Chapter 10
Been a while, hasn't it? Instead of addressing it, I'll just say that the most fun weapon I played with in Titanfall 2 was the Coldwar. I kill myself 60% of the time with it, but my God is it just dumb fun.
One Must Wonder, What Wins Between Science And Magic; Ice Wizards And Hordes Of Undead, Or Mechs And Weapons That Make Casualty Numbers So Tragic?
Chapter Ten: Rabid Raiders And The Steely Response
"Still can't believe we travelled back to the past."
Staff Sergeant Williams didn't turn to look at his passenger. "Well, we're not in the past," he said as he drove the Samson. "You heard the briefing."
Corporal Jansen waved his hand. "Bullshit," he said. "Alternate reality my ass. Humans here that speak fucking English? What are the odds of that?"
Marcus Williams didn't care. "We're paid to follow orders, not question what scientists say, and you will speak to me as befitting of my rank, corporal." Jansen made a face and stuck out his tongue, earning a small chuckle. "What does the satnav say?"
Jansen tapped onto the Samson data pad. "We're five-mikes from Long Lake." He rolled his eyes at the name. "At current speed, I'd say we're fifteen hours out from Winterfell. Looks like we're sleeping in the Samson again tonight."
Humming, he kept his eyes on the dirt road in front, a surprisingly serene scene to drive through, not the sight he was used to. Any other day, he'd be worried about a Militia ambush, but there's no fear from an archer missile coming from the trees. No, there was a different sort of archers here, none that needed worrying about.
"How long do you think we'll stay on this planet?"
"Our platoon came four weeks ago, don't tell me you're homesick already." Though he said this, even he couldn't help but miss his wife and son back home, but still, he always followed orders. "We'll be here in Typhon Beta for as long as we're ordered to."
The passenger gagged. "Couldn't they at least name it something better?" It wasn't really a name as much as it was a designation. It's the parallel universe copy of planet Typhon, so of course the scientists called it Typhon Beta. "How about Betaphon, better?" Williams rolled his eyes. "No? Alright, how about Tybeta? Nah, sounds a lot like that Tibet place from the history books. You know what, how about Bob? I like Bob."
"You're free to send your suggestion as part of your report. Who knows, maybe it won't be instantly thrown in the trash." Jansen groaned. "Tobias, if you're so bored, you're free to scan the horizon for tangos."
He didn't need to look to see his underling raise a brow. "Ah yes, I'll keep an eye out for the angry pig farmer and ents."
Marcus scrunched his face. "The hell are ents?"
"Tree people," Jansen said, making him snort. "No really, in the old movies a bunch of short people with hairy feet go to the trees for help to take down an army camp. Look around, trees everywhere, any one of them could be an angry ent that'll come and get us."
"Sure they are." As the started going down a small hill, he gestured to the lake just coming to the view above the trees. "That it, Long Lake?" It was their first time doing a tribute delivery, and chances were they'd be doing more in the near future.
His partner looked to the satnav. "Yeah, that's the one. Can we stop near to the shore, I gotta take a leak."
"Do you need to, or do you just want to tell the guys back in the barracks that you took a long piss at long lake with your 'long' dick'?"
He shrugged. "Both, actually. And yes, my dick is long, you can shove your air quotes up your ass."
"Talking back to a sergeant, that's a court martialing, corporal." Again, he stuck his tongue out, knowing he wouldn't do any such thing. He slowed the Samson and brought it closer to the tree line that neared Long Lake. "Make it quick."
Jansen opened the door. "Don't know, Staff Sergeant, I drank a whole pint an hour ago, could be a while." Williams snorted as he closed the door behind him.
"Dickhead," he said as he rubbed his gloved hands together and sat back into his seat. 'How long are we going to be here, though?' he thought. 'Shelly is going to kill me if I miss another birth.' Considering his wife was recently pregnant, he had some time, but who knew how long it'd take. 'I missed Jackson's birth, and she swore to rip my balls off if I miss another.'
He looked sadly to his family jewels. "Sorry boys, it's not up to me." He laughed at his own joke. 'Now I'm talking to my own testicles. This courier mission already made me crazy on the first try. Nice.' He groaned. It'd been better if it just wasn't so boring.
Looking to Jansen's seat, he forgot his R-97 that he was supposed to keep on him at all times. 'That idiot, ugh.' He tapped onto his helmet radio. "Tobias, get back to the vehicle, you forgot something." He didn't want to say what it was through comms to avoid having it on record and get him in trouble. "I just want to say in advance that you're an idiot."
No answer.
"Tobias, you copy?" Again, nothing. "Nothing heard, check if you muted your mic." He waited an extra second, but there was still nothing. "Nothing heard. Corporal, get back the vehicle, your mic might be busted." He watched the tree line and waited for him to emerge. Fifteen seconds passed until he was back on the radio. "Corporal Jansen, if this is some play, I'm ordering you to get back to the vehicle. I don't care if you're still pissing, tie it into a knot and come back here ASAP."
He waited another minute, but there was still nothing. "God damn it, this guy," Williams opened his door and jumped out, his own SMG on his back. "I swear to god if he shut off his radio again, I'm gonna have him run laps for weeks. If he's taking selfies, months."
Moving between the trees for a solid minute, he reached the gravelly shore of Long Lake, but didn't find his underling. "Jansen, where are you!?" he shouted, swiveling his head to see if he'd appear. When nothing happened, he got nervous.
He took his R-97 from his back, readied it across his chest, hand on the grip, and tapped into his radio connecting to the Samson. "Command, this is Welcome Wagon 1, do your read?" He kept swiveling, as he walked closer to the water.
A bit of static, then a response. "We receive you, Welcome Wagon 1, this is Command, what's your situation?"
"Command, I'm missing my partner near Long Lake. I'm conducting a search near the shore where he was meant to- Oh fuck!" In the gravel near the water, there was a splash of blood. He bent down and saw it was still fresh.
"What is your situation, Welcome Wagon?" the man on the line quickly said.
"Command, I found fresh blood near the waterline, requesting search-and-rescue support if it was my partner's." Fuck! What the hell is going on?
"Solid copy, request granted, advise you return to your vehicle and proceed with the mission." What!? Fuck that! He wanted to say. . .
"Command, my partner is part of my platoon, request I search the area for him."
"Negative, Welcome Wagon. You're alone and without back up, SnR teams are being made as we speak and will reach your area in thirty minutes via orbit from the IMS Malta, return to your vehicle and head to Winterfell, that's an order."
Fucking damn it, they had a point. Search teams would scour the area with drones and aircraft from the Malta, they had a better chance finding Tobias than he could. He spat the bad taste out of his mouth. "Roger, Command, returning to the mission."
"Copy that, stay vigilant, report once your back in."
"Wilco, Command, expect call back within sixty seconds." God damn it all! He turned around, his R-97 still ready and walked hurriedly back to the Samson, his breathing heavy, and head turned to every sound he picked up. In patch of trees between him in the Samson, even small animals made him swivel.
Through the trees, he kept an eye for any wild animal or bandit that was likely nearby, but couldn't see anything outside of small fauna. Once he was halfway through, he knelt and scanned his immediate surroundings, saw nothing, then dashed to the Samson.
He swore it was some bird whistling at first, but a loud thunk! beside his head told him an arrow just lodged itself into a tree. "Shit!" he cursed as he turned around, fell to one knee, and let loose a small burst into the direction the arrow came from. He heard a yell of pain from said direction, though he couldn't see the person he hit through the mist, leaves and branches. "Command! I'm being engaged by bandits!" Another arrow stabbed the dirt beside his foot, making stumble to the side, and send another short burst of 5.8mm at the direction, drawing another scream of pain.
"Command copies, Welcome Wagon, be advised we're sending you reinforcements via orbit drop, eta five minutes."
"Five minutes!?" Marcus shouted while running to the Samson, hearing arrows land near him, and in one case, a spear fly over his head and hit the dirt in front of him. "They're on my tail already! I don't have fucking five minutes!"
"We're going as fast as we're able to, do what you can, Staff Sergeant." No more callsigns, it seems. "Get to your Samson and make it out, it's your best chance." Yeah, no shit!
Fucking damn it. "Wilco, Comma- AGHH!" An arrow finally found its mark and hit the back of his shin. "Fuck!" he cursed as he tumbled to the ground.
"Sergeant, what happened!?"
"Got hit in the leg," he said as he slowly stood up, his adrenaline muting the pain. He turned around, finally seeing some of the bandits, and let loose a burst of slugs at one, hitting center mass and making him drop to the ground in bleeding agony. "Bandits are on me, Command!"
"Hold on, Sergeant, I'm doing what I can." In a small way, it helped to be reassured, but really didn't change his situation.
Another raider popped into view, another burst, another corpse. He let the empty mag drop, quickly replacing it with practiced perfection. Slowly, the pain began to creep up his leg. "How long until back up?"
"Four minutes until drop pods are ready."
He clicked his tongue, and got himself moving with a limp towards the vehicle, still forty meters off, but it might as well have been a mile. "Requesting orbital combat support!" He propped himself onto a tree and eyed his rear through his gun's sights, whenever one showed himself, he shot a volley, downing them near instantly.
"Negative, orbital bombardment of any kind is danger close, too close."
More and more bandits began to show themselves, enough to the point he sprayed horizontally and hit most of them, not always lethal, but enough to get them out of his hair. But that didn't slow them down, as the men behind them kept charging him with wild abandon. Marcus took something out of his combat webbing, took out the pin, and said instinctively, "fire in the hole!"
The grenade flew, and he knew he was bit too close than he should've been. He knelt and covered his ears, and not a second later, a loud explosion shook the ground, some shrapnel cutting the sides of the tree he hid behind. Once things settled, he quickly limped to the Samson, his limp now in full force though the pain wasn't fully there yet.
He almost didn't see it coming, there was just enough time for him to duck the club that came from behind the tree. He went for a roll under it, and stood up to shoot the fucker, but he wasn't quick enough as the giant burly man gripped his arm, and tore away his SMG, throwing it the ground, and raised up by the neck, easily four feet in the air as he gripped the raider's hands to get himself loose.
"Do you know how many of my clansmen you just killed?" he said angrily. When he answered only in choking sounds, he punched him to the ground, noticeably away from his R-97. "Do you!?" he shouted as he raised him back up on his knees, clutching his collar.
The world was spinning when he finally looked up at the giant cunt. Though dazed, he couldn't help himself. "Not enough," Marcus answered dizzily, and spat at his feet. "Fuck you."
Big-and-ugly now looked angry enough that Marcus thought he probably shouldn't have done that. "I'm going to enjoy gutting you." He reared for a punch, and when it connected, the world went black.
Ned had to admit, he was as excited as he was nervous. It's been almost forever since he last saw Robert, mostly work related, and not always long, though he always managed to find time for Ned in some way or form. Be it just drinking in his solar or a walk through the Street of Steel for no reason than to feel the heat of the forges and the smell of coal.
With what he knew, Lysa's message, he didn't know what to do. If like she said, the Lannisters had killed his father figure and mentor, Jon Arryn, he couldn't allow Robert be surrounded by that house of snakes alone. And today, that house was coming here with his best friend.
He was in the yard with his people, waiting for the king and his entourage to arrive within minutes. From guards to maids, all came to receive the king. All except one, Ash of the IMC, she is within the castle, waiting for her entrance as not to shock Robert.
It was Ned's idea, though he wondered if it would do any good. She said she had some presentations prepared, and one of the tribute vehicles to be seen by the king, which she said was on its way and should arrive at dawn on the morrow. It was more of a show than a message, she said, as if her robot form wasn't enough to inspire truth of the IMCs 'advancement in technology', as she called it.
He saw Bran run across to join his brother, a wide smile on his face. "They're here," he said excitedly. "The king and his soldiers, they're here!"
"Spotted them from top of the tower you climbed, did you?" Robb said with a teasing smile, holding in his hand the helm he took off Arya. "Well, don't forget your manners, you little spider."
It was a peaceful sight, one he hoped would last forever, one he knew wouldn't. He looked back forwards, already hearing the beating of hooves as the kind and his group neared the gates.
Cat leaned in and stated, "Lady Ash certainly has her timing. I have seen her for all of an hour in total since her arrival, and now she speaks of a demonstration of sorts. Any idea on what that is?"
"Afraid to say I do not, she said it was best shown," he answered. Lady Ash kept to herself through the large majority of her time here, between the measter's solar, her room, and Ned's own solar, she went nowhere else. Life with her was supposed to be more eventful; in reality, it was rather mundane.
Now all of a sudden, she said she received directions from her superiors to entertain the king with a small show of their abilities. Measter Luwin spoke about how she communicated via a device known as 'radio', saying how Lady Ash and her lords spoke almost telepathically, though reassuring that it was nothing of the sort, but most similar and easier to explain.
And so that was the case, seven weeks of mundane life he even grew bored about worrying over, now was going to be a show of some kind, one he had no clue how it would turn out. He knew one thing, however; it was going to shock Ned as well as the king, it had to.
The first white horse trotted through the gate, the rider wearing a white cloak and gold armor, the visor on his helm closed, watching vigilantly the smallfolk surrounding him. Behind the first of the Kingsguard, came another horse, the rider was a young boy with short blonde hair and an impressive red cloak.
Joffrey Baratheon, Ned concluded. Robert's eldest son and heir, who he noticed was eyeing Sansa. Ned saw that she replied gave a smile back to the heir, which should make for an interesting conversation.
Behind the boy, however, was black armored rider with the helm in the shape of a snarling dog. He didn't take long to know this was none other than Sandor Clegane, The Hound. Last he heard, he was the boy's personal guard.
The three riders went off to the side and stood still, and behind them a carriage came forth with red Lannister flags, likely holding the remainder of the royal family. Though Ned would admit he was surprised to see behind the chariot was Robert himself, and on cue, all knelt, including himself.
While head low, he saw the small host he was with, a combination of Kingsguard and Lannister men, not a good sign. He saw Robert dismount his horse with some help, and Ned waited as his king came to a stop in front of him, and gestured for all to stand.
Standing tall, he felt joy seeing his friend jovial smile, even though his beard was unkempt and large, he could see the happiness in Robert's face. Ned didn't even notice he was smiling himself, a familiar, friendly face in these troubling times.
"You got fat." A simple remark, not made with malicious intent or any hint of seriousness to it. Yet all Ned could do was look and Robert's own massive belly, then back to his eyes. As suddenly, both men fell into a fit of laughter and hugs. "Good to see you, Ned, you cold bastard, you."
"You as well, Robert," Eddard replied as they released each other. "I pray your ride was enjoyable."
The king scoffed. "Enjoyable, you say? Ha! Like a scorpion in my britches. I swear my fingers were about to turn black from frostbite." He turned to his family. "Come now, let's see the rest of the Starks."
The two friends moved to the rest and each one of them were polite and smiling, Robert himself taken to Bran and Robb. Once he reached Arya, however, she couldn't help herself.
"Are you here to see the metal woman?" she asked, bringing Ned back into reality.
Robert's face was confused at first, then eyes widened in remembrance. "That's right! I almost forgot about that, pox on my memory. Thank you, young lady." Consistent with he knew, Arya's face scrunched at title. He turned to him and asked, "well, Ned, where's the emissary you have, this Lady Ash of the IMC?"
Eddard took a deep breath, turned, and signaled one of the guards, who nodded and left to the castle. "Robert, I advise some level of caution," he began. "These people, they're not normal."
"Aye, I figured as much," he replied. "Even Varys corroborated with your message somewhat. This metal doll named Ash, I would've sworn you turned senile. Have ye?"
Even in this situation, Ned still chuckled. "Not yet."
"Well, what're they like, these IMC people?"
What were they like? That was a difficult question to answer. "Smart, very smart. Careful with their words, and beyond dangerous."
"Aye? So no different than Kings Landing."
"No, Robert," he said seriously, and got closer to speak quietly. "They have different means, far more powerful than we can dream of. We have nothing to stop them should we try." He hadn't seen all they had, but he saw enough, the gun of Richter's and its effects one man can do, the drones they use to fly and deliver death, to the canons on top of the walls of Outpost Alpha.
This made his king's eye narrow onto him, voice as quiet. "You speak of caution, Ned, but what is it they want that we'd try to stop them?"
A good question, one he didn't have a real answer to. "I know they're looking for something they call the Ark, but neither they nor we have any idea of what it might be. I worry if they set their eyes on us, the Seven Kingdoms will be no more." They were cooperative now, but the idea of what could be always came to mind.
Robert stared at him for a long minute in silence, surrounded by his people, before standing straight and spoke calmly. "If they wish for war, we will give them one." He laughed. "Maybe it's about time for one, as well, the new men having more milk than blood in their veins." Then grunted. "I will take your words into consideration, however, as long as these IMC people don't do anything stupid."
Was this the best he could do? No, not at all, but hopefully after seeing the what the IMC has, perhaps Robert would exercise caution as well. And considering the smallfolk began parting, the first test had come, and seeing his friend, he knew something was coming as well.
Murmurs swept through the crowds, words such as abomination and monster were most common of what he could hear. He didn't know they saw her as such, but he also knew they saw her far less than he had.
The people parted, and he heard Robert take in a deep breath, and knew for certain his eyes were wider than they've ever been. Ash of the IMC walked through the crowd, her metal limbs moving rhythmically as any normal human, her head within a hood, revealing her white, porcelain face.
"By the gods!" Eddard heard one of the Kingsguard exclaim. "What is this abomination!?" Normally he'd be worried about offending an emissary of the IMC, but it never seemed to truly bother Lady Ash before when his own people made audible comments. He did what he could to cease it, but never could fully.
When Ash moved closer, so did the Kingsguard, swords drawn and ready, but she wasn't bothered. When close enough, a safe distance away, she knelt to one knee, lowering her head. "On behalf of the IMC," she began, her voice chillingly cold and vibrating. "I, Ash of the IMC, greet and thank you, King Robert Baratheon of the Seven Kingdoms, for allowing us to meet with you. I am at your service."
It wasn't only Robert who had raised brows, Ned's were as well, to think they would go as far as bending the knee. Then he caught himself. 'This means nothing to them, bending the knee is merely in image.' Still, to the fact they were willing to go this far to accommodate his request.
"What in all the blazing hells is this?" Robert bellowed, visibly confused. "What is this creature?"
It was Ned who answered. "Lady Ash her-"
"This is no 'Lady', Ned." He turned to Ash. "Stand up, explain yerself, creature."
Ash she did so, he could hear the nearby Kingsguard shift in their mail. She looked no different than when he first met, she was even devoid of the weapons she regularly wore. "I am Ash, and as you can tell, I'm not a natural occurrence. I'm a man-made creation produced by the Interstellar Mining Corporation, my kind are commonly referred to as a robot."
"Yes, the metal doll we heard so much about. Bladed metal legs, a porcelain white mask, I can hardly tell you're supposed to be a woman. One thing, however; tell me, do you bleed?"
She stared for a few seconds, and Ned couldn't help but think they are of similar minds, what was the king planning? "No, I do not bleed."
"Are you immortal?"
"No, I can die, just not as easily."
Robert huffed. "I suppose one would when made of steel. Suppose I order my Kingsguard to strike you with his blade, what would happen?"
The more he heard the more Robert irked Ned. "Possibly scar my metal frame, though more likely you'd cause minor damage," she said as though a measter. "Unless you mean on grander scale, in which case, needless violence between our people."
"War."
"War," she repeated with a nod. "One you cannot win even in your wildest dreams."
One of the Kingsguard stepped forth. "Just say the word, your grace, I'll show this thing true manners."
Ned stepped closer to his friend. "Calm down, or you'll end us all," he whispered tensely.
Robert didn't bother and walked closer to Ash, his guards close to his side. "Bold of you to make such claims to the face of a king, though I must wonder, how strong could the IMC possibly be. Surely, if they were, they'd begin conquering Westeros by now."
The two stared at each other for a few seconds, Robert's eyes into the blackness of Ash's sockets. "I've prepared a small demonstration," she said. "If your grace is willing, I could show you an example of a fragment of our capabilities, if my own presence is insufficient."
"Yes," he said. "It is insufficient, and I would certainly love to see this demonstration of yours." He backed off, making space, and having Ned release a breath he hadn't known he was holding. "Though within an hour, I have respects to pay first. You are dismissed."
Ash bowed. "As it pleases you, your grace."
The king huffed and turned to Ned. "Show me the crypt." And just like that, with the threat of imminent war looming over naught but a second prior, gone, or postponed at best.
Ned nodded, and called for Poole. "See to it Ash has what she needs." His steward nodded and had her follow him to the castle. He looked around, watching the worried eyes of those close enough to hear what was said. He had enough wars in his lifetime, and he knew most around him felt that way. "Robert-"
"I won't hear of this just yet, Ned," he quickly said. "For now, the crypts."
Eddard bit his own tongue, more than willing to say his piece. Begrudgingly, he nodded and led his friend to the one place he wishes to see, Lyanna's grave. Maybe after, this threat of war would be gone. He could only pray for so.
"Disgusting," Cersei muttered from inside the carriage, watching as the metal woman, creature, or other walk back into the castle. Of course, she knew of this Ash of the IMC, the emissary meant to placate the royal court. She may not always be a part of the small council, but Pycelle was, the old coot, and what he knew, she knew.
"Mother, do you think that thing is just a large toy?" Marcella asked, her sweet daughter, as she looked through the wooden slits of her window
"No, sweetling, it's not a toy, and I best not see you trying to talk with it, as well." If anything, this Ash was a threat to the kingdoms, a powerful group, or merchant guild if the name was of any indication, that threatened war if nothing went their way. "That goes for you, too, Tommen." Both her children pouted. Looking at her other son, she was pleased to see his own disgusted face at the sight of the metal woman.
The Interstellar Mining Corporation, an odd name for an odd guild with equally odd means. By Pycelle's information, these people had methods one would call magical, though they themselves refused to call it such. She had no idea what else it could be, but if these people were gotten rid of sooner, the better, magic was naught but trouble, as was another power who had goals in Westeros.
Her father knew as well, of course, but decided to not act, to wait and see if anything were to come from it. He was cautious, however, and she agreed that caution was perhaps the best response for now. If these IMC were willing to simply negotiate before anything, then they must be softer than most.
Unless they had an ulterior motive, there was no way to tell.
"Come, children, and mind your manners." Even though these Northmen hardly deserve such, she would do as duty and expectation needed. She tightened her coat and left the carriage, her two children in tow.
The image of the blade legs of that Ash thing stuck to her mind, however, even as she watched as Eddard and Robert leave, even as she greeted the Stark family, she couldn't help but think. 'If these IMC people can make such things, then they need to be on our side.'
But if they can make such things, then she worried on what the cost of an alliance would be. Lannisters always paid their debts, but perhaps this debt was too much even for them.
"You shouldn't have antagonized Ash, Robert," Ned scolded his friend after he finished mourning Lyanna. "I told you, these people, they're not normal."
"So you say," he responded simply, completely uncaring. "All I saw was a thing that moved like a puppet. Their flying little contraptions, their weapons that spit fire, their battlements that tear the ground itself apart, I've read your messages."
"Then what's the point!?" he half-shouted. "Do you want another war so badly that you'd make enemies from likely the most powerful faction Westeros has ever faced? There is no winning against them, I've seen a fraction of their capabilities, we are nothing to them!"
Robert turned to his friend, his face now one of concern, but more to his health than the threat of the IMC itself. "We will not kneel to them, Ned. If they want a war, then they'll get one. Like I said, as long as they don't do anything stupid, all should be fine."
"Then why did you do what you did?"
He shrugged. "Because I can. Because I'm the king of you and all who reside in these lands. Pox on it, what's the point of wearing the crown if you can't flaunt it now and then?"
When Robert turned to leave, Ned couldn't help but deflate in defeat. Sighing, he figured that if this was the worst of Robert's 'flaunting', then things wouldn't be so drastic. Now all was left was to see if this demonstration of Ash's could help.
He followed his friend out of the crypts, having been in there for a good half hour, watching his friend cry and pray for his deceased betrothed. He too would admit to have cried at the tomb of his sister, brother, and father, it made him tired, tired of war and the death it brought.
'I can't do another war; this needs to stop.' Too many loved ones had already paid the price, not just him.
Outside of the crypts, he watched as Kingsguard came close, as if Eddard and Robert needed protection within Winterfell. He watched as more and more people moved to one area of the keep, a curious development that he had an inkling of what it was about.
Vayon Poole was waiting outside the castle gate, and when he spotted Eddard came for him. "My lords," he greeted with a bow. "Lady Ash has her demonstration nearly ready, and is waiting for you in the training yard."
The two friends looked at one another, then back to Poole. "Is that why so many people are going there? Who's in attendance?" asked Ned.
"Most of Winterfell, I'd say. We prepared a special seating area for your lordships and families to watch."
Odd, but Ned supposed that was what a demonstration usually meant. He nodded for his steward to lead the way, the smallfolk parting and making way as the walked through the castle.
He reached the training a yard, a large open space meant for practicing all sorts of fighting techniques, be it swordsmanship or archery, all of the Winterfell guard were trained and kept to standard here under the guidance of Master-at-Arms Rodrik Cassel. Unsurprisingly, Cassel stood in the seating area meant for him, likely for both protection and to watch whatever it was Ash meant to show.
Speaking of, the woman in question was supervising the captain of the guard Jory as he ordered his men to stack cloth sacks on top one another near a while behind an assortment of training dummies.
"My lords," Rodrik greeted with a bow at their approach, also in the seating area were the Stark and royal family. A large audience, but larger still were the folk watching from ramparts or the edges of the yard.
"Rodrik," Stark greeted back as he sat next to his wife, his friend sitting beside him. "Can you explain what Lady Ash has in store?"
The Master-at-Arms shook his head. "Afraid to say I do not know. She had Jory and his boys set up six training dummies, two with nothing, two with plate armor, and two with plate armor and shield, one of each on west and east side of the yard. Lastly two archery bosses, and on top of that, sacks of dirt and gravel behind them all. She, however, just went to bring something from the castle."
"An archery tourney, is it?" Robert questioned, confused.
Again, Cassel shook his head. "She said it was nothing of the sort, and that we would see once there was a sufficient barrier behind the targets."
Once the barrier was finally set up, she had men bring forth two waist-high tables, one of them holding a longbow, a small hunting bow, and a crossbow; with them, several full quivers of both normal arrows and crossbow bolts. On the other table, however, was empty.
Suddenly, Eddard knew what was going on.
"You alright, Ned?" Robert asked as his blonde steward poured wine into his goblet. "Something startle ye?"
"I believe I know what this is."
"Do you know? Well, what is it?"
"I have an idea, and if it is even similar, then it is best seen. More so because I don't fully know how to explain it properly myself." Richter came to mind, him and his one-handed weapon he used to bring two Umber mean down before they dared to get close.
He spoke with them after, they said they only felt excruciating pain in their legs mid-run. When last looked at, after removing the dirty bandages later, they saw how the stitch work essentially sealed a small hole on both sides of their legs, as though an arrow pierced straight through. No signs of an arrow, neither Umber nor Stark could've said how it happened other than it simply just did.
Ash come back, carrying with her a large and flat metal case, and set it upon the empty table. Afterwards, all the guards that were in the yard left, leaving her the only woman standing. She approached him and the king, immediately the seven Kingsguard came close, hands on their hilts.
She knelt to one knee. "My lords, thank you for allowing this demonstration."
"Rise, Ash of the IMC," Robert said. "Can you explain what it is you'll be showing?"
"A demonstration of a part of the IMC's military equipment, your grace," she said after standing up, the king showing more interest into the presentation. "I could explain in detail, but its easier and quicker if shown. For that, I request one of your men to aid me."
"One of the Kingsguard?" he asked, to which she nodded. "I see no reason to, simply show me what you have."
"It's for comparison, my lord, a contrast of how our two people operate."
"Humor her, Robert, I find myself also curious," Ned implored. He knew how they worked, if partly, but in an official setting? Yes, he was curious if there was something new.
The king hummed and looked at his Kingsguard. "So be it. Kingslayer, show our guest how we do it in Westeros."
Of course Jaime Lannister was here, Ned nearly forgot about the deplorable excuse for a human. His swordsmanship was impeccable, even he had to admit, but it meant little for someone as dishonorable as he was.
One of the knights took his helm off, showing flowing blonde hair and green eyes, the telltale signs of a Lannister. "As my king commands," he said, smugly walking to the front of the royal attendants, giving a bow, then turning to Ash. "What is it you require, Ash of the IMC?"
"To the tables, I will announce what you should do, nothing complicated."
He nodded to her, both turned and bowed the king, and went to their stations. The tables were forty yards away from their assortment of targets. From the layout, each had a boss, and three dummies with increasing armor quality.
Ash turned to her audience both royal and small. "We will take turns in demonstrating equipment and skill against the targets we have, four each. Starting with the archery boss to test accuracy out of five shots, then the unarmored training dummy to test how quick we can empty a quiver, then a dummy with plate armor to test penetration and its own quiver to empty, then lastly a shielded dummy with plate armor with the same goals and quiver. Time will be measured by the turns of a sixty-second hourglass."
She walked over to the table of bows and crossbow. "The knight has the option of using a longbow, hunting bow, or a crossbow, he may choose any and is free to switch at any time." She held up one of the many quivers on the table. "Each quiver has twenty arrows, or five bolts if he wishes for the crossbow. He will go first and finish through all his sets, then I shall take my turn. The results will be judged by Jory Cassel, captain of the guards of Winterfell." The man off to the side nodded.
Was that all? It was a relatively simple demonstration even the king seemed underwhelmed on what this turned out to be.
Jaime himself looked a little confused, then shrugged, and inspected the equipment provided to him. All the while, Ash simply leaned onto her table with arms crossed, not even opening the metal case she had on her table.
The Kingslayer picked a longbow as his first pick. Taking five arrows from a quiver and set himself at the line, forty yards from the boss. With bow and arrows in one hand, he knocked the first one, brought up and aimed, then loosed. People cheered as it hit the inner circle. At forty yards, this was a simple affair.
Seconds later, he loosed the second, also hitting the inner circle, people cheered, and Jaime waved to the crowed of admirers he had. He looked smugly at Ash, though she looked uncaring of it all. Ned had to remind himself that with her mask, that's all she looked.
Three more arrows and cheers later, Jory went to the boss and examined it. "All perfect shots," he announced, and again, people cheered, though in reality it was a simple victory with little effort to those who were skilled in archery to hit even farther.
"Should we just end it here, Lady Ash?" Jaime asked smugly and loudly, earning some laughs among the Lannister men, to which she shook her head. "Suit yourself, then." He moved to the next target, a simple straw dummy usually used for sword practice. He picked up a fresh quiver, set it on his hip, and took position. "Accuracy doesn't matter here, correct?"
"It doesn't," she answered as loudly. "Speed and hits on target, doesn't matter where."
Jaime turned back forward and began, hitting the head on his first arrow, then the chest a few times. His first five arrows were gone within thirty seconds, all landing on fatal points of the body. At one point, he must've gotten bored and hit any area that didn't have an arrow on them, wrist, neck, ankle, it was simply for fun at that point.
At his final arrow, Ash turned to Jory. "Twenty arrows, all on target, in two minutes," he said, having more applause, even from some of his own guard. Ned could understand why, it was impressive speed and to hit all of them on target.
"Seems as though Kingslayer is good at more than the sword," Rodrik commented. "I must wonder, what is Ash's goal in all this."
"Do you recall our encounter with Richter?" Ned asked, and immediately realization dawned on his Master-at-Arms' face.
"What is it she intends?" Queen Cersei asked. "As far as I can tell, it is a show of Jaime's skill."
The king laughed. "Hitting a target from forty yards is hardly skill, but I need to agree, what's the point?"
What was the proper way to word it? "To humble us," Ned finally said. "To show how our weapons mean little."
Robert spat to the side. "Aye? In that case, she failed."
"You haven't seen what they're capable yet," Ned said as he watched Jaime pick up a new quiver, and began loosing at the armored training dummy. The first one bouncing off the plate armor, the next lodging itself within the shoulder.
"I don't need to. They want us scared and pissing ourselves in the corner because they can make living dolls? They'll get my hammer on top of their skulls."
He didn't respond, Robert's stubbornness showing itself at full force. The best he could do now was just wait. What was irksome was that whatever Ash was going to do was simply partial, and it worried him that might still not curb Robert's attitude.
After a while, Jory came and inspected the second dummy, and shouted, "eight hits, four minutes." People applauding at the endeavor. Only taking so long because Jaime switched to a crossbow after the twelfth deflection, the crossbow having enough penetrative power to pierce plate at an angle, but took longer to reload.
Jaime turned to Ash once more. "Just so you know, I'm not very good with a crossbow, but even you're making it easy," he said loudly.
"Keep going," she simply said, her posture and position unchanged since the beginning. "You have one more target."
Jaime furrowed his brows, looked at his last, heavily armored target, then back to her. "No arrow or bolt could pierce a heavy shield and plate," he informed her, rather accurately, Ned might add. "It's a waste of time."
"Do you concede, then?"
Ned almost chuckled, Ash probably figured out how prideful Lannisters were, Jaime most of all. The man closed his mouth to a frown and turned, using his crossbow to make as many hits as he could.
"So after all this, does she only wish to mock my brother?" Cersei asked. "Your emissary has little in terms of tact."
"It's not to mock him," Ned answered. "This all has a purpose. From what I've seen, the IMC doesn't do anything without a purpose."
"Pray tell, Lord Stark, what kind of purpose is all this for? You've been awfully quiet at it all, though you claim you know."
"Quiet, woman," Robert said heatedly. "It's the creature's turn in a moment, we'll see what all this shite is about soon enough."
At the last bolt from his crossbow, it expectedly bounced off the shield. Though surprisingly a few lodged into the shield, though hardly would count as fatal to any one, impossible to pierce the plate armor after.
Jory came and inspected the final target. "Two pierced the shield, two-minute thirty seconds." His own share of applause, as though Jaime had already one.
The Lannister Kingsguard waved his hand to the crowd, basking in a supposed easy and early victory. He turned to Ash again. "Well, Lady Ash, it was a fun little tourney, but I fear I might've overstepped your expectations. I hope I didn't ruin your little show." More chuckles, more naïve words. "It is your turn, if you still wish to continue."
Ash didn't say anything, didn't need to, but she did push herself off her table and turned to the case. She opened the flat, metal container and pulled out. . . something. Ned knew what it was, difficult not to, but she also pulled out a few, small, rectangular boxes and placed it into the pouches on her person.
The thing she held in her hand pointed upwards was vaguely crossbow shaped, though nothing like it. It was clearly made of steel and some material he couldn't really discern, colored white and black, with multiple nobs, divots, and markings. One unaware would call it decorations, but Ned knew better.
"That a new toy, Lady Ash? You're free to use the bows I have." More laughs, all smiling, but Rodrik and he were neutral to it all. They've seen what it could be capable of. She neutrally walked passed the smug smiling Kingsguard, forty yards in front of the boss, she knelt to one knee. "The king is over there, has your mask blinded you?" More laughs, more to be silenced.
Ash took one of the rectangular boxes, and inserted it into her weapon from the bottom, and pulled back a level of sorts on her weapon, and turned a type of switch. She set her cheek on it, and aimed from the top.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
At the first shot, and residual laughter immediately deadened. Younger children covered their ears until the fifth shot was done. The crowd stunned from either shock or confusion to what happened, but Ned knew, of course he did, as the the bags of dirt and gravel exploded from behind the boss, something tore through it and hit the barrier.
"That's five shots," Ash said, and saw as Jory snapped out of it and went to examine. "Don't bother, it's with perfect accuracy." Unknown what to do, he just kept himself in the crowd.
She walked down the line to the next target, the unarmed straw dummy on a wooden stand. Ash turned a switch, and aimed while standing.
The torrent of noise had Jaime cover his own ears as a series of shots tore the target and the barrier behind apart. At the end of it, nothing of the unarmored dummy remained, the wood torn apart, the bags of dirt and gravel like a mattress ripped apart.
Without saying anything, she moved down the line, dropped the box inside the weapon to the ground, and replacing it with a new one, and pulled the lever once more. She aimed, and let loose again, and Ned watched in stunned silence as her weapon tore through plate armor as though it was paper.
And just like that, the torrent ceased, the end of her weapon smoking, metal tubes of sorts on the ground having flown from the side of her weapon. He and all could tell the plate armor did nothing, holes riddled it, and even chunks falling off as the rivets holding it together were destroyed, before it all fell as the wooden support crumbled to the ground.
She repeated the process, placing a new box in place of the old, pulling the lever, and fire rained upon the heavily armored target. Anyone from Ned's angle could see the shield stopping nothing, the target shook as it was being riddled. The bags behind exploding gravel and dirt as they pierced through the armor and was struck.
Like before, the stream of noise and carnage ended, the misshapen target calling to the ground its support was destroyed. In the end, Ash took the box attached to her weapon, looked at it, and stowed it away in one of her pouches.
"By the gods old and new! What in the blazing hells was that!?" Robert shouted, standing from his seat.
Ash looked to the king, her weapon across her chest and walked passed the startled Kingsguard, who watched her with wide eyes and not a small amount of fear. She reached the front of her stunned audience and presenter her weapon, holding it with two hands for them to see clearly.
"This is the R-201 assault rifle, a standard issue weapon among the IMC forces." She took out something from one of her pockets, a small tubular yet also conical item no longer than a finger. "It uses these to launch steel projectiles from these cases, we call bullets, at our targets with high volume of fire in a short amount of time with high armor penetration. This weapon in particular is able to fire at eight-hundred rounds-per-minute, with an effective range of four-hundred meters with a projectile speed seven times faster than an arrow."
Ned didn't realize his mouth was open, and he'd wager Robert didn't neither. Eight-hundred rounds per minute, ranges of four-hundred meters, and these were standard weapons. 'By the gods, we can never win.' It would be a massacre; they wouldn't ever get close enough.
"And these are standard issue, you say?" Cersei asked, her face was neutral, but Ned saw that hint of fear in her eyes. "Every one of your soldier has this 'rifle' of yours?"
"Of course," she said as though it was obvious. "Where you have swords, we have these. The closest you have would be a crossbow, but our weapons outperform yours on every corner, both in quality and quantity." She almost sounded smug, why wouldn't she?
Robert sank into his seat with a deep breath, rubbed his face and looked to Ash. "What are you people?"
Ned jumped in before any more could be said. "We shall speak in private; this is no place for such talk." He looked around, all staring and listening in very intently. Ned turned to the crowed. "The demonstration is over. You may all attend to your duties."
Begrudgingly, people began moving and leaving, with less-than-quiet whispers and more than obvious stares. What type of talks they'll have, he didn't know, likely one of possible war and bargaining.
"I have no problem with sp-" she interrupted herself, as though listening, but there was nothing but air.
"Ash?" Ned called as seconds ticked by
She moved closer, the Kingsguard closing in with hands on their hilts, disgust and smugness replaced with fear and snarls. "We have a problem."
You know, you really gotta respect Respawn for releasing a total of 4 games since founding, and all of them are well-received, and now Vince Zampella (Respawn CEO) is heading also DICE LA, they've really come a long way. Sadly, I never was able to play the original Titanfall, but I've played Apex, Fallen Order, and TF2 (best boi), all of them are excellent games.
Here's my review for Fallen Order, by the way: Very good game, but maybe wait until it's cheaper than release price. BD-1 is best boi. Indigo lightsaber ftw. Jokers make the best Jedi.
Don't forget to review!