Knights Apocalyptica

The rooftop was a party of tied-up wastelanders and Knights glad not to be drenched in blood for once.

To think, they managed to take control without any serious injuries; Olivia managed to heal up anyone with open wounds, including some already on these people. Erec sighed in relief at a job well done, far better than the worst-case scenario.

He meandered over and picked up one of the guns. It was a long-barreled weapon with a weird attachment wired to the side.

Should I bring this back for Enide?

Erec set the gun down as a reaction to the intrusive thought.

Why did his head go to bringing back something for her? To pay her back for checking in on him? There was something deeper, he knew, in the way he felt when he looked at her. But to acknowledge that and give in to it was setting himself up for pain. Whatever might be there was better left unexplored because, sooner or later, they’d be parting ways for good.

“So,” Boldwick said, crossing his arms as he stared at a man tied to a chair. The guy’s hair was frazzled and wild, with pupils far wider than they should’ve been. Drugged out, like half of this lot. “To begin this, I’ll start with an apology.”

“Ya’ll set Lil’ on fire! What-in-the-fuck is wrong with’ya?!” The guy yelled. Some of his muffled companions struggled in their bonds in response. Tying and gagging everyone might’ve been overkill, but Boldwick insisted it was better to control the situation. With half of them on drugs, it would be impossible to question if everyone could speak.

“We apologize. However, as you can see, ‘lil’ was never set on fire.”

Boldwick sighed. “I understand your reluctance to cooperate, given how we’ve introduced ourselves to your group, but I can assure you that we have no intention to steal your resources or give you much trouble. As long as you answer our questions.”

The man squirmed in his bindings for a moment and then gave up, settling on glaring. “I know you—damn tin-cans. Can’t trust a word you’ll say, just as like to burn us on our fire. Bastards!”

Erec walked a bit away, unable to help that lingering sense of guilt in him nor the weird surge of emotion for Enide that welled up. Instead, he focused his efforts on scanning what he could see. If they refused to cooperate, there might be something here to give them an indication of what was going on with these people.

He crouched near a bag and then dug through the contents.

“That aside. I’ll cut to the chase. We’re looking for a man named Seven-Snakes; do you know of him?” Boldwick asked.

Inside the bag were a handful of needles and bricks of powder wrapped in what looked to be dirty plastic. Not sure what to think, Erec pulled one of his hatchets free and cut it open. He ran a finger through it, wondering exactly what it was. This powder wasn’t anything like what they had in the Kingdom. But, he knew without a doubt it’d be burned in a fire back home.

“A—“ the man stopped and started again. “Why the fucks do you wanna know about Seven-Snakes?”

That turned Erec’s head. Everyone’s. From that shaky voice, there was clear recognition in the man’s tone.

“Does it matter why?”

“Aint no way in hell he’s work’n with the Kingdom.”

“We want to talk with him.” Boldwick was careful with his words, trying to keep his tone civil.

Erec re-wrapped the powder and shoved it back in the bag, only to notice a bunched-up paper blocking it from going in entirely.

“I don’t know nothing about Seven-Snakes.” The man hung his head. “Snitches get ditches.”

Erec pulled out the paper and opened it up; it was the city of Worth, with several red circles on the different parts of it. It was not the most detailed map, compared to the one he’d seen in the Kingdom, but it was pretty clear from the shape and landmarks that someone took time and care to make it.

“Boldwick?” Erec asked.

“Yeah?” he asked before gagging the man in the chair.

“Map.” Erec brought it over; much to the man’s anger, he tried to squirm in the chair as Boldwick looked over the circled location before tucking the map away in his pouch.

The Master Knight yanked the gag out again.

“Never mind that map—brat—it’s nothing!” he sputtered, trying to test the bonds of the rope. Erec looked about at a lot of these people. It was surprising how deep they’d settled into Worth. They hadn’t done it unscathed, as Olivia dealt with several of their wounds. None of them were that big of a threat, so how did they…

“These people are a reserve force,” Erec said as he connected the dots. “Did they get separated from the rest?”

The man’s head dropped.

“Seven-Snakes abandoned them,” Boldwick looked at the vast array of drugs and alcohol. “Thinking that they didn’t have a safe way out of the city, they’d resorted to waiting it out up here and setting a fire for somebody to find them. Or maybe they were having one last celebration before the worst happened.”

“Seven days.” The man said, spitting on the ground. “Been up here seven days. A couple of days, we’d thought. Lost our enforcers to a metal horror, and rest of us ran up here. Thought he’d swing by and get us with the rest of the gang, but no. So, we decided to dip into our stock, have a bit o’ fun, before risking our necks to scram outta this damned city.”

“I don’t think he’d put himself in danger for people like you…” Erec said, “That’s not the type of person I remember.”

“And what do you know bout ‘em? Eh?” The guy glared at Erec.

He looked around the rooftop at the rest of the gang left here, no doubt fated to make a death run out of the city; how many of them would’ve survived?

“I know that of your options we’re the best; you can stay here and rely on someone who won’t show and probably die. Or you can work with us and find yourselves a ticket out of this city.”

Boldwick clapped him on the shoulder and grinned. “Well said. Good as an offer as these people could wish for.”

— -☢ - — - ☼ - — - ☢ - —

The trip back to the Pendragons was relatively uneventful by the standards of people used to killing monsters and wearing tons of steel. This time, the initiates pulled their weight in defense to maintain a tight barrier around the prisoners.

As part of the agreement to get them safely out of the city, they spilled the details of the map. It marked several suspected locations for a vault. Whatever kind of old-world facility that meant, the man didn’t know, but apparently Seven-Snakes got the information out of a drug deal. During this run, they’d detoured back to Worth to investigate.

He’d sent different groups of his gang to check the spots. Though now, it was possible he and his people could have breached the vault and dipped out of the city.

On the way back, Erec got to kill a couple of things. Mostly a lot of mangy beasts that rolled themselves in balls, bright blue fur, and a crooked snarled nose with ruined teeth. They died easy enough, too easy to get him going. But that was alright. With how things shook out, he was pleased with the day.

By the time they’d exited the city, there were only a couple of hours of sunlight left.

“Welcome back!” Yniol yelled to a chorus of cheers from the Pendragons. “Brought some friends, huh?! Let's celebrate; I’ve got some cold ones!”

That statement was a bit untrue, from what Erec found. Their bottles were never cold, only put in the shade. But the Pendragons loved that expression. Their leader rushed out to talk things out with Boldwick, and the senior Knights kept an eye on the prisoners while they figured out what to do with them.

But, the Initiates were free to call it a day—a reward for good work.

As always, taking off his Armor and feeling the fresh air hit him was a relief. Within him dwelled a sense of pride for their job and fear for the future. Enide. Her story about the vault made him realize how lucky he’d been during the trial. It could’ve ended a lot worse.

Garin slapped him on the back and whistled; without all of the Armor, the hit stung. “Safe and sound, eh? And we’ll be getting to see something cool.”

“Mhmm.” Erec shook himself out of it, giving his best friend a grin. “Benefits to going outside of the church’s wishes, huh?”

“Sure is—I’ve been thinking…” His eyes trailed to Colin, who was taking off his Armor. “Been regressing lately, hasn’t he?”

“In his case, I think the further from his dad he got, the more he had to figure out who he was. When he’s around him, he puts himself back into the headspace of being a little kid again, which, for him, is truly awful.”

“Bet he was a brat.”

“Yeah,” Erec said and then stopped. Oh no. He saw where the gears were turning in Garin’s head.

“Sour about not having a Divine Talent. He might be ready for something else to perk him up and distract him. That’d change things up, right?” Garin tilted his head and frowned. Munchy squeaked in anger as it crawled out of his Armor; the fat squirrel looked exhausted.

“No.”

“I’ll ask him.”

“Garin, he’s a son of a duke. He can’t afford to make himself an enemy of the church by risking his blessing.”

“Think of it this way; you’re a count. I’m a baron’s son. You don’t care much for your rank, and I know I’d rather be by your side than stuck in charge of some dull bio-caverns. I’ve got a sister who’d gladly take the spot…” he shrugged. “Everyone thinks he wants to be a duke and live up to his father, but maybe, that’s exactly the opposite of what he wants deep down?”

With that, Garin enacted his plan, running over and tossing an arm over Colin’s shoulder, a lopsided grin on his face. Little did Colin know that he intended to talk him into joining the two of them on a peyote drug trip that’d make the church want to burn him alive.

Erec could only watch in horror until he couldn’t. Not wanting to be part of this corruption, he sped out of the room.

If I can make a choice like that, why can’t he?

“Erec.” Enide was sitting right by the exit, her eyes piercing through him. “Wanna have a chat?”

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