The Farewell of Neydren!

I woke up from a decent sleep once the alarm clock went off and then clean myself up in the bathroom, taking that small tinned medkit, the free toothpaste and the razor before putting them in my rucksack and then with that I made my way downstairs with my bags and then dumped them into the back of the truck with the rifles that were surprisingly not stolen by anyone from the area.

It was then Ari was out next and dumped her things into the back of the truck next and then Harry before we began fitting the canopy on the back of the truck and then I headed back inside after closing the truck. I said, "Grab the order for the equipment from the mountaineering shop, I'll be right back! Helping Aunty Irene pack before we make tracks!"

"Are you sure? I don't want to deal with a pissy con artist!"

"Oh shut up, girl... Let's make the order for the extra climbing equipment!" Harry replies angrily.

I shook my head to the pair and firmly said, "Just fucking get the order done!"

It didn't take me long before I took a swift walk to the home above the inn. I enter and saw my unrelated Aunt looking for the last thing to complete her equipment and that was her guns, which were stored. To my surprise, she had everything packed and ready before I then said to her, "I thought we would've had to wait for you,"

"Nah, Six-o'clock drill. I had everything packed by Eight but my guns are nowhere to be found, putting me in a pretty pissy mood," She sighed looking in a cupboard before she then pulled out a heavy kitbag amongst all the other bits and bobs and then unzipped it to find two of her old guns which one was a heavily engraved with kill strikes, campaign names and tidbits and a scope and comments "There is my multi-campaign scout rifle!"

"Okay, pistol?"

"Getting onto that, Joseph. I need one in a green metal box."

I just simply incline my head and then we search high and low, cupboard to cupboard, hoping to find a pistol of some description without any clues to what it looks like. It'll be likely etched with designs, markings and orc kill strikes and the handle being taped or wrapped.

I then found a military olive green box that had some markings, which I reached up to get from the shelf that was above the refrigerator and then pulled it down.

"Will this be it?" I asked, while putting the metal box down on the table and cracking it open to see pictures of William and a revolver marked by scratches and etches and the smooth wooden handle wrapped in fabric tape.

I motioned to Aunt Irene to the box as she looked inside and held back her misery that her son was gone, giving me a small hug and tried to hide the pain with a smile and took the picture of Will and his revolver.

Then lastly, we looked for leather holster, which was beneath her duster and then putting it through her loops. Funnily, she had two holsters, which one had Will's revolver and her own revolver. She then threw her duster on and then grabs her bags and then says, "Let's go. We have got quite a bit to do, have we not?"

I inclined my head in agreement and then said, "Alright, follow me then." I led her out to our new truck and then said, "Throw the bags into the back there and we'll head to that mountaineering place we went to."

"Very well, then let us go!" she said, hauling herself up and getting in the truck with me as we headed to the mountaineering shop we bought from yesterday and then took a decent drive to the shop before parking outside and waiting for a good while before seeing the pair come out with our things and a few bundles of items in a rucksack.

I rolled down my window and cocked a brow. "what are those for?!" I shouted over the loud rumble of the engine.

Ari replied, yelling, "Tents, bedrolls, and utensils! No way am I sleeping in the back of this truck on a wooden floor!"

I nodded and then she then got in with Harold, who dressed up warmly as we locked up the back and then began our journey to Kjelensberg on the road out, getting guided by Irene. We were out onto the open road towards our next destination, switching the radio on and tuning it out of Dwarven Soviet stations and into the more local stations that were playing more pleasant travel songs.

My Aunt then quizzes, "How did you lot get those rifles in the back?"

"The dwarf spoke perfect Isle even if he had a thick accent and threw a couple of rifles in there for us since they were over-producing them and most soldiers prefer the older guns." Harry explained.

"Yeah, according to the soldiers on their front, the rifles were harder to clean and a little more inaccurate than the traditional bolt action. The dealership dwarf handed two boxes of ammo to us with the rifles due to us being soldiers, which was a bit crazy. Never asked us for our gun license, but for our truck, driving one and not batting an eye," Ari said to our Aunty Irene.

"Thing is Ari, the Baradoziak people have been stepped on by orc royalty, they don't want it again so they see anybody who was a former warrior and soldier as a good person to hand a gun to, no questions asked, no papers, nothing," Irene clarified to Ari.

"So it's a country of lunatics with guns?" she scoffed to Irene.

"No, not so much as that. The Baradozians are incredibly intelligent and strong, but they also have a sharp wit and observance: they wouldn't hand a state-of-the-art, out of the factory boxed semi-automatic rifles to just a couple of teens from the street. They take down every detail before handing you tools of war." Irene explained further.

Ari nods and then says, "Really? They just take a gander at you and just go 'You're apt, here's a gun' and then send you on your way?"

Aunty Irene nodded sagely to reinforce her point "It sounds insane, but it's very much true albeit it's a little more complex than that."

Ari was left in the back in silent astonishment as Harold was busy writing stuff down in his notebook. I drove and then fiddled with the nobs on the radio and switched it to a more bizarre station, which was an Isle speaking version of the Baradoziak radio being presented by a polite female voice with a Baradozian accent as she was presenting the many marches of the blue army.

Shockingly, the marches were like ours, but not by much. As we kept on the road, we saw the odd bypassing car and truck as we drove on, making sure we got to the town before dusk on these hazardous roads to the point we were trying to race the sun at a safe pace, even if fitted with incredible all-terrain wheels.