Payday

Samson Framer.

20th of Ianua, 1491.

Upper Ward, Froipuinx. Bluszil's Land, Kasian Empire.

0722.

[Master Fighter Class: Rain War Mage.]

***

"Gather 'round, lads. This is what you have to look forward to once you finish training."

I felt pride swell within me as the young lads jumped from their beds to see what was up. Mostly because getting them to join was easy. This was the land of fighters, mostly because that was what people needed to be to survive. There were no crowns here in Kasia. Only generals, soldiers, and a bunch of unruly creatures locked behind a wall with an abundance of ale and weapons.

That was a recipe that led many to begin training young. And nearly all of those young lads and lasses wanted someone to train and guide them to greatness. That was where the Legions came in. We went to the back streets to raise our towers in a row along the wall. Then opened them to the public under the guise of tournaments and fight clubs.

After that, it was first come first served.

Less than a month later and my lads numbered just over two hundred. And we were among the smaller groups of the Legion's fighters. All were sworn in and enthralled in their daily training with a zeal that was almost frightening, were it not so motivating.

They grew more excited as I let the anticipation build. So much that I almost began happy stepping before the coveted trunks spewed from my shadow the moment the clock turned 7:30. Along with many other bags, boxes, and massive fucking carts.

"Holy shit, mate." Kurt, the oldest of the first group of Kasian lads gasped in amazement. A dozen or so others, however, were from Eotrom and have seen much greater things. So instead they were waiting for me to open the other parcels and receive their pay.

Of course, I went for the gold first and let the boys feast their eyes. "That, lads, is what a thousand gold looks like. A bar, not coins. One kilo in weight. But don't expect that much until you finish your training. You, lads, will become my first officers. Keep in mind the devotion you must have to obtain that crown. And keep in mind." I paused and watched the box fade into my shadow then returned a boyish grin to the lads. "That your gold is not so easily stolen."

By then, they couldn't wait for me to open the other parcels. Truth be told neither could I. Although it was one parcel in particular- a wheeled wardrobe that contained my armor, designed exactly as I wanted.

While my Doppelganger distributed their pay, I picked up the breastplate and admired it for a long while. Then admired the awed gasps of the crowd for a while longer before explaining its make of adamantine and being plain in terms of magic, though the underlying tunic was enchanted to give immunities to the heat and cold.

Mithral splints infused with my magics were bound to leather straps and stitched to a thick belt to make a loincloth, giving me the means to conjure weapons with ease. The sandals seemed standard too. But the absurdly light material was also absurdly strong and impossible to get wet. And its enchantments allowed me to walk on walls and skate across the water just as easily.

"But this." I held up a smooth object that appeared like an egg until I let it go and it remained in midair, looking at the lads through a mechanical eye. "This Satellite is the holy grail. Come, let me show you what I mean."

***

Teofila.

[Prestige Fighter Class: Warrior of Amazonia.]

***

"Hey! My crew already swore to you, so give 'em bracelets too!"

"Um, Teo, who are you screaming at?"

I ignored Rochell, the first addition to my Sisterhood from the land of Kasia. Instead, I waited for the flash of bright night to blind the room. Then let out a small giggle as the sound of metal hitting stone clanged throughout the barracks.

"God." I smiled, handing her the bracelets to hand to the others. "I want everyone here in two minutes. We're going into the ring."

"Yes, ma'am." She nodded firmly and trotted off at once.

Not even a minute later, four hundred twenty-five would-be-warriors were standing before me. And nearly the same number stood before Ale and Orsola both.

They would do nicely for the Amazonian Corps. But only 20 would be in the command staff for the Divisions. Only 100 would be regiment-level officers. The rest would be ranked according to merit. And one other metric.

"From now until you begin your training, you have one goal. To obtain the strength of an Amazonian."

A hand raised suddenly. A baseline human, as tall as Ale. Franklin Dunn was the name. With a body as large as Ale's it was clear to me that Dunn thought herself close in strength to us. I almost mouthed along the question as she asked.*

"Um, exactly how strong is that?"

Saying nothing, I stepped over to embrace Ale in a side hug and lifted her off the ground by doing no more than tilting to the side. "This strong," I smirked, then pointed one of my new swords through the doorless entry to the mob of bloodthirsty fighters looming around the fight pit beyond.

I pointed, but I was the first to stand in the sandy pit and meet an orc in glorious battle. The swords and greaves, both infused with lightning, performed excellently. As did Ale's knuckle dusters, enchanted with her Jade magic to turn anything she punched into something beautiful by effectively petrifying them like the mythical Gorgon.

Not to leave out my last Sworn Sister and her spined shield. But in truth, the enchanted weapons hardly held our attention. Instead, our eyes were focused on our girls, fighting with all their strength until their opponents were at death's door, awaiting the final blow.

As per our demands, those blows were dealt by chokes, holds, or touches that sent a paralyzing wave through their foes before they were healed and subsequently drained of their vitality; sending the girls writhing in agonizing pain as their muscles contorted, tore, and regrew stronger a dozen times over in the span of seconds.

And then, they got up ready to fight again, aided by the strength of the vanquished. Just as the God-Emperor decreed.

***

Willard Rowe.

[Master Bardic Class: Lore Master.

***

"Is Sin still out there?"

I turned to Ritrix with a look as dour as the vibrant skulls before us. "Of course he is. I almost sold him a piano just so he'd fuck off for a day."

"Why didn't you?"

"Because." I sighed. "Then he'd ask for lessons. That, and I got lucky. A thief broke into that Rickley girl's suite. They took everything and she's been threatening to kill anyone she thinks was involved ever since. Sin apparently went to calm her down, so." I picked up my brush with a shrug and returned to painting the last skull.

Outlines. That's what I was painting. Using notes and details given by the Legions Commanders, I spent hours in my… Creation Station, painting while my pay, rewards, and boons sat waiting in the room outside. I spent hours designing those inert skulls in order to make them as unique as their owners.

At least Ritrix- not her clone, Trixie- was kind enough to keep me company with her wisecracks. At least until the work came to a close and she bore the same concern as I. But, here in my theater, we were covered. Sin couldn't enter if his life depended on it.

And so, after sending the partially completed skulls back to Amun, we left the Creation Station with glee; entering a keep that appeared similar to my wing back home in Epethia. If only to cringe in remembrance of the boy I'd once been.

Like everyone else, I received a thousand coins melted down into a gold bar alongside a rolling wardrobe full of newly enchanted uniforms, weapons, and equipment. But that wasn't my concern at the moment. Nor were the two animated, enchanted, and metal-plated Lore Skulls that came to loom above our shoulders in the following moments.

No, our attention was held on the most mundane things. A small decorated box that contained a watch. An exquisite watch. But a watch nonetheless.

Through that miraculous thing, we connected to NoxNet and were given new orders, positions, and duties. As Lore Master, my orders were to create lore profiles for the Commanders and their organizations, listing everything about them and their accomplishments and setting up broadcasting channels for their satellites.

Ritrix, as the Keeper of Joy, had orders to delve deeper into the Commanders' personalities to figure out what type of recreational activities they preferred so they could be implemented in their units. And also to create comedy clubs.

After sorting through our gear, we debated starting at the top, with Amun. But… that was too easy. Everyone knew of Amun's accomplishments and morbid, deadpan, or sarcastic sense of humor. At least the ones he wanted to see that side of him.

So, with that, we decided to pick someone at random.

***

Elsgril Silverforge.

[Master Artificer Class: Grandmaster Weaponsmith.]

***

I was glad to leave this place. Bakewia, what a stupid fuckin' name! And the place was strange. Unnatural, it was. Rivers flowin' through the damn skies and only dwarven feet thumpin' through the streets.

It was unnatural. And the longer we stayed the more I knew. HE would be getting ideas.

I should've known.

I should've known not to wait until payday to leave this blasted place. We would've been better walking. But no! We just had to create one more blasted thing. We just had to drink and party to celebrate leavin'. We just had to get our new toys.

"I blame Him and His damned blessings! Cunning devil!" I shook my hands at the sky in frustration, swearing I could hear a snickering laugh rolling like thunder in the distance.

"I dunno, Chief." Tuk, the orc I hired as my chef, muttered.

"Out with it!" I screamed.

"They're like, metal horses!"

I hated seeing the other dwarves agree. Many, if not all o' the half-dozen of 'em were liberated from the gray dwarf stronghold and lived in the realm before coming down, so they knew. And Tuk was one of em. But there were a few others I found laying around this blasted place who dreamed of leaving since they stepped foot here and didn't leave cause the money was good, the food was decent, and the mountains was far.

Of course, our money was better. Our food was divine. And our mountains were worlds. So now they were here, drooling over these blasted metal ponies with the rest of 'em.

Mo-tor cycles, He called 'em. Metal ponies, we called 'em. For their skeletons were made of metal. Their flesh was made of rubber, ceramics, and leather. They drank the oils of the dirt and stone and charged on wheels faithfully, so long as they were maintained.

We loved 'em. Until…

"He went an' poured all his damn magic on it!" I threw my arms at the thing in disgust.

And then there was the other thing.

"No enchantments, though." The damned skull floated towards me. Although I had to admit, Willard did a good job designing it with a great beard and two small horns rising from its brow. He even topped it off with a Deurgar accent to make me really hate the thing.

"Only a blessin' from the Divine Engineer, Boss. Tit' builds a road fore the wheels an' tears it down behind it. Like ghost hands buildin' somethin' fast."

"And now it can drive on water an' ride in the sky. Two places dwarves don't belong!" I bellowed. And it retorted in a small whisper that deflated me immediately.

"Well, how else will we get home, Chief?"

The bastard planned this from the start, putting cities in the damned sky. "Cunnin' bastard, I tell ye.

"Well ain't no use complaining." I sidled up to the metal pony with a groan and started her up with a chuckle drowned out by the roar of the waking engine.

I had to admit, she was a righteous beast.

"Mount up!"

***

Elurial.

[Master Barbaric Class: Path of Twilit Zeal.]

***

"You really are a Valkyrie."

It was a gasp of astonishment, more than anything. But Ro being Ro, she took it dreadfully seriously.

"If I take an oath." She nodded. "Amun is many things. Honest is one of them. At least to his friends."

'I didn't call him a liar.' I wanted to say, but my eyes remained on hers, transfixed on a winged suit of crystal, steel, and magma that seemed to flow through the layers of fabric and steel as if the armor itself was alive.

It looked exactly like the tales of legend. A winged suit made entirely of metal. Built for a female paladin- a savior of worthy souls. Said to be agents of the gods.

I couldn't help but laugh at the irony. At the tension that arose from any deity other than Amun being mentioned in the presence of the Vulcan Valkyrie.

Thankfully, though, I saved the moment. "What?" I started, pointing out her hesitance. "Isn't that what you wanted?"

"No." She quickly shook her head. "It's exactly what I wanted. It's just…" She stepped forward, reaching out to rub her fingers gently across the underlying tunic. "This is Vulcan Ox leather. This is from my… from our home."

"The Iron Mountain?" I asked.

"An iron volcano." She corrected. "One of many volcanoes of metal. Wherein the Vulcan Ox dwells."

"I'm guessing you need to find one?" I asked, then chortled dryly. "Tall order, that is. Pretty sure I'd remember if I saw an iron volcano."

"Oh?" Ro huffed and looked off into the distance. "Let me guess. A volcano spewing molten iron into the sky or a mountain of solid black is what you imagine?"

I felt my lips twitch as her words hit home. But she continued. "Is that what happens to iron when left to the elements?"

"N- no," I admitted, then found my eyes turning to where she was still looking- at a mountain that, curiously, was missing the swaths of evergreen trees peering above the blanket of snow.

"Ah!" I turned back to her with a grin. "You want a ride?"

***

Roheisa.

[Prestige Barbaric Class: Vulcanox Berserker.]

***

"You're not going to wear it?"

I debated on ignoring her and instead secured my armor in my shadow for later before taking a look around this lumbering self-driving carriage. This… truck.

I answered instead.

"After I handle my business in the volcano."

Then she ignored me.

Rolling my eyes, I followed Elurial on another lap around the interior of this- I liked Ed's name better, this Land Ship, for that was truly what it was.

It had wheels of rubber that looked mostly like the wheels of a carriage, only a lot thicker, and the hub was secured by quite large adamantine bolts. That said, those wheels couldn't just turn but could flip and disappear inside the carriage to reveal enchantments that made the thing float above the land.

As for the interior, though, it was like a house. Our fingers traced over posh cabinets, tables, and chairs as elegant as the ones back home. Couches and a low sitting table sat before a large window that currently displayed not the environment around us, but Peter fighting a mob of robed drow in some vast cavern.

There was a kitchen. A bathroom. A space for equipment maintenance and of course, a bed. But the strangest part was the 'cockpit.' It was two comfortable seats set before a massive window. A wheel controlled the vessel, rather than reins as we'd experienced in Noctis Reach, but an array of buttons, knobs, lights, and tiny windows dominated nearly every surface between us.

"Ed's work never ceases to amaze me." I gasped.

"Yeah," Elurial admitted with a sigh. "It is impressive. But I fear we're becoming less… barbaric by the day."

"The times are changing. That's all it is."

"A new age, huh?" she snorted.

"I'm serious." I sat in the seat next to her but stared out the front window. "My ancestors are from Phaegrath. My father was born in the north of that continent, where the snow is constant. He told me of the distant past when our ancestors would follow the herd of Vulcanox around the iron volcano on foot. Then, later generations learned to train the native wolves into pulling their sleds. In turn, they expanded their territory across the entire volcano, creating separate tribes. Then, moose and caribou pulled larger sleds, and those tribes grew across the mountain ranges.

"Now." I gestured around us. "We have sleds that pull themselves. Our tribes can grow large enough to cross the realms if needed. The methods have changed, sure. But the lifestyle is still the same. The only difference between our ancestors and us is… well, we get to decide what type of tribe we'll make.

"You, me, and everyone else," I assured her. " So, Elurial, what will your tribe be like?"