Firstborn of the Frontier

“Sorry to bother you while you eat,” I say, grinning from ear to ear as I hold two papers and a pencil up in front of Marcus. “Just need your mark on the dotted lines, and you can get back to your breakfast.”

“If you were really sorry, you wouldn’t have done it.” Talking around a mouthful of dried bread and jerky, Marcus peers at the papers with a scowl, as he ain’t ever been a morning person. “What’s this? A contract? Our verbal arrangement not good enough for you anymore?”

“Nah, that ain’t it. Different thing.” Still grinning, I tap the paper on the dotted line. “No need strain yourself readin’, even if it is cute seein’ you mouth the words as you go. Just sign and I’ll get outta your hair.”

Giving me a look that says he’ll do no such thing, Marcus looks over the contract I scribbled down on a page from my notebook before going to sleep last night. One dictating the terms of a purchase agreement for one Mage Armour Spell Core at fair market value, the specifics of which will be decided later. There’s a bit more to it, including a clause for open auction if we can’t agree on a price, but it’s standard boilerplate for selling valuable Spell Cores to the Rangers. “Lucky you,” he says, checking to make sure both copies say the same thing before signing them both using my Spellbook as a clipboard. “Earning big.”

“Yea,” I drawl, stretching the word out over a full two seconds as I collect my copy of the contract and tuck it into my Spellbook’s sleeve. “If only I was good enough to keep it for myself.”

“Lucky us then,” Marcus chimes without missing a beat, giving me a big old weatherworn grin before knuckling me on the shoulder. “Don’t worry Howie. You’ll get there soon enough. Now hand it over.”

Instead, I hand him a folded note which he scans right away. Nodding, he turns and bellows, “Tink! Front and centre.”

When Captain Clay calls, you best bet folks come running, and Conner arrives quick as a blink, his afro half flat from a good night’s rest. “Yea Cap?” Taking the proffered note, Conner looks it over and shakes his head, inferring Marcus’ question as to whether he can whip up something to make use of the Mage Armour Spell Core better than I can. “I could bootstrap something that works,” he says, scratching his chin stubble while he thinks. “Need my books back in Meadowbrook to anything better than base though. Would probably be inefficient as hell too, as I’ve never worked on something like this.” Shrugging at Marcus’ sour look, Conner unapologetically says what he always says in situations like this. “I’m just a mechanic, man. I put parts together. I don’t build ‘em from scratch.” Gesturing at me, he adds, “If Howie thinks he can do better, then let him try. Can’t blow nothing up with what he’s asking for. Worst he can do is burn his fingerprints off, and those’ll grow back.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence Conner,” I say with a smile, and I get a swift tap on the back of the head for my sass. We both grinning though, as I’ve spent many an hour helping him tune up Ranger gear when he was stationed back in New Hope. I ain’t nowhere near as good as Danny, but I know a little bit, enough to do this much at least. I know Conner can too, though I ain’t sure if he telling the truth about needing his books, or if he just trying to help me get paid for work. Then again, maybe he plain don’t want to do it and is happy to have me fill in.

“All right,” Marcus says, still addressing Conner. “Talk to Wayne and get Howie what he needs.” Giving me a warning look, Marcus adds, “Best we keep you two separate. For my sake, not yours.”

“Fair enough,” I say, since it is. Turning to Conner as he heads off, I add, “Leave the stuff with Errol or Sarah Jay? I gotta head out soon.”

“Not today,” Marcus says through another mouthful of hardtack and jerky. “You and your boot are riding with the wagons, so you can get started on that work right now.”

“Don’t need me to scout?”

“Don’t need you for anything, boot,” Marcus replies with a wink. “I got plenty of Rangers with eyes that work just fine, but only one half-baked Artificer who can build me what I need.” His smile fades and is replaced by weather-worn worry as he glances at the boots, most of whom are still asleep. “Besides, your boot deserves a chance to walk away, same as the rest.”

Ah. Right. Not gonna lie, the thought of Kacey calling it quits never crossed my mind. Mostly because I been trying to keep her off my mind, lest my temper get the better of me. To that effect, I change the subject. “Y’all got a pool goin’ on how many gonna get gone? I’m guessing least five walk out, on top of the three wounded.”

“No bet,” Marcus says. Heaving a sigh, he looks the boots over once more with a conflicted expression. “They’re not ready for this. Not their fault. They got the makings of Rangers, but they’re about ten years too early. A tour or three with the Army would set them right, thirty to fifty other grunts moving together with heavy weapons, armoured vehicles, and aerial support. Expecting them to do Ranger work so soon is too optimistic, and I’m a fool for thinking otherwise.”

Ain’t like him to second guess himself, so I cheer the big guy on. “Bah. You overthinkin’ it. They a promisin’ bunch. Sure, they got a ways to go before they’re Ranger ready, but I reckon those that stick it out’ll get there eventually.”

“Assuming they survive long enough.”

Ah. I see the problem now. “Gotta hammer the iron to forge the tip of the spear,” I say, even though Marcus knows as much. He worries is all, especially when it comes to the younger generation. “They ready as they’ll ever be, Marcus. Some’ll make it, some won’t, and end of the day, it’s better to be lucky than good.”

“Truer words have never been spoken.”

Glancing around to make sure there ain’t anyone too close by to overhear, I stand next to Marcus and watch over the sleeping boots with him. “Truth is, they ain’t as terrible as I expected.” Most of them at least. Nate’s a lost cause, and he ain’t the only one. “There’s some real potential here. Not too much though, seeing how Tina’s top boot.”

That draws a little chuckle out of Marcus. “Girl’s a born gunfighter and Spellslinger if I ever seen one, and a hard worker too. Your daddy trained her same as you, so with you out of the running, I’d be more surprised if she wasn’t top boot.”

“She got talent, I’ll give her that,” I say, glad he took the bait. “Thing is, hardworking she may be, she also got a lot on her plate. How many other boots got chores after trainin’? Not many I reckon. Captain Jung keeps ‘em busy, but not so busy they don’t got time for a few drinks at the saloon every afternoon. With how busy Tina is, it wouldn’t be hard for another boot to overshadow her through sheer effort alone. A couple extra hours of practice a day adds up quick, hours Tina don’t got to spare. Sarah Jay could’ve taken the crown with a few more weeks in Basic, I’ll say that much, and I bet there two or three more who could do it too.” Like Michael, Kacey, or Antoni. That last one came as a bit of a surprise, as I seen him around once or twice before, a real shrinking violet from across the pond in Riverrun. Almost didn’t recognize him when I saw him yesterday with a gleam in his eyes and a grin on his face while gunning down Abby, a look folks often seen on me when I’m doing the same.

Most soldiers learn to endure the life we live; Antoni was born for it, hungers for it, and he’ll go far if given the chance.

That’s neither here nor there though, as I’m here to support Marcus the way he’s supported me all these years. “I’ll tell you this much,” I say, clapping Marcus on the shoulder in a half-hug. “Darren would’ve given Tina a good run for her money.” Always risky mentioning his name around Marcus, and the big guy tenses up, but I power on through without missing a beat. “You remember how he was, always making everything he did into a competition? Who get to the lake first, who climb the highest tree or jump farthest on the swing. He had a yearnin’ for competition, always pushin’ himself to the limit, and once he won, he’d just move onto the next challenge. Might not’ve been top boot from day one, but he’d have gotten there right quick.”

There’s a short pause that lasts a lifetime while I wait for Marcus to respond, and I hold my breath until he does. “Remember your candy eating competition?” he asks with a chuckle, throwing his big meaty arm around my shoulder without having to stand, and for once, I keep myself from flinching. “Found you two lying in the grass with an empty jar of gummies and piles of vomit around the both of you.”

“Best dollar I ever spent.” We take a few minutes to reminisce about Darren before Marcus sends me off with a pat on the head. While he still got that melancholy look in his eye, you wouldn’t know it was there unless you know him well. Like I said, ain’t a man or woman alive on the Frontier who ain’t lost someone, and for Marcus and Simone, that’d be Darren, their own firstborn. Was a few months younger than Tina, but old enough to get in on this first boot camp if not for a twist of fate. Handful of tweakers thought they could stick up the bank in New Hope and get away clean. Idiots is what they was, waving guns around in a building full of Rangers and their Officers. Their kids too, or at least one kid, Darren who’d come running to visit his dad at the office after class. Bolt wasn’t even aimed at him; the bandit whodunnit was on the floor below, firing up into the ceiling to make his intentions known.

Fact is, that was the only shot them bandits got off. All five of them got their clocks cleaned before they could finish saying, ‘This is a robbery’, but eleven-year-old Darren was already dead, clipped in the neck by the single Penetrating Bolt the bandits shot off. Poor kid had his whole life ahead of him, only to be robbed of it all by some worthless, two-bit bandit. Bad luck is what it was, and the loss tore Marcus up something fierce, so much so that he went on a rampage stringing up bandits, drug dealers, and their suppliers by the dozen for a good three or four years. He’s calmed down since, but he’s still hurting bad, and I don’t blame him for it. He don’t let the pain slow him down none though, at least not most of the time. Here and now, with so many young boots under his wing, I can understand why he’s so worried and anxious, as he sees Darren in each and every one of their faces.

Well, they ain’t him though, no matter how much Marcus wishes otherwise, and if these boots want to be Rangers, then they’re gonna have to face the risks. No way around it, as there ain’t no surefire safety to be found here on the Frontier. Better to face it head on than bury your head in the sand is what I always say, but there always gonna be those who think different. They’d be wrong, except they think they right because they’ve survived this long, and don’t realize they owe their lives to all the good men and women who’ve died keeping them safe.

There’s more than an hour before we’re schedule to get moving, so I head back to my ‘bed’ to study some Spell Structures while waiting on Conner for my materials. The downside of being a Scout you see, having to set out bright and early to get a head start, which is why I’m up and about while everyone else gets to sleep in. Well, technically not everyone else, which is why Kacey rushes to get dressed after she wakes and sees the rising red sun cresting over the golden horizon. Course she got no reason to rush considering we ain’t scouting today, but I keep that to myself until she notices I’m still sitting down on the job and comes over to see what’s what. Shoots a real mean glare too when I tell her we riding with the wagons today, like she blaming me for not letting her know sooner.

What was I supposed to do? Wake her up to tell her she could sleep in?

Rather than say as much though, she gives a little huff before she goes to leave with Inari bundled up in her arms. Feeling a little vindictive, I sit up and say, “Hang on a tick.” Craning my neck to look up at her, I frown a bit and gesture for her to come closer. Earns me another huff and a darker glare, but she takes a knee and waits for me to speak, as I haven’t exactly decided what to say just yet. Certainly ain’t because I’m distracted by how nice she look with her silky, light-brown hair worn loose and down, or the fact that she sleeps in loose shorts that really show off her long, slender, milky white legs. “Relax,” I begin, doing my best to keep a level head and my eyes fixed on hers. “I didn’t call you here to talk about what went down between you and Tina.” Pieced it together well enough, and while I’m angry, I ain’t angry enough to do anything about it. Especially not with Tina getting all riled up about handling her own business, which is why I didn’t say nothing to Errol neither. Man has some nerve looking at her like he did once he learned she could cast Madness, like she one bad day from murdering babes in their crib. Taking another deep breath to cool off, I say, “That’s for you and her to work out, or not. Either way, I ain’t here to play peacemaker, warn ye off, or nothing.”

Despite all my efforts to play nice and ease her worries, my long and lengthy preamble has got her hackles up. More interesting is how Inari follows suit, leading me to wonder if they got some kinda Spell Bond that lets them share emotions. “Then what are you here for?” Kacey asks in clipped, precise tones, and the little fox bares her fangs to match.

“Well,” I begin, reminding myself to keep calm, “I wanna apologize for leavin’ you in the lurch like I did yesterday, after we was hit by that Fear Spell. You had it handled well, but I could’ve and should’ve done more to help you weather through it instead of runnin’ off on my own.”

“I am fine.”

“Never said you weren’t.” Resisting the urge to crack wise, glare back, or even speak harshly, I work real hard to sound calm and steady as I go over what Aunty Ray told me. “Said you handled it well, but I figured we ought to have this talk all the same. A Fear Spell tends to have effects which linger long after the Spell fades, and sometimes it takes a little extra effort to bounce back. For all intents and purposes, the response you experienced from the Spell was psychologically and physiologically no different from a real scare. Problem is, once the Spell ends, your conscious mind understands what happened was due to magic, but your body and subconscious mind have a harder time setting things right. They tend to get hung up on that fear, because even though there was never anything real to be afraid of, they don’t know that. All they know is that there was a threat, and since they couldn’t perceive and identify it to begin with, they can take some convincing before they accept that everything’s hunky dory again.”

Which is probably why Kacey had trouble sleeping last night, hence the late start to her morning. Would’ve had this talk yesterday if I’d been calm enough to keep things civil. Still not entirely sure I am, to be honest. Was looking forward to chewing her out for being late for scouting duties, except I was robbed of the opportunity. What can I say? I’m petty like that.

Not so petty as to wait for her to ask for help when it’s clear she needs it. That’s why she’s got them dark shadows under her eyes, and why she’s still listening, so I press on. “Best way I’ve found is breathing exercises,” I say, crossing my legs and gesturing for her to do the same, and it takes effort not to stare. “My daddy taught ‘em to me after my first bout with the Fear Spell left me feeling like my chest was all tense and tight, even days after the fact.” Anxiety is what it was, fear of experiencing fear again, which is just all sorts of twisted if you ask me. Humans ain’t built for this sort of life, which is why I go easy on those who choose to live with their head up in the clouds. Silly is what it is, but some folks can’t function unless they pretend death ain’t lurking in every shadow and around every corner.

A few minutes is all it takes to run Kacey through some meditation practice, and I offer a couple other suggestions too. Exercise, focusing on other tasks, challenging her negative thoughts, idle conversation, there’s lotta ways to go about it, and it’s up to her to figure out what works best. “Could even spend some time playing with your fox,” I say, reaching out to poke the little white furball on the nose and retracting my hand right quick when she snaps at my finger. “Been out here for days and I ain’t seen you play fetch even once. Downright criminal is what it is, neglect and abuse of the highest order.”

“Inari prefers tug of war.” Stroking the three-tailed beastie with the barest hint of a smile, Kacey clutches the little creature close before looking up to meet my eyes. “Thank you for the advice,” she says, before pursing her lips like she don’t like the taste of the words, and now that I know to look, I can see little Inari got a similar expression. “It is most helpful.”

Though it sounds like she’s done talking, I can tell she got more to say, she just don’t know how to say it. Well, casual conversation is one of the ways to relax after a big scare, and seeing how she’s my boot, I suppose I ought to help her out. “What’s the deal with Inari anyway?” I ask, working hard not to get all tongue twisted over the strange name. “Don’t have to say nothing if it’s some sorta secret, but she ain’t what I was expecting from a Summoned beastie.”

“There is no secret,” Kacey says, stroking the scared little fox’s head, and I gotta wonder how much of that fear is hers. “Inari is my familiar.” Before I can crack wise about how I ain’t familiar with the term, she continues her explanation in a rambling, roundabout manner. I don’t rush her, just offer a few leading questions to help keep her mind off her fear and sate my curiosity at the same time. In broad strokes, a familiar is a conjured entity like any other, a creation of Aether, Ectoplasm, and Spirit/Soul/whatever you wanna call it. You take a totem, use the Bind Companion Cantrip to sacrifice some Spirit, and create a brand-new spiritual entity, which when summoned using the relevant Spell, gains a conjured body of ectoplasm in the general shape of the totem, and a brain to go with it that’s typically about as smart as a toddler. There’s a lot more to it of course, but Kacey don’t get into the specifics as she assumes I already know them.

What I do know is that one, most summons are bigger and more useful than little Inari, and two, they don’t stick around 24/7. In fact, a full minute is the base standard for Summoning Spells, meaning you get a measly sixty seconds out of a First Order Spell when you starting out. Not all that useful all things considered, as a First Order summon is only about as big and dangerous as baby Cowie, without the smarts or Spellslinging to boot. I will say that Summoning Spells scale up well as you move up in Orders. Not only does your summoned creature get bigger, stronger and stick around longer, they get smarter too. At Sixth Order, you can summon something with near human intelligence and dexterity, meaning you can conjure up a Spellslinging, gunfighting friend whenever you need one.

Albeit at the cost of a Sixth Order Spell, which would put you at the top 1% of humanity, if not higher. And your Concentration too, which is a hefty price to bear, as you gotta focus on the Spell lest it come apart. Like Saheed pointed out, you can only have one Concentration Spell going at a time, and all the best Spells require it. Bless, Aid, Mirror Image, hell, even the Shield Spell needs Concentration to work, and all them feel more useful than having a hunting dog or even a tuskwolf for a few minutes at a time. That, among other reasons, is why the only summoning Spell I know is Simple Servant, which conjures up my blobby little helper for a full hour without Concentration.

Though now I’m fixing to learn the Summon Familiar Spell, as it sounds mighty useful. According to Kacey, it’s a Spell that actually predates Simple Servant, and modern Spellcasting in general, a fancy bit of magic which don’t require concentration and doesn’t have a time limit. Instead, Inari’s physical form draws sustenance from Kacey’s life force instead, along with daily meals and whatnot. Means the little three-tailed fox is still a conjured beastie made of Ecto, but one that could arguable be considered a fully-fledged biological entity. Got blood and organs and everything, which makes Inari something like Kacey’s Spiritual offspring given physical form, though I know better than to ask what happens if the little fox dies. Still, having another furry friend to cuddle and love is cool enough to warrant looking into, but there are other benefits too. Chief among them being the ability to learn and link senses. Traditionally, it was so the Spellcaster could utilize their familiar’s senses to better interpret Aetheric flows and whatnot back before they had mathematical formulas, but being able to smell with a fox’s nose or remotely see with their eyes is a huge advantage here on the Frontier, and it’s one reason which makes Kacey such a great prospect for a Scout.

Eager as I am to learn the Spell for myself, now ain’t the time or place. Instead, I note Kacey’s relaxed posture as she waves a ribbon around for Inari to chase and pat myself on the back for a job well done. At the same time, she picks up on it too and offers me a quiet nod of thanks. Without so much as scowl this time, which really hammers home how pretty she is, and I gotta remind myself that I’m cross with her. I’m also supposed to show her the ropes, which applies to more than just scouting, so I figure it needs to be said. “Word of advice?” I say, tentatively adding, “As a tutor, not Tina’s sorta-brother.” Kacey tenses up, but nods all the same, and I continue, “You ought to apologize, loudly and publicly. Not because it’s the ‘right’ or ‘moral’ thing to do, even if it is. I ain’t here to preach inclusion or diversity or whatever. You ought to apologize because Tina ain’t the only Innate in the Rangers.”

Far from it in fact, as most folks see it as the fastest and easiest way to become a proficient Spellslinger. Course, it comes with all the baggage of possible physical mutations, mental afflictions, and emotional instability, not to mention all the discrimination, but power do come at a price.

My warning sinks in as Kacey nods with a pout, one which I still find mighty fetching. “And as a Scout, I will likely work alongside more Rangers than most,” she says, picking up on my meaning right quick. The second she gets her skills up to snuff, she’ll be in high demand and get bounced around to whatever, Company, Squad, or Strike Team that needs her. Almost any Ranger can handle the mundane portion of scouting, but the job’s about more than finding tracks and watching for ambushes. Thing is, if Kacey gets herself a rep for hating Innates, it won’t just be Innates who come to distrust her. The teammates of those Innates won’t trust her either, and when you working in a five-man Strike Team, having one person you can’t trust can be a death-sentence for all of you.

All it takes is one moment of hesitation, one iota of doubt, one inkling of apprehension for whatever info Kacey brings to taint the whole operation and spell the difference between victory and success on the battlefield. So, even though the words send a pang of rage and regret through me, I tell Kacey the same lie I once believed. “Ain’t no race, creed, or colour among Rangers,” I say, and to my surprise, I even sound like I mean it. “Only thing that matters is you all wear the same star on your chest.”

And you bleed American, but they usually leave that part out.

After chewing on my words for a bit, Kacey looks me up and down like she seeing me for the first time. “You are less… quarrelsome than expected,” she says, in her matter-of-fact manner, and I ain’t sure how to feel about it. “Thank you again for the advice.”

“It’s why I get paid the big bucks.” It takes a lot of willpower not to ruin the rapport we got going with a warning or threat, as I tend to get overprotective when it comes to Tina and Chrissy. Thankfully, Cowie trots on over with a mouthful of half-chewed oats to indicate it’s time for his morning brushing, so I leave Kacey sitting in the sand to do just that. By the time I’m done, Conner brings me all the materials I need to settle down and work next to the wagon, freeing me from any more conversation, work obligations, or social niceties.

Technically speaking, what I’m doing here with the Mage Armour Spell Core is making an Artifact. That’s what they used to call objects that worked off the principles of Spell Cores and Aetheric Energy, but these days, the ‘proper’ term would be Arcanic Technological Device. Reason is we started figuring out how to make things that run solely off of Aetheric Energy, like stoves, speakers, and my Spell-storing boots, all of which don’t require a Spell Core to function, so Artifact wasn’t suitable anymore. Rather than come up with a bunch of different names however, the brainy bunch decided a more comprehensive catch-all term was required. Hence, Arcanic Technological Device. Don’t really roll of the tongue, so normal folks just call it all Arcana-tech, though ‘Artifact’ still works for anything built around a Spell Core. Aetherarms, Floating Disc sleds, my Shield bracer, all technically Artifacts, and building one is a fairly simple process.

The basic principles are the same no matter what Spell Core you working with. You need the Spell Core, an actuator to activate it, and Aether to power the whole thing. That’s all there is to it, though some Spell Cores take a little more work to get going right. Mage Armour ain’t one of them, but I’m looking to do a bit more than just make it work. If not, the company Artificer Connor ‘Tinker’ Bell could’ve handled this himself, and same goes for at least half-a-dozen Rangers here. What I’m looking to do is a little more complex though, namely utilize Metamagics and Aetheric dynamics to pump more power into the Spell Core and get a better, longer lasting Mage Armour outta it. At the added cost of extra Aether of course, but the difference between a four Grain Mage Armour and a forty Grain Mage Armour is well worth it to say the least. Ain’t no way I could manage something that takes forty Grain though, not out here in the desert with only travel tools and miscellaneous materials, but any improvement is better than base.

With that in mind, I take out the non-conductive baseboard and give it a good wipe. Technically, it’s a repurposed ceramic plate, upon which I’ll be doing all my Etchings and circuitry. In the same vein as ‘measure twice and cut once’, you wanna always have a plan before you start laying copper and Etching, so I get to work with my pencil and notebook mapping and math-ing things out. Ask any Artificer, and they’ll tell you rectangles are the best shape to work with, as it keeps things nice and tidy as you work section by section. When it comes to tradition and aesthetics though, there’s nothing more pleasing than a circle. Given the round ceramic plate I’m using as my baseboard, a circle is what I’m going with, so I plan things out with the Spell Core mounted dead centre because it’ll look best that way. Danny, he wouldn’t care one bit how it looks so long as it works and it fits, but me, I’m a particular sort who likes his work to look nice and neat.

So while the premise behind all this is simple enough, that ain’t the same as saying it’s easy. That’s why I’m still in the planning stages when it comes time to get underway almost an hour later. Unwilling to call it quits, I convince Tina to cast Floating Disc as practice for snowboarding down the line and hop on top for a smooth and steady ride. Earns me a few giggles from the peanut gallery and a joke about invisible magic carpet rides from Sarah Jay, but it’s worth it since I can work on the move. Tough to draw while jostling around on a horse or wagon, and impossible to Etch, so I give as good as I get while floating in between Cowie and old Tux, with Tina sitting up top. Gives me a front row seat to Kacey’s apology, which even sounds heartfelt and sincere, so I’m of a mind to believe it. Don’t like her excuses much, about how her mama used to scare her straight and tell her all bad kids get taken away by the Aberrant Death Squads. For many reasons really. Innates ain’t Aberrations, for starters, and I resent the implications that come with the label. Sure, that’s what the Qin Immortal Monarch called his genocidal military units, of which many members were powerful multi-Attuned Innates who committed all sorts of atrocities during the Second World War, but saying it don’t make it true. Secondly, there always gonna be reasons to hate, and far as reasons go, a war that happened fifty years back on a whole other world ain’t a great one. Could spend hours slinging mud about what the old world nations did during the last great war, and not a one of them would come out clean.

Especially Nippon, who had two Aetheric bombs dropped on them before they were willing to call it quits and stop massacring Qinese civilians on the mainland. Yea, the Qinese and Nipponese got a long history of hatred between them, but what’s that got to do with me, Tina, and Kacey? Nothing, that’s what, same as how it’s got nothing to do with anyone on the Frontier, since there ain’t a man or woman out here that was alive in 1945.

My own personal beefs aside, Tina graciously accepts the apology and sees it as an invitation to become close friends, a storm of bright cheer and curious questions which Kacey weathers better than I ever could. Buys me enough breathing room to work without having Tina mentioning my poor symmetry and ugly squiggles. Art ain’t my strong suit, no matter the medium, so I settle for neat and orderly over conventionally pretty. Once the blueprint is drawn and done, I stick to the principle of getting the easy parts done first and start putting together the bits and bobs I’ll need for the finished product. Ain’t a whole lot of work involved there, as it’s mostly an assortment of copper wire and spare parts. Every Artificer keeps a stash on hand for quick and easy fixes, because while it’s possible to build resonators, infusers, and diodes from scratch, factory made parts are so much more convenient.

Besides, I ain’t footing the bill, so why cheap out on parts?

The only thing I’m forced to build from scratch is the arcacitor, which aside from the Spell Core and power source, is the most important part of the whole Artifact. The technical details make arcacitors sound more complicated than they really are, as it’s just two metal discs no bigger than the communion wafers they hand out at Catholic mass fixed parallel to one another, with a thin gap of air in between. Brightsteel discs to be exact, which ain’t the opposite of Darksteel, but it’s close enough. While the latter is dark, heavy, and durable, Brightsteel is shiny, malleable, and a great conductor of Aetheric Energy, so much so that the gap between two discs don’t stop the flow, only slows it for long enough to build up to a certain level on one disc before jumping over to the next, without any physical connection between them. By fiddling with the thickness of those discs and the gap between them, you can ensure you have enough energy to power the entire Artifact, Metamagics and circuitry included, before feeding it into the circuit all at once, a necessary precaution to ensure the Spell Core uses the same amount of Aether for each cast. Too much and the Core could crack, too little and you end up with an underpowered effect, neither of which is what you want.

Making sure to leave room for adding or removing discs on the arcacitor to account for variables down the line, I put the finished piece aside and start work on Etching the actuator. With a Bolt Spell Core, the actuator is a mechanical device, and it comes in two parts. Most of it is stamped into the seal, which becomes the back end of the bullet casing once its packed and ready to go. The other part lies on the firing pin or the hammer, depending on how the gun is built. When the pin or hammer strikes the seal, it completes the circuit as it were and tells the Core to let loose, after which the circuit is broken because the Core got no more Aether to power it. Seemed like a real backwards way to go about it, stamping incomplete, single-use seals onto the back of your ammo, when it’d be so much easier to put a complete actuator on the Aetherarm itself. Truth is, Aetherarms don’t need to be all that complicated. I could make one out of a hollow twig to hold the Core, Aether, and primer, with a second, thinner twig to act as an actuator which activates the Core with a poke. Said as much to Mr. Kalthoff too, and he told me all those extra steps were safety features. By making it a two-part process with seal and firing pin, you lessens the chance of accidental activation. That don’t make it zero, but when it comes to Aetherarms, you can bet your last dollar that every rule and safety feature is written in blood.

Don’t gotta worry about any of that with a Mage Armour Spell Core though, so all I gotta do is make sure the actuator fits on top of the Spell Core without causing a short circuit before moving on to prepping Core itself. To start, I wrap five loops of copper wire around the centre of the plum-sized Spell Core and cut the wire, so it looks like it wearing a little belt with a single band poking out at either end. Those’ll be the input and output for the overall circuit, which will also be laid out in copper. It don’t conduct Aetheric Energy nearly half as well as Brightsteel, but it’s about a thousand times cheaper and won’t allow that energy to make any jumps, so it’ll do just fine. Leaving a little gap above and below the belt, I wrap three more loops on either side which’ll serve as the coupling for the actual actuator itself. For that, Conner provided me with a thin piece of curved copper, which looks like it could’ve come off the casing of a pocket watch or travel mirror. Sits nicely atop the exposed surface of the Spell Core with a minimal application of force, which is a nice added bonus, as now the Core got a little hat to go along with its belt.

And whatever the two triple bands could be. Necklace and girder, I guess, but I feel like this is where the metaphor falls apart.

Undeterred by my inability to dress the Spell Core, I smooth out the bumps in the curved copper piece before picking up my Etching wand. More of an Etching pen really, seeing how it got a pointed tip which you write with, but tradition and convention is a powerful thing. Popping the top off, I fill the little dynamo’s tiny tank with several dozen Grain of crystallized Aether and liquid primer, which is a slow-acting primer that’s cheaper and more efficient than the powder mix used in bullets. Add in the comparatively slow trickle of power you get from a dynamo, and the Etching Wand will take it’s time converting a single Grain of crystallized Aether into Aetheric Energy, which is exactly what I want. There’s no Spell Core in the wand, just a circuit that consists of a whole lot of resistors packed into the tip, which generates a bunch of heat when Aether Energy flows through it. That’s why slow is all good and fine, as there’s no need for quick and immediate power when it comes to Etching, so I review my notes while the wand heats up good and proper. From here, all the work has gotta be done freehand, as I got no stencil to follow and no patience to make one. Besides, there’s more to Etching than leaving a mark. These days, it’s a fairly common skill to learn, as we mostly got it down to a science, but there was a time when Etching was every bit as esoteric as Spellslinging, way back when folks were still blaming witches for curses and asking wizards for advice on systems of governance.

Mystical Runes. Arcane Glyphs. Magical Sigils. Celestial Script. Occult Markings. Got all sorts of different names, too many to list, but no matter what you call them, an Etch is an Etch, and what it does is guide the Metaphysical flow of Aether in the physical world. Ain’t just the patterns themselves, though that is a part of how it works, with plenty of rules and principles to follow when carving out your curvy, swoopy lines. End of the day though, they just markings that don’t do much of anything at all unless you Etch them in. That’s the term we use for injecting your Spirit or Soul or what have you into the mix. When I pick up my Etching Wand and press the tip into the metal, I’m doing more than just carving out fancy patterns; I’m ingraining the very essence of my metaphysical being into those lines so they can contain the raw power of the Immaterium.

In laymen’s terms, the physical patterns made while Etching is akin to digging lines in the dirt. Don’t matter how much water you pour into those lines, most of it’s gonna get soaked up by the soil and turn them lines to mud. If you want to dig a proper channel, you gotta do something to keep the water from draining away into the dirt, like lay down some pipe. That’s where the magic comes in with Etching, and what my Spirit is for, forming a seal in the physical markings that’ll contain metaphysical Aether and force it to flow in a certain manner within the material world. In this particular case with the actuator, these Etchings ain’t meant to modify the Mage Armour Spell, but merely signal to the Spell Core itself that it should cast its Spell on whoever is in physical contact with the actuator. Don’t take more than a thought and a focused effort of will, similar to how I signal the Aether-Suspension Matrices in my boots to cast the Spell on me, a process that happens in the blink of an eye.

Note that all Etchings only apply to metaphysical Aether, as regular, physical Aether got no choice but to flow everywhere it can, through it’ll move quickest through the path of least resistance. Don’t matter if it’s Brightsteel, copper, or even air, material Aether’s gotta follow the rules of the material world, simple as that. Which is what makes Spell Cores so fascinating really. A Spellcaster is connected to the Immaterium in way we don’t entirely understand, one which adds metaphysical ‘weight’ to their presence. That’s why the Qin Republic sent all them kids through the Gate without a Spell to their name after all; because regular, non-casting humans were cheaper to transport than established Spellcasters. There’s no physical difference between the two, no Core or matrix in a Spellcaster’s body, but they definitely ain’t the same as Joe Schmoe who can’t cast a Cantrip to save his life. That difference lies in the metaphysical realm, with the prevailing theory being that the human consciousness exists in a quantum state or something, and we use that to bridge a connection between our memorized Spell Structures and the Immaterium in order to Aether to power our Spells. Hence the need for chants and finger waggles, so we don’t accidentally sling Spells. It also explains why you need to Concentrate on certain Spells, because they require a constant flow of Aether which you can only maintain by focusing your conscious mind on the Spell.

As for Spell Cores? They’re a bit of a puzzle really. Put one inside a person or animal, and the Spell Core melts away to rewrite the host’s DNA so they can connect to the Immaterium, the same way as any established Spellcaster. In Abby though? The Spell Core retains its physical form while acting as a connection to the Immaterium and allowing its host to sling Spells. We know this because one, we can harvest Cores off dead Abby, and two, they don’t need crystallized or materialized Aether to power the Spell Cores inside them. Instead, those Cores draw Aetheric Energy direct from the Immaterium like any other Spell Caster, even when working through the Core. This means that Spell Cores, when placed within an Aberration body, act as a physical pipeline to a metaphysical realm that exists in both worlds at the same time, like some sort of four-dimensional object in three-dimensional space. Wild is what that is, and if we can replicate that connection, find out how to tap directly into the Immaterium itself through mechanical or bio-mineral means, then we’ll have access to a source of near infinite energy, which could solve all of humanity’s material needs. Fascinating stuff, or at least I think so. Course, arcanists and scientists have been working on this problem for some five-hundred years now, and we ain’t no closer to success than when we started, but it’s still incredible to think about every now and then.

Once I’m done Etching the actuator and ready to move on, I allow myself a few minutes to stretch and relax. “How’s your Floatin’ Disc Spell holdin’ up, Songbird?” I ask, and Tina shoots me a silent pout in reply. “What are we? Three hours in and countin’?” Not bad considering the base Spell only lasts an hour, meaning she’s been Concentrating on maintaining it for the last two hours and change. Bet she thought it’d be all fun and games seeing how long she could hold the Spell, right up until I hopped on with all my tools and started Etching away. Me, I’d have dropped it in a heartbeat and laughed, but she’s a responsible sort who felt obligated to hold out until now, and I’m impressed. Concentrating on a Spell to maintain its effect starts off simple enough, but like counting prime numbers, it gets harder the longer you keep at it, so she done good for her first rodeo. Flashing my pearly whites in a big ol’ grin, I gather up my things and step over onto the wagon before tipping my Stetson at Tina who lets go of the Spell with a sigh. “Much obliged for the lift.”

Gesturing for Sarah Jay to sit tight instead of making room for me to squeeze in on the bench, I work my way along the side of my wagon so I can pull a Floating Disc sled out from underneath. Halfway there, I stop and look around as my jimmies get to rustling just a bit. Nothing big like the preamble to yesterday’s ambush, or even anything dangerous that make me wanna run. No, this more like an itch, a tingle in my belly that got me looking sharp. Don’t take long to figure out what’s what, as I notice more than half the Rangers missing from our little caravan. Even accounting for outriders looking out for illusions, we shouldn’t be this short on hands, so I get off the wagon, untether Fifi from the back, and hop on bareback. The sweet filly is happy for the company and the chance to stretch her legs, so I let her work off a bit of energy as we trot out to ask Marcus what’s what. Don’t take more than a minute to find him, and he shoots me a grin from atop his big, burly stallion, one so thick they gotta give him two stalls worth of room just so he can turn around inside. Even then, my heart goes out to the poor horsie, who don’t look like much more than a pony under Marcus’ big burly mass.

“Bout time you noticed,” he says, unaware of my inner thoughts, else he’d smack me upside the head with a scowl. “You gotta stay sharp Howie, even when you’re not scouting.”

True enough, so I make no excuses and knuckle my head. “Apologies oh Captain my Captain. Got distracted with my project. Won’t happen again. Made good progress though. Things go well, then I should have it done by tonight, or tomorrow morning at the latest.” So far, all I done is dress it up, as the real work lays in the Metamagic circuit. Only confident of Etching two, maybe three Metamagics without further reference, and even then, they’ll be rough. Won’t be a problem, since I’ll be running it off of a spare Aetheric Dynamo rather than crystallized Aether, which will provide a steady and interruptible supply of energy at the cost of extra Grainage and time to Prime and Exhaust.

All of which Marcus expects, since I wrote as much in my note, so he simply nods and looks out at the horizon. “Trouble’s coming,” he says, calm and cool as if he talking about the weather.

“Where you need me?” I ask, inwardly grimacing at how I shifted in my seat as soon as I was alerted. Too eager and excited is what it is, so I ought to take a page from Marcus. Steady is the word, and I try to copy his poise, though I get the feeling I fall far short.

“You sit nice and tight with the boots,” Marcus says, turning to give me a smile. A big, smug one, because he knows I’m itching to prove myself and none too happy about being treated like the rest. “You got anything prepped for hiding?”

I do in fact, as I’ve been expecting to run into trouble while out and about with Kacey and figured a bit of stealth might be in order. “Settle into Shadows,” I declare, earning me a look of approval from Marcus and a few whistles from the Rangers around us who’re listening in. Though only a Second Order Abjuration Spell, it’s a good one that’ll affect anyone within a ten-meter radius around me, which in terms of target acquisition and area of effect alone make it a top tier Spell.

“All right then.” Gesturing for me to come closer, he leans in and lowers his voice. “Here’s the plan.”

Despite my earlier resolve to appear calm and stoic as can be, my leg gets to twitching as Marcus lays it all out, and my smile grows all the bigger for it. Yea, I might be stuck with the boots, and I won’t earn me a single cent, but that don’t change the facts none. This gonna be fun, because even though he came down hard on me for my yee-haw cowboy bullshit, that’s the sort of thing the Rangers do best.