hoopy earrings that emanated a sense of Magic about them. A necklace too, and a bracelet that looked fine as any, but again, there was a sense of magic about it all, same as what he was reading off of Howie’s new watch.
He didn’t miss a thing though, having caught Errol’s glances, so Howie held his wrist up to display the shiny chrome piece with a smile. “This I didn’t pay for,” Howie explained with a smile that chilled Errol to the bone. “You remember our old friend little Dick? Turns out, him and his pappy make their livin’ up in the Deadlands. Ran into him while I was in the neighbourhood and had ourselves a little misunderstandin’, but he was so broken up about it he gave me this here wristwatch to apologize.”
Didn’t need Detect Evil to know that was a lie, but Errol couldn’t tell if Howie stole it from Richard, or took it as payment for doing whatever he did that led to him getting shot by a Capitaine. Either way, Errol couldn’t bring himself to be upset to hear that Howie had taken Richard’s watch, even if it was more fruit of the poisonous tree.
“Well, good onya then,” the Knight Captain replied, heaving a long and heavy sigh all the same. “Thing is, I know this now, and Errol knows it, but don’t anyone else know it besides you and yours. Don’t need me to tell ye the papers been putting you through the wringer, and it’s not a good look mate. What’s done is done, and there’s nothing you can do about it, but it’s not a good look is all. Especially with the Qin pushing so hard to bring you on as their liaison to the task force we been in talks about fer months now. I tell ya Howie, they were ready to torpedo the talks if we couldn’t get you down here, and fer the life of me, I couldn’t understand why.”
“We?” Howie blink, caught off guard for the first time. “What you mean ‘we’? I thought this was between the Feds and the Republic.”
“…Oi. You sayin’ ye travelled all this way without learning the specifics?” Now it was the Knight Captain’s turn to be caught off guard, and he was none too pleased by it. “S’truth Howie. How’d a smart man like Ming raise a reckless son like you?”
“Got my temper from my mama, he says,” Howie replied, and Errol got the feeling it was meant as a joke, except the other man didn’t smile. Just said it on reflex and forgot to put a smile on the end of it, though it didn’t look like Howie smiled all that much these days.
“Yeah, that’s the problem.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Means you need to be more like your daddy and less like temperamental whacka,” Knight Captain Rigsby said, and Errol’s Detect Evil pinged off the man’s deceit. It wasn’t an outright lie, but wasn’t at all what he meant when he said that was the problem. Interesting that, but Errol wasn’t here to judge the Knight Captain, only the Firstborn who so far seemed like more of the same. Angry, stubborn, and self-righteous, but not outright malicious, which made him all the more dangerous because he thought he was in the right.
“Can’t help my nature,” Howie replied, again forgetting to smile and just offering a shrug. “Still haven’t explained the whole ‘we’ bit. When’d the Templars get involved in these talks?”
“Ain’t just the Templars, and hasn’t been for some time now.” Blowing on his coffee to cool it down some, the Knight Captain explained, “The Qin were the first to shake things up and hit the Federal build sites north of here around Christmas, but they opened up a whole can of worms they did. Showed everyone and anyone that the Feds aren’t strong as they ought to be, with plenty of food, materials, weapons, and even cash sittin’ pretty for the taking. It’s been like a feeding frenzy for the last few months, with opportunists coming out the woodwork for their bite at the apple, and it ain’t just the Feds who been bleeding.”
“So get some rope and start hangin’ fools until there’s none left to hang,” Howie replied, and again, he read as completely genuine and utterly banal while making a statement that was utterly lacking in empathy and morality.
“Aw, crickey. It’s not that easy Howie, and you’re much too smart to pretend to think otherwise.” Running a hand through his beard and tugging it ever so slightly in frustration, Knight Captain Rigsby explained, “These lands be the outback, like the border between Meadowbrook and Nakoda. Over there, it’s contested territory between the Federation and the Métis, but here you gotta multiply that ten times over in complexity. It’s not just the Feds and the Mexicans who hold a claim to these lands. The Irish, Nipponese, Brazilians, Chileans, Macedonians, and Prussians all got communities around here, none big enough to match New Sonora, but sizable all the same. They’ve also been hit by those bottom feeding scum suckers looking to make a quick buck, as they’ve been spreading the misery far and wide. They ride out to hit travellers and caravans before retreating to hide in small communities they’ve press ganged into feeding and housing them. It’s all cactus mate, and not pretty in the least. I’m here representing a Peruvian enclave we’ve had working with us up by Redeemers Keep, until they were hit five weeks ago by a raiding party that got chased out of the area by the Feds and figured they’d head north to see what they could find.”
Errol had seen the aftermath of that attack, and it hadn’t been pretty. Those bandits had no mercy for the men, women, or children, and the only survivors were the ones who’d managed to hide away in locked cellars that the bandits failed to uncover. Even the Knight Captain needed a moment to adjust, and he took the time to drink his coffee before continuing. “So now it’s not just a matter of upholding the law, but whose laws we uphold and whose coppas to send to uphold them. They don’t all got the death penalty, and even if they did, its not like they can go in all guns a blazin’ either. There are the other settlements out here, bootstrap communities with people of all stripes and no backing from any nation whatsoever. They’re spooked something fierce and armed to the teeth, so how’s anyone to know if they’re looking at innocents defending their home and loved ones or a group of bandits who’ve taken a village hostage?”
Howie sucked his teeth in response, looking all out of sorts as he sat there all deflated with mug in hand. “Well shiet,” he said, after a long pause to take it all in. “And here I thought I’d just make a nuisance of myself until they sent me home. Or tried to have me killed one too many times to cover it up. Probably both.”
Errol held back a scoff at the sheer magnitude of Howie’s audacity, to think that he was so important the Republic would care enough to arrange all this for the sole purpose of having him killed. The Knight Captain felt the same way, but he hid it better. “Not to dismiss your concerns or nothing, but you sure that’s why the Qin Republic wants you here Howie? They’ve pissed off a lot of people dragging their feet over this one issue, and I get the feeling there’s more to it than finishing the job that Ao Tian kid started.”
“On orders from some little shit of a princeling whose daddy’s some politico Elder or somethin’,” Howie replied. “Sang Chang bang a rang or somethin’ like that.”
“Far as we can tell, Elder Chang Sang isn’t involved in the proceedings,” the Knight Captain replied, holding back a laugh at Howie’s lack of reverence. “Fact is, they’re being led by Elder Li Tie, a Battle Monk known fer buttin’ heads with Elder Sang Chang, but also everyone else. Man’s a heavy hitter no doubt, and the fact that he came out all this way is pretty much unheard of for a sitting Elder on the Council.”
“…How am I supposed to keep those names straight? Sang Chong, Lee Tea, Bing Bong, Ding Dong. All sounds the same to me.” Waving a hand at the wildly racist comment, Howie said, “Even if this Lee Tea don’t want me dead, that don’t mean his people feel the same. Ao Tian was one of the friendlies ‘til it turned out he was a double-dealing scumbag who sold his squad out to get me killed.” Sucking his teeth again, Howie looked a little out of sorts and Errol couldn’t understand why, especially when he asked, “Hey… you uh, heard anything about him? Like where he was sent and if he’s still alive? Kid tried to kill me, but I can’t really blame him for it. Caught a raw deal in the end, as I figured the Republic would get him off scot-free, but that didn’t work out. Hate to think he’s stuck in Federal-pound-me-in-the-ass prison for the rest of his life just because he was feelin’ overly patriotic, though I can’t imagine he’d go quiet.”
“Far as I know, they sent him out west,” the Knight Captain replied. “Too much concern of anti-Qin sentiment here on the Eastern Front, even though the Marshal done all he can to tamp that down. Hate can get real ugly real fast, and the last thing any of us need is an international conflict right as the Watershed is gearing up to hit us.” Knocking on the table twice, the Knight Captain studied Howie’s expression for a second, then added, “I’ll do what I can to see what’s what, but you should ask the Marshal. He’d know better than me.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Howie replied, and again, Errol’s Detect Evil pinged to the lie, though he hardly needed it to see that much. “Could you look into it all the same then?”
“I said I would, and I will.” Studying Howie for another moment longer, the Knight Captain asked, “Gotta ask though; what’re you intending to do if the boy’s got it bad?”
Blowing out a breath, Howie sank back in his chair and fell silent. “I dunno,” he replied, after a long, introspective pause. “Don’t like him enough to stage a jailbreak, and don’t think a lawyer’ll do him any good after he gone and confessed like he did. I guess I just want to know he’s doin’ okay, or as okay as anyone in prison is doin’.”
“And if he isn’t?”
Howie shrugged, and this time remembered to smile as he said, “Suppose I’ll burn that bridge when I get there.” Waving a hand to get them back on topic, Howie continued, “Anyway, I can’t say why the Qin want me here if not to have me killed. Mebbe they think I’ll want back into the fold now that I been Exiled and gone Independent. Lee Tea probably wants to parade me around as the Firstborn, as they do put more stock into that sort of thing, and I know my mama’s brother will be happier for it.”
“So why don’t you go then?” The Knight Captain’s question caught both of them off guard, but Howie especially as he stopped to stare at the older man with undisguised suspicion.
“Because I don’t want nothin’ to do with my daddy’s killers,” Howie replied. “Ain’t a Qin out there who believes my daddy wasn’t a traitor, and that’s enough for me to write them all off. Besides, I don’t know why my daddy never went back, but he must’ve had good reason. He didn’t hate his people, but he didn’t want nothin’ to do with them, so I don’t either.”
“Howie,” the Knight Captain began, leaning over to put his hand over Howie’s. “You’re a man now, so I’m gonna say this with all the love I can. Grow the fuck up.” Howie tensed up to hear it, and looked ready to snatch his hand away, but James Rigsby held on tight and looked him in the eyes. “Your daddy had his reasons for doing what he did, so I got no issue with that, but it’s high time you learned to think for yourself. Really think Howie. Like it or not, you still got family out there, so maybe you should find out why your daddy kept you away instead of just going along with it out of pure spite. Knowledge is power, and you’re gonna need every bit of both to keep your head attached. Might be elements of the Qin do want you dead, while others want to parade you around like a puppet, or might be something else entirely. There’s word that you’ve pissed off the Nipponese somethin’ fierce, and I know for a fact that the Irish and the Mexicans don’t care much for ye. The latter because of your unrepentant ties to Cultists, while the former have thrown in with the Mexicans and seen what them Cultists and cartels have been up to around these parts.”
Leaning forward, the Knight Captain concluded with a rarely seen intensity from the normally laid-back man. “It’s high time you got your head on straight. Open your eyes and use your head Howie, because me and the Marshal can’t do much to protect you now that you’re Independent.”
Credit where credit was due, Howie didn’t flinch or back down from the Knight Captain, and even held his temper well enough. “And what exactly is it I’m supposed to be watchin’ for?” He asked.
Now it was the Knight Captain’s turn to deflate, which hit Howie even harder than it hit Errol. “If I knew, I’d tell you,” he replied, looking worried and all out of sorts. “Look out for yourself, eh? Won’t no one else be, not here during these talks.”
With that, the Knight Captain stood up and strode out, and Errol leapt up to follow, throwing one last glance at Howie who was looking mighty subdued in light of the Knight Captain’s warning. Errol almost felt sorry for him, because he’d had a rough year of it. Losing a hand and Captain Marcus in Pleasant Dunes, then Josie soon after. He had something sinful going on with Noora too, and that ended poorly, and then he was Exiled, attacked by the Qin, and forced to go Independent, all in the span of a year. Couldn’t have been easy, but a lot of it was simply Howie reaping what he’d sown.
That said, Errol was eager to report what he’d sensed, even if it went contrary to what he believed. The Knight Captain had warned him against speaking of it without taking precautions, which in this case meant waiting until they were back in the safety of the chapel attached to the run-down barracks the Mexican Government had seen fit to lend the Knights Templar, one the Knight Captain had personally swept for bugs and found no less than three in the process. Despite that, he swept the area again while Errol stood and waited, only to be surprised when yet another bug was revealed and crushed under boot as the Knight Captain winked and said, “Spies and politicians are a sneaky bunch, so you can never be too careful.”
As if to prove as much, the Knight Captain reached over to the desk and activated a music box, one that had a recording of him conversing with some other novitiate. They were talking about mundane issues, like ammo reserves and wagon repairs, while the Knight Captain signaled for silence and used Minor Illusion to say, “Report.”
It took Errol a moment of focus to get the Cantrip right, one he’d only picked up through brute force as he followed a tutor showing him how to build the Structure without the math in hopes that he’d either pick it up Intuitively, or just get the structure right by happenstance. In hindsight, it might’ve been easier just to learn the math, seeing how Errol spent countless hours on this one Cantrip instead of one of the many, many, many Spells he’d much rather have.
He still got it in the end, and gave his report with the Knight Captain only wincing ever so slightly and asking him to lower the volume only the once. Errol still had issues with volume control while talking without talking, so it was a whole process, but he summed it all up in the end with, “Howie wasn’t completely honest, but not about anything important. He truly believes the Qin either want him dead or want him as a puppet.” Hesitating for a moment, he added, “And while I’m not sure if I could even tell if he was, I didn’t feel anything off about him that might point at Mimic influence.”
Which was good news, but the Knight Captain didn’t seem all that relieved to hear it. “You sure?” he asked, and Errol simply nodded. “All right then.” Clapping Errol on the shoulder, he added, “Let’s get some tucka and talk about what’s to come.” Then and only then did he turn off the recording and lead Errol out, but he continued speaking through Minor Illusion. “I want you present at all the talks using your Ability on anyone and everyone who speaks. Might turn something up, might not, but either way, it’ll be good practice, yeah? As for Howie, keep an eye on him as best you can. If he’s compromised, best we get it early while we can still help him, but if not…” The Knight Captain heaved yet another sigh and aged ten years in a single step, because having to kill the Firstborn would break his heart and spirit.
So Errol made a vow then and there, to be the one to do it in his place. If Howie had truly given in to base emotion and fallen in with the Soulless, then Errol would end him once and for all. Not for honour or glory, but for the Knight Captain, even if the man might hate him for it after the fact.
