Burden of the Monarch: Blade of Rails

By Josh Perry

Occasionally, we may find ourselves convinced that a story has finally ended. The curtains close, everyone goes home; and the night which follows swallows up any loose ends. Upon Rion five hundred years of the same war have passed. At the very end of that war; is the start of a true adventure. Bell believes his place in the world is withering away. He cannot fathom how incorrect he is.

• Language: English
• Publisher: JoshReadsBooks
• Release date: Mar 29, 2021
• ISBN: 9781777032432

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Introduction

A five hundred year war has concluded through the absolute end of a civilization. The Selemian people have been wiped from Rion without exclusion by the military forces of The Citizenry: the remaining society in power across the planet. This extinction, however, did not come without prompt. The primary conflict between the Selemian people and The Citizenry can be glimpsed in the following passage of a war journal drafted by Julius Leefve: a Selemian General.

‘They have blacksmiths in their settlements. They toil in their shops. Pouring passion into labour. Yet they give them nothing as payment, no coin, no land. The blacksmith must then take from the farmer his harvest, because he has nothing to pay him with. He takes from the baker her bread for the same reason. He has but a blood splattered piece of gold in his possession which gives him the authority to rob. The entire country of them are but thieves, taking from one another endlessly. Never rising above and creating for themselves a paradise away from servitude.’

The Citizenry has long since the early times had a focus on community. In that, every member, so long as they are providing the community with something as a result of their lives; are entitled to the full benefits of the community in return. Every person born upon Rion which takes on a profession, academic pursuit or other deserving role within The Citizenry is given a gold token with royal red details. This token provides the citizen with proof that they are contributing to The Citizenry and may take for themselves what they wish in leau of payment with coin. These beliefs are beloved by The Citizenry and form much of their civil culture; discouraging gluttonous or selfish behaviour. Even the very monarch of the people pursues their position as their fair contribution.

The Selemian people detested them for this. They believed that such behaviour was the sign of weakness. As both civilizations grew throughout the ages eventually their borders touched and war erupted. Generations of fear followed as the Selemian people adopted atrocious tactics to demoralize their opponents. They encouraged random and public assaults on civilians. Those who would carry out these attacks would don masks reminiscent of elephant skulls moments before their slaughters began.

With generations of war came generations of innovation. The greatest of these innovations was the Astaria Essence Engine. A device that is capable of generating electrical energy utilizing a magically enchanted gemstone as its core. While magick is rare and indecipherable to most across Rion; ruins and abandoned places hold remnants and tools that can be salvaged so that their remaining magical energy may be transferred into precious stones. The Astaria Essence Engine allowed the invention of hovering vehicles, firearms and a plethora of simple electronic and industrial devices. It was with these tools and the dedication of incredibly skilled warriors that the war was ended and the militant Selemians were no more. Their settlements spread across the eastern continent of Rion now lay barren of any population and have been thoroughly destroyed; their remnants dismantled so that they may return to nature.

The war ended five weeks ago.

Chapter One

The Furthest Thing Away Is Time

A steady chug of black pours out of the smoke stack of The Tristram; a three car length black, red and gold war-train which hovers half a metre above various yellow shades of prairie grass. The Tristram moves at twice the speed of a galloping horse parallel a river towards the small town of Gelghen. There is a single large armoured panel door on either side of each train car; each of them are closed shut with the exception of one on the right side of the back car. The middle car has a large steel cannon with a rifled barrel installed on top of it.

Sitting on the edge of the opened panel door is Bell. Bell is tall, well built, quiet and at a glance very solemn looking. His clothing consists of intricate black leather boots, metal greaves and a dull breastplate mostly concealed underneath a dark brown leather long-coat. Bell wears half a form fitting detail-less white mask over the lower portion of his face; unstyled short brown hair covers his head. At his side in an immaculate and translucent sheath is his blade Ehre; a thin and very sharp sabre. Bell stares out across the prairie landscape as its details skip and sprint into blurs.

How close are we Howarth? Bell speaks in a calm voice towards a speaker module installed alongside the inner train wall.

The speaker module crackles as it comes alive. Not too far off now. Gunnery SGT Howarth replies. "I’m still not sure if this is an...appropriate response Bell. I mean the threat of what they’ve reported. Ten or twelve bandits? I’m imagining just the consideration of something like The Tristram coming to their door would break up their operation."

Bell blinks with impatience. And maybe that is the reason their operation exists in the first place. They have been given the benefit of an under-reaction in every other instance. Bell swiftly jumps to his feet and steadies himself with his right hand against the edge of the panel opening; he leans slightly off the edge of the train.

The speaker module crackles a few times as it prepares to do something. "Alright. I trust you. Howarth notes simply; the crackling speaker punctuating his speech. We’ll be circling Gelghen. Signal when you want your pick up."

Of course. Bell confirms before casually stepping off the train and landing without difficulty. The Tristram quickly trails away from Bell and soon becomes something in the distance. Bell begins walking towards Gelghen which is now only a hundred or so meters away. The town consists of maybe fifty wooden buildings built next to the small lake at the end of the river. There are five people standing in the centre of the town; all of which are armed with simple swords or axes. These people are staring out at The Tristram as it runs in circles around the border of the settlement.

What is it doing? One of the people asks out loud.

Maybe it is just watching? Another of them replies.

Bell emerges from the shadows of one of the town’s buildings. Actually. He speaks clearly; immediately catching the attention of all the individuals standing outside. It is waiting for me.

One of the people points their sword at Bell. An’ who the hell are you? She asks with what certainly isn’t grace.

I am someone who is tired. Bell responds and then quickly draws Ehre to slash behind him; deflecting an arrow fired at him from the roof of one of the buildings. As Bell turns his back the woman and the four others rush towards him. The archer draws another arrow and fires at Bell. Bell steps to the side and drops his posture slightly; allowing him to catch the arrow with his left hand before it pierces the dirt ground. Bell lunges forwards towards the charging woman and with the caught arrow in his hand quickly unleashes a flurry of stabs into her knees. As the woman falls forward Bell pushes the arrow through her neck and boot kicks her towards one of others; both fall. Another arrow flies towards Bell and is cut in half with Ehre. One of the bandits throws his axe at Bell as another closes the distance and attempts to slash at him. Bell moves towards the slashing bandit, grapples his arm, breaks it at the elbow and forces him in the way of the thrown axe. In a fluid motion Bell ducks under another arrow fired at him, pulls the axe out of the bandit’s chest and then throws it at the archer. The axe sticks into the forehead of the archer and quickly causes him to flop backwards dead. Two bandits stand a short distance away from Bell wavering their weapons towards him with an amateur’s threat; one has his face and body covered in blood and dirt.

We’ll just leave. The bloodied one says; his eyes pacing between Bell and his companion.

You won’t. Bell replies; walking towards them.

The bandits back away slowly. We will. The other one replies. This was all too much anyways. We got caught up. Just stopped thinking. Too many things happened, but that wasn’t what-. Bell jolts forwards at incredible speed and pushes Ehre through the bandit’s heart; Ehre’s hilt bashes into the chest of the bandit and aggressively thrusts him towards the ground as Bell pulls back on the blade.

The other bandit stops, falls backwards and begins crying. He pulls a knife from his boot and shakily moves it towards his own neck. "I’ll...I’ll just....do..do...do it myself. That’s." He breaks down and starts panicking more.

Bell walks behind him and speaks in a calm voice. It wouldn’t be easier. Doing it yourself. You’d miss. Cut too shallow. Draw a curvy line. He easily takes the knife from the bandit’s hand and tosses it into the dirt away from them. "The last thing you want is to be sitting there maybe bleeding to death, pissed off because you screwed this up too."

The bandit laughs in a macabre way and in that exact moment Bell presses the tip of Ehre swiftly into the back of the bandit’s spine; killing him suddenly and painlessly. Bell looks away as an instant reaction to the corpses and peers out towards the rest of the town.

The voice of an older woman rages from inside of one of the buildings. Why would you do such a thing! She shouts at Bell from an open window on the second floor. She is a larger well muscled woman with short red hair. "That boy was surrendering. He wasn’t your enemy any longer. You just murdered him."

Bell shakes his head. All things have consequences. It is only our egos which trick us into living otherwise. I do not believe we should live in a world where that is a common consideration to forget.

You do not get to decide what the world does or does not do! The woman argues; becoming increasingly distressed by the corpses in the centre of her town. She disappears from her window in a huff.

Bell looks away from the woman’s window and searches through his pockets; producing a small device which looks similar to a torch if it were made from bronze. He holds it up towards the sky and it shoots out a bright green orb of light that hovers above the town. The woman from the window rushes out of her front door and kneels next to the corpse of the female bandit.

I know who this was. Her mother lived here. She had family that loved her. She laments through her growing tears and upset.

We can either be fearless when we make decisions and make them for ourselves. Or do nothing and have them be made for us. Bell speaks while staring at the female’s corpse. "Both are permanent. Both are real. We can only hope that in some way, this is what she truly wanted."

The woman scoffs in anger and spits violently. "You think she would want this?! To be slain like cannon fodder by some genocidal soldier?"

The Tristram appears at the entrance of the town and parks its self as close to the middle of the square as it can. Bell shrugs as he looks inwards towards the town. If someone can be anywhere else, and this is still where they have decided to be. He shrugs again. The logical answer is that they’re just getting what they asked for.

A loud pneumatic hiss emanates from The Tristram as one of the doors positioned on its back car opens up. From within emerges a tall and densely muscled man in green canvas overalls, matching leather gloves and boots with a stout braided beard of blond hair. He carries across his hips various sizes of technical tools and gauges. He is Gunnery SGT Howarth. He stares at the corpses in the centre of the town and raises his eyebrow poignantly. I count five.

"Six" Bell says under his breath; raised cheek bones tease a soft smirk underneath his mask.

Howarth looks around and pokes his head into an alley or two. I thought the report said there were more.

You want to take more of our children? The woman screams at Howarth.

Howarth reacts with a confused expression and looks absurdly at the woman. We get reports that your town’s mines have been commandeered by bandits, your supply routes have been raided and that your central leadership has been imprisoned. So you decide your primary concern is going to be that you know the people who are doing bad things to you? Howarth imposes his question with stringent intimidation. The woman attempts to reply but isn’t given permission by Howarth’s gravitas. "Abandon your bullshit. More often then not it is the people we love the dearest who are able to hurt us the most."

The woman looks up at Howarth, looks down at the corpses, looks at their weapons, closes her eyes for a moment then walks away. That doesn’t make it easier.

It isn’t supposed too. All it does is let you actually get to the place where things are. Howarth notes confidently before turning his attention to Bell.

I imagine the rest are in the mines. Holed up. Finding homes in the shadows. Bell notes.

Mhmm. Howarth agrees. I’ll let Mel set up once you give the all clear.

Bell nods. "I would wait. I trust our reports. But..."

Something feels off? Howarth questions.

Bell lets out a huff of air and looks around the town. They have all these resources. An entire refinery available to them. Yet I can’t see anything around here that looks like a fortification.

Howarth kicks one of the bandit’s weapons laying about on the ground and examines it briefly. Their weapons are shit too. This one here just looks like some bush knife you give kids when they go out to take a piss in the night. Not any sort of fighting weapon.

Keep The Tristram locked up until I return. Bell instructs Howarth.

Howarth rolls his eyes. Because I need your order to do my duty. He stares at The Tristram. You know precisely how precious this vessel is to me.

Bell nods then walks towards the largest of the buildings in Gelghen. As he sheathes Ehre the blood and disrepair brought upon the blade by the skirmish is cleaned and repaired; made to look brand new again. He presses open the large wooden doors of the building and peers into a barely lit room. The floor is made of shale, the walls of cobblestone; these walls have various hooks with mining equipment and clothing hung up upon them. There is a large cargo elevator in the centre of the room. He enters the elevator and presses the descend button; one of only three options. The elevator shivers slightly and the sound of rattling heavy chain shoots down the entire column of nothingness which it is suspended above; it descends with a surprising smoothness which is only disrupted every other moment with turbulence.

The elevator lands awkwardly; a few of its chains collect in slack and smack onto the top of the cage. The mines are completely dark. Echoes and fabricated bits of noise can be heard from deeper within. Bell looks up indiscriminately at nothing, chuckles slightly to himself and then presses forwards into the darkness of the mine. He wields the small brass machine from before and places it into a front facing pocket on his jacket; as he does it provides a brief ten feet of green light in front of him.

Darkness has an inherent ability to make things terrifying and it does so in a constant cycle. At first something terrifying manifests before you, you have no idea what it is and you thus presume it is something awful. Then it becomes more and more rock-like as you become closer and closer. You relax, enjoy a breath and quickly lose it as another lump of darkness appears upon your path. While it looks very similar to the rock you just encountered, you find yourself asking; how many rocks can there really be?

Every step Bell takes shows him nothing. The mine is long, it has been worked for generations and its depths span the length of some memories. Wooden support beams placed every few meters hold the ceiling up about nine feet high. The tunnel trails on at a slight decline. Without segue a pitch black figure briefly appears in Bell’s cone of light; they both stop moving instantly. Bell stares at the black figure and it does not move. Bell steps backwards and the figure disperses. Bell steps forwards again and it is no longer standing where it had been. Bell spins around swiftly and can see no figures anywhere around him. Ehre quickly finds its self in Bell’s hand; held with an apprehensive grip. He continues walking slowly into the mine. The walls begin to widen and soon Bell is within a chamber illuminated by wide stone braziers. A deep mined pit carved with stairs of stone leads down to an impressive and sprawling ore refinery. Suspended above a vat of boiling metal is half the body of a man hung by his wrists on chains; his form severed from the hips down; the wound has been cauterized by the rising heat. Bell sprints down towards the suspended individual.

The individual’s eyes open and he begins screaming incoherently; throttling about awfully on his chains. His screams cause the metal below him to boil with greater veracity; other pieces of refining equipment erupt to life and begin functioning. The suspended individual’s eyes focus intensely and he stares at Bell with demented attention. They wanted more and now they have more! He shouts at Bell.

What do you mean? Bell questions; honestly not expecting a coherent answer.

"Oh ho ho! More and more! We’re all here to be together. To the ground with us all!" The suspended individual cheers; now completely forgetful of his pain and suffering.

Bell slashes one of the chains suspending the individual with Ehre and breaks through the brittle material with ease. The suspended individual swings into the vat of metal and begins sinking into a puddle of himself. "Oh joy! To be chosen." He cheers as he descends into the molten metal. The refinery equipment stops, the braziers of flame blow out. The mine fills with smoke, darkness and whispers from a hundred different corners.

Chapter Two

Fear Is A Diminishing Return

The smoke surrounding Bell obscures even further his already challenged view of the mine around him. He can feel in his feet the vibrations of entities moving about in the area. Shadows walk through the smoke and into the small cone of light provided by the brass device. Bell slashes at the shadows but his blade tastes nothing but air; cutting through the wispy shadows as if they were not even there. The shadows collapse onto their knees and begin pounding their fists against the floor where Bell’s own shadow is shortly cast. Bell feels no pain but his shadow appears bludgeoned and broken; it is dragged away by the shades. As his shadow leaves him Bell feels heavier.

Utilizing the most hopeful of steps Bell retraces his path to the tunnel which he had entered into the mine initially. Blocking the entirety of the tunnel exiting the mine is now a wall of corpses; flayed and sewn together with thick staples of iron. Bell cuts an exploratory slash open in the flesh wall and reveals behind it dense concentrations of rock and rubble. There isn’t really anywhere to go Bell. The many mouths of the many corpses upon the flesh wall speak in unison. Bell takes a few startled steps backwards and with lightning speed raises Ehre; pointing it towards each of the various faces upon the flesh wall. "Here is where you want to be. With us." They taunt.

Bell stares further at the flesh wall and decides to disregard it. As he turns around the stone braziers placed across the mine ignite with white flame. The flash of light dramatically illuminates the entire mine. Equally across from where Bell is standing at the mouth of a different tunnel is an atrocious looking humanoid. The humanoid is over ten feet tall with lanky extremities. Its body is entirely dark grey with three long gnarly toes and four long gnarly fingers. Its head is simply that of a fowl if it had been smacked centrally with a recently sharpened hatchet. The braziers flicker intensely for a few moments longer as the humanoid stares directly and obviously at Bell. It begins to move towards him in a slow four legged meandering motion as the braziers empty of flame and the mine is again pitch black. In the darkness Bell can hear the pace of the creature pick up. Bell quickly decides upon one of the many tunnels to run towards and bolts. He rushes as quickly as he can; tumbling a bit in his haste and using his hands to continue running and push him back up to his feet. The humanoid is close behind; its deep and excited breath growing louder as the chase goes on. Bell nearly matches the pace of a deer at full sprint and quickly finds himself taking turns which lead him deeper and deeper into the mine. The humanoid is persistent and without falter as it chases after Bell. The flight gains him no ground; Bell runs into a well lit cavern with hundreds of melting candles dripping down the walls. The humanoid enters the cavern and places its hands at length against either side of the tunnel; blocking the passage.

As Bell studies the walls he realizes that under the candle wax is flesh. The walls beat organically like a heart and the floor shakes slightly in tandem. It will be good to have you come home. The humanoid teases with a high pitched and distressing voice.

This is not my home. Bell affirms confidently.

The humanoid falls down onto its knees, balls its self up and suddenly morphs its form. Emerging from the ball of terrifying monster is a picture perfect image of Bell’s wife; Temple. Temple has shoulder length blond hair tied into a tight bun. She wears a long dress adorned thoroughly in thin plates of steel with a massive white great-sword sheathed on her back. Her face is fair, mildly scarred with some sun damage and primarily highlighted by her delightful brown eyes. She shares her height of six foot one with Bell; though she is slightly more slender. But this is. Temple flirts; motioning her hands down towards and across her body.

Less then a second passes after seeing this Bell launches forwards with his fist and attempts to strike Temple. Temple disperses in a wisp of shadow causing Bell to smash his fist into the wall of wax, flesh and stone; displacing each in a loud SQUISH. Bell pulls his hand from the wall and draws Ehre. "You have made a mistake, monster. Showing me my deceased wife."

Temple reappears at the other end of the cavern and makes a pained expression begging for attention. "Oh but Bell, my love. You don’t truly mean that. I’m right here. You could lay everything down and just come to me. We’re all here, I promise."

A steady stream of tears begins pouring from Bell’s right eye before his left; neither challenge his resolve or focus. You were scary before. When I was caught up in what was before my eyes. Bell takes a few courageous steps forward. But you have chosen an impersonation of my worst nightmare. Bell shakes his head. Which just reminds me. He wipes the tears from his face with his sleeve. That if my reality has already shown me the worst of my fears. An abrupt breath clears his throat and deepens his voice slightly. "Then you are nothing more then some evil asshole in a dark room."

What a flatterer you are. Temple compliments. There are more ways to join us. She melts into a few different ball sized aspects of shadow which crawl into the walls. From the walls emerge dark creatures with roughly humanoid shapes; their only features are human mouths across their arms, legs, face, stomach and neck. You can become a small part of each of us! The mouths all speak together.

Bell violently kicks the first of the creatures which approach him and he is pleased as its head rips from its body and bashes against one of the walls. The other creatures rush towards Bell and he begins slashing towards them. Using the tip of his blade in tight swipes to insure he can accurately hit the shorter quickly moving targets. As one of the creatures dies it melts into the ground and another emerges from the wax wall. Bell kills droves and their numbers do not dissipate. The creatures keep coming, doing their best to bite a chunk out of any piece of Bell they can get to.

Realizing that a straight forward melee is fruitless; Bell shifts strategy. He wields his blade in a defensive style that quickly strikes any approaching targets but does not advance or take offensive action. After defeating a wave of the creatures and buying himself a bit of time. Bell takes the bronze light creating device from his front jacket pocket and twists it in half; causing a loud cracking noise. With a snap-like action Bell pushes the device into the wax wall and begins running blindly into the dark tunnels to escape the cavern. The creatures chase him for a few moments but as Bell gains a bit of cover within one of the tunnels the bronze device erupts into a pillar of flame that rapidly spreads; igniting the closest wooden support beams.                 The mines begin to collapse as the supports burn up and drag each other down. Bell rushes away from the devouring failure of rock and debris behind him. Natural flames re-ignite within the braziers across the mine. As Bell reaches the exit he sprints quickly through a puddle of what used to be the blocking wall of flesh and rubble. Upon reaching the elevator he leaps on top of it and begins climbing up the chains; throwing himself up a meter or more at a time. Bell rushes out of the mine and out of the building which houses access to it just in time for all of it to collapse into its self; creating a deep wide absence in the terrain where the building and mine used to be. Bell stands just a short distance from the collapsed terrain half panting with exhaustion and laughing out of nervous amusement.

One of the pressurized doors on the back car of The Tristram quickly opens and from within emerges Howarth and Mel. Mel is a middle aged woman trained as a medical alchemist. She has her red hair cut short and wears a padded white robe with three red stripes on either of her shoulders; indicating her status as a non-combatant. She is plump without appearing unhealthy and seems kind at a glance even from a distance.

What in all of the hells just happened? Howarth shouts out towards Bell.

Ghoul breeding grounds. Bell replies bluntly. Looks like they used the bodies of the bandits and their captives to do it. He shrugs. Who knows how long one of them was waiting down there for company.

Mel’s face drops slightly into disappointment. So there are no survivors?

Bell walks towards The Tristram and pulls himself up towards the train; lingering in the doorway Just me.

Mhmmpfhh. Mel protests. She addresses Bell very seriously. You couldn’t do anything?

Bell shakes his head no. Breeding ghouls are like house fires. Anything that isn’t saved within the first few moments just gets lost. He continues into the train-car.

Mel nods. Thank you for trying. I’m sure I’ll find something to do to help the people who remain here.

At least the ghouls are dealt with. Howarth seems pleased to state. They follow Bell back inside.

Bell takes off Ehre’s sheath and then sits down on a couch surrounding a square four person table. The last train car on The Tristram is primarily an operations room. Whatever supplies someone could need in the field or for battle are stored here alongside ammunition for the train’s primary cannon. The walls are a thick metal that has been painted a pleasant soft green. I’m glad we have been able to help here, and that the monsters are dead. But a collection of monster corpses doesn’t give anyone a utopia. The people that live here cannot rebuild their livelihoods on the foundation of a ruined mine and a lack of mortal threats. No matter the infrastructure we could mend.

"I’ll be able to help. Our aid can change lives." Mel asserts.

Howarth smiles positively towards his wife; unwavering in his support.

"Our aid helps for a few days Mel. We both know the only real way we can take care of these people is if they move nearer Neitheim. But there is a non-existent chance of that happening considering how townies feel about moving." Bell responds factually.

By helping now we make it easier for them to help themselves later. Mel begins to argue.

And I’ve never said it doesn’t. Bell admits as he closes his eyes to relax; leaning his head back slightly. Just we know how they’re going to react. They’d rather die out traditionally trying to build log cabins in a deforested field then live a decent life any other way.

"Yes yes. Howarth quips. We could gift the townies paradise and they’d instead demand their routine and a bad cup of regular coffee. We’ve heard the jokes."

Bell removes the form fitting mask from his face and stretches a few of his facial muscles.  The mask has a series of extending and retracting panels on either side of its width which adjust to fit upon Bell’s face perfectly; these panels tuck into themselves neatly when the mask is removed.  I just wish blades solved more problems.

Mel tuts. Trying to solve all our problems with blades is the very reason we can’t seem to stop running out of them. She begins unpacking tables, trunks of preserved