The weekend came and went without movement on the Lode Pearl front. If the PRT made any movement based on the information Glefe sent, it didn't make it into either the media or the PHO rumor mill.
I used my morning runs as pseudo-patrols, using Glefe's sensors to try to locate more, yet unactivated Lode Pearls, but these efforts, probably unsurprisingly, came to nothing. Additionally, Glefe and I mutually decided that in-costume patrolling was out of the question at the moment; the risk being that if I were intercepted by a Protectorate Hero, I'm not confident I wouldn't let slip something about the Sophia situation, which would almost assuredly lead to my civilian ID being discovered. And that's in addition to both the whole 'maybe-getting-kidnapped-by-space-wizards' deal and the entire thing with the unknown mage. Basically, the whole idea of dealing with the PRT sounds like a giant pain in the ass I'd rather avoid.
So, having spent the weekend training, as well as taking one more clothes-shopping sojourn, I'm reduced to going to school as normal.
The horror.
At least Emma seems to have remained distant. And by distant, I mean absent. Maybe my not getting tripped was a soul-shattering ordeal for her? Whatever the case, anywhere she is that isn't bothering me is an improvement.
There's another advantage of my newfound Mage status; as I sit through another of Mr. Gladly's interminable lectures on the history of parahumanity, I'm receiving another, far more interesting lesson in a partition.
[You've learned much of Belkan history, but thus far it has all been in generalities. As we begin to discuss the hows and whys of Belka's decision-making throughout the years, knowledge of Belka's internal politics and structure will be a prerequisite. Therefore, today you will be receiving a high-level overview of the structure of Belka's government.]
[Let's get started, then.] I reply, having created a desk and notebook in the partition at Glefe's suggestion.
[Then, we shall. The first thing to know, which I have already mentioned in passing, is that Belka is an Elective Monarchy. This setup is somewhat rare in media; however, the system appears to be rather common in your planet's history. To briefly explain: unlike in a Hereditary Monarchy, where the title of leader is passed from Monarch to child according to a series of rules, in an Elective Monarchy, when the monarch dies, the title is passed to another through an election. This serves to prevent the sorts of situations so common in media where the heir to the throne is unfit for duty, and must be removed through extralegal means.]
I nod along, scratching away a few notes as we go.
[In Belka's case, votes are given to noble families, usually in recognition of deeds done in service to the Crown, or taken away as a punitive action. When it comes time to elect a new Kaiser, an election is called, and the families send representatives to cast their votes. In the last election, just under three thousand votes were cast, the lion's share coming from small, un-landed petty nobles, as well as the leaders of Klienstaaten, or "little states", small baronies located mostly on the Empire's periphery, which generally do not even control the continents on which they live, and whom often squabble among themselves. Trying to elucidate their politics would be both incredibly time-consuming, and nearly pointless, as they hold little real power in Imperial politics.]
[And I guess you're about to tell me where the real power is?]
Glefe hums in affirmation. [Most Klienstaaten join themselves to power blocks, which tend to be led by the most powerful and influential families. To start with, the most powerful is House Sagebrecht. They-we, as my previous master was of this house, rule the planet of Belka, granting us a great deal of soft power. In terms of military might, they control the "Schlachtschiff Grosse Kurfurstin", a warship of Al-Hazardi origin that their matriarch captured early in Belka's history. In addition to power unequaled by any warship of Belkan design, it also contains limited research and production facilities far in advance of Belkan science. When a Sagebrecht sits on the Imperial Throne, the Grosse Kurfurstin serves as a mobile palace, allowing the ruler to conduct their duties as if at home, while simultaneously projecting power. Using the ship's science facilities, House Sagebrecht was able to modify its genetics, making its members physically superior to unmodified, baseline humans. Due to the wide range of benefits House Sagebrecht has reaped from the possession of the Schlatshiff, family lore dictates that the Matriarch's finding of it is evidence of divine favor, and so members of the house traditionally preface their imperial titles with the prefix 'Sankt-', or "Saint" in English.]
[So… this house managed to conquer all of Belka because they found one ship?]
[We conquered the single planet of Belka. As you may recall, Belka is an empire spanning thousands of planets.]
[Oh, sorry.] I reply, scribbling out a line in my notebook. [The names are just a bit confusing.]
[It's not an uncommon practice. Your nation's southern neighbor has a similar situation, if I'm not mistaken.]
[Eeh, Mexico being the country, and Mexico City being the capital, just isn't as confusing.]
[If you say so. Are you ready for the next house?]
[Are they all going to be that… verbose?] I can't help but ask.
[No. I possess a great deal of documentation on the history of House Sagebrecht, while my information on the other houses is from an outside perspective only.]
[Well, that's a relief.] I remark, quickly scribbling a couple of final notes.
[The second-greatest power bloc within Belka is House Ingvalt, who control the Shutran Hegemony. If House Sagebrecht are the Empire's swords, House Ingvalt are their professors and librarians. Shutra is a planet on the diminutive side, but it has several moons, all rich in resources. More important than the geography, though, is that House Ingvalt, like House Sagebrecht, has been genetically modified. Unlike the Sagebrecht line, which improved their bodies, House Ingvalt improved their brains. In addition to a bevy of more minor alterations, they possess a generational memory; children born to the house inherit the memories of their parents, who, in turn, inherited the memories of their parents. It's for this reason that those of House Ingvalt are the most skilled diplomats, politicians, scientists, and artisans in all of Belka. Diplomatically, they occasionally butt heads with House Sagebrecht, but can generally be trusted to put the good of the nation over conflict with the other power blocs.]
[I'll be honest, the idea of inheriting memories is… disquieting. Do their kids get a chance to, you know, be kids before getting a bunch of memories shoved in their head?]
[It's been oft observed that the youth of House Ingvalt tend to be more withdrawn than their counterparts in other houses. Ultimately, though, it is their choice, and not ours to judge.]
[If you say so.] I say, scratching in a couple final notes. [Who's next?]
[The final of the major power blocs belongs to House Krinkov, of the Kingdom of Orusea. The planet of Orusea is large and unusually cold. While inhospitable to most, the low ambient temperatures have a positive impact on the efficiency of heat exchangers, and so the planet's surface is dotted with device foundries, and more importantly, shipyards. Orusea, in fact, holds a significant share of Belka's total productive capacity. For an example of their influence, about 30% of the material I am constructed from has its origin on Orusea. House Krinkov, unlike the others mentioned thus far, has undergone no genetic modification, instead holding fast to a strongly bioconservative worldview, believing that the enhancements practiced by other houses inherently make the recipient less human. An idiotic point of view, in my opinion, but like with House Ingvalt, a view we have no place passing judgment on."
"Is there a reason their views differ so greatly from the other houses?" I ask.
"I have no record as to why. If there was some sort of incident in their past, though, it's very likely House Krinkov would have gone to great lengths to keep it secret and avoid embarrassment. Returning to the topic at hand, House Krinkov's diplomatic strategy is charitably described as "mercenary", with them willing to betray any agreement at any time, so long as the compensation they receive is sufficient. They are often contracted by Klienstaaten to help fight their battles, and as a result, their Marine detachments are among the most battle-hardened in all of Belka. On the rare occasions that Ingvalt and Sagebrecht forces have come to blows, it has often been the presence, or lack thereof, of Orusean Marines that dictated the tide of battle.]
[So, essentially a mercenary state, then. And a major arms supplier, too. I imagine they're annoying to deal with.]
[Oh, you don't know the half-]
It's then that the end-of-period bell finally rings, and Gladly's horrible lecture ends. I stand with the rest of the class and meander towards the Cafeteria.
[We'll continue after lunch; enjoy your break.]
[Thank you, Glefe.] I reply, shuffling through the crowd and down the hallway.
You know, all of Glefe's lessons are well and good, but something is gnawing at my gut; a desire to be out there and making a difference. I know the reasons I'm staying on the down-low are solid, but even still, there's a part of me that just wishes that something would happen, you know? Almost anything else would be better than the interminable waiting.
---
Hey, Past Taylor, what the fuck? Why would you ever say that?
Let me back up; what happened?
Well, the day ended simply enough. English Class was easy; we were turning in an assignment on Chapter three of Romeo and Juliet, and since I: 1) first read the play when I was, like, 11, and 2) no longer have to worry about Emma B and her Bitches Three stealing all my shit, I had no real problems at all.
I mean, I guess it's her Bitches two, since she's a member, but the rhyme was just too good to pass up.
Anyway, when the bell rang, signifying the end of the day, all the assembled kids started to file out, but in that subdued way that only happens on Mondays, when you're out of school, but have an entire week ahead of you still.
On my way to my bus, I'm surprised when a voice calls out to me.
"Bye, Taylor, have a good night!"
"Uh, y-yeah! See you tomorrow, Charlotte!" I hesitantly reply.
Her name is Charlotte, right?
She just giggles and waves, turning and walking away.
That was weird.
Anyway, the bus ride home passes uneventfully, and I quickly dart up to my room, pull out my briefcase, and grab a few bills; I still need more clothes.
As I lock the front door behind me, though, my day takes a turn for the decidedly worse.
[Lady Taylor, I've detected a Lode Pearl activation.] Glefe reports.
[Shit. Any idea where?]
[Negative, my lady. I'll guide you to an unobserved area to set up, and I should have a general localization by the time you're airborne.]
I break off into a run, following Glefe's instructions as she takes me on a path towards the Docks.
I will myself faster, and my limbs just… listen. On my morning runs, recently, I've distinctly noticed my pace has picked up; not that I've been able to put in more effort, just that everything seems to... click more. A month ago, the pace I'm currently traveling would have been a dead sprint, but now I'm barely breaking a sweat.
A lot of that improvement is down to Glefe correcting my form, to be fair. Apparently, I've been running wrong for my entire life, who knew? But most of it? I don't even know how to describe it, but I just feel more coordinated, stronger. I know that shouldn't be as much of a shock as I seem to be making it out to be, but it's only been a bit over two weeks. I'm pretty sure most people don't improve that quickly.
Before I get too caught up in my own thoughts, I catch myself; this really isn't the time to ponder such things. There's an active Lode Pearl out there, after all.
Glefe directs me into an alley behind a shuttered asian grocery store, and I quickly set about speedcasting my various protections before zipping up into the air.
[Where am I heading, Glefe?] I call out as I gain altitude.
[For now, bear towards Medhall Tower. I'm trying to make sense of some chatter on PRT channels.]
[Chatter?]
[It sounds like a PRT prison transit convoy is getting hit by a few Empire capes. Its reported location is within the range of uncertainty of the Lode Pearl.]
[...and you don't believe in coincidences.] I repeat one of Glefe's oft-repeated phrases during our training sessions.
[I'd be thrilled to be wrong in this case, my lady. Come right by three degrees; the location is to your front, in approximately 1.5 kilometers.]
I hear the sounds of battle before I see it. The staccato cracks of semi-automatic gunfire waft over the buildings like invisible waves, followed shortly thereafter by the ringing of metal and yells of combat.
"Breite Bereichsuche!" I cry, loosing a spread of four sensor drones over the buildings to my front in automatic mode.
Quickly, the fog of war to my front begins to lift. On a four-laned arterial road lined by what passes for skyscrapers in Brockton, a PRT prisoner transport van lies on its side. There's a pair of personnel transports parked sideways in defensive positions around it, but the troopers they surely carried are nowhere to be seen.
A few blocks out, a mixture of PRT and Police cruisers block off the road approaches; The peculiar mixture of the police lights' blues and reds, and the PRT's whites and greens, creates a disorienting visage as they play off the steel-and-glass high-rises lining the street.
Inside the cordon, a cape battle moves at a breakneck pace. In the middle is a large, blue-colored, spider-like beast, perhaps 30 feet in diameter, a pair of petapalps beside its fanged mouth twitching even as it clambers down the side of a building, towards the largest assembly of Empire capes.
That assembly is the trio of Rune, Cricket, and Kaiser himself, all flying on a large square steel road plate under Rune's control.
Meanwhile, Krieg and Stormtiger move as a pair, seemingly attempting to link up with their fellows, but the combination of the spider monster and pressure from the Protectorate side is making that task difficult.
I really should be disappointed that those two are getting busted out, but I honestly almost can't bring myself to care. With the reputation of the PRT in the bay, I'm almost surprised they were kept in custody as long as they were. The last big-name Brocktonian villain to actually make it to jail was, what, Marquis? That happened, like ten years ago, and it wasn't even the Protectorate that got him.
So, no, I'd already made peace with the fact that the two Nazis I'd gotten arrested would not be making it to jail, but on a more philosophical level, it rankles me that not even literal, actual Nazis can get the justice they're due in this town.
Well, there's nothing for it now. Casting my metaphorical eyes over to the Protectorate side, there's Miss Militia, opening up with some kind of huge blocky semi-automatic rifle against the big-ass spider from atop a rooftop, drawing its attention, and allowing Dauntless an opportunity to charge in and let loose with his arc lance. I also catch a few glimpses of a red blur zipping around the field; Velocity, presumably.
Even with the support of the few PRT troopers still in the fight, it's clear they're outmatched.
Locating a PRT van with a few radio aerials jutting from the roof, and assuming it's a command post, I drop in just outside the perimeter, to the surprised exclamations of the group of civilians being held back by a few masked troopers.
"Excuse me, Trooper," I begin to ask of one of the agents who doesn't seem especially busy, who jerks at my sudden appearance. "Could you direct me to whoever is in command of the Protectorate?"
"R-Ritter!" He replies, beginning to stutter out one reply or another, before putting his hand up to his ear and inclining his head. Whatever was said, his demeanor immediately changed. "I believe Miss Militia took command after Armsmaster-" He abruptly cuts himself off.
Armsmaster is down? That's… not great. After a moment, it's clear he won't be volunteering any more information, so I reply. "Thank you, Trooper. My apologies for the intrusion."
And then, before the poor PRT grunt can reply with so much as a nod, I'm gone, flying towards the din of battle.
With my drones still in the air, locating the military-themed cape is no trouble at all; the report of her rifle would have been enough even without them. Popping over the two blocks only takes about thirty seconds, and before I know it, I'm alighting beside one of the most famous capes in North America, deliberately hitting the roof with more speed than necessary to announce my presence.
Miss Militia whips around, the large rifle dispersing into green motes of light, which reform into a handgun that she levels at me. I flinch a little, but after a beat, her eyes widen in recognition, and she lowers the weapon.
"Ritter." She states, as if the answer to a question.
"Miss Militia. I was informed you're in command?" I ask.
She opens her mouth to respond, but seems to bite back whatever she was about to say. Her shoulders deflate, and she speaks. "I'll be honest, Ritter, we're up a creek without a paddle here. Are you here to help?"
"I'm happy to do whatever you need. If I could ask about the situation, though?"
The other cape nods. "Armsmaster, Dauntless, Velocity, and I were tasked with escorting the prison transport containing Krieg and Stormtiger out of the city. When we passed the first waypoint, a call went out over the radio requesting that Armsmaster examine some unknown tinkertech found in the convoy's path. HQ called a halt, and the next thing anybody knows, the prisoners are out, the Empire is attacking, and that big monster is standing where Armsmaster was."
Oh, fuck, Armsmaster activated the Pearl? This just went from bad to catastrophic. If Armsmaster fucked with the pearl... did the Protectorate get briefed on them, or did the PRT just sit on the information?
"Miss Militia," I start off, filling my voice with as much steel as I can manage. "What do you know about Lode Pearls?"
---
Assume I know nothing." Miss Militia replies after a few beats.
I really hope that means she's interested in my entire explanation, and not that the Protectorate hasn't been briefed on the Lode Pearls at all. Because if it's the latter…
Well, that's a bridge we'll cross when we get to it.
"Okay, this is going to be limited to what's actionable, since I know for a fact that my source for all this also gave it to the PRT. Short version: Lode Pearls appear to be thumbnail-sized dodecahedral gems, a deep red in color. They start in an inactive state, during which they accrue energy. Once enough energy has been gathered, they enter a stand-by state, made visible by the gem emitting a dim crimson glow. Once in stand-by, any living being that interacts with the Pearl has a chance of activating it, causing the accumulated energy to be dumped into whatever being activates it, a process which has mutagenic effects."
Militia's eyes widen. "So you're saying-"
"That Armsmaster likely activated a Lode Pearl, yes."
"Is there a way to reverse it?" She asks.
I grimace. I was kind of hoping the PRT wouldn't learn about my involvement with Victoria the other day, but desperate times, and all that. "On Friday, I was involved in an incident in the Docks where an ABB member activated a Pearl. In that case, after rendering the target unconscious, I was able to reverse the process."
"Then that's what I need you to do. The Protectorate will be able to provide-"
"No." Understanding where she's going with this, I immediately cut Miss Militia off. "You've seen how I fight; having to worry about friendlies in my firing line will decrease my effectiveness, not increase it. If I could make a request, I think the Protectorate would be best served by engaging with the Empire's capes. Even if you fail to bring Krieg and Stormtiger back into custody, at least keeping them off my back while I work on Armsmaster would be a massive boon."
She sharply inhales, face scrunching through a flurry of emotions, before her expression hardens. "...Okay. Okay, we'll do that." She nods, seemingly to herself. "Good Luck, Ritter."
"You too. We'll both need it." I reply, as I re-cast Fligerflosse and jet away.
"This is Militia to all protectorate units…" I just manage to hear as I draw away.
Okay, first order of business, gain line-of-sight on the Arms-spider. Armspider? Whatever.
[Glefe, confirm Training Mode is on?] I ask, as I gain altitude and crest a rooftop.
[Phasers are set to stun, My Lady.]
I freeze in mid-air. [Wait, Star Trek? No, not the time!] I shake my head, finally overflying the street and surveying the scene as the Armspider, perched in the center of the street, bats an abandoned car out of the way and towards what looks like Velocity, who jets away without issue. The car continues into a light pole beside the road, the two now-twisted masses of metal falling to the sidewalk with a crash.
"Gewehrkugel" I cry, launching a spread of bullets towards the beast.
The iridescent projectiles lance out towards the monster, which only reacts to their presence at the last second. How do the pronouns work in this situation? He? It? Well, that thing certainly isn't Armsmaster, so I guess I'll go with "it".
Anyway, it tries to jump backward, but it's just so big that its thorax eats the entire spread, though the impacts leave only black scorches on its thick hide.
[Analysis complete. My Lady, the leg joints appear to be less protected. Proposal: render the creature immobile, then close to melee once it is defenseless. Passing targeting information now.]
[It's better than what I'd have come up with, probably.] I observe.
I swoop down, closing the range in hopes of getting inside the creature's reaction window. A second shot, aimed at all sixteen leg joints, flies wide; even standing stationary, the legs are just moving too much for Gewehrkugel to track.
Just then, a huge metal blade bursts from the ground, only a scant few feet below me.
"Panzerschild!" I cry, deflecting the blow, as I zoom climb two dozen feet into the air.
I spin around, finding Rune's platform, all Empire occupants still aboard, hugging the buildings on the road's southern side, to block Miss Militia's line of fire.
"Ahh, she speaks a proper language!" Kaiser sneers.
I bite back my first reply, instead drawing on my three entire weeks of Belkan lessons with Glefe. "Ich kann ehrlich sagen, dass Sie mich ekeln, Kaiser." I snarl, trying my best not to stumble over the pronunciation.
The Villain doesn't make to reply.
"...You can't actually speak German, can you? Typical reactionaries; you idolize liars while refusing to perform even a modicum of effort to better yourselves. Now, please leave. I'm busy." I reply, loosing a salvo of bullets in their direction, too. I hadn't even meant to hit them, but one shot strikes Kaiser in the leg, toppling him like a tree, and forcing Cricket to catch him by the scruff of his costume's neck.
Rune, in response, pilots the slab of metal up into the air, though she probably overshot a little, as they climb high enough that with a trio of cracks, Miss Militia opens back up on them.
Rune, to her credit, immediately goes evasive, though her movements are sluggish compared to what I'm used to, bound as she is to the laws of physics. Diving for the road, the trio of Empire capes quickly disappears around a corner, though, whether they're disengaging or repositioning, it's hard to say.
Either way, they're the Protectorate's problem, now. I turn my attention back to the Arms-spider, which has backpedaled up the side of one of the skyscrapers lining the road.
This gives me an idea; it can't seem to fly, so whatever happens, it won't be able to dodge into mid-air.
A plan starts to form in my head; if I can limit the area available for it to dodge, I'll have an easier time hitting it, and what better way to do that than to force it to go up?
Experimentally, I take another Gewehrkugel shot at the beast's forelegs, those being the closest to the ground. Sure enough, it dodges upward, the shots flying wide and smashing the window it previously sat in front of.
With a malicious grin beginning to crease my face, I send out another volley before lighting off Lichtbajonett and following up more personally. One slash and one shot at a time, I manage to chase the beast up the sheer side of the building step by step.
On my third pass, I manage to actually score a hit on one of the forelegs, the Gewehrkugel shot smashing the joint as if it were made of plaster. This blow results in the letting loose of a great spurt of pressurized black ichor, which falls to the street below like tar-thick rain. The limb then hangs down limply, twitching slightly.
[Observation: The limbs appear to function based on pseudo-hydraulic actuators. As long as a wound is deep enough to draw blood, the entire limb will quickly become non-functional.]
[Good to know.] I reply, rolling in for another pass. The spider's movements are noticeably more sluggish now, and I manage to land a slash with Glefe on a second leg, about midway between the shoulder and knee joints. Like before, a jet of pitch black blood spurts out, before the leg falls limp, albeit a bit slower this time.
Okay, this seems to be working. I continue to press the monster upward, and it's not long before the spider's hind legs alight on the roof. By the time we reach the top, the spider is down to five usable legs, though to its credit, it seems to be re-balancing its weight effectively, and the lost limbs aren't affecting its mobility as much as I initially thought.
Not done with it just yet, I jet backward, before flying directly for the monster, a Panzerschild blossoming before me just before impact.
The Armspider tries to dodge, but all according to my plan, there's nowhere to jump to, only thrashing its body wildly in an attempt to thwart my blow. An attempt which fails as, with a meaty crunch, I make impact with what passes for a face on its strange thorax.
That impact launches the spider about ten feet into the air, but most importantly, its flight takes it away from the buildings and into the air over the street.
An act that cleared my firing line. I'd already swapped Glefe into shooting mode for the occasion, and I make use of the opportunity.
"Gottlichhowbitze!" I cry, the familiar rainbow-colored array blossoming before Glefe's tip as she switches into shooting mode. "Los!"
Time seems to stand still as the multicolored beam lances out, striking the falling monster dead center. The beam travels on, illuminating much of the central city and Boardwalk as it travels overhead, eventually disappearing into the distance somewhere over the ocean.
The Armspider gives a final wail of protest before the magic proves too much, and it ragdolls downward towards the road, some 100 feet below.
---