I slept as poorly as I was used to, no more, no less, and woke at what felt like early morning. It was dark and I could feel cold radiating from the stone wall behind my bed. I raised a hand and checked my chest. No scars. That was the furthest I’d tested my healing ability so far, closest I’ve ever gotten to actually dying too. I don’t know what it was about my life recently that kept leading to issues like this, when I’d had to kill things in the past I’d never take this kind of damage. I looked around and found that my things had been laid out on a small table next to me. I dug a spare set of clothes from my bag, took off the blood stained remnants of what I’d been wearing, and got myself dressed. My duster had been torn through, but my hat and bandana had survived, so I slipped them on. These people hadn’t even known what I was when I arrived, better safe than mistaken for a monster and run through with a sword.

After I was dressed, I took stock of my ammo. From what I’d seen, the people here didn’t have any gunsmiths, or any way to make their own ammunition. That meant what I had, along with maybe anything extra the Horde patrol had brought, would be all that was available. I didn’t relish the idea of being down to just my knife in this forest.

I looked over at the handle of my machete. It had been a solid piece of gear, but it really wasn’t meant to be used as a weapon. It had already been chipped and worn before I’d even brought it into these woods, fighting a monster was just the last thing it could take. Still, it served me well, so I decided to slip what was left of the handle back into my bag.

I checked what notifications I’d received from the fight.

Excellent work Marshall! You’ve successfully performed a secondary goal of your job ‘Combat’! You’ve earned 60 Patriot Points!

Excellent work Postman! You’ve successfully performed a secondary goal of your job ‘Protecting the Cargo’! You’ve earned 50 Patriot Points!

Congratulations Citizen! You have earned ranks in Melee Weapons! From Bowie knives to Pickett’s charge, the US may have been too advanced for swords, but it’s spilled blood for freedom!

I damned well better have gotten at least that much for surviving the previous day. After I was done and had all my things on my back I walked out the door and found myself outside. I blinked, confused for a moment, then took stock of everything around me. I had exited a small building that had been built against the stone walls, and walked directly outside. Looking around, those stone walls covered a very wide area throughout which were a number of buildings, most of which had been built against the walls themselves. There were a number of plots being used to farm, as well as various animals wandering around and grazing in different patches of grass. People were working here and there, tending to animals, fixing buildings, training with swords, or patrolling the walls above us. Above it all, I could hear the sound of metal striking metal, again and again in a kind of rhythm.

Looking across the area I felt a bit more out of place than I had in the past. Looking more closely I could see a few members of the horde milling about, looking as out of place as I felt, though at least one I saw was clearly making moves on a farm girl as she cleaned a chicken coop.

I realized one major source of my confusion. There were no guards at the door, nor did it seem that there was anyone watching the Horde. The inexperience the Rens had with the outside world was clear. Even with the handful of men that were here with guns, the Horde could do massive damage. Not to mention the fact they’d even returned mine to me. It was clear these people were survivors, hardy and strong, but they were used to dealing with monsters, not men. That made them naive. Overall, that was a good thing for me.

I started to walk toward the flirty Horde patrolman, when I heard a voice behind me.

“Donovan?”

I turned around and looked up to see the woman I’d first spoken with at the gate, Shay. She was standing behind me and above me, on the wall. Her bow was slung over her shoulder. She went to a wooden ladder and climbed down.

“I’m surprised to see you up. The physician was certain you’d die.”

“He’s not the first I’ve given that impression to. Won't be the last.”

“You almost die often?”

“Unfortunately. Comes with the job.” I absently scratched under my hat. “Out of curiosity, what job did you choose from the R.A.S.?” I asked.

“Park Ranger.”

I gave an amused grunt. “Good choice.”

“Most of us on the walls chose it. Though thankfully we have people who prefer to be farmers or contractors.”

“Any idea what the King is? Not like the job ‘King’ is available in the system.”

She squinted her eyes. “You know…I’m not sure. He’s just the king to us.”

I shrugged. “You know where I can find the leader of the Horde patrol? The one that lost her leg. I need to talk to her.”

She nodded. “I’ll take you that way. She’s in the king’s chambers.”

I paused and raised a nonexistent eyebrow, an expression she somehow managed to parse, and blushed at.

“He has a guest room.”

“Sure,” I responded in a flat tone. “Can you lead me to it?”

She nodded and started leading me across the courtyard to the far wall. I got a lot of stares, both from the Rens and the Horde, but it wasn’t anything I was unused to. The Ren's stares were less scared and more curious, but I was sure it would be different if my face was uncovered, and they had a good look at me.

Once we were across the field I saw what I assumed was the king’s house. Unlike most of the buildings, his was made of thick stone, and adorned with worn flags depicting the silhouettes of different animals against different shades of blue, yellow, and green, seemingly at random.

Shay pushed open the door and I walked in behind her. The inside was much like the outside, walls of stone, tapestries, and flags, but there were also things I was more used to seeing. Worn out maps of the surrounding area, metal tables and chairs, and even a small radio. The king didn’t seem to be in, and I was led through a small hallway to a door. Shay pointed at it, and I stepped forward and knocked on the door twice.

“Who is it?” came an aggressive voice from the other side, a woman’s.

“The Khan sent me.”

There was a pause and I heard a few whispers, then the door was opened. A woman stood in it, on the shorter side with a wicked scar across the left side of her face. Behind her was a large man with a shotgun loosely gripped in his hands. Behind both of them lay a woman. I could see the resemblance to the Khan almost immediately. She was tall, and broad, with sharp features and long dark hair. She had the usual mix of tattoos and piercings, but was wearing one of the tunics that I’d been seeing the Rens wearing. I could see that she was missing a foot, a bandage was on the end of a long stump, her right one, the one needed for pushing down a pedal.

I stepped past her guards, shoulder checking the small one in front of me to get into the room. “Doesn’t look like you’ll be up to leaving anytime soon.”

The woman’s face contorted into a scowl. “Why are you here?”

“The Khan sent me to determine what happened to your patrol.” I gestured to the star on my chest. “I’m a marshall.”

“How’d you piss him off to get this job?”

“Killed some people without his permission.”

She gave an almost sympathetic nod. “Yeah, that’ll do it.”

“He also tasked me with bringing anyone alive back with me to his territory.”

She gestured to the stump her leg now ended in. “I won’t be driving any time soon. I told these two,” she gestured to her guards, “That I could make it fine anyway, just strap me to a bike and drag me if you have to, but they insist on listening to that idiot sawbones.”

“Atlan…” started the female guard, but she was silenced with a look.

Shay chose that moment to pop into the conversation. “I wouldn’t recommend traveling right now anyway. The Ursans are more dangerous than ever. Our watchers think they’re actually stalking us just outside the gates, waiting for people to leave.”

“Lovely,” said Atlan, her hand cracking as she made a frustrated fist.

“It’s fine. There’s something else I have to do while we’re here. After you’re healed we’ll worry about a plan to leave. I just wanted to confirm your status.” I turned to walk out, but found my way blocked by Atlan’s male guard.

“You don’t leave until you’re dismissed when speaking to a leader of the horde.”

“Ba’al,” started Atlan behind me, but I reached out and grabbed the man before she could finish.

I lifted him by the collar of his jacket with one hand and moved him to the side of the door and out of my way, placing him down gently and controlled. “Excuse me.” I walked out, leaving them behind. I pulled up a notification while I walked into the atrium.

Congratulations Citizen! You have earned a rank in customer service! Here in the US of A we know the customer is always right!

Great. I walked to the atrium, and found the map of the area he had laid across a table. I saw a number of markers on it, I didn’t know what they represented, but I really just needed something to use as a reference. I thought back to the bunker map I’d seen before, and placed a finger where I remembered seeing it. In that exact spot on the map was an image of a basement door. I turned to Shay who was still following behind me, seemingly the first person with the common sense not to let a stranger wander unescorted. “This marker here, what does this mean?”

She moved over to the map and looked at where I was pointing. “That’s the bunker. It’s where our ancestors originally took shelter during the cleansing.”

I took out my notebook and started marking notes, pointing at the spots between the castle and the bunker that were marked, and asking what they represented. “Thank you,” I said to Shay who had so far been helpful without reservation, a courtesy I was unused to.

“Why uh, do you need to know all of this stuff?” she asked, once again displaying the bare minimum sense.

“I’m going to go there.” I pointed at the bunker on the map.

She shook her head. “That’s a death sentence.”

“Possibly, but I need to know.” both for the system and my own curiosity. The last one contained weapons that could pierce through anything. This could be anything.

“We haven’t even ranged that far in decades, what could compel you to go there?”

I didn’t want to tell the truth, so I thought through the fantasy books I’d read, those being the closest thing I had to a guide for people like this. “I guess you could call it a quest.”

“A quest?” She asked, her eyes almost twinkling at the prospect.

“Yeah, I guess that’s as good a thing to call it as anything.”