Discoveries in the North

Camden took a deep breath, exhaling a dancing fog in the frigid winter air. It had been just over half a year now, and Camden had acclimated quite well to his new environment all things considered. Though he still couldn’t escape his thoughts. Every night, a variation on the same dream. Of going back home, wherever “home” was. Of being able to make up for lost time with Maya. Or memories of his past. Of his childhood adventures. Of his grandmother. And then he’d wake up, brought back to his current reality.

The cold nipped at his face, the rest of his body protected by a fluffy winter coat, its modest leather outer shell able to shield him from the wind. He kneeled down, the snow crunching beneath his weight. He dug his gloved hand into it, pulling up a handful of snow.

He brought it up closer to his face, examining it. He gently rubbed the cold powder away, revealing a tiny brass sphere.

This was good. They were on the right path.

Camden looked back towards his team, both of whom were following closely behind. The Madam was looking at some of the notes that she’d taken, whilst Levo checked his blaster to ensure it was ready for anything they might encounter.

Back when they’d taken the book, they were able to make it back to the vessel relatively unharmed. It turned out that camping had been the right call after all.

Since the journey all the way north would be of quite the long duration, it gave the three of them time to read the book in more detail. Though Levo opted not to, instead spending his free time reading that fantasy novel, or exercising in the dorm. There were more notes written by the blue-penned author spread throughout the ancient text. Oftentimes they were just sarcastic comments or jokes, but other times they were actually fairly insightful. Annotations about the legends that the book spoke of. Sometimes information on the blue-penned person themselves. It was like getting a glimpse into someone else's mind, in a way. But beyond it being quite intriguing, it also gave them hints of what to look for. The writer spoke often of their safehouse. Of their inventions and successes and failures. Of the landscape that surrounded them, and of how they had parts scattered about.

And so to find some remnant metal, a tiny perfect sphere lying in what was otherwise the middle of nowhere, it meant they were getting close.

They continued their trek, the freezing winter wind blowing harshly against their jackets. And that's when they saw it. Just barely visible beyond the horizon, was a small building, its metal exterior coated with clumps of snow and frost. This was it. The safehouse that the blue pen had been speaking of.

The door was locked shut, but that wasn’t anything Levo’s bombs couldn’t take care of. He pulled one out of his backpack, placed it on the door, and with the click of a button, it detonated, blasting the metal entrance open on its hinges.

The interior was surprisingly chaotic, loads of metal and random scrap tossed around the room. There were various tables and boxes around, not to mention the occasional metal cabinet here and there. Numerous unfinished projects covered the majority of the tables, bits and bobs of brass and copper, occasional pipes and gears and vials of the glowing pink liquid. The trio entered the room cautiously, Madam Cecilia carefully closing the door behind them, as to stop the wind and snow from sneaking its way in.

“This place is a mess,” Levo observed, somewhat frustrated. “How exactly are we supposed to track down the blade amongst all this… stuff?”

“The same way anyone would,” the Madam stated. “With patience, resilience, and teamwork. Levo, you take the left side. I’ll take the right. Camden, you can handle the middle.”

Levo began to look around his side of the room. It was just piles upon piles of boxes and scrap metal. He hoped to himself that the sword wasn't in this part of the room, mainly because then he’d have to go through all of it, which seemed like a massive hassle.

Camden moved a couple boxes to the side, accidentally knocking one over. It fell to the ground, the contents spilling onto the floor. Camden was just about to pick them up to put them off to the side, when he realized what they were. They were blueprints and other miscellaneous documents. Out of curiosity, he chose one at random, removing the elastic band that kept it rolled up, and unfurling it onto one of the few empty tables.

“What the…”

He couldn't believe it. The blueprint that laid before him was that of the drones of The Iron Hand. Every last detail, every last panel. He quickly picked up another blueprint, removing the elastic and flattening it against the table as well. This one was harder to identify, but Camden eventually pinned it down as that of the blasters that were mounted to the drones. What were The Iron Hand’s blueprints doing in the safe house? There was a signature in the bottom right corner of each of the blueprints, though it was too messy for Camden to understand. He noted, however, that the handwriting bared a striking resemblance to that of the blue-penned writer in the book. Had the owner of the safe house, the one who stole the sword from the museum, been an engineer, no, the engineer who designed the drones for Lord Stone? Who would willingly want to work for The Iron Hand, he wondered silently to himself.

Madam Cecilia’s side of the room consisted of numerous cabinets and storage containers, which were labeled with tape and an incoherent jumble of words mentally scrawled on it. The labels were illegible, and had evidently only ever been intended for whoever wrote them. First cabinet? Nothing here. Just completely full of copper pipes. Second cabinet? Brass plates and an unorganized pile of rivets and bolts. Third cabinet? Bingo. There it was. Located in the rightmost cabinet. Tossed aside like the rest of the trash in the room. Perhaps trash to some, but a priceless artifact to others. The one weapon that would help them win the day. Its construction was fairly strange, its form elegantly swooping and curving, the blade almost branching out like a couple branches of a tree. The hilt contained gemstones in various different colours, Each one of them sparkling in the daylight that shone through the windows. In full honesty, it looked more like a decorative piece than a weapon of untold power. But maybe that was it. Being designed in such a way that no mere mortal would have thought useful. Its finish was a chromed gold, polished to the degree that it could be used as a mirror. Of course, it had obtained some scratches and wear over the presumable millennia that it had existed, but that didn't take away from its beauty. From its prestige.

But the blade wasn't all that resided in the rightmost cabinet. Next to it laid a note, carefully tied up in a brilliant purple ribbon. How odd.

She took hold of both items, turning to Levo and Camden. “The blade has officially been acquired,” she stated proudly.

The other two stopped their search, turning to and reconvening with the Madam.

“Wow it looks so… fancy,” Camden said, almost at a loss for words. Levo on the other hand, looked far less impressed. Intriguingly, he actually looked slightly surprised. Haunted, even. Like he'd just seen the ghost of something long past. Something he never expected to encounter again. But as soon as it started, it was over, and his face quickly returned to disillusionment.

“Great. Magical item has been obtained. We can leave now, right?” he asked, his voice sounding almost bored, though the hints of surprise still lingered.

“No, not yet. There was also this note that I came across next to the blade,” the Madam mentioned. “It looks to be a letter of sorts. Considering where it was located, it is likely worth reading now.”

She held the paper up to Camden. “Would you care to do the honors, Mr. Prophesized Savior?”

“Yeah, of course,” Camden replied, taking the paper from her hands. Unlike most of the papers that he’d come across in this land, this one felt newer, at least relatively speaking. It had a bit of play to it, not cracking or breaking at the slightest touch. He gently pulled the ribbon off of it, and unrolled the note. He then began to read it aloud, his voice becoming one of more and more melancholic dismay the further he got.

My dearest Camden,

If you're reading this, then you know just as well as I do that I'm no longer alive. And I suppose that if you're here, that means that I’ve failed. You were never supposed to know about this. About this world. About the Steamlands. I had always intended to come back to you all, but I suppose that didn't work out, did it? I spent so much time focused on my past, that I completely neglected to focus on the future. My future. My grandson. I’m sorry.

Signed, your grandmother, Mildred Valaraki.

His voice faltered at the end, reading his grandmother's name. So she had lived here. And she hadn't meant to abandon him. Hadn't meant to abandon his family. But why have you come here in the first place? What reason was there to leave home, to risk it all in some other realm? Did she have something that you left behind, and was trying to retrieve? No, not couldn't be it.

But the handwriting. The colour of the text. No. It couldn’t be… it just couldn’t…

But it was. The main engineer for The Iron Hand, the singular person who designed each and every one of their machines of war. Was his grandmother.

The realization shook him to his core. That the woman he knew as his grandmother, the one who he'd always wanted to spend more time with, was responsible for all of this. For all of the death. And suffering. And bloodshed.

He stared at the note, reading it over again and again in his mind.

Levo was the first to speak. “Hey. Camden. Are you okay?”

“There are blueprints here,” he said, his voice heavy with emotion. “Blueprints of the drones. Of their weapons. The machinery that The Iron Hand uses to sow so much pain. Each one of them signed by my grandmother. Your genius inventor.”

His expression turned sour. “Mildred Valaraki. Mildred Goldenrod.”

The Madam clearly hadn't expected this either, her usual calm façade breaking slightly into one of shock. To discover that the person she idolized for so long, who she strived to be like, who the vessel had been named after, worked directly for the very faction she opposed. On the bright side, at least Camden wasn't the only one feeling a sense of betrayal now. Levo, on the other hand, couldn't seem to care less about the revelation.

He frowned, crossing his arms. “That doesn't matter right now, and you didn't answer my question. Are you okay?” he asked, pressing harder on the subject of Camden’s mental state.

Camden didn't respond. He simply moved his hands slowly towards the top of the letter, and then with a swift movement, ripped it in half. Both halves fell to the cold metal floor, landing in some of the powdered snow beneath them.

Camden took a deep breath in, then out. “Yeah. I will be.” He looked over at the Madam, who still held the sword of legend in her hands. “May I?”

She handed it to him, placing its metal form in his hands. It felt heavy, but not too heavy. Just the right amount of weight to be devastating with a high momentum swing. The metal felt cold. But not only that. It felt right.

“We found the library,” Camden began, his voice full of conviction. “We found the blade. Now all that's left is to find Lord Stone himself, and end his reign of terror once and for all.”

Madame Cecilia motioned towards the door. “Lead the way, Hero.”