Chapter 1: Sleep like a Fish, Drown Like One Too
Rule 3 of the Professional Salvager's Code of Ethics:
- Barring exceptions, a titan must be deceased for a minimum of three months before a dive can be authorized as a salvage mission as opposed to a grave robbery.
Rex knew that as well as anyone, he knew all salvager codes front to back, and yet here he was anyway.
He hadn't wanted to do it, hell he tried to wait a year before even thinking about salvaging from recently deceased titans. Tried, that is. Past tense.
It was a sight to behold. Such a massive creature, so much strength it's body must hold to breach with such force. Its enormous being bursting forth from the cloud sea, a mournful cry blasting from its maw. All this spectacle only to stop moving mid-jump as the light left its core and its husk crashes below the waves, never to surface again. It had been a half-dozen titanpeds or so away, so it was hard to gauge its size, but it was big enough to tell that there must have been someone living on it.
Living, that is. Also past tense. Any proof that anyone ever existed on that titan was now being lost beneath the clouds, along with the bodies of anything or anyone stupid enough to not get the hell out of dodge. The only way anything on that sinking mass would see the light of day again was the luck that some passing salvager's depth probe would ping off it by chance.
That's how it normally went anyways, the ping that ended up hitting it was completely by design.
Rex hated watching it, the titans were almost dropping like flies. He hated being reminded of how little land there was left, and how much less there would be should nothing be done.
However, when he saw this particular titan, he hated something else.
He hated himself, for steering his ship towards the still bubbling section of cloud sea, for running inventory on his equipment as he resolved to dive after the fresh corpse. He didn't want to, and he despised that he needed to. Fact of the matter was that rent wasn't cheap. He would lose the ship if he was behind on payment again and if he dedicated his savings to rent, then this would make half a year since he's been able to send anything home.
Not just because of rent, either. Worse somehow were the maintenance bills. Even after the repairs he's done already, the depth probe's still half dead, his anchor shot's wire is wearing out, the salvage crane's nearly rusted through in some places, he was surprised his salvage suit was still airtight considering it bordered on antique. What was antique were his two spare suits, though calling them spares was being generous. At this point, he was just hoping they would turn into collectors items that he could pawn on some wealthy fanatic obsessed with the romance of the cloud sea. In the meantime, fixing everything was going to cost him an arm if he didn't pull something good up soon.
Not for the first time, Rex was kicking himself for deciding to rent the ship. He should have taken gramps' offer. Free room and board sounded nicer than it ever had.
No, he couldn't have done that. Not after everything gramps and aunt Corinne had done for him. He went into the salvaging trade for the cash, and the folks at Fonsett needed it a hell of a lot more. He could survive on roughed up equipment, he has for years and he will for as long as he needs to. Basic repairs could wait, his village needed funds more than ever. Trade routes were collapsing as outposts literally went under, either dying from age or collateral damage.
For the sake of his family, what was one misdemeanor? Who would even know the money was dirty? Hell it probably wasn't even technically illegal, it wasn't like he needed to report where he found the stuff he sold at the trade guild.
He triple checked the radar, not a ship in sight for continentpeds. Quadruple checked the depth probe, only on the last remembering to compensate 150 peds west. He was right on top of his payday.
Helmet on, canister locked in, floaters and reinforcing sealant overstocked. Crane lowered into position. One step, a second, and a third before a jump, just as he had done a thousand times. Were he in a better mood, he would show off with a flip. Didn't matter that nobody would see, it paid to practice the style points.
His eyes went from the sky above to the clouds below as his jump passed its apex. Rex watched the clouds whip past him, a muted thump could be heard as his dive broke the surface tension. Once it settled from the sudden invader, the watery substance embraced him like an old friend. Just as it would everything that fell into its misty arms.
As always, it held on with its signature ever-so-slight stickiness, protesting against Rex as he broke free of the hug and continued diving deeper. It didn't seem to have a strong grip, but Rex knew better. The cloud sea would hold anything in place forever if it could. Evidence supporting that was just ahead.
It hadn't gotten very deep before the cloud sea was dense enough to wrench its new possession away from gravity. Rex stared at the titan as it stopped sinking. He watched as the streams of bubbles that leaked from it began to stagger. It seems he shouldn't expect to find many air pockets.
Off he set, onwards for treasure, for some beauty of a haul. A titan this big, no way it was uninhabited. Death this fresh, he'd have first pickings on whatever they left behind.
Rex felt sick just thinking about it. He knew it was wrong, but what choice did he have? He had already skipped as many lunches as he could, and he knew he couldn't keep surviving off instant ruska noodle soup and whatever he happened to fish.
His eyes made out the details as he approached his prey. It was definitely a lot bigger than gramps. Noticeably bigger than most isles of Leftheria, too. Had nothing on a continent, but even still this was a titan that had lived up to its title. It was easily at least city-class, and country-class wasn't out of the question. For a moment, Rex let his salvager treasure sense overpower the guilt. There had to be something here. Something big that he could look back on and remember how silly he had been to feel so guilty because it was just so worth the dishonor.
Rex adjusted his air cylinder as he checked the remaining air. Several Hours left, the hand of the gauge hadn't even moved from the full sign. As expected of a golden cylinder. He had gotten a few of these for a birthday present some time ago. This was the first among them he's ever used. The air was stale, but it was worth it.
Rule 8 of the Salvager's Code of Conduct:
- If the cylinder isn't empty, you aren't finished.
For the longest time, he had wondered why that rule needed to be there. Not that the regular code of conduct was policed at all. Unlike the code of ethics, they were mostly just guidelines and several of them actually had very little to do with salvaging. That particular rule had confused Rex because the normal cylinders he always used only ever lasted long enough to pull the target crate from the depths before needing to surface, and that was typically all he needed. He never used bigger ones because the normal ones were more than enough for one as skilled as himself to find his target. That and they were dirt cheap. He wondered just how much more than the best available thing he could bring up with a tank this big. In any other circumstance, the thought of a single cylinder allowing for return trips would have made him giddy.
His feet made landfall on the colossal cadaver. He sprang the traction spikes in his boots and began searching for his way in.
Internal type titan. It was too fish-like for any structure to be safe from the cloud sea on its exterior, so any living would be done internally, hence the name. They would always have some way in, some permeable membrane, a valve that opened regularly, Rex had even heard the Urayan titan had a blowhole. This one? No such luck. Only entrances around the body were a collection of vents along the front of its underbelly and an array of larger vents near the end. Would make for easy movement, just pull in clouds while swimming and use them as propellant when the fins get tired. Also would have made it annoying to get in and out of the thing, since the front vents were tiny and the back ones would be way too long of a road. Might have been a smaller settlement, no real unique products to provide so they settled being the ones other countries outsourced work too or a refuel stop along bigger trade routes. With any luck, it could have even been something like a private resort. High end architecture and hopefully very expensive furnishings for any worn out noble tired of having their hands and feet waited on.
In any case, this meant the only entrance would be the old fashioned way: through the mouth.
Over the teeth, past the gums…well, Rex couldn't remember the rest of it, but that was about where he was so far anyway. The surfaces looked like they would be slimy. Rex wouldn't know, he was wearing at least a centimeter of waterproof material over every inch of his body. Even then, he had decided to swim through.
Rule 1 of the Salvager's Code of Conduct:
- Swim like a fish, drink like one too.
Taverns refused to serve Rex whenever he asked, so he elected to swim better than most fish could dream. Now in particular, it was helpful as he remembered titan saliva had a tendency to be more acidic than normal. Likely not overly so, certainly not enough to damage the metal of his suit, but Rex was risking too much as is and he didn't trust how much tarnish was growing around the helmet's seal.
Once he made it past the slippery maw, he continued exploring the innards on foot. A nice enough place, it must have been spectacular when it wasn't drowned in cloud sea. It was a smaller passageway than he was expecting. Still multiple times his own height, the difference wasn't really what mattered to Rex.
Rather, the problem was why it was so small. titans didn't get proper sicknesses, not normally, so this wasn't some problem with a swollen tonsil. Could have been something to do with the titan dying? Rex had heard that some large creatures bloated when dead, but that was caused by gas build up, and there were no bubbles to be seen. Why was the cave so small? The titan was relatively huge, and this was meant to be its throat. There was no way titan ships would have been able to fit down here. If no ships could make it through, did that mean…
Rule 9 of the Salvager's Code of Conduct:
- Panicking is a great idea if you're trying to drown faster.
Rex began dashing down the cavern as he threw that warning out the window.
This can't have all been for nothing. There had to be something in here, some scrap he could scavenge for some profit. His eyes darted about frantically as he reached a larger cavern, searching for some sign of civilization.
Something…
Anything…
There!
The anchor shot was off the mark by a smidge. He didn't bother really aiming it anyways. His mind returned to him as he reminded himself to set the tow to the slowest setting.
The snail pace of the approach let Rex appreciate what he had discovered. Seemed like his luck was average.
It was a nice enough looking town, nothing particularly stood out as a stunning landmark that would attract tourists. It seemed to be a working town, from what was visible. Mostly storefronts from the looks of it, with workshops seemingly squeezed everywhere a shop wasn't.
The most remarkable aspect of it was how unremarkable it was.
Maybe it was some sort of merchants guild? More likely a trades guild like his own, various smiths made a majority of the shops. Especially likely as the majority of the smiths were arms manufacturers.
Rex grimaced at that image. Violating the salvager's code was a big enough stain on his name as is, but weapons were a line he could never cross. It was a matter of personal principle, of his own pride that Rex refused to deal in anything related to weaponry. He couldn't support battles over territory. He knew there had to be some way people could work together and make sure everyone got to live in their own space.
He grimaced harder as he remembered everyone who laughed at him whenever he said that out loud.
Back to the task at hand. There were plenty of places around the town that weren't weapons dealers, plenty of valuables waiting to be repossessed.
Rex checked his air supply. The gauge still thought the cylinder was full. He had plenty of time.
Back and forth he went from the town to his crane. On one end of the path, he was prying open doors looking for crates to take, on the other he fastened the crates to the crane to carry as much as it possibly could. What was possible was less than ideal, the salvager did need to take a break now and then to pull up what he had gathered thus far before the crane's weaker limbs snapped. Like the town, the salvage was nothing special, but Rex hoped profits would be high due to the sheer volume of it. Even then, there was more still to find.
It became somewhat easier to haul the salvage as he stopped thinking about exactly what he was doing. The salvaging itself was certainly improved by the lack of cloud sea natives disturbing the process.
Almost feels like just another, completely normal salvage job. He thought.
He tried not to dwell on the "almost." Were it actually a normal salvaging job, he would have been swarmed with sea life.
Yeah, that was the only difference.
The work helped keep his mind elsewhere, but trying as he might to fall into the rhythm of the whole thing, he failed. Every trip in and back through the throat fed into a growing sense of unease. That path was definitely too small for any ship to pass through, and no skimmer boat was fuel efficient enough to make enough trips to complete a load of cargo necessary for a town that size. Stranger still, it almost felt like it was becoming even smaller. Just what could be causing these growths on the walls?
To make matters even stranger, he noticed a soft blue-ish glow began to shine through the smallest bulge in the cavern walls. All this together eventually made Rex's curiosity get the better of him. His estimates for the profits still weren't enough, and his air gauge told that the canister was only empty by a quarter. The town was running out of potential hiding places for valuables that weren't weapons, and Rex was as low on options as he'd ever been.
Both Rex's ship and the funds of his village on the line, he couldn't afford to pass something that looked important without investigating. He gave it a nudge with a heavy boot. The wall had far too much give to it. He drew the sharpened piece of scrap metal he called a weapon and wound up a swing to start hacking at the wall. It sliced through it as easily as if it were butter. Too easily, the follow through staggered its user.
About then was where everything went wrong.
The moment the flesh was ripped open, flesh it was since it was cut with such ease, a monster burst from behind the soft wall with its teeth bared. Teeth that Rex got a much better look at as they rushed towards him.
Parasites? Could have been. It was bigger than most he was familiar with, but Rex didn't exactly have time to think about it. In other circumstances Rex could have dodged easily, a side flip gramps had made him practice a thousand times.
Unfortunately, this maneuver was only ever practiced in open air, definitely not while outfitted with a full salvager suit, and most certainly not against something that cut through the clouds like a fired bullet. The beast's teeth found their mark, small serrated knives punctured the suit like it was wet toilet paper and found a new home in Rex's right shoulder. The salvager screamed in pain as a metallic scent began to enter his helmet. Before he lost feeling in his sword arm, Rex passed his weapon to his left hand and began raining blows on the beast. Slash after slash was repelled by the creature's scales, and fear sunk into Rex from how the monster almost seemed to be chewing. A well placed stab was the hit that drove it off,
…with Rex's arm in tow.
The cloud sea around him began turning red. Even worse, his suit began taking in cloud sea water. If he didn't move, he was going to drown. If he moved too much, he was going to bleed out. He needed to leave and fast. So long as he stayed upright, the cylinder would keep a bubble in his helmet. That wouldn't be enough to last him to the surface, but it might be enough for a quick repair job. Rex tried to move along with as little wasted movement as possible. His anchor shot was a bit less than useless without his other hand to help work it. Dread settled in his stomach as he fumbled around his pack, and it did not dissipate once he found his last hope.
He poured the salvage sealant over the tear in his suit. Would this work? It would have to, he had no other options. This stuff could reinforce crates even once long rusted over, it would have to work as a makeshift bandage/suit patch until he made it to the boat. As the sealant began to harden, he pressed on his wound hard as he could in some desperate attempt to slow the bleeding. The pain made him want to cry out, but he had no idea how much air was left in the cylinder now that it had emptied freely, he couldn't risk the waste.
The dread in his stomach suddenly intensified as he heard a growling from behind him.
With little room for the pause, Rex returned his line of sight to his attacker. Much to his distress, it was still alive. His final stab completely missed anything vital, it had merely found what could be called it's leg. To make matters worse, it had just finished eating his arm.
It was shockingly, frankly concerningly humanoid. If squinting, it even resembled a Blade, one of the kinds he's occasionally seen wandering Argentum's port. This aside, it was enough of something else to be neither. The teeth were enough on their own, but the fins, the tail, and the arrays of rock-like scales lining all its appendages told Rex that this was a young titan. It couldn't have been anything else, no aquatic monster he's ever seen had armour that thick, and that was ignoring the glowing purple rock embedded in its chest. The wound Rex had dealt was still leaking but the monster was far better off than his adversary. Its tongue circled its maw as it reared back to charge again, terror filling Rex as he only then realized that his only weapon was still stuck in the monster.
He had wanted it to be over in an instant. Nobody wants to suffer as they die, of course. Were it fast, Rex wouldn't have had time to regret anything. Unfortunately, it seems the universe had to punish him for making the mistake of violating the Salvager's Code. The beast's teeth found a mark once again, this time around Rex's torso. In the process, puncturing his cylinder. The ridiculously pressurized contents did two things upon having an escape path. The beast couldn't get away fast enough, and the horrible popping noise that followed made Rex glad his eyes were shut in pain.
Second, the stream of air propelled Rex and the predator into the floor. Whatever air left in Rex's lungs were knocked out of them as his back and skull slammed into hard rock, just in time for the cloud sea to finish invading his suit as his helmet was knocked loose.
There had to be something, anything he could have done. He couldn't die, there was too much he still needed to do, too much relying on him. There had to be something around here he could use. He grasped about desperately with his last arm, the clouds burning his eyes as his lungs screamed in protest against the opposite-of-air filling them. He felt his pulse disappear, his vision began turning dark, his body felt cold as his muscles lost their commitment to follow his commands.
The last thing he saw was a flash of purple-blue light as he felt his hand settle against something smooth, and his sight went black as the cloud sea claimed yet another body in its eternal embrace.
What was that smell?
Blood?
Yes, it was blood.
He didn't know how he knew. He didn't know how he could tell it apart from the dozens of other smells. He could tell there was a lysaat further down, then an Aligo likely searching for that same lysaat a bit to the north.
How could he tell from the smell?
His nose was never particularly strong, though he did seem to be able to guess what aunt Corinne was making whenever he came in for dinner.
How long had it been since he had eaten her cooking? Too long.
And now, he wouldn't ever get the chance again.
Wait, why wouldn't he?
Right, he had died. Wait, how had he died? Right, he drowned.
No that couldn't be it, how could he drown?
He must have bled out from his missing arm.
He must have bled out from his missing head.
Those sound more right, he thought as he scratched behind his ear.
Anyway, that meant he was dead. Definitely.
So, does that mean this was some kind of afterlife?
He opened his eyes finally.
It looked just like the inside of the titan he was just in. Torn open nursery and all.
Is that what that was?
Yeah, it's where he came from.
No, that's not right. He came from Fonsett.
Fonsett?
Yeah, he was Rex, wasn't he?
Rex, that was his name? It almost didn't sound right. Not the name itself, the fact that he had a name.
What was that taste in his mouth? More blood?
No, the same blood. Was that his blood?
No, it didn't taste right. Why could he taste things if he was dead, anyway?
Wait, why was he dead?
Right, he had drowned fighting off something while…salvaging?
Yeah, he was a salvager, right?
Too many things didn't feel right.
Okay, calm down.
Just breathe.
Breathe…
Breathe?
Why could he breathe?
He was under the cloud sea, he had just drowned.
No, that couldn't be right, titans don't drown.
He was a titan. That's what they called him, apparently. Why apparently? Why was that surprising, he knew that much already.
Why did he know that? Why does he know anything?
Okay, start from the top, what does he know?
His name was Rex.
He had no name.
He was raised on Fonsett.
He hadn't been born yet.
He was a salvager on contract with the Argentum trade guild.
He was a developing titan who was awakened not long ago.
He was attacked when salvaging from a freshly dead titan.
He was attacked when his freshly dead parent was being pillaged.
He died fighting a titan.
He died fighting a human.
This made no sense. He scratched his head. He looked at his arm, curiously.
His right arm.
He still had it.
It had scales.
That settled it, he was the titan. Rex had lost his arm in the attack. He looked to his side.
There was an example of poor workmanship protruding from his flank. He winced as he pulled it free, watching in interest as a glowing blue fluid poured from the wound.
Yes, the blood he could smell and taste were not his own.
Then what was it? He wiped the blood of face to take a better look at it.
Smell? Taste? Face? He touched his face once more. His touch moved about the surface, checking where along it he could feel his touch. His head was still there. Soft flesh over hard bone laid under thick, unkempt, greasy hair.
That settled it.
He must be Rex.
The titan had lost its head after…
A shiver went down his spine as he remembered that popping noise that followed his canister getting punctured.
Wait, no.
That made no sense.
He was the titan. How else could he breathe the cloud sea? Unprotected humans under the sea would die in half the time he's spent introspecting.
No, that couldn't be it.
He was Rex. How else could he know what "introspecting" meant? The titan hadn't even been born yet, he wouldn't have even had a concept of self. Hell, it was probably attacking on instinct alone.
Damn strong instinct if this smell of blood was anything to go by.
Blood…?
Yes! That was right. He knew now, this blood was not his. It was red and smelled of metal. A human's blood.
Rex's blood.
He was the titan after all. Which meant…
He remembered hearing a desperate scream of pain as he found his first meal. The meal that put the taste of blood in his mouth.
He spun around the clouds looking for the source of the smell, and there on the cavern's floor he found it. Rex's no-longer-bleeding body lay motionless in a plume of crimson cloud sea. A punctured air canister connected to his suit desperately made hissing noises with the last of its contents, noises just threatening enough to keep that lysaat he had noticed earlier at a distance as it investigated a potential meal.
A loud bellow erupted from the titans throat. It reverberated through the cavern, anything that was still around ran in terror at the warning.
As easily as he remembered Rex walking on land, the titan moved through the clouds to approach the man himself.
Architect almighty, the clouds around him were warm. His salvage suit was still in mostly one piece, ignoring the obvious fresh holes cut into the sides and the sloppy mess of sealant on the shoulder.
A roaring guilt tore through the titan as he looked at the body in horror. He remembered both parties, how mindlessly he had pursued Rex in anger. How terrified the boy became once he lost an arm within seconds of the fight. How much more terror racked him as the titan continued pursuit even after devouring the arm. How distraught he became as he realized he couldn't make it out, as he realized Corinne would now have no funds to rely on for the orphanage.
Why had he done this?
The guilt distracted the titan as his body moved on its own. He picked up the boy and began carrying him topside. They had a boat, he could find it and take him to help. Maybe help would be able to explain why he knew everything about Rex as well. The titan remained at a loss as to what happened, and he knew Rex had never heard of anything like it.
Could anyone help at this point? Not-quite-Rex didn't know.
Out the titan to the crane, he brought the crane head to deck, not even waiting for it to finish before running into the cabin to the bed.
The titan ripped what remained of the salvager's upper suit off its owner to take a better look at the injuries.
Awful they were. Terrible marks along his body on both sides, the remains of his arm a brutal stump.
It was revolting, both the sight and the guilt as it roared louder. If the boy could be saved, it would take longer to get to a healer than the time he had.
Healer? Yes, a healer!
Drivers, Drivers could be healers.
Blades could have the ability to heal.
The titan didn't take the time to remember what any of that meant before remembering something far more important. Gramps had given Rex a core crystal as a birthday present, coincidentally enough the same birthday he received the set of gold cylinders.
With some luck, the blade inside is a healer.
With some lack of luck, the titan would fail in resonance and he would join Rex in bleeding out, their bodies set adrift on a boat in the middle of the sea with few in Alrest who knew who they were and nobody in Alrest who knew where they were.
Not as if the titan had much to lose. He frantically searched for any sign of it. Rex had since forgotten where he left it, so the addition of his memories were of no further help. Not that the titan blamed him, gramps had been more than adamant on warning just how dangerous attempting resonance was. Were the titan sentient and had as many responsibilities as the boy, he wouldn't have tried either. After the fifth cabinet spilled its contents on the floor, a soft blue glow went into the ship's cabin over the titan's own purple one, and the titan grabbed the source.
A core crystal. Rex never really looked into blades and how they function. It was mostly basic knowledge that came to the titan as he remembered how to use it.
A being resonates with a core, to create a blade, and becomes their driver. A driver has the abilities of ten humans and etcetera.
Whatever that meant.
He clutched the core close to his chest. Resonance required focus, a purpose to be resonating. He was calling a dormant being, he would probably need to convince it to wake up.
Please, he thought, please lend me your power. I need help, I need to help him. This is…
The titan looked to the cabin's bed.
… this is my fault, He… I shouldn't have attacked him.
The titan held the core over the boy as it began to glow brighter. Could a blade raise the dead? Rex's memories had a rumour he once heard, some fugitive driver who could put complete recoveries on those on death's door. Why would healing people break a law? It didn't matter. Blades could have that kind of power, and he needed that kind fast.
He needs to live. Make him live!
The glow changed from blue to a light purple as the crystal flashed three times. He felt the core change its shape as power began pouring into his being . It went from an object in hand to white and blue coverings over his fists.
He knew this weapon type.
Knuckle claws.
A healer class.
He looked around excitedly, searching for the blade.
He found none. The cabin's occupants were solely him and Rex's body. That wasn't supposed to happen. A blade was meant to appear, right? Rex had never seen an awakening before himself, but that sounded right to Not-Rex.
Awakening? He knew what that meant all of a sudden. He had weapons, he knew how to use them all of a sudden. He knew…
He knew how to heal.
That must be it. The titan was the blade. The titan became Rex's blade, that had to be it. It was the only explanation that made sense.
It didn't really make sense.
It was the only explanation he could think of.
The titan took a breath. He could heal Rex now, and heal he would. He placed his fists on the boy's chest, careful not to push too hard. A tingly feeling poured from his being into his fists, from his fists into the weapon, from the weapons into the boy. The boy's chest began to rise, cloud sea was pushed out from his lungs as wind was forced in. Healing wind. Special wind made from ether. The titan didn't know how he knew that, what it meant, or how he was doing it. He watched the wounds, expecting them to close and disappear, to scab over, to do anything at all.
Nothing. The boy's body was siphoning healing like a vacuum and had absolutely nothing to show for it.
This couldn't be happening.
Rex was his driver. If the driver was dead their blades disappeared, so Rex had to still be alive.
He had to be.
He couldn't be dead, he was just a kid.
He…
He…
…I killed a child.
I killed a child, and I can't do anything about it.
Not-Rex looked into the boy's eyes. They were empty, glazed over with no signs of life.
Worse…I tried to…
I ate him…
The titan staggered backwards until his back reached the door in the opposite wall of the cabin. A disgusting noise came from Rex's mouth as his lungs flattened and squeezed out their new contents.
His weapons dismissed, the titan's left hand fumbled behind him searching for the doorknob, his right covering his mouth as he began to heave.
He burst back outside, slamming the door as he exited. He gripped on the railing with both bloodied hands and looked down into the clouds, unable to stop his body from shuddering.
Images of Rex's life flashed through a mind they didn't belong to.
Gramps teaching him to fight. Grownups from the villages teaching him to salvage. Sweet Autie Corrine, working her tail off for the orphanage and still managing to find time to teach Rex the basics of the kitchen. Every salvager in Argentum who knew him by name, every smile on a client's face after he pulled something up for them. Every thanks he had ever gotten.
The phone started ringing.
Perfect, he needed a distraction.
He pulled on a few pieces of a salvage suit from the locker near the back of the ship, stumbled his way to the navigations room, and began fiddling with the ether-phone. Direct line, call from Argentum. Probably the rental shop asking about payment again. Whoever it was, whatever the reason, the titan felt like he could use someone calling him a monster right now.
He picked up the call.
"Rex? Friend there? Signal is fuzzy at the moment." A yellow nopon in worker's garb appeared on screen, or the silhouette of one anyways. Pupunin's accent was always more recognizable than the man himself.
"Uh, hey, about that…" the titan began, but he froze as he realized he wasn't sure if he could even speak.
"Meh? About what? Is something-MEH!" The reaction of the late Rex's frequent employer felt like a punch to the titan's face as the image quality began improving. This was what he needed, someone to tell him exactly how horrible he was for doing anything to poor little Rex, someone who could do the right thing and avenge the young salvager.
"Rex! You look worse than floor of Rumbletum after half-price ale night! What in name of Noponis happen to friend!?"
…Apparently the camera quality on his end was still messy.
"Oh, uh, I…I had something of an…accident." The titan downplayed in what he hoped was his best Rex impression.
The titan panicked as his mind raced with possible explanations. Pupunin was a little on the eccentric end, but he was a good man. Sure he was money grubby like several other nopon from the guild, but Rex had gotten some of the best jobs of his career through him. He didn't deserve to be told this over the ether-phone
"Accident!? Face better painted with red than trade guild walls!"
"Nah, it's…it's nothing, really. You should see the other guy." He truthfully lied as he forced a smile. He took a deep exhale before continuing.
"I was…short on rent, and I found some ads for some…low tier driver work. I figured it wouldn't be too hard, and I needed the cash, so…"
"No, friend not need to say more." The nopon in the feed held up a gloved wing, before sternly instructing who he thought was his old co-worker.
"Pupunin will handle things, you take boaty jaunt to nearest continent and get healy sleep for rest of month!"
"Wha-what do you mean handle things? Pupunin, I told you not to worry, I'm fi-"
Not-Rex interrupted himself with a pained hiss as he stood. The stab wound in his leg had reopened.
"Meh meh! Friend Rex obviously not fine. Even lowest level driver work comparable to needing five not-drivers. It probably miracle you still with us!"
The titan was glad he was already wincing.
"Pupunin already check your record, Rex has vacation to cover break easy. Have big job ready when you get back, guild makes most money when salvagers in tippy top shape, after all!"
The titan's eyes began to widen. This was starting to go too far.
"Hey, hang on there, Pupunin-"
The nopon slapped his wings on the table. The fierce look burning in his eyes would be intimidating if he didn't look so much like a glitterspud.
"Pupunin not suggesting, this direct order from superior. Friend Rex is among bestest salvagers he ever work with. Pupunin hear gossip-talk on what you do, truly inspiring to send gold home when so young. To hear such good friend risk life for rent money, it so horrible that Pupunin even give special one-time-heal-fast present. No you worry for rent, Pupunin will personally negotiate with boaty lender people."
Words began to fail him. He could feel his eyes beginning to dry out as they widened further.
"Meheh, Friend is too thankful for words, yes? No worry about it, it least Pupunin can do for Rex. Think of as workers insurance. We discuss repayment once you return, yes? Heal fast, Rex!"
The screen went dark.
The ship jerked, its built-in titan flinching from the frustrated roar that suddenly ripped the silence apart.
Pupunin hopped away from the desk, and faced the enormous blue nopon at the other end of the room.
"Meh Meh Meh, me think you lay on guilt a smidge too hard there, Pupunin." Spoke the larger of the two.
"Due respect, chairman," Pupunin said with a quick bow, "But Pupunin know Rex well. He very good boy, not be caught dead violating salvage codes."
"Ah, me see now. Bind honour of skilled but naive salvager by using of rule seven. Meh meh meh, Pupunin is slyer than I thought."
"Pupunin not sly at all, just think Rex is perfect fit for job. Would be beyond shame if he miss opportunity like this from injury he get not salvaging."
Damn it all.
The call just made everything worse. 'Rex' had just been given an opportunity that Rex would have kill- no, poor choice of words. Rex was a good kid. He wouldn't kill for anything.
That call was supposed to confirm everything the titan knew about himself. He had wanted someone to scream in terror at him, terrified of the blood covered beast.
Instead he was met with concern that didn't belong to him, generosity that was meant for the boy he ended. Joyous conversations with Rex's friends like nothing was wrong.
What could 'Rex' do?
…what would Rex have done?
Rex was a good kid. He never purposefully made anyone cry, and he always made it up to anyone who cried anyway. He wouldn't want anyone to cry about his death.
He helped everyone he possibly could and 'Rex' took that away.
However, he was also the only one who knew that. Nobody else knew anything was wrong, why did anything need to be?
Rex's inherited memories mentioned a compass that would have been in the third cabinet the titan had searched in his hunt for the core crystal.
The titan steeled himself with a breath and reentered the cabin. Trying not to look at the bed, he rummaged through the other mess he left in the room. He found the compass hiding under a small pile of final rent notices.
The titan tinkered with the small device for a moment to make all the inputs accurate. He found a heading. The nearest continent was the big quadrupedal green one.
Gormott, he remembered it was called.
He walked towards the ship's helm and set sail against the setting sun.
He was given two weeks off after his 'accident', with a friend covering rent and promise of a job once 'healed'. He may not of been Rex, he may never be able to quite replace him, but no one needed to know that and no one would know that once he tied up a loose end.
Blade: Rex?
Rarity: * *
Weapon: Nameless Knuckles
Role: HLR
Battle skills:
Streamlined Step: Improves evasion while moving
Bewilder Bellow: Massively increases aggro drawn when an ally's health is below 30%
Field skills:
Wind Mastery Lv 1: The power of a Wind Blade
(Locked) Salvaging mastery: Knowledge related to salvaging.
Cloud Sea Commoner: The ability to breathe in the cloud sea. Skill exclusive to Rex?
The air rushed past as she ran through the woods. This conspired with the wind to knock her hood off her head.
She didn't bother pulling it back up. It would have just been knocked down again, and she didn't have time to waste on anything that could slow her down. Plus, she needed as much light entering her eyes as possible. Inigo forest was notorious for how hard to navigate it was at night.
"I think I see her! This way!"
Not as if having it up would have made a difference anyways. Every monk chasing her already knew exactly what to look for.
Young Gormotti driver, white beast-form blade. Nia had thought staying away from Torigoth would have been more than enough for Indol to lose interest but apparently not. The bastards were committed at least.
Ought to BE committed to a mental ward, more like.
She grit her teeth as her ears flicked about.
Honestly, she finally returns to Gormott after how many years abroad and they're still hunting for her? Why the bloody hell were they even in Pom village, there's nothing there!
Okay, that was overly harsh, there wasn't a better cream orange paratha in all of Alrest than the Extravagant Ald café, but it was still ridiculously out of the way. Especially since Torigoth was the only town on the titan with a real port for cryin' out loud!
She was told her thoughts were wandering too much by a branch smacking her cheek.
"Eyes on the road, my lady." came a coarse but calm voice beside her.
Dromarch's tone barely betrayed how worried he was.
Truth be told, she was worried too. Though, this wasn't anywhere near the most men Indol had ever thrown at her. Back when she still lived in the capital, they had sent companies twice this size. It was during those chases she learned to never underestimate Indoline persistence. Tree after tree flew by as they ran, the sounds of those Indoline never becoming any quieter. Praetorian guards could canvas areas for days on any hint of her, and it took use of every skill she had any time she escaped them. She had never wandered this far down the titan on her own, she could barely use her home field advantage. This chase could very well be their last.
She rubbed the sore side of her face as she pondered.
What could she do?
Stand and fight? Yeah, sure, and then Indol could say they were completely in the right to send even bigger legions of even better trained warriors after her. She was a violent criminal driver, after all.
Keep running? Run to where exactly, they had guards posted in Pom and she was pretty bloody sure they weren't there for the cheap armu steak and surprisingly delicious fruit.
Hide? She could never properly lose them from this distance, they would definitely find her if she stopped moving. So long as she could hear them, she couldn't stop
She didn't have a plan, and nothing would have worked anyway. She had even tried luring the bastards through Rotbart territory, and not even that had worked.
Maybe the monkey followed Indol's teachings. He was well over stupid enough to.
Nia held back more witty thoughts as she and her blade took a sharp turn down a hill. She struggled a little to keep her footing on the slope as they began to enter Gormott's lower levels. The cloud sea had just receded, so plenty of mist still clung to the terrain. She hoped this combined with the even denser tree covering would make it easier to disappear into the night.
For a moment there was a chance. The clattering footsteps of the monks hesitated. Not that she could blame them. Deadly driver specialized in attacking in a way that doesn't draw attention hiding among a pitch-black forest. Just asking to turn the small squadron of Indol's mediocre-est into another dark story to keep the blighters out of the woods.
She slowed to catch her breath in the calm.
The calm did not last long. She couldn't hear what their leader told them, but it was apparently enough. They continued on. Not towards her, no that would have made too much sense. They circled around, and as their footsteps turned wet Nia's stomach dropped.
Those bastards.
Sheeno forest in the titan's lower level. It was dense and dark and frightening, and also the smallest forest on Gormott by a considerable margin. They didn't need to see her to chase her any more. They were going to cut her off at the old ghostwood road through the surrounding marshland and start moving in along the whole length. Even if she got there first, there was nowhere else to go. The path hugged the edge of the titan, and the way that wouldn't have Indoline walking down it was a dead end.
She had run herself directly into a damn ambush.
She surveyed her surroundings, trying to process anything in the area that could give her an escape route. Every book she had ever read in the noble library bore their contents to her, any possible answer to her predicament. An idea struck that she was surprised had never occurred as she knocked on the nearest tree.
"Dromarch!" She whispered as loud as she dared, "the trees here mostly look like muscle wood. Sturdy stuff, single branch could support the both of us. They grow tall and thick, too. Could probably find one 'round here taller than high tide, thicker around than the both of us."
The tiger-like blade took the hint. A few bounds and he was up the nearest tree. Nia quickly followed suit.
" 'mon then, we need to get higher if we want to get out of this."
Higher they went, jumping between the branches of the canopy. Any noise they made would have been drowned out amongst the sounds of other wildlife doing the same. Nia was a little out of practice, but there were always enough branches between her and free falling to allow plenty of margin for error. Under Dromarch's bulky frame hid an elegant fighter. His grace in movement had always exceeded Nia's own. The perks of having four legs, she mused. Her geography was spotty when it came to Gormott's wilderland, and it had been so long since her last visit to the titan's underside that there would have been a lot that's changed anyways. Changes that became apparent once she saw glowing in the distance.
It seemed to come from a series of plants. It wasn't a native breed, it was the one plant interesting enough for Nia to sit through one of Dromarch's lectures. Not quite interesting enough that she could remember what they were called, but she remembered what they were for. They were path markers, used along the ceiling of the trails to help wanderers in darkness.
Which meant she was almost at the path.
Which meant Sheeno Forest was even smaller than she remembered.
Made sense, at least. Muscle wood was renowned for its durability, and lumber was the province's most profitable export. Of course they would be using these woods for timber. Of course, never in a million years would they think any harm would come of it.
Of course, now Nia was down an escape option. Few of the remaining trees were tall enough to fully escape a field of view. Fewer were thick enough to carve a hole into and wait until the tide rose and fell to flush out the indoline. None had any trees nearby that would allow for easy access to a climbing point out of Indoline view. The plan had crumbled in her hands. Insult to injury, she could now see up the path, and the path had one of her pursuers already walking down it.
There was one last thing she thought of. A last desperate shot. It was unlikely, but at this point they had nothing to lose.
Nia jumped down the tree, branch to branch. Dromarch called back questioningly, but she didn't stop. He growled slightly as he raced after her.
"My lady, I asked where you think you're going?"
"Area's changed a lot over the years, looks like. Maybe this isn't a dead-end anymore." She responded. She hoped she sounded more sure of the statement than she actually was.
"And then what do we do if it is?"
"I…I don't know." She admitted. "Maybe…they'd give us preferential treatment if we handed ourselves in?"
"Your optimism is admirable, but I highly doubt that."
"Then let's just keep moving."
The trail led over a bridge, leading through some clearings covered in marshland. Some wildlife nearby shot her a puzzled glance, but everything left her to her own devices. They managed to put distance between them and the Indoline, but Nia could still hear them. They turned one last corner, and Nia's stomach dropped. As Dromarch had feared, the dead-end was as dead an end as ever. Nothing of interest down here this far, anything that was would easily be washed away by the cloud sea. Nobody would have any reason to develop the land. The cliff she stood at was a straight drop, she barely had the courage to look over it. Tide was low, and lowering further by the minute. There was absolutely nothing of note to the surrounding area.
Nothing except for a certain odor to the air. Meaty and metallic, a scent Nia was well familiar with from how many scraps she's healed in her life. It was subtle at first, barely there from a dozen peds or so up trail, but it only got thicker the further she ran down the path. Now at the bottom, she could properly identify it.
The scent of blood, both fresh and rusting.
A growl like rolling thunder came from behind, telling her that she was inside the territory of whatever made so many things bleed.
Their boots were caked in mud. Their skin was drenched with sweat. Their lungs were filled with humidity. Architect knew how the Gormotti managed to make a functional lumber farm down here. Architect knew why they continued their chase into these unpleasant conditions. Well, no. Most of them knew why they were chasing her. The odd younger member of the company needed to be reminded every now and again, but otherwise they had to stay determined.
They all knew that they had to think that, but it was hard to stay motivated when the ground didn't want to let you take more steps.
Honestly, the majority of them weren't even full fledged praetorium guards yet. They were just in Gormott for the week to practice some rural-area training exercises.
"How much farther?"
"Have we found her yet?"
"Can't we just turn back?"
There must have been an echo in the lower levels, because those questions seemed to be repeated every few minutes no matter how many times the superiors turned and threatened whomever their source was. Their ambush plan had failed. Somehow, the Gormotti girl had made it across the whole wooded area before they had surrounded it, and they spent the last five minutes searching for nothing. Morale wasn't exactly high regarding their impromptu pursuit, and how little they had to show for it was only making it lower.
A roar like a storm's wind broke them from their stupor. It rumbled through the air, hostility dripping from it for each of the five seconds it lasted. It didn't sound like anything that they recognized, but it did sound like something they didn't want to meet in near-pitch darkness.
They heard the voice of their target. It seems they had been beaten to the punch.
"Stop it! Not any closer, get away! I swear, I'll-"
Her desperate warnings were interrupted with a snarl. A blood-curdling scream pierced through the forest's dark landscape.
More unnerving was when it was abruptly cut-off with a wet snap.
"My Lady!" A man's voice cried, loud with anger and disbelief.
A yell of anguished rage followed, along with sonorous slams and cracking noises.
An enormous tree tumbled into their path, all those it nearly missed stumbling back as they tried to process what was going on.
Any attempts of understanding were lost as a second roar filled the woods, 'roar' of course not describing it fully. The bellowing rumble was accompanied by a relatively barely-audible grunt of pain as a white and red mass of fuzz flew past.
They recognized it as the blade of the suspected flesh eater they were chasing as it collided hard enough with another tree to knock it over. There was a new addition of patches of blood covering its fur.
The tiger looked towards them and his eyes widened.
"Run you fools!" He shouted, short of breath.
"I'm as good as dead, it already took my Lady. I can at least hold it off for you!"
"B-By order of the p-praetor…and the will of the architect…"
"Yes, yes, praise the architect and all that, but I don't think this beast cares!"
The white blade was struggling to speak. "Unless you want to meet the architect prematurely, RUN!"
The youngests of the guards took the hint and turned tail. More began following suit as a third bellowing roar, much closer than the last, echoed around the trees. With no forces left, the eldest took a strategic retreat after promising the tiger to return for his core crystal with a quick shout.
They reconvened at the lower level's entrance. It was voted unanimously that this incident would be reported as a false alarm.
It was voted by majority that they would reasonably exaggerate how heroically they had saved the girl, even if she was a suspected flesh eater, and that she insisted on returning on her own.
It was voted by minority that they were a disgrace to Indol's teachings, and would be worked twice as hard for the rest of the week.
Nia wasn't quite sure what to make of the whole situation.
"Sorry, was that too loud?" asked the boy standing over her, offering her his good hand. "I'm still not quite used to doing that."
At least that's what she thought he said. Her ears took the full force of two of the lad's yells, and they burned with an incessant ringing.
She had the foresight to cover her ears for the last one, but the other's may as well have been right next to her head. Not that covering them helped much anyways, but it did something. She massaged her head for a moment, just enough that she could hear her own words over the potential tinnitus.
"Who the bloody hell are you?" she asked as she pulled herself to her feet.
It wasn't an unreasonable question, considering exactly what she was looking at.
He was just a boy. Fourteen, maybe sixteen at the oldest. He was only about as tall as she was, but his footsteps were much more impressive sounding courtesy of his enormous metal boots. To most others it would have been a ridiculous outfit, but Nia had seen clothes like that before. Though, the ones she'd seen were nearly always fresh and clean. She had only ever seen a few that were ever noticeably worn, and she had definitely never seen any worked as hard as the red and grey salvaging suit the boy was wearing. The insulation body he wore as clothing was nearly threadbare. So many cuts and gashes ran across the thick waterproof leg sections, Nia was surprised the more important areas remained untouched. What's more he either wasn't wearing the matching jacket piece or it had disintegrated off his shoulders, and it wasn't obvious which was more likely. Nia was thankful his shorts were at least well intact.
Calling the color of the suit grey may have been preemptive; the more she looked, the more she realized it was likely black originally and lost its color to years of washing and sun bleaching. Calling it red might have been preemptive as well. There was evidence to suggest that was a very recent addition.
The scent of blood was almost soaked into the boy, likely because of the blood that soaked him. A heavy smear across his face glued a chunk of his brown greasy hair to his forehead, his mouth and left arm nearly looked like they were sprayed with crimson paint. It wasn't out of rudeness that Nia ignored his hand when getting up.
A worse sight was his right arm, but Nia had been present for what happened to that.
It happened not three minutes earlier. The boy growled at her near the end of the trail. She didn't understand what he was doing, so she tried shoo-ing him away. The sounds of Indoline only got closer, and she didn't want some kid to get imprisoned for associating with her.
However, things started to go south when he let loose that yell. Within seconds, her sensitive ears became near useless and she was grinding her teeth in pain. She tried harder to make him leave, to no avail
She couldn't tell how loudly she had screamed when he dove at her with large fangs bared, but she could guess from how dry her throat was now.
Much to Nia's surprise, instead of her neck his teeth drove into his own right arm, loudly breaking it while his left hand covered Nia's mouth.
"Don't make another sound."
Dromarch jumped to her defense. A few more bites found the boy until the tiger was thrown off, his pure white fur now stained a motley red. Tightening his remaining hand into a fist, a basic knuckle claw was conjured in the boy's hands.
Now clearly a blade, he randomly swung at anything that could have made a noise, dealing astonishing amounts of damage to anything unfortunate enough to not be Dromarch. When finished, he picked up the tiger-like blade, whispered something to him, and threw him across the clearing with another roar.
Dromarch seemed to understand their situation immediately, and made a great show for the soldiers chasing them. One more roar from the new blade and they were gone in moments.
The boy sighed as he wiped his brow. "Glad that worked. I didn't have any better ideas."
Back in the present, the boy was certainly taking his time to answer Nia's question.
"I'm still waiting, who are you?" she reiterated.
"I know, I just…" the boy almost looked somber as he constructed his response, as if his name was some incredibly sad business he didn't like sharing.
"...Rex. You can call me Rex. Everyone else will."
"They will? You mean they don't already?" Nia was skeptical, but a few gears in her head were starting to turn regarding his strength, appearance, and reactions as he seemed to grow even more sullen at the question. "What, that a sore spot or something?"
"Well...I'm…" 'Rex' shook his head before changing the subject. "Should we check on your blade? I threw him harder than I meant to."
"If you hadn't, I doubt it would have been so convincing, sir Rex. Thank you for your concern, however." The blade in question had made his way over on his own, and interjected himself into their conversation a bow. The bow turned into a downward stretch.
"That said, you do seem to have quite the-" he grunted as his back popped loudly, "-Ah, there we are. Quite the throwing arm."
"You're alright then, Dromarch?" Nia asked her blade, "No sprains or fractures or nothing?"
"Ah, it is refreshing to be reminded that my Lady cares so deeply for me. No, I am fine" the gentleman tiger responded before shaking off some of the dirt and wood chips in his fur. The crimson staining him would take some proper deep grooming to get out.
"With that being said, sir Rex, that's quite a gruesome sight on your arm there. Will you require any medical attention?"
Nia knew his asking was just a formality, she could already feel Dromarch taking in ether.
"Huh? Oh, right, I had forgotten about that." He said as he inspected his right arm, "I'm sure it's fine-"
"Fine nothing, you're getting healed." Nia interrupted his downplay.
"Wha-" Rex couldn't finish before Nia sat him on a nearby stump, while Dromarch took the matter of healing into his own paws.
While she had him still, Nia had a long list of questions besides his name that she needed Rex to answer.
"So then, Rex, why did you help us?" It was as easy a question as any to begin with, "If I were in your situation, I'd wager the last thing I'd want to do is risk capture by Indol to help a stranger."
Rex seemed to perk up at that.
"Well, I couldn't just sit by and watch someone get falsely arrested. Fifth rule of the Salvager's code, always be the kind of man who does the right thing." His rusty-brown eyes seemed to gleam when talking about this code of his.
"Far as you know I could be guilty as sin, please tell me you had more to go on than that? You shouldn't go chancing that kind of stuff on a whim kid."
"Hey, you look about as much a kid as I do, lady."
"Just answer the bloody question."
Rex took a deep breath before he presented his conclusion. "I know you're mostly innocent, and you don't seem like a bad person."
It had been a long while since anyone's called her that in any capacity. She would have laughed if it wasn't her own sore spot.
"I'm innocent? How do you figure?"
Rex scratched the back of his head as he considered his answer.
"You smell nice. Like…oranges and …a bit like me. I knew you couldn't be all bad."
She paused at that. On its own, it was an odd thing to base wanting to fake someone's death to escape authorities, but…
"Excuse me? How do you go off saying I smell like you when you're that caked in blood?" she countered slightly indignantly.
Rex jumped a little as he was reminded of his state. From how bad he smelled because of it, one would think it would be a difficult thing to forget.
That's adrenaline for you, Nia supposed.
"If I may interrupt, my Lady," Dromarch spoke, "Sir Rex, your arm is good as new. Do try not to do that again."
The boy stretched and flexed his now repaired arm. No sudden yelps occurred in the process, looks like Dromarch was as amazing a healer as always.
"Wow, it feels good as new. Thanks, uh, Dromarch, right?" At least Rex was nice, even if his circumstances made him more than a little suspicious.
"At your service, sir Rex." the large cat in question replied with a nod, "and of course, my driver, Lady Nia."
"Charmed," Nia spoke with a slight bite to her words, "I'll shake your hand after we get out of here and get you cleaned off."
As badly as she wanted to know exactly how he acquired so much 'body paint', she could put two and two together with the fact that he was a blade that could bleed. That question could wait until they were titanpeds from Gormott. A shower or three wouldn't hurt either. Or a load of laundry. A hot meal would be nice too, she had to leave Pom before she could finish her parathas. Maybe a quick nap, she had been running for a while.
She sighed.
Her ears were gonna droop if this kept up.
"Right then, Rex, you have a good track record for ideas, you got any thoughts on where we should go? I'm not exactly keen to stick around Gormott much longer"
"Yeah, I got a place. Just off a few dozen peds around the wall, I moored my ship. It'll be a bit small for the three of us, though." He gestured to an enormous tree to their side, dusting his hands off before summoning his blade weapons. "Wait here, I'll bring her 'round."
The young-looking blade began scaling the side of the massive pile of lumber, his claws acting as makeshift climbing hooks as he crawled around the side of it. Nia was impressed at Rex's speed as he disappeared around the corner.
Dromarch broke the silence first.
"Are you sure we can trust the boy, my Lady?"
"I'm not fond of the alternative," she replied, looking over her shoulder, "Honestly, no, I don't trust him, but he risked his life to save us and he can get us away from here. Push comes to shove, guess we'll just do what we always do."
She hoped they wouldn't have to, though. She wasn't sure her feet could take much more of it. An enormous sense of relief ran through her legs as she climbed on her fuzzy companion's back, celebrating finally being able to rest.
The familiar feeling atop Dromarch didn't completely calm her nerves, but for now it was enough.