Chapter 14: El Paso (I)
Malik was bored.
He was an older man, with wrinkles adorning his once illustrious tanned skin, and his hair, once a beautiful dark color, was now a clump of gray. Once he was a passionate and coveted prince enjoying a rich life, but now he was nothing more than an old king sitting on his throne, his head resting on his hand as he gazed disinterestedly into nothingness, with an agonizing boredom. He had inherited a dying kingdom, one that he could not even use for political exchanges. The lands were barren, precious metals were scarce, livestock was impossible to raise, and the geographical position was useless for military or trade purposes. Marrying one of his daughters to some foreign prince was a hopeless case, and his only hope, the Order, had basically decided to ignore their existence.
The gold reserves were in critical condition, the number of soldiers and guards had to be reduced for cost reasons, and much of the country was barely under his rule. This was no longer the unified and mighty Polove that his grandfather had once proudly ruled, it was hardly a united nation, simply a collection of starving villages and a capital that barely managed to maintain a semblance of magnificence.
Every day he received news of bandits attacking travelers and even villages, but all requests for help had to be dismissed for lack of personnel. The few remaining armed forces were entrenched in the capital, the only thing he had to prevent a coup d'état. He was not worried about the nobles, as most of them had taken their wealth and fled when it was clear that the situation in the country was hopeless, what worried him was the number of bandits and the possibility of a leader who could unite them against him. The commoners were of little importance to him, as most were too hungry and weak to even present a threat, but the truth was that they were a huge majority, and if any outside force managed to organize them against him, then he would be doomed.
"Mail is here!" a female voice suddenly resounded in the throne room.
The bored king turned to look at a nearby window, seeing a blonde woman with wings instead of arms peering in. The guards present in the room were quickly alerted by that sudden presence, brandishing their spears and ready to attack.
"My name is Piri, certified courier by the Order of the Chief God, nice to meet you!" the harpy said in a cheerful manner as she finished entering through the window, showing the badge with the insignia of the Order certifying her identity to the guards who began to surround her.
It was a harpy messenger, one of the few sanctioned monsters the Order allowed on human territory. The teachings of the Chief God commanded the extermination of the servants of the Demon Lord, but there was a small exception for those monsters that were not only useful to mankind, but were also able to keep their disgusting instincts at bay and be civilized. Few monsters met these requirements, but those that proved useful were allowed to work for humans and live in peace in the Order's territories, albeit under constant surveillance by the authorities.
Malik hated them. For him it was blasphemy to even consider the usefulness of monsters beyond compost made from their corpses, but that was a decision of the Church and he could do no more than accept it, although he did not bother to hide his displeasure.
"Keep your foul name to yourself, aberration," proclaimed the king without bothering to rise from his throne. "If you have something to deliver just do it at once, the palace is tainted by every second of your presence."
The harpy kept smiling despite that venomous comment. It was the smile of someone who had been forced to accept that kind of treatment long ago.
"I bring a message from Lescatie," the harpy said as she pulled a sealed letter from her mail satchel. "It is a letter addressed to all nearby authorities."
The king frowned when he heard Lescatie's name. That damned nation that hoarded all the resources like a hungry and selfish beast, not even thinking about the other countries and their difficulties.
"Here, and please sign here," Piri requested as she approached with the letter in one wing and a document in another.
Despite his displeasure, Malik could not refuse the letter on the grounds that he was a monarch, so with annoyance he received the letter and signed the document to certify that he had received it.
"Thank you very much!" the harpy said with joy.
"Disappear, abomination," the king replied aggressively. "If you ever again show your foul presence in this sacred palace, not even the insignia of the Church will be able to save you."
Piri nodded with innocent happiness despite the threat. "Understood!"
The harpy gave a lively little wave before parting, exiting through the same window through which she had entered and taking flight. Malik watched her go, still with disgust reflected on his wrinkled face. Soon he would have to order the cleaning of the now contaminated throne room.
"Lescatie, huh?" Malik said quietly as he contemplated the letter.
That letter bore the seal of the Noscrim family. This struck him as curious, as he had rarely had direct contact with this powerful family. Now filled with curiosity, the king proceeded to open the letter, reading its contents with intrigue.
"...but what kind of ridiculousness is this?" he said with indignation.
The letter spoke of a so-called possible hero by the name of Grognak, one of such strength that he was now being sought by the Order. It required that anyone with information about this mysterious individual should report it immediately to the religious authorities. There was not even a reward for this, as it was declared as an obligation of faith to the Order and the Chief God.
Malik felt insulted. The only time he received any kind of message was not to provide the help he had requested so many times, but to make him work for free. This was simply an act of contempt for Polove and a personal offense to him, for the few heroes that had emerged from his nation had been taken from his hands and brought to Lescatie, stripping Polove of status and strength, and now they required him to bring them a potential hero as if he were a faithful dog.
He quickly crumpled the letter and tossed it aside, annoyed at such audacity.
"Your Majesty!" exclaimed one of his servants as he rushed into the throne room.
"You dare to enter without being asked?" asked Malik, more than willing to reprimand his servant.
"M-my apologies, Your Majesty, it is that this is an unexpected matter of great importance," the servant said hastily as he knelt down in respect.
Malik considered for a few seconds sending the insolent servant to the dungeon for his offense, but decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.
"Speak, and for your sake it better be worth it," he commanded in a threatening tone.
"T-thank you, my Lord," the servant said nervously. "Miss Spherica requires an immediate audience with you, she says it is important news regarding her investigation."
The old king barely reacted to that. For the last decade that pesky scholar had insisted on a supposedly miraculous cure for the state of the land. Day and night she insisted on a ridiculous investigation, wanting even to make use of her contacts to require the help of the Order. If she were not so young and beautiful, he would long ago have sent her to the dungeon for her trouble.
"And how is that of importance?" he asked, his patience wearing thin.
The servant gulped nervously. "That is not all, Miss Spherica claims not only to have solved the problem of the environment, but also claims to have found a huge gold reserve!"
Malik rose hurriedly from the throne.
"Gold?!"
Saphirette paced from side to side steadily and anxiously.
"Would it kill you to calm down, Glassies?" the Courier asked, already annoyed by the elementalist's constant nervousness. "You said you'd already talked to the old man, I don't understand why this would be any different."
"T-this is the first time in all these years that I have brought good news, I cannot help but feel a little anxious," she confessed a little embarrassed.
"Ignore him, Saphirette," Sofiva intervened. "Just try to breathe and relax, everything will be fine."
The group had arrived unexpectedly at the palace for a last-minute meeting with the king, an act that would normally be unheard of, but which the extraordinary circumstances demanded. Saphirette was a nervous wreck about the meeting, Sofiva at first had seemed agitated, but having ED-E in her arms allowed her to relax, and the Courier in particular seemed calm. That was nothing compared to when he was summoned by Caesar in his Fortress, so all he felt was annoyance at having to wait.
"May I ask why we are wasting our time here?" the voice of the Pip-Boy asked.
The Courier raised his right arm, staring at the Pip-Boy's screen showing the machine's digitized face, which was showing an annoyed expression.
"Wait a bit, gal," he replied. "We'll have a quick meeting with the king and be on our way."
"A king? Does that savage think he has the right to claim the territory of the Master and his companions as his own?" the machine asked with notable offense. "These savages seem to think a lot of themselves despite being a bunch of primitives."
"You sure have a sharp tongue for someone who doesn't have a mouth," the Courier noted.
The previous night had consisted of the machine getting used to her new life inside the Pip-Boy, though she didn't bother to hide the resentment she still carried from the earlier confrontation between the two. The machine was resilient and condescending, never pausing for a second to express her contempt for all surface dwellers.
"I've been analyzing your notes and files," the machine said indifferently. "And I've found some very interesting material, especially from the territory called 'Mojave'."
"Oh yeah? Anything that interests you about my home?" the Courier asked.
"I actually have certain traces of information in my own files that match in description with the place you call home," the machine explained.
The Courier was surprised to hear that. He was about to ask to inquire more about it, but was interrupted by another female voice.
"Mr. Grognak?" Saphirette spoke out. "Are you feeling well? You have been there speaking in another language with your own arm."
The Courier averted his gaze from the Pip-Boy, fixing his attention on the confused elementalist.
"Oh, right, I think I forgot to tell you, you see—"
"Grognak saved the machine that almost killed us and is responsible for the destruction of Polove's ecosystem. Now it lives in the device on his arm and will accompany us from now on," Sofiva explained, interrupting the Courier.
At that there were a few brief seconds of silence in the room, with the other two shocked by what Sofiva had said. Saphirette was appalled by what she heard, and the Courier annoyed that the owl mage had purposely chosen the worst way to explain the situation. Sofiva, for her part, hugged ED-E against her chest, as she had grown fond of the eyebot, who for his part had resigned himself to what seemed to be his new life until he could float once more.
"You did what?!" Saphirette cried out in sheer shock.
"Thank you very much for your help, Birdie," said the Courier as he looked at Sofiva, who was now smiling smugly at him.
Saphirette ran to where the Courier was, grabbing him by the arms and trying to shake him.
"Do you have any idea what that thing has done in my country? It nearly killed us!" Saphirette exclaimed. "I trusted you, why did you save the machine responsible for the suffering of my people?!"
It was not the first time the Courier had been accused of breaking a woman's trust, although most of the time it was for reasons of fidelity, not for saving the responsible for generations of suffering.
'Miss Spherica, His Majesty is ready to receive you!" said the servant as he entered the room.
The servant looked excited, but when he visualized that scene of shouting he could only look to the side in confusion.
"Is something wrong?" he asked.
The question seemed to be ignored, as Saphirette continued to shake the Courier while shouting. The only one who attended was Sofiva, who approached the confused servant.
"Not at all, it's just that the stress of talking to His Majesty has affected them a bit," she said, lying with a smile on her lips.
"I-I am honored to be in your presence again, Your Majesty," Saphirette stammered as she knelt in respect.
Malik could notice something curious about the elementalist. She looked agitated, her cheeks reddening as if she was repressing a powerful emotion. Next to her were two other individuals, one being a beautiful young dark-haired woman who likewise knelt respectfully before him, though curiously carrying a strange metallic sphere in her arms, not bothering to release it even in his presence. He would consider it an offense, but the one who was really acting disrespectfully was the other individual, the man in dark armor accompanying them, for instead of kneeling and bowing his head in the presence of royalty, the man merely stood with a noticeable boredom and disinterest in what was happening, as if he were someone who dismissed the power of a king.
"Are you not going to kneel?" the king asked, his gravelly voice denoting impatience at such a disrespectful act.
"Should I?" the man replied back. "Unless someone dropped a coin nearby, I see no reason to do so."
The king's eyes snapped open, barely processing what he had just heard. There were men rotting in the palace dungeons for far less than what that stranger had just said.
"You...do you have any idea who you are addressing?!" the king exclaimed as he rose from his throne in fury. "We are Malik Bicor Polove, blessed by the stars to reign these lands in the name of the heavens!"
The mysterious man barely reacted to that, simply crossing his arms in disinterest.
"Well, good for you, buddy," he said simply.
Veins began to appear on the wrinkled face of the king due to anger at this display of insolence.
"Guards!" yelled the king. "Seize this insolent peasant!"
The guards present responded quickly to the order, rushing to where the man stood as more soldiers came through the door at the sound of the king's shout, surrounding the man in question and threatening him with their spears. Soon, the stranger found himself enclosed in a circle of armed men, with those piercing spearheads dangerously close to his body, ready to end his life.
"W-wait a moment, please!" Saphirette claimed as she stood up. "T-this is just a misunderstanding, there is no need to resort to violence!"
"Silence!" roared the king. "We only accepted this audience because it is about you, Saphirette, but We will not accept any insolence from your companions!"
The man remained expressionless in the face of the situation, even grabbing the tip of the spear pointed at his neck and pulling it away with impressive calm, to the surprise of the guard holding it, who despite holding the weapon with both hands was overcome in strength.
"No need to get so worked up, buddy," the man said. "It's not good at your age, it'll set off your blood pressure."
"He is resisting!" exclaimed one of the guards. " Apprehend him!"
The throne room was invaded by a variety of shouts. Malik was shouting orders, the guards were yelling threats, Saphirette was calling out for calm. It looked like a battle was soon to unfold, one that Malik knew would be won by his guards, though a horrifying foreboding told him otherwise.
BANG
A thunderous and deafening noise invaded the throne room, petrifying those present. The poor old eardrums of the king suffered that sudden acoustic aggression, hearing for a moment little more than a constant buzzing that attacked without mercy, so much so that he brought his hands to his ears in an instinctive but futile attempt to stop that torment. His eyes were closed, and the only thing he could hear was that infernal buzzing, which slightly decreased in intensity until he was able to slightly recover his hearing. When he did, he allowed himself to open his eyes, seeing to his horror that his guards were lying on the ground, defeated and unconscious, with that man in dark armor now in front of him.
"What is the meaning of—"
"I hope I didn't deafen you, pal," the man interrupted him, showing in his right hand a large firearm of peculiar design that emitted a faint smoke. "I know it's rude to fire a warning shot in someone else's house, but your boys left me no choice."
For the first time in decades, Malik felt fear for his life. His guards had been defeated in mere seconds, and now that man stood before him with what appeared to be a powerful firearm in his hand. A single shot in the air had been able to render him almost deaf due to its power, so it was easy to imagine what would happen if he shot him at such close range.
"Mr. Grognak! You cannot knock out the king's guards, do you have any idea of the legal consequences of that?!" Saphirette exclaimed as she rushed to the throne. "P-please forgive him, Your Majesty, he is not from these lands so he is ignorant of our customs and etiquette."
Hearing that, the old man made a connection in his mind. That man's name was Grognak, just like the supposed would-be hero mentioned in the now-destroyed letter. That could not be a mere coincidence, the stranger in front of him was the man wanted by the Order.
"Saphirette, what have you just brought to Our palace?" asked the king, still paralyzed by that powerful presence in front of him.
"Please do not misunderstand!" the elementalist spoke quickly, trying to reassure the terrified king. "He may be somewhat gruff and intimidating, but this foreigner helped me in saving Polove!"
Those words barely made sense to him. He had only accepted that audience because of the promise of gold, and now he was facing a rude foreigner who had knocked out his guards, an act that in normal situations would be worthy of immediate execution, but that at this moment was impossible due to the clear disadvantage in which he found himself.
"And you want Us to believe that about a man who has Us under threat?" asked Malik as he kept his gaze fixed on the firearm, on alert for any movement from the man.
"Don't get me wrong, buddy," the man interjected as he put away his firearm. "I didn't come here with bad intentions, in fact, I thought we could be friends."
That man had been nothing but disrespectful from the moment he entered the throne room, but that proposal had easily been the most insulting, even more so than assaulting his guards.
"Know your place, scum!" Malik spat in a defiant manner. "Vermin of your caliber could never rise to the level necessary to even consider friendship from Us!"
Malik would rather die than consider a lower-class foreigner an acquaintance, much less a friend. To be killed by a savage stranger was a better fate for him than to stoop to such dishonor.
"Your Majesty!" someone shouted. "We heard the commotion, has something happened?"
A new group of guards, even more numerous than the one that originally guarded him, entered the throne room, alerted by the recent scandal. Seeing them enter the door filled the old king with vigor, who was now confident that he could make the insolent man pay.
"Execute this wretch!" Malik ordered immediately, forgetting his previous fear.
Before the guards could step forward to obey the order, the foreigner proceeded to pull something out of his pockets, doing so with such speed that Malik could not help but think it was some kind of weapon.
The king raised his arms to defend himself, but far from being attacked, he could see a pile of gold coins fall in front of him.
"Consider this my gift of friendship," the man mused as he continued to pour gold coins in front of him until a small pile of gold was formed.
The king immediately raised his hand to stop his guards, bending down to pick up those gold coins, feeling them in his hands to make sure they were real. It had been years since he had seen so much gold together, so he could hardly believe that the man was able to give it away so easily.
"Please, Your Majesty, forgive my companion's brute attitude, his intentions are sincere," Saphirette said as she approached, looking visibly affected by the stress of the situation.
He stared incredulously at the elementalist for a few seconds, then turning his gaze to the man, who with an impish grin pulled more gold from his pockets.
"There's plenty more where that came from if you're willing to be my pal," he said. "And friends do favors for each other, don't they? Well, right now I have a few favors to ask you."
The wind ruffled Paula's short blonde hair, making her feel more than alive. Her horse was running at full speed, riding along the old neglected dirt roads freely and swiftly, enjoying the thrill of running without any restraint.
The gunslinger had left the sprawling and magnificent capital of Lescatie behind, setting out on a journey under Wilmarina's direct order. This was peculiar, as normally she and her companions were engaged in protection or attack missions, being used as a special forces unit for special missions, so being used for search and escort missions was unprecedented. However, she didn't mind, the idea of getting out of the city and breathing fresh air was wonderful for a woman like her.
"The sun feels wonderful!" she shouted at the top of her lungs, ecstatic at the sensation of speed.
Their mission was to search for a supposed hero, a simple mission that was normally left to low-level soldiers or church clerics, but which for some reason had been entrusted to the Three Musketeers. Her companions had doubts and questions about such a sudden and unimportant mission, but Paula trusted Wilmarina blindly, so she was the first to take her horse and set out on the journey. So excited was she to get out of town and fulfill Wilmarina's order that she even rode ahead of her companions, setting out in the early morning of the day before what was originally to be their day of departure.
Paula was never a bright girl, much less someone knowledgeable about geography, so her rushed career caused her to end up getting lost. Far from regretting the problem, Paula took the opportunity to help the villages she encountered on her way, all with the idea that sooner or later she might find the person she was looking for in one of the villages she came across. Her journey of help and adventure ended up taking her almost magnetically to the Tronmail territory, the ancient lands of her family. Most of the lands, with the sole exception of a forest village to the northeast, were arid and poor, with the mines that once brought wealth to her family now empty and unused, its inhabitants now relying primarily on livestock and agriculture to feed themselves and generate enough money to survive.
The journey towards the south of Tronmail was never an easy one, being a complex crossing of the mountain range that served as a natural border separating the arid lands from the healthy and fertile green lands of Lescatie, a consequence of being so close to the mountainous territory surrounding the neighboring nation of Polove. Despite this, Paula could not have been happier, delighted to have left the treacherous mountainous territory behind and now ride across a vast, unobstructed plain.
"I love this air!" she exclaimed as she raised her arms high in the air.
Despite her happiness, Paula's trip south was not for pleasure. Her target was a cattle town called Ironpost which in recent decades had acquired a reputation as a commercial center, being one of the few places in the south that had a lively economy and a constant movement of travelers, although that was not what had caught her attention. In recent days disturbing news had surfaced about the mysterious disappearances of women. Suddenly and without explanation several women disappeared overnight, spreading terror among the inhabitants who desperately sought the Order's help.
"Hurry up, Doris, those poor people are waiting for a hero!" commanded the gunslinger.
Her horse neighed at the command, increasing the power with which it galloped and leaving a cloud of dust behind it. Paula was so excited about helping that poor population that not only had she completely forgotten what her initial objective was, but she had also forgotten to stock up on supplies such as water in the last town she had been to before leaving.
The gunslinger was now riding at full speed in the middle of a hot and desolate plain, with no settlements nearby, with a destination that was days away.
Barely a few days had passed since they left the capital after the initially rude encounter with the king. It took a long and convincing explanation from Saphirette, not to mention a generous donation of gold for the king to understand and accept the group's version of events of what had happened in the ruins. The old king showed little interest in what the ruins were doing to the country and was more fascinated by the massive reserves of gold found deep within the ruins, a fact that Saphirette attributed to the secondary result of certain elemental processes that occurred in the subtraction of energy from the earth.
The king's initial hostile attitude turned to a more acceptable one when he discovered that the ruins were a massive source of gold that could be exploited, something the Courier decided to use as a point in his favor for an alliance. Reluctantly, the king decided to agree to help the Courier and company in any way necessary, which included information and possible contacts abroad. After a magnificent dinner and the donation of some pack animals for the journey, the group left the capital with a clear destination: Lescatie.
The Courier knew well that this was not his world, so traveling to what he once thought was a Canadian city probably wouldn't do him much good in getting back to the Mojave, but during dinner with the king he learned of the existence of other ruins like Polove that were scattered across the continent, the Order being one of the organizations with the most knowledge and monopoly over these. Both he and the machine that now inhabited his Pip-Boy needed access to those ruins, but to do so they had to first go through the Order, and there was no better way to do so than to go directly to their most important city.
Arkaid, now with pockets full of gold and with new special trade deals courtesy of the king, had insisted on taking the group not only to Lescatie, but also to meet his family and have a feast as a sign of gratitude, although the Courier could see that the man had certain hidden intentions. Once nightfall caught up with them, the group decided to stop and set up camp, with Saphirette, who had stated that she would accompany them because of the need to report certain findings to the Order at Lescatie, resting in the wagon while Arkaid slept on a blanket on the ground by the campfire. The Courier kept the sleeping man company, taking advantage of the free time to do maintenance on his weapons.
The machine was unavailable, as she was undergoing a thorough inspection of the information available on the Pip-Boy. Before that the machine had claimed to have what was apparently important information about the Mojave, but the chaos of what had happened in the king's palace prevented her from being able to explain it, and by the time the Courier had the time to talk to her, the machine had already submitted in the inspection, even going so far as to lock the screen and commands so as not to be disturbed. It was now a matter of time before the artificial intelligence was available again, a process he had no idea how long it might take.
"It is time," Sofiva said as she approached him, sitting down next to him by the bonfire, still holding ED-E affectionately in her arms.
The Courier looked up, finding himself interrupted while reassembling Medicine Stick.
"Time for what? Do you want to go to the bathroom or something?" he asked as he finished reassembling the rifle. "I don't know how old you are, but I think you're old enough to go to the bathroom by yourself, Birdie."
"You know very well what I mean, Grognak," she said in a serious manner. "We are already out of Polove, so now you have to answer my questions."
The Courier looked around, observing the wilderness around them. Everywhere he looked there was nothing but barren emptiness, the fire of the bonfire being the only thing that illuminated in that dark and cold night.
"And how the hell do you know that? Doesn't look like anything much has changed," he asked as he put the rifle aside.
Sofiva pointed to the side. "That is the Ancient Arch, being an old natural structure that served as the epicenter of the Battle of Alamencia two hundred years ago."
He turned to contemplate what the owl mage pointed out, finding a huge rock formation at least a few hundred meters high and of a curious shape, as if they were four stone towers leaning one on top of the other.
"And you're giving me this history lesson because...?" The Courier questioned.
"As a result of the Battle of Alamencia, Polove was forced to cede part of its territory to its enemies, with a portion now forming part of the lands of Tronmail," she explained. "That we are so close to the Ancient Arch means that we are no longer in Polove, but in Tronmail, and therefore the conditions for you to fulfill your promise have been fulfilled."
The Courier blinked twice, amazed.
"I don't know whether to be impressed by your dedication, or concerned about your obsession," he declared. "But hey, a deal's a deal. We're out of Polove, so ask whatever you want."
Sofiva smiled. After so many dangers and the terrible heat she had been forced to endure, she could finally satisfy her curiosity. So happy was she that she hugged the now resigned ED-E tightly and let out a giggle, relieved that all the sacrifices had been worth it.
"Your weapons, your armor, where did they come from?" she asked immediately.
"From dead people," the Courier replied blandly.
There was a brief moment of silence after he responded, with Sofiva staring at him in startled silence, as if she expected him to tell her that it was a bad joke.
"You promised me you would answer truthfully," she complained to him.
"And so I did," he stated as he pulled out a 12.7mm pistol, casually checking its condition. "Corpses I've come across, corpses of people who have tried to kill me, remnants of other encounters and battles, one can find wonders if one is willing to disrespect the dead."
The owl mage looked visibly horrified to hear that, but the Courier continued to casually check the state of the pistol, removing the bullets and checking the trigger's condition
"Although it's not all thanks to my grave robbing habits," he clarified with a chuckle. "I've also bought some with my well-earned money, others by sheer luck, and a few by having sticky fingers."
"And where is it that you get such peculiar weaponry?" Sofiva asked, still disgusted by the crude answer, but equally curious.
"From a magical land far away from here, a wonderful and paradisiacal place called the Mojave," he replied as he began to disassemble the 12.7mm pistol under Sofiva's curious gaze. "It's a place with warm, comforting weather, delicious food, kind and gentle people, and friendly animals."
Sofia didn't bother to hide her expression of disbelief at that explanation.
"And is that true, or are you just playing with me?" she asked as she rested her head on ED-E.
"Do you think I'd be able to lie to you?" he said, feigning offense as he checked the parts of the pistol, making sure everything was clean and in order before reassembling the pistol. "It hurts me that you think that way about me, Birdie."
"You are a very strange man, Grognak," she said as she sighed.
"I've been told worse," shrugged the Courier as he finished assembling the pistol, eventually finishing and setting it aside. "Any other questions? I'm quite the open book."
The owl mage cocked her head to the side, considering what she should ask. In the time it took her to do so, the Courier pulled out the Ranger Sequoia. That was the weapon he had used most recently, so it required more specific care.
Silence again reigned between the two, with Sofiva looking at the fire still in thought as the Courier began to disassemble the revolver, wiping the barrel and the chambers of the cylinder with a handkerchief to remove traces of powder. Normally he cleaned using some torn piece of cloth, but that handkerchief was a recent addition, a gift Lilia had given him before he left town. He still had in mind the promise he had made with that girl to return with her and her brother to celebrate her birthday.
"Tell me, Grognak," Sofiva began to say. "Who are you?"
"You'll have to be a little more specific than that, Birdie," he replied as he continued to keep his attention focused on cleaning the revolver.
"I do not know how to explain it," she admitted. "There are so many things about you that I cannot understand. The language you use to speak to your golem and the machine on your arm, the way you talk, your carefree yet ruthless attitude, your warped spiritual energy, there are so many things about you that I do not understand, but that I long to know."
Sofiva snuggled closer to ED-E as she spoke, feeling more comfortable as the eyebot secretly listened and recorded the conversation between the two. For the past week, the eyebot had been recording everything around him, a bad habit of his that now served him well, for with those recordings he was slowly but effectively learning the strange native tongue. It was something to do now that he couldn't float, a hobby to kill time while he waited to recover.
"I feel like it is hard to understand you, so I want to get at least a basic idea of who you are, of your history and what you are," she explained.
The Courier remained silent at that, not responding for a few minutes, simply concentrating on cleaning the revolver. Sofiva seemed somewhat disappointed at the lack of response, even preparing to get up, but was interrupted by the Courier's voice.
"My first memory is of working in a mine when I was six years old. After that it was a whole series of bad decisions," he began to tell. "Gangs, mercenary jobs, extortion and scams, even thug jobs, and I almost became a made man. To tell you the truth, I wasn't a good person for a large portion of my life, and all that bad karma came back to me hard."
As he said that he brought a hand to his head, caressing part of his forehead where the marks of two bullets lay.
"To be honest, I deserved to die, to pay for everything I did, but life gave me a second chance and I decided to take it. I took new risks, I made mistakes, and became a new man. I met a lot of good people and also a lot of bastards, and at a certain point the mistakes of my past came to haunt me," he continued as he finished cleaning the revolver, now beginning the process of reassembling it. "I started a long journey almost ten years ago now, one that I'm still going through."
Sofiva listened to him carefully, surprised that he would open up so much. In the brief but remarkable time they had traveled together he had refused to share the slightest bit of information about himself, and now he expressed himself freely to her.
"I made bad decisions too," she admitted. "They were not as bad as yours, but they severely affected my life, so much that I can no longer return to the place I once called home, and before I found you I wandered from place to place, seeking knowledge blindly and aimlessly."
That caught the interest of the Courier, who finally looked away from the revolver and turned to look at her, meeting her bright yellow eyes, which were still as beautiful and mesmerizing as the first time he saw her, only they were not filled with terror as during their first encounter, but with a peaceful serenity.
"The truth is, I do not know if our meeting was the result of good or bad luck, but I guess time will tell," Sofiva mused with a slight smile. "As stressful as the time I spent with you was, I cannot deny that it was entertaining."
"Accompanying me will involve constant danger, perhaps far more than you can imagine, Birdie," the Courier clarified. "If you want us to part ways, it's not too late to do so."
"I am not so irresponsible as to let someone like you loose on the world unattended," she replied in a playful tone.
Hearing that caused the Courier to laugh out loud, soon finding himself joined by the owl mage. It was the first time the two had laughed together.
"Let me sleep!" Arkaid groaned as he covered his head with the pillow.
They both laughed silently at that shout, covering their mouths like children who have been caught in the middle of a mischief.
"Then I want no regrets, Birdie," the Courier whispered as he finished assembling the Ranger Sequoia, placing the last bullet in the remaining chamber of the cylinder. "Once we get to Ironpost, Lescatie follows, and after that wherever life takes us."
Sofiva nodded at that with unusual encouragement, showing unprecedented enthusiasm.
"Do you think in the future you can take me to this so-called Mojave?" she asked, curiosity showing on her face. "This is the first time I have heard of such a place, and I would like to see it with my own eyes."
The Courier was silent on that question. Even if he could find a way to return home, he could not afford to bring any natives of that world to Earth. From the possible viruses and diseases it might bring, to the chaos some culture clash might cause, to the potential macabre interest of the Think Tank in experimenting on a new race. For her sake, as well as for the sake of the both worlds, it was best that they went their separate ways once the opportunity arose to return to the Mojave.
"Sure," he lied. "We'll see if we get the chance."