Goodbye

Goodbye

                The beautiful forest paths had lost their lustre. Soff saw sights that earlier had brought smiles to her face, but she was unable to enjoy them. She was felt bitter, and so very, very sad. She'd lost everything. She might have another life, even a better one (hah), but it wouldn't be the one she had lived so far.

                No more happy, satisfied days watching the mill grind flour while her father organised the workers. Someone had to keep an eye on it at all times, in case of fire. It was an easy job, but she loved to watch the mill at work, grinding and grinding and grinding. Of course, her father had made her do other duties (sweeping, hauling bags of flour, even organising the workers herself sometimes).

                It made her happy enough to smile before sadness shocked her. Never again could she watch the mill at work. She was heading there to meet her father, but it was being cleaned today. The soft grinding of grain into flour... She sighed. There was a long way to walk yet, and she had to plan her way through town. First to home, then to her father.

                The home Soff shared with her parents and younger brother (who was to inherit the mill - it always passed to the youngest) was near the mill itself, and thus a little bit out of the town proper. Mill fires and explosions were uncommon, but risky enough that the mill was built away from the other buildings.

                Soff managed to reach the yard of the house without being seen, and made her way in through the back door. Her mother and brother would still be visiting her aunt in the next town over, which meant that (unless her father was home) she was alone.

                Her room had little in it. A few pieces of cheap jewellery and some clothing of day to day and occasional quality, a bed, and a few odds and ends. She packed it all into her 'travel bag' - a large backpack she had bought to take on the long treks the town 'Wander Club' went on. On the one trek she had attended, the packed to the brim bag had proven too heavy, and the resultant embarrassment (and a lack of free time) had kept her from participating in another.

                All that she owned filled the bag, and Soff was sure it should weigh more now than it had on the trek. But now she could lift it with ease. Carrying her pack, she wandered through the house to her mother's room. She took her mother's pen, and used it to write her a short goodbye, the best she could quickly,

                "Dear Mother,

                                I can no longer stay. Something has happened - I will explain more to father,      I have not the time. I must leave, and you will soon surely understand why. You have           my undyi love always. Tell my brother and sister that I love them as well. Please forgive me for running.

                                Your daughter,

                                                Soff."

                Soff lay the note on her mother's desk, and fought back her tears with a calming breath. She lay her bag by the door, then left to find her father.

                The mill was silent, everything locked in place for the day. Soff saw a few workers cleaning as she approached, she waved and they waved back. Though her countenance was somewhat deathlike, it was not noticeably different from her norm. As for her eyes - who truly remembers the colours of everyone's eyes?

                She approached one of the cleaner-women, Jynn. A tough yet wiry middle-aged woman, who had worked at the mill for many years. She wore one of the smocks Soff's grandfather had ordered made, long ago. "Hello lass. I thought you were off on a walk today 'til late? It can't be past the fourth hour after midday, can it?" Jynn asked.

                "No, I just came back a bit early," replied Soff. "Where's my dad gotten to?"

                "He's watching to make sure Rem cleans up the stone properly. And safely, too. Wouldn't want a repeat of the old accident."

                "That would be tragic. Thank you, Jynn."

                "Oh, no trouble for me, Soff. If you should happen to find yourself with some free time this evening we're a bit behind-"

                "Maybe, Jynn. Maybe." Soff smiled, and headed into the mill. Jynn, having noticed nothing amiss, grinned and got back to work.

                Soff only had to pass through a couple of rooms, make a few pointless smiles and waves, before she found her father in the grinding room. "Dad! Can I talk to you for a bit?" she called out to him. "In private?"

                "Hmm," muttered her father as she approached. He looked over at Rem (Remswold, one of the younger workers) and said, "Well. Don't unpin it until I return, Rem! Jynn would never let me forget it if an accident happened on my watch. She's yet to forget my father's oversight."

                Rem nodded emphatically. "Of course, master miller," he said.

                Soff's father stared at Rem for a moment, then nodded. "Alright Soff. The grain-pour has been cleaned out already; we'll head up there," he said.

                Soff followed her father through the grinding room, and up the stairway to the grain-pour. It was the room they used to pour the grain to be ground into the mill; and named by her great, great, great grandfather who had been the builder of the mill.

                "So, what is it, Soff?" asked her father.

                She wasn't sure where to begin. "I... went on my walk, earlier, through the forest. I went to the undead graveyard -" she began.

                "Ha ha, did you see the gravestone jokes? Some of them are hilarious!" said her father. Soff's father noticed then that she wasn't in high spirits. More than that, he noticed her eyes, and her pallor...

                "Something happened, Dad. There was something there - an undead that had clung on to life for all these years. He -" Soff had to pause "He killed me."

                Fear and anger both swept across her father's face. "Why are you here?" he asked.

                "To say goodbye," said Soff, choking on the last word. Tears started to spill from her eyes.

                Her father looked at her for a moment, then pulled her into a hug. "Either you're still my daughter as she left this morning, or you're doing a damn good job of pretending," he said, his words stuttering with emotion.

                "Dad," said Soff. Soff was held in her father's warm hug for several minutes, while she cried into his shoulder. She could feel the life in him, feel how she could take it - but there was no pressure to do so. No dark temptation. She had worried that she wouldn't be able to stop herself - but there was not even a desire to start.

                After a while, they pulled apart. Soff's face was covered in tears, and her father's shoulder drenched. Twin rivulets of tears trailed down her father's face, getting lost in his beard. "Did you get the bastard?" her father asked.

                "No. He's - his body is barely alive, but he has magic," Soff said. "I have to go with him. He can move, now that he's killed me, and he's my best chance to survive..."

                "Soff, no. Don't leash yourself to some-"

                "If he's one of the really vile ones I'll leave him. But - I don't think he is. He killed me out of necessity and I hate him for it but I think if he was one of the vile ones he would have come here and killed everyone to repair himself. He's already fleeing to the east."

                "He may just be a coward. Leave him when you get into the buffer, Soff. Learn what you can until then. I'll - I'll visit, or your brother will, some day. Kill him if you can."

                "Dad..."

                "I know you can't stay. Whatever nuance there is to the creature, he's your best bet to survive. I love you, Soff, and I can't protect you from the ridiculous justice the lunatics push. So I'll let - I'll let you go."

                Soff nodded. "I love you too Dad. I'll find a way to tell you where I end up."

                Her father held her by the shoulders, and stared at her for what seemed to be the longest time. "Goodbye, Soff."

                "Goodbye, Dad."

                They shared one more quick hug, and then Soff left.

                It was almost midnight when she caught up with Taoten. Almost, but not quite.

                "Hey!" she called out, getting the attention of the still walking Taoten.

                He stopped, and turned around. "Ah, so," he began, "it seems I needn't worry about the chance of foes beyond me. Hello again, Soff. I did figure you as a sensible one."

                "It's not like I have a choice. I'd... have to be far less than sensible to take another 'option'."

                "Oh, but that would not stop some. Is spite worth pain? For some it is. Come, catch up to me," Taoten said, beckoning Soff forwards.

                With some gritting of her teeth, she obliged. "So," she began, "What will you speak to me of, on this sleepless night?"

                "Oh, well," replied Taoten, "I figured I'd begin with a far more detailed description of what we are."

                "Alright. We have a long walk ahead of us."

                "Really? I do not know where this land ends."

                "Truly. We're halfway between the coast and the border of Terryd. We have - at least two weeks of walking."

                "Well then. I suppose it's good I have a lot to say."

Beginning of a Journey

Beginning of a Journey

                Soff wandered along the overgrown path, whistling softly. It was a lovely day - her preferred kind of lovely day, slightly overcast with the occasional soft drizzle falling. It was quiet and cool, and she felt at peace.

                Standing one hundred and sixty-five centimetres tall, Soff was of average height. Though complimented as pretty, she was plain (and she knew it). Her build was also unremarkable - feminine, of course, and pleasantly fit, but nothing special. She wore a hip length hooded cape over her dress, to protect it from the rain. A pouch slung over her shoulder contained a meal and drink for her lunch.

                It was her day off, and she'd chosen to take a walk along the south-eastern path, and from there along the forest paths. Many were remnants of an earlier era, long overgrown and fallen to disrepair.

                Local legend had it they were paths made for enjoyment alone in the long ago days of the Undead Empire. After it fell, more than three centuries ago, the paths had been abandoned. Men had no need of them, and most rarely had time to spend on pleasure.

                So Soff wandered the old paths alone, enjoying the sights of a forest still renowned for its beauty. A quiet, peaceful walk; and safe. The undead had been quite thorough in their elimination of monsters (apart from their foul selves), and with the undead gone there were few threats in Terryd.

                Her walk led her to a forbidden place, deep in the forest. A blighted place, where the trees, the grass, even the air itself was dead. An ancient graveyard for the forever dead - and when during the war, used to pile the countless corpses of the fallen. Quite a horrible place, all considered.

                But Soff was not worried. The undead were, well, dead. There was nothing to fear in the place, despite its grim nature. In she walked, over the buried pits and through the long abandoned gates. The crypts and graves were each beautiful beyond words. They housed commoners, mostly, and minor nobles; yet so few were the undeads' losses that even those were laid to rest as if great lords.

                A smile lit up Soff's face as she read one of the inscriptions - despite their horrible nature, the undead had been capable of making jokes.

                "Though they came back from the dead,

                They could not help but lose their head!"

                Despite the deathly air, it was a beautiful place. The piles of bones, though macabre, actually added to the atmosphere. A strange place to walk, but still a pleasant one. Then something grabbed her by the ankle.

                Soff tripped and fell, hoping that it was just a branch, a bone, something she'd missed while gawking. But her eyes saw the truth - a grasping hand, clenched tightly around her ankle. Behind it, a corpse - not bones, like those piled all around, no. An ancient undead with flesh and life and glowing gray-green eyes, the reflection of a filthy river.

                Soff screamed, but she knew she was doomed. There was no-one nearby, and her leg already grew cold. The creature was draining life from her rapidly; and soon (but a few long screams later) all went grey. Then she was gone.

                Soff came back, and she knew what that meant immediately. She was undead. Of what kind she had no idea. But she was one of them.

                She opened her eyes, and quickly focused on the creature - man - in front of her.

                "Welcome back," he said. His voice was ragged, as if he spoke with a damaged throat. He looked healthier than he had seemed when he grabbed her ankle; almost well enough to pass for alive. His eyes were still gray-green, but they no longer glowed. The armour he wore was much worse off. Battle damaged, then aged, it was little more than a rag.

                Soff sat up, slowly, and took in her surroundings. The man had dragged her into an alcove (the dust on her clothes attested to that), and he now leant against a grave in front of her. She brushed herself off out of habit and said, "Why did you kill me?"

                The undead smiled. "Prepare yourself for a long-winded explanation. Firstly, my - our - kind is one that drains life from the living. Any living; the death surrounding this place is my doing, through my aura. My touch is far more deadly, of course, but time has allowed me to make this a place of death alone.

                "I needed enough life to repair myself, and I had the opportunity to strike at you with little risk, so I did. As you can perhaps tell, your life was not enough to heal me fully. This is why I took it all. That is why I took enough that you died from it, rather than from lacking enough life to live. And, in turn, that is why you are back. Normally I would not have turned you, but necessity insists. As for why you are still alive: I have enough power to stop you should you try something foolish," he said.

                "I-" stammered Soff. Her emotions were spiralling out of control, into despair. She was undead. Her life was over. She couldn't stay. She realised that she was still feeling, which was good, but - "I'm - what did you turn me in to?"

                "There's no name for what I am, quite deliberately. There were never many; we bear no special use and as I believe you've realised we experience no change in our selves. We are stronger, scarce feel pain, need not eat or sleep, and feed from the life around us. No strange weaknesses, unlike some. The eyes mark us (though they only glow when we use our power), and our skin is closer to a strange corpselike shade than any living human. That is all of import."

                Soff stared at her hand. He hadn't lied; her skin was... Dead. She'd be outed as a monster as soon as anyone caught sight of her. "So what are you going to do, now that you've killed me?" asked Soff.

                "Flee somewhere beyond the reach of humans. If a young woman can freely wander, this land cannot be safe for the likes of me. I was never one for power, though I fought as we fell. I am making many assumptions about what has happened since, of course, but I know that these lands, this world, will have a place I can hide. It has only been three hundred years, after all."

                Soff barely listened as he spoke. She was too busy with her own thoughts; staring at her hand. Tears - she could still cry - formed in her eyes. She placed her hands over her face and sobbed. She shifted herself jerkily, leaning back against the statue of some great undead, and began to cry in earnest.

                The undead watched her silently. He hadn't cried for hundreds of years - since before he had been released into this world. He had seen, and done, far worse than kill one person out of necessity. Yet he felt for her. All the tragedies were sad; and he (like few others) had always minimised his part in them. The fact that humans would be no better should the situation be reversed was what had born him through. His thoughts: we are all human, really. All terrible.

                I cannot leave while I owe her answers, he thought. So I will wait out her tears.

                Soff cried for eleven and a bit minutes, then wiped her eyes and glared. "I'll tell you nothing of the history you missed," she said, spitefully.

                "Very well," replied the undead. "Do you have further questions for me?"

                "What are you going to do with me?"

                "Nothing. I have no reason to harm you further. I sorely doubt you will find welcome in these lands anymore, however, so you may accompany me if you wish."

                Soff ground her teeth in anger. "This is how you seek to bind me to you? Offer me a way to continue this 'existence'?" Disgust coloured her last word.

                "It can be seen that way, true. But I offer more than continued life: I have much to teach, and I suspect quite far to walk. In exchange for your company I shall tell you of the world that was, the intricacies of our kind, and if you are able to learn it I shall teach you the sorcery I wield."

                Soff wanted to spit in his face - kill me and expect company? - but the offer was all she had. The alternative was a second death, likely after torture. 'You can't trust the dead', they said. Perhaps their ki- the monsters they were could barely feel pain, but there were ways. "I don't have a choice, you bastard."

                "There's always a choice, though sometimes it's a shit one. I'm sure you have family you could hide with, and you might know other routes to escape that I cannot know of. Perhaps you could ask your family to end your life painlessly? Do you fear death so much as life like this?" He paused. "Flippancy aside, I would enjoy some company on the road."

                "Those aren't choices. And you know my answer." The undead stared at her, blinking every fourth second, exactly. It made Soff realise that she hadn't blinked her eyes in minutes. She closed them, and said, "I will come with you."

                "Very good. I wish to begin my journey immediately; but you should say goodbye to your family. I doubt it will be forever, unless you kill them. I will meet you on the great eastern road, which I am sure has been co-opted to suit your human needs."

                Father... Soff thought. She had to say goodbye, yet thoughts of it filled her with dread. "How would I catch up with you? And aren't you worried about me betraying you, or being captured?"

                The undead stood straight, then grabbed a pole of long-dead wood that lay beside him. Using it, he took a hobbling step forwards. One of his legs was very, very badly broken. "As you can see, I am not quite healthy. You will catch up with me without trouble. Depending on how close your home is, you may well find me before I reach the road. Secondly, I do not fear those who will sally forth to attack me - unless my luck is cursed, they will not have the power to slay me, and I will drain them. With their life, I will be healed, and able to flee this land at a far faster rate - more so, if they ride to catch me. I should think fast enough to avoid any other hunters." He smiled.

                "Fine. Start your flight. If I'm lucky I'll meet you on the road."

                The creature smiled. Anger was better than sorry, at least in company. Certainly far more amusing. He hobbled a couple of steps, starting his way out the alcove, then paused. "One last thing; what is your name?"

                Soff spent a moment considering her response. "Soff," she said. "And yours?"

                "Taoten. I'll see you later, Soff." Taoten made his way out of the alcove, leaving Soff sitting there. She didn't move until he was out of sight.

                Soff clenched a fist in anger, then stood up. After a few deep breaths, tears welled in her eyes again. Time to go say goodbye, she thought. Then she began her walk home, for the last time.

Hammer, Hammer

Silly drunk stream o' consciousness...

Hammer, Hammer

                The hammer falls in the lands to the south, taking them. Like a checkmate, really.

                Peretalia is of no consequence. They are a block against straightforward aggression, sure. But the navies of the south now answer to us. War hardened. The only true navies you'll find on this side of the continent. They are enough to win us the guarded lands.

                Are we sure? There is more to this all than just numbers.

                Really? Is there fate, some kind of guide, that says 'No, we shall not succeed for we are not the good'? We are not good people, but we have long won through strength of numbers, of arms, of vision. Something many lack.

                Something all but few lack. But we have it. This continent will be ours. The first of many. We shall not stop. Already, the first few-

                Now now, we mustn't think ahead of ourselves. Plan the next invasion - not the ones beyond our lifespans.

                But our lifespans are limitless!

                Will you not fight? Are you a coward? We shall die, but the hammer endures.

                THE HAMMER ENDURES.

                Hammers, guys. Look, we don't need to be ominous here, nor vainly proud. We know who we are, what we are, and how we fare. Peretalia is a PROBLEM. The emperor in the north is NOT one of ours. Until that is so, we need to worry about those who might-

                The emperor knows of us. He can't stop us. Nor can his minions.

                They almost did once before.

                That was before. We were foolish. We did not hide ourselves as we should have.

                No, I'm pretty sure the emperor doesn't know of us as we are now. That was a bloody revolution.

                Surely-

                If that was about to be a 'surely you didn't see it', of course I saw it. We are IMMORTAL. Some of us are SURViVORS. We don't get caught with our pants down, even if we're behind ten kilometres of steel.

                Oh, the war covenant. Yes, congratulation on preparing for the impossible.

                Congratulations of preparing for the inevitable, you mean.

                Yes, yes, we don't care. Peretalia is troublesome, and the emperor also, potentially. But there is much to be done in the south yet, as much as we would love to claim victory.

                True.

                True.

                So, what is the highest priority? The south. See to it that none avoid our control. The old exile-

                DAMN HIM.

                Yes, thank you. He is the greatest problem in the south. They are ready for us. They are not weak to us. We will have to fight them.

                Let the war begin.

                Yes, now is the time.

                What on earth did you think 'the hammer falls in the south' meant?

                Oh, we should have stricter standard for the lords.

                Yeah, then we wouldn't have you.

                Oh, that's-

                Enough. Those who are lords are the great, whether in mind or necessity. Cease this bickering. We must organise the war.

                YES.

                The warriors of-

                Okay, so, let me say something.

                ... Who interrupts.

                Yes, who?

                We really should do some additional work so we KNOW who.

                Oh yes, you should. Then you'd know who I am, who is speaking. Who wishes to speak. Listen, Black Hammer.

                THEY ARE NOT ONE OF US.

                HOW IS THIS.

                Fuck.

                Yes, succinctly put. I am 'the old exile'. Your communications are not secure. How could they be secure? I know too much to be kept out! Honestly. My king knows the disposition, the positions, the strength, the aims of your forces. We will not lose to you. By the way-

                CHANGE COMMUNICATIONS.

                FIX THE LEAK.

                Yeah, that. Good luck, though. Best case scenario for you all: no communications while we knock out everything you have near our lands. Have fun!

                FUCK YOU.

                Hahahahahaha...

Part of the Map

This is the nw corner of the big map I put up quite a while ago, although I'll probably figure out how to make everything a bit more pretty at some point. There are a few stories set near here - the Mechanis flash, Sable's stories, and some stuff mentioned in a couple of others. 'Wandering Eastward' (which I'm writing at the moment) is set in the Republic of the Saved and sort of ... explores the history of the region.

Click for bigger.

By the Lake

By the Lake

                A pretty girl leaping from stone to stone; beauty in the way her dress flutters in the air with each hop. A peaceful lake that is deep enough to catch falls yet shallow enough to stand in. A lovely place to sit and idle away the time.

                "Come back here, dear," a woman says. She looks down at her husband, who is idly reading a book in the pleasant sunlight. "Call her back, Darrel. She'll hurt herself out there."

                "There's about as much risk on those rocks as there is in... Honestly, in her getting up in the morning. She'll be fine. Worst comes to worst, she bumps herself. The rocks are soft, and smooth, and she's far more likely to fall into the water than any else, Elle," he replies, using a finger to mark where he was in his book.

                His wife, dissatisfied with his answer, glares. "You carefree approach to parenting will get her killed one day," she admonishes. But she relents, with a smile. "But very well. Perhaps I will join her?"

                "Go ahead. I'm getting to the good stuff," replies Darrel. As his wife stalks over to the pond, he sighs. Strangely paranoid woman, he thinks to himself, for someone who, well.

                He straightens up in his chair, and watches his wife join their daughter on the stones. He is in his early forties, his wife in her mid-thirties, and their daughter almost eighteen. Almost a woman! He forgets that sometimes - she seems so young, especially when she smiles. She smiles so often.

                It makes Darrel smile as well, but he returns to his book. Elle and her daughter leap amongst the rocks for a time, laughing happily. It's a happy scene in a delightful place. Around the lake sit picturesque woodlands, and the day is sunny with only a pair of lovely, fluffy clouds in the sky. But it's always like that, here.

                Different kinds of beautiful, sometimes, but the weather varies little; and the evergreens do not worry themselves about the cold enough to shed in the winter months. They all wish they could come here more often, really. But other matters beg their attention, and they cannot spare the money lost.

                Some time later - a little after Darrel finishes the 'good bit' - Elle and their daughter finish amusing themselves on the rocks. It has been a long day; a walk in the morning, a picnic by the lake, and even some time swimming in the deeper parts. A peaceful after noon, full of love and happiness.

                As his wife and daughter join him, looks at the skies and sighs. "It's getting late," he says. "Ri, can you go find the horses?"

                "Alright, dad," the daughter says. She hugs them both tightly, and says, "I'll see you later."

                The loving parents smile as their daughter heads off into the forest. "She's a lot like you," says Darrel, "Keeping it together, happy to let me handle my stuff, and all that."

                "I know," says Elle, "She's my daughter!" Elle rolls her eyes.

                Darrel smiled. "I always have to say goodbye properly," he says.

                "I know. I can tell you it feels like almost no time at all for me a hundred times, and you'll still do it," she replies.

                Darrel sighs. "Goodbye, Elle, my love and wife for many years," he says, softly and sadly. "I'll see you again."

                "Goodbye. I'll see you again as well," says Elle. "Perhaps a hike, next time?"

                "Of course," replies Darrel. He wraps his arms around Elle, hugging her tightly. She responds in kind.

                They spend a while that way; clasping each other as if there is nothing else in the world. Then they separate. "It's time to go. Are you going to leave?" asks Elle.

                "No. I'll turn away," answers Darrel. He and Elle kiss, quickly. A fleeting moment.

                Darrel turns away from her as she says, "Goodbye, Darrel."

                He waits for a moment, then turns back. Standing there is someone else - in form, and in mind. "It went well, I think," it says.

                Darrel nods. "Thank you," he says.

                The creature - a nearly formless thing, shaggy and hairy, though humanoid - grinned. Or, it did what Darrel assumed was a grin, having spoken with it quite a few times. "You know," it says, "You're one of the few that talk to me afterwards."

                "I... Think it's important, to say thank you. If you didn't do this - if you didn't take on their souls, their selves, we'd never see them again," says Darrel.

                "I do understand your comments, but keep in mind that I am paid for providing this service. And handsomely, too - you, and the others that can afford it, are lucky beyond being able to utilise my services," the creature responds.

                Darrel sighs. "I don't think there could be a more worthwhile reason to burn a hole in my pocket, so thank you," he says.

                The creature nods. "Your daughter is waiting. And one more thing - I believe your wife wanted to tell you that while you can see her again, if your daughter dies they can never see each other," it says.

                "I know," says Darrel. "I'll be back in two months."

                "As always. Thank you for your business."

                As Darrel walks away, he turns back with a broad smile. "No," he says, "Thank you!"

Journal - After the Attack

Journal - After the Attack

                Today was another interesting day.

                First, a summary of the raid (according to Nueva's speech to the town in the morning):

                Two hundred and twenty were taken, roughly;

                The militia recovered about one hundred and fifty, and perhaps ten escaped through other means;

                Leaving sixty or so townspeople captured;

                A party was to be sent out to find where they were taken (they left after noon, twenty strong, mostly the militia but also a few others of significant martial skill);

                Small parties have been sent to nearby villages to see if they have been attacked;

                Those who live nearby in the woods are being contacted (although from what the militia saw yesterday evening it seems grim);

                All are requested to stay calm, and find something with which to defend themselves. Those near the edge of town are to fortify their homes;

                A watch has been set up along the forest's edge to ensure further attacks do not catch us by surprise;

                A burial for the dead (a dozen, and mostly members of the militia) will be held in two days’ time.

                The speech - and subsequent discussions - took up the morning. I perhaps should have left when Nueva had finished speaking, but I wanted to know if someone would mention my heroics (no-one did).

                I spent some time working on plans for my next expedition (more later) and took lunch. After lunch, to my (pleasant) surprise, Allisat paid me a visit. Our discussion quickly became quite interesting, so I shall reproduce it below.

                I had made a comment about planning for my upcoming expedition, when she said, "I'd like to come with you."

                This shocked me well enough to forget the specifics of what I had just said. "Into the ruins? They're not - they're not exactly safe, Allisat," I said.

                "They're safe enough with a guide; and I'm fast enough to keep up, I think," she replied.

                "I suppose - but, why? I never thought you'd be one to come on an expedition."

                She gathered her thoughts, and said, "I owe you one, and the ruins are safer with someone watching your back, right? And... After yesterday, I don't want to be in a situation like that again. Unable to fight back at all and - not again. I'll learn a lot, and maybe we'll find something else I can learn from."

                "I'm not sure how this is - can't you ask the militia for training?" I asked.

                "I can - and I'm going to go to the lessons they're giving - but that's not enough. My father won't let me join the militia - too much risk, especially now - but he's fine with an expedition. It's safer, as long as we don't take chances, and my father likes the idea that I might find something valuable, or do something important," she said. I must have looked somewhat confused, because she added, "He wants me to be in charge of a farm one day, support my brother in leading the same group of farmers he leads now. I'm sure you know how that - bit of strangeness, really, works."

                I nodded. "I suppose it does fulfill your father's desires, and yours, but it's not as safe as I you (and your father) think. The areas around the rear entrance are barely explored; and I saw two drone types that my father has no record of. We should be okay, but... I can't guarantee your safety, or even mine," I said.

                "That's alright," she said. "It's not certain death or anything like that, and that's enough. It'll show me if I can be... Stronger, like I want to be. I won't be too weak to fight again."

                I shrugged; which was probably not a great idea, but. She seemed to know what she wanted, and understood the risks (I hope). So I said, "Alright. You can come. I have to ask one thing of you though - swear to secrecy on the location of the secondary entrance. It is very dangerous to cross without proper knowledge, and my father wished for the exact location to be known by only a few until it has been explored thoroughly."

                "I swear on the lives of my family that I will not reveal the location against your will."

                "Then you are welcome."

                We spent some time discussing the expedition itself; and I spoke to an extent of the challenges and risks we will face in the ruins. Allisat is keen to pick up as much as she can before we go - which is very wise of her. I shall probably talk about the ruins with her another couple of times before we leave.

                In three days we shall make our way to, and into, the ruins. This will give Allisat some time with the knife, and me time to make preparations (and perhaps ask others to accompany us as well). A small team is the best choice for any expedition, though it increases the chance of casualties.

                Once we make our way inside, we will explore the two corridors breaking off from the first junction that I did not have time to examine previously. If they prove to be too risky or small, we will return to the living corridor I visited previously and delve deeper (as well as taking the useless items I left behind last time). If time permits, we may explore some of the other corridors that lead from the second junction.

                We will not attempt to spend the night within the ruins (as it has, in the past, proven quite suicidal). If it has become too late, we will camp at the determined safe distance and return to town the following morning - supplies for such will be left outside the ruins in a stash. Further expeditions will be planned following our return, depending on the results of the second.

                I also went over my previous expedition with Allisat. She was interested, and I perhaps too happy to share the details of my adventure. From weeks old memory, here is a summary - it would have been in this journal previously, but I entertained the idea of concealing it from my father. Which is no longer possible, of course.

                The past few months, with my father afar on an expedition, have been dull. He forbade me from entering the core ruins, but encouraged me to enter those that have long since been picked clean. I have been to some before - they are dull places. A few pieces of unknown writing on the walls, the occasional built in shelf. Nothing of interest, however. Those responsible for the ruins that litter this part of the world were not the kind to create secret compartments and passageways.

                The only ruin that has not been explored from end to end is the 'core ruin'. The gate between their world and ours, so very long ago. It is the only ruin with active defenders, and the one in which the most was left behind - the majority were nearly completely picked clean, or mostly destroyed, when they left. The only one worth exploring, and one of the closest to town.

                So, I planned an expedition. Without parents or siblings around (my mother accompanies my father always, and my other siblings are too young to be left behind) I was able to plan freely, and poke my nose into any journal I pleased.

                The areas around the main entrance are well explored, and to quite deep levels. But the rear entrance - discovered by my father fourteen years ago, and only visited a handful of times due to its complicated entrance - was promising. Especially when I cracked the entrance.

                It relies upon a pair of turrets with overlapping target zones, which is something not encountered entering from the front entrance (or rather, the few instances of it have been damaged beyond repair - one of the reasons we are all too familiar with the vengeance the drones exact). This seems to be hard to avoid - distracting one turret is easy, but two?

                Yet, one of my father's theories - that you can distract both away from yourself at once - sounded correct. His attempts were poorly timed, but my precisely calculated one proved successful. The key (simply put) is to have the correct timing, and to throw distractions (in my case, stones) into the areas not covered by both turrets. You must also ensure you don't walk too fast - this is to keep the stones as the highest priority targets, rather than becoming it yourself. Once you are across, there is an alcove (one of my father's discoveries) that can be used to hide from the drone inspection squad that will be sent to investigate.

                Having done so, I made my way to the junction my father discovered (avoiding the other primary tunnels - my father's notes indicate they are... quite dangerous, though one may lead to a third entrance?). From there, I explored several tunnels, keeping track of the local drones and their particular routes successfully. It was the - if I check my notes - sixth tunnel that proved promising, and eventually lead to a second junction.

                A good discovery; certainly enough to impress my father. I considered turning back then - my father returns in a couple of years, plenty of time to explore further. But exploration is in my blood, and I had nothing to show for my troubles. The first two corridors I checked were troublesome - one guarded by a protective field, the other too often patrolled - but the third led to a residential area.

                Though not the best source of useful goods, residential areas almost always contain something. Day to day items, from those who built the places. Though fairly useless, these can be sold afar at a great profit - and as such, they are more or less treasure troves, occasionally worth a fortune.

                The one I had reached was not particularly full - it seemed to be fairly well cleaned out; only things truly useless or replaceable left behind. However, fairly deep within the area I found a room with an un-emptied (or incompletely emptied) locker. It contained the boots, and the knife. In all likelihood, it was left behind because its occupant (probably an infiltrator of some kind) was killed.

                Though I will keep them, the boots and knife are probably worth a small fortune; especially the boots. There are similar items to the boots mentioned in my father's notes, mostly from knowledge of the times and a few translated documents. They generally have some effect on 'gravity' - the force that draws us to the ground. Supposedly these items were intended to allow the visitors to exist in high gravity environments, and proved so useful that the same technology was adapted to other things. Bands that made chests as light as a feather when full of iron, or objects like my boots.

                My boots are one of only six such items ever recovered. All but one - a pair of gloves that allow one to carry heavy objects fairly effortlessly - have been sold or lost; the gloves belong to a family of lumberjacks. When my father gets back, well, he will not be impressed by the boots beyond my luck in finding them. But the exploration I have carried out already? That will. And I hope to do much more before his return (and now with the blessing of the mayor!).

                My exit from the ruins was far simpler - using the boots I was able to slip between patrols faster and better than ever before. Better still, I could use them to reach alcoves and places I previously could not - which gave me a great many new options for hiding as patrols went past. I did, unfortunately, discover that some drones look up an awful lot; something that is rarely mentioned in the notes. I intend to correct this (at least, in my own notes).

                In total, it took me about eight hours to explore that deep; yet only half an hour to exit (it should have, by my calculations, taken around an hour and half without the boots). Having the boots made me excited - I have been spending much of my time planning the next expedition, not reading over my father's notes (as I have written previously).

                I planned to enter the ruins some time next week (when it would be least noticeable); but with my efforts out in the open and company available, three days is plenty of time. Most especially, I no longer need to go about acquiring certain provisions in a cautious manner.

                Unfortunately, I do need to pen a letter to my father, as he will surely be sent one by a 'concerned citizen' - or possibly the mayor herself. I'm not looking forward to it; how does one write a 'dear father, I did the exact opposite of what you said and it worked out because I'm lucky!' letter?

                Regardless, that was the last of what I discussed with Allisat today that bears mentioning. She is very enthusiastic, and even showed me what the knife has taught her 'so far' - almost as much as I know, and seemingly better (one day!). I must admit that allowing her to use the knife has a quite positive side effect - I will learn to exactly what level the knife can teach, which determines its value. I suspect it may teach far more than just novice level techniques. Or, perhaps I hope such.

                Dinner and further planning on the details above; I have several people to see tomorrow (too many to list) and much else to do for the expedition, so I shall cease writing now so I may sleep at a reasonable hour.

                I will say, last of all, that I'm excited.