Tristan
October 17, 1786, Realm Timeline, The Outworlders' Base
Tristan managed to get lost, even though Eliza escorted him outside the tunnel before going to the Council meeting. She had pointed him toward a nearby village, three miles away, where there was a bus, whatever that was, going to Brno.
Nodding with pretended enthusiasm, Tristan raised both his thumbs up and took the road, only to take a wrong turn and lose himself in the hills, on some dirt trails, in the dark. He cried, but he didn't give up, trying to return to the tunnel and start anew.
By a miracle, he found a vast, empty lot where he noticed one of those strange Outworlder flying machines. People were carrying crates inside. He ran toward the contraption.
"The heck?" one of those present yelped, trying to unholster his gun.
"Don't shoot, I'm a friend!" Tristan yelled, raising his hands in the air.
"Stop, I recognize him," a woman rushed to say. "He's with Sam and Liz. I took them to Bratislava a few days ago. What the heck are you doing here?"
"I need to catch the midnight train to Bratislava to pick up my horse. I got lost."
"He won't make it in time," a man said.
"I'm scheduled to pick up painkillers in Bratislava," the woman said. "There's a drug dealer who sells his stash at a discount. I can drop you there."
"Err… from what height?" Tristan rushed to ask. The first time, it seemed the machine had flown quite high.
"Hahaha… Don't worry, it's just a figure of speech. Hurry up, guys, we don't have all night."
Ten minutes later, he was sitting next to the woman—who was the pilot—inside the cockpit. The machine took flight, and immediately, she started talking like a chatterbox. Which was possible because the chopper had an anti-noise enchantment, she told him. The first trip together was manageable because more people were present. Now, he found out the woman's name: Sandra; the name of her cat; that her kid struggled in school; that she was divorced—she looked meaningfully at Tristan when saying that—and many other things that made him dizzy.
"Are you in the Council?" he managed to slip a word when she paused her talking for a second.
"I'm a wielder, but not in the Council."
"Wielder?"
"It means I have magic abilities. That's how I see at night, and find my bearings," she waved her finger in a vague direction.
"You're Third Order?"
"I suppose I can fit that description," she frowned. "I'm one of those who developed powers when we got here."
"Sorry?"
"We don't have magic on our planet," the woman said.
"I know, Miss Eliza told me."
"On the Realm, about ten percent of us got powers."
"That's a tenth, right?"
"Yes," she smiled at him. "There's a gossip saying that our scientists are experimenting with a new way to awaken people."
"I beg your pardon?" Tristan reverted to his old habits.
"A potion of sorts. A lab guy I dated once—big mistake—told me. Shit!" The woman leaned the metal stick she held to the left. "Sorry, almost took the wrong route. We don't want to go to Vienna, do we? Anyway, I think he lied to impress me. I would have heard about it from more people if it were true. Are you and Eliza an item?" the woman asked abruptly.
"N-no! I work for her."
"Hm..." She threw another meaningful gaze at Tristan. "Are you moving to the base?"
"For now. I need to go through Orientation."
"Yeah... We have a lot of locals who do that. If you need help, just say, I'll be around, except once a week, when I fly to Budapest with humanitarian aid."
"You mean Buda?"
"Sorry?"
"There are two cities, Buda and Pest," Tristan clarified. "Buda's on the hill, and—"
"Then I guess I'll go to Buda. Not much left of Pest. The Kingling's armies burnt it."
"Savages," Tristan said, clenching his teeth.
"Yeah... Hey, we've arrived."
They landed on another field, near Bratislava. Little John was there, with his people, and he saluted Tristan in Ourtworlder fashion, touching his fingers on his temple. Tristan nodded and decamped as fast as possible, waving at the woman on the way.
"I'm an idiot!" he facepalmed a few minutes later, because the road he took ended at a gate, a noble's private property. There was a booth with a dozing gatekeeper, but he looked old and sick, and Tristan decided not to wake him. He returned to the last crossroad and went south for a while, then found the highway. He entered Bratislava at two in the morning, after arguing with the night watch and having to bribe them in the end.
The inn was closed, and everybody was sleeping. Tristan jumped over the wall and snuck inside the stables. Feeling him, the horse snorted. Tristan rubbed the horse's neck before climbing the stairs to sleep in the hay.
He woke late in the morning, ate a huge breakfast to keep him fed during the trip, groomed the horse, and left a big tip at the inn, because they had taken good care of the steed. The animal looked in better shape, but still needed to put back some weight.
They had no saddle, and rather than throwing money away on an inferior product, Tristan decided to wait. He rode to the train station saddleless, at a leisurely pace, using only a thick blanket to protect the steed's back and his thighs. A small tip to the train conductor allowed Tristan to stay with his mount in the special wagon. There was a paid attendant there, and they made conversation about steeds, breeds, and equipment. It was much more pleasant than the small talk with the chopper pilot. Finally, Tristan reached the tunnel entrance at nine in the evening.
"Hello," he said, remaining on the horse.
"Whatcha want, punk?" a guard asked. There were two sentinels, both very fat, one woman and one man. They had similar wedding rings, and Tristan concluded they were a couple. The soldiers from the previous day looked more professional.
"I have to report for Orientation. I'm with Miss Eliza... err..." She never gave me her full name, Tristan realized.
"Liz? Smiths here, do you copy?" the woman said, pressing a button on a weird green brick.
"Whoa!" Tristan gasped, and the horse took a step back
"Never seen a walkie-talkie before?" the man asked.
"Liz? Main gate here, do you copy?" the woman repeated.
"A Walking Talker?" Tristan asked.
"This is Liz, go ahead," Eliza's voice answered from the brick.
"I have a kid with a horse here, says—"
"Tell him there's a change of plans. He has to go to the New Castle near Blansko and take his Orientation there."
"Good evening, my liege!" Tristan yelled.
"She can't hear you unless I press this button," the woman said. "Anything you want to say to the kid, Liz?"
"No! Eliza out."
"Well, you've heard her. Shoo!" the woman flickered her fingers.
What kind of guards are these? "Where's the castle?"
"How the bleep should I know? Go away."
"Oh... You're one of us!" Tristan widened his eyes. "You have the S—'
"Shut your bleep bleep!" the man said. "It's a state secret."
"Use your HUD; there's a minimap you can expand, with roads, places, everything," the woman said.
"Oh..." I'm so stupid... I could have used it last night... "Thank you. Can I have my spear shaft back?"
"Your what?"
"My spear shaft. It's that black staff behind you," Tristan pointed toward the booth. "I left it here yesterday."
"Describe it," the woman said without looking.
"It's black, and a staff, and it's the only spear shaft in the booth," Tristan said. "Just behind you."
"Return tomorrow morning and fill a request."
A red veil descended over his eyes. There wasn't much Mana coming from the couple, meaning they were low-level. Tristan grabbed his dagger's hilt behind his belt. The man's face became pale, and he raised his hands to his throat, choking while the woman retched, stepping back.
What's wrong with me? Tristan panted, grabbing his own wrist with his left hand to stop his movement of unsheathing the blade.
"Take it, take it and go!" the woman picked up the staff, throwing it to Tristan, then fell on all fours and vomited.
"Heya!" Tristan squeezed his calves, making the horse turn. Understanding what was wanted from him, the steed switched to a faster gait, putting some distance between them and the gate. Tristan was still struggling to contain his bloodlust. He wished to cut the guards' throats and kick their dead bodies in the head, as a punishment for their stupidity. How dare they speak to him, a knight, like that? Looking back, he saw the two supporting each other, wobbling, and crossing themselves.
You have manifested Bloodlust, Vampiric Aura, and Killing Intent for the first time. These AOEs work only together and have a potent debuff effect on weak targets. Warning: Vampires are notoriously bad-tempered. Killing without justification would decrease your Humanity. Increase your Will or Humanity further to keep control over yourself.
The heck?
Tristan's anxiety grew. He needed advice, and instead, he was alone, abandoned. Until then, Eliza had been very nice to him. He couldn't understand her ire and was afraid. The horse neighed.
"You're right, boy, I'm not alone, I have you... Now... How the bleep am I supposed to find that New Castle? This map shows only a few hundred feet around me."
A golden arrow appeared on the HUD, pointing south. Taking it slow to avoid getting lost again, Tristan returned about five miles toward Brno, finding the castle atop a small hill, an hour and a half after leaving the Outworlders' base. The fortress was round and had multiple buildings. A big two-story house, one smaller, a horse stable, and two empty dependencies, three towers, of which one was dilapidated. Everything was dark. If not for his night vision, he wouldn't have found the entrance. Around the courtyard were banners with coats of arms and words. One read: Suicide Squad, another The Expendables, and the third Inglorious Bastards.
"Anyone here?" Tristan yelled.
"Hey! Keep your bleeping voice down, we're sleeping!"
A window had opened in the main building, on the second story, and a man was frowning at Tristan. He had a funny face, full of wrinkles, a mane of unruly hair, and a similar beard, all of which reminded Tristan of a garden gnome, somehow.
"Hi," Tristan waved, lowering his voice. "I'm here for the orientation."
"Yeah, we all are," the man said, waving back. "I'm... I don't know, frankly..."
"You don't know who you are?" Tristan asked.
"Have to decide yet."
Is he drunk?
"Find a place to sleep, and get some rest. Tomorrow we start early. An instructor is coming. I heard he's a stupid brute. At least that's what Liz said. Cheers." The man disappeared, and the window closed.
Great! I had enough problems without some bad-tempered sarge.
Sighing, Tristan led his steed into the stables. It was clean, for now, but lacked hay and straw for food and bedding. Inside was also a beautiful Arabian mare, which made the steed widen his eyes and snort in awe, and two small Tatar horses, which were dozing on their feet.
Probably gelded... "Hope you behave, huh!" he said to his steed, pulling him into a booth and closing the door. "You have to make a good impression. Pfff.... hayloft it is, again."
Since there was no hay, Tristan took the blanket he had used instead of a saddle and wrapped himself in it. Sleep arrived in seconds.
It was still dark when an abominable noise woke Tristan up. A kind of trumpet, only low in pitch, and with a cold.
"Wake up, everybody!" somebody shouted.
"Bleep!"
Tristan jumped down and hurried to exit into the courtyard. It was cold, and he wrapped his arms around himself. A few people, all dressed in clean, ironed beige uniforms, were waiting in line, at attention. He went to the left and took a similar position next to the man with unruly hair. The man gasped, creasing his nose, and stepped laterally, as far as he could without bumping into the next person. Two nights of sleeping in the stables had left a mark on Tristan's bodily odor. He realized that, underneath his overcoat, he was still wearing the same medical gown he had received in Bratislava a week before.
I'll have to take a bath... "Where's the officer?" he asked in a whisper.
"Dunno," big hair whispered back. "He's supposed to be here."
"And we have to make a good impression, or else," a deep voice said, but Tristan didn't see its owner.
"Shush!" a young woman blurted at them. Peeking to the side, Tristan noticed she was very short, with an hourglass figure, wide hips, and muscular legs.
They stood there, waiting in the cold, for long minutes that turned into half an hour. "Y-you're s-sure h-he's c-coming?" Tristan asked, his teeth chattering. "M-maybe w-we s-should c-check..."
"You want to check? Go ahead, check," the woman snorted. "He's a vampire; he'll drink your blood."
"Yeah... The Smiths called me last night to warn us. The guy almost killed them just by staring at them," Big Hair said.
The words sent a terrible suspicion into Tristan's mind. "Do you know the officer's name?" he asked, even if he already knew the answer.
"Tristan von Melk," the girl said.