Chapter 46: Happenings Near and Far

Wiscar is a young man from Murrayfield. He is the fourth son of a farmer and a seamstress, and the sixth oldest of eight siblings. He's lived his whole life in the small town seeing no reason to venture out and leave his father shorthanded. It's alright though– the island's a big place with tons of places to explore and see so it's not completely boring.

But then the old Viscountess was removed and in her place a new noble was instated, thus turning Marshwell island to Bartford island.

Life didn't change immediately. There were still the usual greetings and meetings to be done as people came to meet with the new owner of the land to both pay their respects and take their measure of him. His father had gone with the rest of the older and educated people, and returned… not quite shaken but definitely surprised. Their recounting of events spread that surprise to the rest of the town and its people, giving way to nervousness and anxiety.

He was young, or so Wiscar's father had said. Just a few years younger than Wiscar's brothers, yet loomed as tall as some of the tallest men in town. He carried himself with the air of a seasoned warrior befitting his reputation, with a scar on his face and eyes harder than steel.

Many had expected a change to their way of life, from relatively sedentary to brutal and militaristic. What kind of life would a warrior and soldier of his caliber seek, after all?

But then he spoke and made promises, however small and seemingly benign. Better and more comfortable live, for the people who live on his lands and under his leadership.

Through Dame Nielsen, he evened and paved the roads. He hired Armors and their pilots to clear vegetation, so the land could be used for expansion and farming. He even set up power lines and lamp posts, properly modernizing Murrayfield with electricity.

He had his assistant arrange frequent meetings with the townsfolk so they could voice any complaints that needed to be addressed. Homes were repaired and renovated, with payment done through monthly income taxes that rose and fell with the earner's wages– sometimes even done for free. The river was partially diverted so a reservoir could be filled in case of draughts, and new plumbing systems were installed without charge. Tutors were brought in to teach new farming, while surveyors looked for good land to raise future buildings and build farms on. More healers were hired, allowing for better care of the people.

Word of this prosperous settlement spread and people started to move in, growing the population slowly but surely. Buildings were expanded, and Murrayfield became a proper town– with inns and taverns and larger markets for traders. When the population grew too large, the townsfolk spoke to Dame Nielsen and villages were formed; themselves growing by the week.

In little over a year, Lord Bartford had turned Murrayfield into a thriving and growing community– asking for little in return besides their loyalty to the Kingdom and cooperation with whatever future endeavors he would be doing. Now, none would dare refuse.

"Look! It's the Buzzard!" Wiscar hears his brother cry, pointing at the sky. He follows his finger and beholds the airship glide overhead. "Dame Nielsen's back!"

"Don't you think you can run off and see her, damn it! We still got work that needs doing!" Wiscar's father orders. "Wiscar, get the auto-plough ready!"

"I got it, pa! No need to yell!" Wiscar laughs, walking over to the shed where the strange device is stored. Activating it is as simple as clicking a button and guiding the four-legged contraption out into the field where it gets to work breaking up the topsoil. "There we go, all set."

"Atta boy." the older man says, clapping Wiscar's shoulder. "I swear things are changing almost every day now– it wasn't too long ago that we were using oxen to plough the fields."

"Yeah, it's… nice." Wiscar nods, gazing at the airship as it docks in the distance. "Wonder what else he's got planned for us?"

=X=X=X=X=X=

It looks amazing.

Marble flooring that lights up with every step taken, moving murals on the walls depicting a colorful view of an underwater vista full of life and color, as projections of lifelike animals of all shapes and sizes swim through the air as though it were water. Olivia reaches up to one of them and it curiously swims close before moving away– her fingers passing through its tail to no effect.

"Welcome back, Lord Bartford and guests." two lines of maids, one in suits and one in dresses, bow to them. All of them are blonde.

"...damn Leon, you're making me feel self-conscious here." Clarice picks at her hair. "Should I dye my hair blonde too? Just so you can have a matching set?"

"Lana, I swear to every Saint in heaven–" the young man grits out. "Did you exclusively hire blonde women as my servants? Busty blonde women at that?! What the hell woman, are you trying to make me look like some kind of blonde-obsessed womanizer?!"

"Yes." is Captain Nielsen's blunt answer. Clarice damn near breaks down laughing. "Watching you squirm is one of the few things that I derive joy from."

"I'm going to wring your goddamn neck you–" Angelica grabs Leon's arm and pulls him forward. "Ack! A-Angelica, hey!"

"Forget that for a moment- look!" Angelica points at the ceiling, shocked and awed just as Olivia is. "It– It's as though they're actually here! What is this?!"

"A-Are they magic? Please tell me they're magic, I want to learn how to cast them!" Olivia begs, running over and grabbing his other arm. "I want to go to sleep with cats and dogs playing together in my room without getting the dorm mother mad!"

"E-Easy you two, calm down!" the young man laughs. "Alright, I'll explain– those are called holograms. They're projected using light being beamed into a medium with the image inside, maybe a crystal or something like it. Multiple crystals moving fast enough can show a moving image." he looks at the animals swimming in the air above. "I don't know how it can respond like that, though– these things usually follow a loop of pre-made images."

"So it can be replicated?!" Angelica gasps, delighted.

"And we can modify it with magic for they move like the ones up there?!" Olivia continues, also delighted.

"Yes to the first, maybe to the second. I'm not that great of a mage so I have no clue if magic can be used to modify it like that–" Leon starts.

"I have people working on it." Captain Nielsen says. "Any assistance you can provide in the magic side of things will be greatly appreciated, and you will be compensated handsomely as well as a working model of the hologram projector."

"Could you stop trying to mess with my money, woman?!" Leon complains.

"Hey, hey– don't hog Leon all to yourselves! Save some for me!" Clarice runs over and jumps. "Hup–!"

"Gah!" Leon sounds, stumbling forward as the Atless heiress lands on his back; arms and legs wrapping tight around his neck and waist. "C-Clarice, what the hell?!"

"I was jealous!" she pouts Angelica. "Going ahead and hogging him all for yourself– that's just plain mean Angie."

"I-I was curious! You cannot blame me for sticking true to my adventurer heritage! This is the sort of thing you'd see in dungeons and treasure rooms, only brought back to full functionality!" she argues, arms tightening around Leon's arm. "This is like walking into the past, seeing what our ancestors were capable of! It's amazing! Leon, how did you even get this set up?!"

"Did you use magic? Please tell me you used magic!" Olivia practically pleads, also tugging on his arm. "I want to have glowing floors like this too! It's so pretty!"

"Man, you're quite the hot item arentcha Leon? I'm actually a little jealous." Clarice shifts and the young man's eyes damn near bulge out. It takes a second before Angelica realizes what she's doing with a scandalized gasp. "Aha! Knew that'd get the best reaction outta you Angie~ And don't think I didn't notice that blush, Livia!" the Atlee heiress cackles. "Oh boy, this is gonna be the best summer break in a while!"

=X=X=X=X=X=

Julius had expected many things from the duel. Derision and scorn from his peers, the loss of his titles and rank, his removal of rights to the throne among others.

The derision hurt little, for he himself cared not for the opinions and thoughts of those vipers and sycophants. The loss of his rank and titles mattered little to him as well, for he was happy to live his days free and unburdened by responsibility. And the removal of his right to the throne had been a relief, one he welcomed with open arms to be free of the expectation to sit atop a pit of vile vipers alone and unloved. It was almost a dream come true. Almost.

His mother had slapped him after he was brought to her, bawling tears that ripped his heart to shreds as she screamed at him.

"You could have told me! You could have gone to me for counsel and I would have helped you!" she sobbed, shaking his shoulders as she glared through tear-stricken eyes. "How could you do this to your kingdom? To your own mother?! Was that Lafan girl really worth it, Julius?! Was she?!"

He wanted to say yes, to tell her that Marie was worth more than anything the court had to offer ranks and all. He wanted to push her off of him, to demand what right she had to make him Crown Prince. He wanted to be rid of this nonsense at last so he could finally, finally be reunited with his beloved.

But he couldn't.

The urge was there, the fire roiling in his veins, the words on the tip of his tongue… but he just couldn't.

This was the first time he saw his mother cry, and it... It hurt. To see his normally stern and immovable mother all red and weeping and furious because of him… It hurt more than the bite of any more and festered deeper than any reprimand.

It only grew worse when she told him he would be disowned– no longer would he be Julius Rafa Holfort, and no longer would Mylene Rafa Holfort be his mother. Instead he would just be 'Julius', a young commoner man. And as a commoner, he would not be able to resist royal authority lest he be charged with lese-majeste. He wasn't even given time to pack or see his friends and Marie, the Royal Guards grabbing him by the arms and hauling him out of the room where a man wearing a military uniform stood waiting; the badges pinned to his coat denoting him as a colonel.

He had told Julius what would be happening to him now– enlistment into the Royal Army, a three-year term of service, at least one tour of active duty; all to make up for what he's done and maybe make him into a proper man. Whether he can survive long enough to see his friends and get reinstated as a member of the royal family was still up in the air, however.

But that was fine. Julius didn't care much about reinstatement– only Marie. Only his beloved. This final act of spite wouldn't stop him.

All he had to do was survive the military. Surely it couldn't be that difficult, compared to adventuring in the dungeon…?

A powerful force flings him out of his sleep and Julius wakes up on the floor. He forces himself up and sees the drill sergeant grinning at him

"Wakey wakey prince charming!" a voice yelled and Julius shot up out of his cot. "I hope you had great dreams, 'cause you missed the morning briefing and breakfast! So you know what that means, right?! Laps! Not get up and run!"

"C-Can I at least brush my t-teeth first?" the former prince stammers, standing up.

"You can brush while you run! Now move it, maggot!" the man screams and Julius scrambles to comply. "Faster, maggot! Commander Bartford was 13 when he ran through this training and you're slower despite being two years older! Faster, damn it! Come on!"

=X=X=X=X=X=

Sybil wakes up naked, sticky, and sore in all the right ways. Her body aches, muscles tired, and throat parched.

The room is dark and heavy with the scent of sweat and sex. Her vision is able to overcome the lack of light quickly enough, and she scans the unfamiliar bedroom until it clicks– the memories rushing back in a rush that makes her smile dumbly even as she turns to the young man laying next to her.

His hair askew and his face content, Chris Fia Arclight sleeps with all manner of marks on his person. Shallow bites, scratches, hickies, and lipstick stamps cover his toned form; from the well-defined pecs to each individual ab to the flaccid manhood laying limp between his toned thighs. It is incredible that he was able to last so long with her in bed, and for a self-professed virgin he was very skilled in the art of pleasuring a woman. She supposes his swordsmanship had to be some additional perks~

Then she feels a hand slip between her thighs and barely manages to stop a moan from slipping past her lips.

"Hey now, don't forget about me~" the woman on her other side purrs. "It was a threesome, remember?"

Sybil turns to her, the daughter of Earl Renaud, Claire. She is a gorgeous young woman, luscious 19 years old with healthy dark hair and deep blue eyes. Her current state, reclining on the bed with the sheet only barely covering her womanhood and perky breasts on display, has Sybil's depths clenching in unfulfilled need despite having only just been run through not too long ago… for three hours straight.

"I apologize, Lady Renaud." Sybil bows. "I hadn't– nff!"

"None of that now– we just had plenty of fun with Chris here, you call me Claire." the brunette purrs, fingers seeking and curling just right in Sybil's folds. "Saint above, where did Chris find you? I'll have to ask him so I can get another one of you for myself~"

"M-Milady, please!" Sybil gasps as she's fingered, back arching and fluids leaking.

"No. You had the gall to steal my fiancee from me, so now you get to take responsibility." the young woman says, but there's no heat to her words. Instead it's all playfulness and amusement. "Ooh, you'll be taking all of it yes you will~ All the way to the base~"

She leans in close and they kiss, heavy breasts mashing together. They kiss until her lungs burn and starbursts fill her vision, at which point Claire pulls away to leave Sybil panting and trembling. The Earl's daughter giggles, impish and pleases, as she locks herself against Sybil's sensitive mound and starts to grind.

"I can see why Chris took a liking to you, all lean muscle and delicious tanned skin with fluff to match. O-Oh yeah, I can see why now." she bites her lip as Sybil's scissored to another climax. "Y-Yeah, that's it. That's– aaaahhhhh~ Saint's tits, this is so good~"

"W-Wait…!" Sybil gasps. "T-The– y-your engagement–!"

"Engagement later, sex now~!" Claire purrs. "N-Not gonna break it off anyway, not when you're here with 'im~ Oh Saint's breath yyyeeeeeeeessssss~"

=X=X=X=X=X=

On a nameless rock, a ship burns.

It bears the marks of battle, armor and wood blown clean off using ordinance rated against things significantly stronger. It's Floatstone ballasts have been ruptured and the magic mineral within damaged so badly that it lost its ability to properly remain aloft– forcing it to land.

The wreck is surrounded by the wrecks of 10 Holfortan Armors and the corpses of dozens of soldiers, all bedecked in the colors of the Royal Guard. The Armors are wrecked so thoroughly that no trace of the pilots remain, while the soldiers have been mangled– slain by automaton soldiers with arms that were guns. Five Armors surround it as just as many heavy transport helicopters hover in place overhead, spotlights shining and sweeping; looking for any survivors.

One Armor in particular lumbers forward with smoothness that belies its heavy bulk. Its external speaker is on, the pilot seemingly uncaring of OpSec.

"Almost makes me wish for the old days." the pilot comments, voice distinctly masculine and infinitely bored. "At least those older models could take a shot or three. Oh well, no use crying over spilled milk– back to business! What do you got for me, beautiful?"

//"Scans complete. Confirmation on the signature within matching our records."// answers a feminine voice. //"It's the energy assault chassis. It is deactivated, however– we will need to send infantry units to open up the reactor so I can manually reactivate it."//

"Sure, sure. You heard the lady boys, into the ship!" the Armor aims with its laser rifle. "Inside! Now!"

The Armor shoots once and blows a hole through the hull, revealing a large humanoid form of some sort made of metal. The automatons, as one, turn to the ship and jog into it– carelessly stepping over the bodies of fallen Holfortan soldiers in their haste to obey. They clamber in and start disassembling it, opening the chassis' interior to begin whatever maintenance work was needed.

A pile of debris shifts to the side, revealing a man with one arm and leg. He sees the Armor stomping to him and screams.

"Please! I-I surrender!" he begs, scrabbling backwards. "I surrender! Don't kill me, I have a wife and kids–!"

The Armor's foot falls on him, silencing him forever.

"Aha, so there was a survivor after all!" the pilot laughs, genuinely amused. "Quite chatty, wasn't he?"

//"Indeed he was."// the woman sighs. //"Manual reactor reactivation successful. Taking over control of movement systems. Extricating from vessel."//

The form in the ship moves, pulling free from its restraints as the automaton soldiers file out. Then a low whine builds, energy filling long dormant systems and bringing them back to full functionality. The whine builds, growing louder and louder, until it detonates with a crack of lightning and a surge of electricity– reducing half of the ship it was on to splinters while the remaining half is partially set ablaze.

From the flames, a feminine form floats out orbited by three flat pylons that hum and crackle with electricity. The feminine form is only slightly smaller than the Armor it floats towards, six meters tall to the Armor's eight.

"Well, well, isn't that a sight for sore eyes? Really was built to last, wasn't she?" the pilot whistles. "Is she still in there somewhere?"

//"Scanning… Scan complete. Yes, the controlling intelligence is still present within the chassis– it just entered data storage."// the woman reports. //"Hmm. The intelligence is reactivating on its own, maybe triggered by the manual reactivation of its reactor. Overriding admin privileges and revoking all control authorizations, launching 'shackle' programming… launch successful. The intelligence has been shackled."//

"Good job Carol! I knew you had it under control!" the pilot laughs. "Hey, connect me to her comms."

//"Very well. Connecting… connection established. You're on, Chief."//

//"W-Wha…? How am I…?"// a confused voice asks, feminine but different from Carol. Then the confusion gives way to fear. //"No… No. No, no, no, nonononononononono—!"

"Wakey wakey, sleeping beauty!" Chief laughs. "Told'ya we'd find you eventually! Now up an at 'em sweetie, you've got some work to do~!"

Within the internal systems of the long dormant energy assault chassis, Angelica screams.

Notes: Ominous things arise on the horizon! Donate power stones and await a new chapter every (hopefully) day!! Charge to 3,000!