Syndicate War: "Metal Men" Killed 163 - Empire Baffled

Altrecht – 11-Jul: The violence has definitely reached a new extreme as townspeople were rocked by an exchange of gunfire. Police said that the sources of this firefight came from none other than rivaling syndicates, which have been running rampant in Altrecht. Witness accounts pointed to the warehouse district, where the first shots were heard.

Fighting extended up to the town square, where burning houses lit the night and bodies of syndicate dead scattered on the streets. Testimonies from arrested parties claimed to be fighting "armored men that were immune to their guns". Some were even happy at the sight of a policeman and willingly surrendered without trouble.

The constables who responded to the incursion were also not spared, with ten of their ranks shot dead and almost triple the number of wounded. At the moment, the Imperial Constables could not give any statements about the syndicates involved. No reports were also confirmed about the presence of any of the metallic assailants. On how the syndicate problem will be addressed...

†

It was that time of day when the sun started climbing at the apex of its perch; soft light spread throughout the flat grassland and highlighted specks of dandelion seeds that took the air. A gust of wind rushed by and rattled grasses and trees in its passing; it left its audible mark similar to a broom being swept. A mix of drying dew and earth perfumed the fields and rode in the moving air.

Not far from an old, dry-looking barn was a boxy machine on wheels. On its rear was a mechanism meant to be pulled by the vehicle like a cart using a horizontally-aligned corkscrew made to cut through the earth and leave lines on its path. The front compartment that housed the engine was followed by a simply-constructed seat with a backrest made of iron bars.

Euphemia held her hands on the wheel, wondering how this mechanical plow would be driven to tame the field beyond for farming. She imagined pulling the lever beside the brake pad, and thought of what part of the vehicle would she toggle. The tangy scent of iron and rust clung onto her fingers and made its presence known to her nose. A fun diversion, but she would soon have to climb down the driver's platform and do what she was set to do for this time of day.

Her veil floated and made wavy patterns in the air as the breeze gave a stronger huff. Lord Cecil would have remarked that the weather and the time of morning would set the best mood for training. Euphemia imagined the elderly duke standing not far from her; a sword held with one hand and a wooden shield on another. The picture faded and revealed a thin grove surrounding the unused area of old Ingermann's farm. She felt for the smooth wooden finish of a practice sword drawn by her mind; the thought etched a tense smile at the cleric's face while she looked to the sky.

She was at an area where grass blades stood no higher than the heel of her boots. The sun has sucked out much of the dewy scent in the place while dry and light air circled around Euphemia. She closed her eyes, thinking of what happened during the first night at Altrecht. Almost a week passed and Euphemia just gathered her thoughts on what happened. She could see those faces again; men whose shock and despair was etched by the pain of bullets. They fought against a force that did not hesitate to kill, nor offer any rage or remorse to those who fell to their guns. She saw the other side of that night – a group of animate, yet non-living beings; guns that were given a body to move to eliminate enemies of those who created them. Euphemia would have talked them out of it if she had a chance, but words had no value to metallic faces that had no expressions other than the glow of green eyes.

"Cor meum conturbatum est, dereliquit me virtus mea, et lumen oculorum meorum, et ipsum non est mecum..."

She raised her right hand; the sun caught its whiteness and seemed to wrap some of its light around it. Euphemia felt the vacuum that formed a field around her; the world expressing its interest in sharing its energy with the cleric. Her right arm was then void of its human tone; Euphemia's arm seemed to have become light that was given a body.

Memories of that night played again; screams and gunfire flooded her mind. She could hear her heart racing, her legs making buckling steps, and the heavy breathing of her companion who kept her soles on the road. The stink of the alley, the dissolved smog from distant burning buildings, and the smell of Rook's discharged gun leaving thin trails on her nose.

"Turbatus est a furore oculus meus; inveteravi inter omnes inimicos meos."

Her hand clamped to a fist, which Euphemia gradually opened to form a ball of blinding whiteness. She set the open palm facing away from her. A cool and numbing sensation traveled to her fingertips; odd, since this brilliance would have incinerated anything it touched. She looked at the spinning ball of light her hand created. Those years in the clergy deprived her of time to practice what she learned from Meister Carolus. A smile barely enough to show her teeth was etched on her pace; maybe she hadn't been out of practice for too long after all.

"Eripe me de inimicis meis, Domine, ad te confugi."

Her fingers distanced from each other, causing the ball of light to explode. No sound was heard, but the light spanned in all directions until it settled into a half-dome of soft light that stood in front of the canoness. Euphemia's eyes stared with the curiosity of a child; as if it was the first time she summoned her magical energies to conjure this phenomenon.

She felt like a novice all over again; there was no need for her to use this power during her years in the cloister. Most of the magical activity she had gotten used to was on mastering the healing arts, but none of her mentors questioned her capacity to quickly master the use of healing light. She missed those classes, and the company of the few sisters who attended with her in perfecting the ancient practices. It was the right time for those memories to come in; a little happiness in her rather odd situation was needed after all.

The canoness stared at the white field again. This would not be the last time she would see this, now that the real danger of her search for her father's captors was starting to show itself. It would not be long until unknown agents realize her actions and they had the means to quickly dispose of her if she made a wrong move. Could Euphemia entrust her life to her abilities in the face of unknown yet powerful enemies?

Euphemia watched the barrier dissolve into the air after cutting the flow of mana from her arm. How she would call on this force to shield her from harm remained a question and a challenge. She gestured to ready her hands for creating another curtain of light when a voice spoke:

"So that's what your powers look like."

Euphemia's trance was broken; Rook leaned on the farm machine, looking at the cleric with angled, yet widened eyes. His black overcoat drooped on his shoulders; the lines formed by the bandages wrapped on his torso were revealed by the sun.

"It's part of my power. I haven't used this for a long time, so I'm learning how to do things again." Euphemia's fingertips shone almost like tiny stars; their light dissolved and rejoined the daytime sun moments later. "Shouldn't you still be resting, Rook? Your wounds may have not healed completely from inside."

"I think I'm fine, it only gets a bit painful when I turn around." Rook's hands scanned his body and made second passes at his chest. "Whatever that light of yours did help me with my wounds much faster."

"If that's what you feel when you're good." Euphemia's eyes met with Rook's; a relieved smile made itself known for a few moments right before she spoke, "thank you for all you've done... we wouldn't be talking like this had you not put yourself in harm's way."

"It's nothing, I guess." Rook looked away from the canoness; an awkward smile was seen on his face right before he scratched his head. Silence was in between the two until he snapped back into the conversation. "Will you be going soon?"

"I should be. I don't know what to do next."

She looked away from Rook, looking at Altrecht proper that rested not far from old Ingermann's farm. At the horizon were charred roofs of buildings; some had thin ropes of white smoke coming out. The clanking and churning of a self-driving wagon could be heard nearby; rubber tires gripped on the worn-out cobblestone path. Euphemia saw a dozen uniformed men being brought deeper into the town before the vehicle was out of sight after making a left. Euphemia's eyes scanned the field and found an oak tree whose leaves spanned more than five times the area of its trunk. It stood straight and enjoyed the full blessings of the sun. She looked at the boy before pointing to the spot.

"That place would be the best for a good talk don't you think?"

"Yeah. I can use a bit of shade."

Rook went after the young clergywoman. They stood under the tree; some of the light that escaped the network of leaves left spots and made odd shapes on their faces. Euphemia sat down and faced the weak air current that went by; the cloths of her habit proved to be too heavy for it to push around. She then looked at the boy who opted to stand and lean his back against the tree trunk and said:

"About that night, it was the only time I saw you use your weapon. Have you been carrying guns since you first set foot on this land?"

Rook took something from the left and right sections of his coat and brought out a pair of revolvers to the light. He held both by their barrels: his left hand had a silver-toned gun and one of chrome black on his right.

"Ah, no need to hand me any of those." Euphemia scanned both pistols and noticed their worn grips, but the rest of the mechanisms were well-maintained and intact. She deduced that Rook had been taking great care of the guns, and using them sparingly. Euphemia wondered what kind of life he was forced to live in Severniya to be availed of such weapons. Her eyes moved and stayed with Rook's sight and asked:

"Did someone dear give those guns to you?"

Rook's head moved away from Euphemia's glance; his face concealed in the shadow of tree leaves. It took him moments before he looked at the canoness and answered:

"I don't know, even if I wanted to tell you. I couldn't remember. All I know is that I have these with me."

"Have you also decided on what you'll do next?" She stood up and dusted off bits and broken blades of grass that clung onto her skirts before going near Rook.

"I've no idea about this place, and there's nowhere for me to stay. I'm hoping that you'd take me with you until I can decide on going home – if I do have a home somewhere." Rook returned his guns to his coat.

"I did get you into trouble, so I should be responsible for your safety. You will still have to come with me then." Euphemia took a deep breath before looking at the boy again. "With the way things are now, I can't promise I can keep you out of danger. I'll do my best still."

"That's all okay. I owe you a lot."

"Thank you Rook, for everything you've done for me."

At least, Euphemia could focus on knowing what to start on her quest; her thoughts that clues to Cecil von Schild's location lying in this town proved to be too fantastic to be a possibility. Asking the townsfolk about syndicates was more likely to raise suspicion towards her; the firefight that just happened would most likely draw jeopardy to both her and Rook.

She felt a little lighter, now that another hand was willing to lend its strength to her. Doubts and apprehensions proved too hard to quell still. Euphemia had to look after Rook and entrust herself to him all throughout this mission.

She still had no lead to the whereabouts of the Gray Fox; a night of violence did not open up new routes for her. Even if she found the still unknown syndicate lord, would he hold the answers that would lead to Lord Cecil? Euphemia would still need to go farther, with no assurance that if this blindfold wrapped around her were to be unraveled.

"We will be leaving Farmer Ingermann's house as soon as you are fully recovered. Use this time to rest and I'll take care of our food for the journey ahead."

Rook smiled and made a stool out of an outlying tree root as he allowed the breeze to sweep his hair left and right.

Euphemia did not move from where she stood and surveyed the young man. She recalled the times she first met him in Blaurosen and during their voyage to Alberta. It was something she could describe properly yet; a feeling that was not present in any other schoolboy she had come to know. Perhaps she was wrong with what she thought was something unusual to be exhibited by a human. It could have been something to do with people from foreign lands, but she would let those thoughts slide aside for now. The answers would be unraveled on their own. She was happy and amazed at how he recovered from the incident.

The breeze whistled by; Euphemia's veil waved leftward.