The Dawn of Malice

The Long Road Ahead

In the days that followed, a hushed atmosphere suffocated Ximena’s hidden workshop, Ryker’s focus was unwavering as he toiled away on the creation of a new motorcycle. The days had stretched on since the fateful night in the alleyway, and Ryker found solace in the rhythm of his work, the clanging of metal and the hiss of steam becoming a soothing melody that drowned out the guilt that gnawed at his conscience.

The workshop was alive with activity. Sparks danced through the air as Ryker wielded his tools with precision, each movement deliberate and calculated. He harnessed the power of the shop’s lathe, the whirring of the machinery a symphony of progress as it shaped and molded the metal components that would breathe life into the new motorcycle.

His hands moved with a practiced grace, his fingers deftly manipulating the materials before him. With each pass of the lathe, the frame of the motorcycle emerged. He had a vision in mind, a design that would not only serve as a mode of transportation but also an embodiment of his and Caerus’s spirit.

As the welding torch flared to life, Ryker’s concentration deepened. The bright, searing light illuminated his features, casting intricate shadows across his face as he carefully joined the metal pieces together. He had learned from his past experiences, honing his craft to create a sturdier and more advanced frame, one that could withstand the challenges that lay ahead.

The workshop was not a solitary place. Ximena, her determination undiminished by her injury, moved with an agile grace despite her crutches. Her presence brought an air of innovation to the workshop, her mind concocting unique tools and gadgets that would enhance Caerus and Ryker’s journey. The clinks and clatters of her work blended harmoniously with the symphony of Ryker’s efforts, creating an atmosphere of purpose and determination.

Caerus, however, remained on the rooftop, his watchful gaze scanning the surroundings. His unease was palpable, a cloud that hung over the workshop like a shroud. Ryker couldn’t help but notice his friend’s restless energy, the way his eyes darted at the slightest sound, his senses on high alert. Caerus’s worry was contagious, a reminder that danger still lurked in the shadows.

As Ryker worked, he couldn’t help but steal glances at Ximena, who persisted with unwavering resolve. Her crutches moved with a rhythm of their own, her movements graceful and determined. He admired her strength, her ability to persevere even in the face of adversity. And yet, the guilt that gnawed at him was never far from his thoughts, a constant reminder of the price Ximena had paid.

“Time for my grand reveal!” Exclaimed Ximena, jolting Ryker from his reverie. “Caerus! If the assassin does come, I’ll crush his windpipe with my crutches, now come down.”

Ryker stifled a laugh as his fingers glided over the polished metal surface of the motorcycle frame, his focus momentarily shifting from his work as he awaited Ximena’s unveiling. As Caerus came down the stairs, Ryker walked with him to Ximena’s worktable, a mixture of curiosity and excitement mirrored in their eyes.

Ximena, her determination unwavering despite the ordeal she had faced, hobbled forward with a determined stride. Cradled precariously in her hands were her creations, each a testament to her ingenuity and resourcefulness. Ryker’s gaze locked onto her as he watched her movements, his curiosity piqued by the promise of the inventions she held.

“I hope you don’t mind, Ryker, but I think I like being an artificer.” Ximena’s smile melted Ryker’s heart, knowing that he was not the only artificer in the world anymore.

“I’m honored that you choose to be an artificer, Ximena.” Ryker grinned. “I need to keep my guard up or you’ll surpass me in no time!”

“Let’s get started then!” Ximena blushed as she shoved her gift into Caerus’s arms.

The first invention that Ximena presented was a breathtaking work of artistry. Smelted from the remnants of Caerus’s broken sword, it had been transformed into an air pistol of exquisite beauty. The metal gleamed in the dim light of the workshop – intricate designs etched into its surface. Ximena’s voice rang out, her words carrying a sense of determination, “Swords are for the past, guns are for the future.”

Caerus grinned, his worries about breaking the sword gone as he accepted Ximena’s work. Caerus’s fingers traced the delicate lines of the air pistol, his admiration for Ximena’s craftsmanship evident on his face. The weapon was a fusion of art and functionality, a symbol of progress and innovation. As he held it in his hand, he could almost feel the power coursing through it.

“It’s powered by an air crystal,” Ximena said. “Better than the flintlocks and powder that the army uses, you can fire consecutive shots without needing to reload. See this here? Air gets pressurized in this chamber here and is fired through here.” Ximena pointed at the horizontally welded chambers of the gun. “Each magazine carries around fifty lead pellets. Oh! And don’t pull the trigger learn to squeeze gently.”

Ryker saw Caerus’s face contort for a moment in confusion, and he interjected. “Don’t worry too much, I’ll teach you how to use it.”

Caerus nodded, forehead still furrowed, but Ximena’s surprises were far from over. With a flourish, she revealed her second creation: an extending bill hook, an ingenious amalgamation of features from the assassin’s discarded whip sword. Ryker’s eyes widened as he took in the intricacies of the weapon. A Mirkwood staff, sleek and powerful, extended to an impressive length, capable of reaching around four feet. And when not in use, it could shrink to a mere hand’s width, a testament to Ximena’s knack for blending practicality with innovation.

“I know your favorite weapon is the billhook, but in the alleyways of a city or a close combat situation, you’ll need a dagger. The thing is though… You’re not a Laresian.” Ximena said tapping her chin. “I found a workaround, since Caerus is with you, he can give you a vial of his blood to feed into the Mirkwood. Of course, only if that’s all right with you, Caerus.”

“That’s a non-issue, Ximena,” Caerus said, his eyes still bleary from lack of sleep. “I’m just awestruck by how much thought you put into this.”

Ximena blushed and a smile tugged at Ryker’s lips as he marveled at her handiwork. Her inventions reflected her spirit, and her unwavering determination to adapt and overcome. Each creation spoke of her resourcefulness and her ability to transform the remnants of the past into tools for the future.

But the true emotional moment came when Ryker returned to his worktable and grabbed a carefully wrapped object from underneath. He and Caerus then stepped forward – the object cradled in Ryker’s arms. He extended it toward Ximena, his eyes meeting hers with a mixture of gratitude and admiration. “I had a secret project of my own,” he said softly.

“We,” Caerus interjected, ribbing his friend. “Can’t have all the glory to yourself, Ryker.”

“We had a secret project of our own.” Ryker grinned. “Caerus had the idea, and I built it.”

Ximena’s gaze flickered with curiosity and surprise as she accepted the gift. Her fingers delicately unwrapped the object, revealing a meticulously crafted functional prosthetic right leg. The beauty of the design was matched only by its functionality, a testament to Ryker’s skill and his deep bond with Ximena.

“Before I became an artificer, I was your rival engineer.” Ryker grinned. “Now we’re both artificers. You’re a clever lass, Ximena, add whatever meets your fancy to this leg.”

Tears welled up in Ximena’s eyes as she gazed upon the prosthetic leg, her emotions too profound for words. She looked up at Ryker, her voice catching in her throat as she whispered, “Ryker, I...”

He cut her off with a warm smile, his hand gently resting on her shoulder. “You’ve shown us your incredible creations, Ximena. This is my way of saying thank you for being there, for being our strength when we needed it most.”

“You guys – come here!” Ximena grabbed the two men and pulled them close, wrapping her arms around Ryker’s waist and Caerus’s shoulders. Both Caerus and Ryker could feel Ximena’s warm tears on them and in that moment, the workshop’s gloomy atmosphere seemed to lift. The three friends stood together, tears in their eyes as they prepared for a new day.

The next morning’s soft light filtered into Ximena’s hidden workshop in Serendell, casting a warm glow on the array of tools and gadgets that adorned the shelves. Caerus and Ryker moved with a sense of purpose, packing their belongings into saddlebags and knapsacks. Their motorcycles stood ready outside, awaiting their departure.

The enticing aroma of a hearty meal being cooked on the stove filled the air. Ximena moved around the kitchen with practiced grace, her movements efficient and precise, her artificial leg serving its purpose splendidly. Yet, as Caerus stole a glance at her, he noticed a tear glistening in the corner of her eye. His heart clenched in response, his guilt resurfacing with a vengeance.

He continued folding clothes and packing supplies, his hands moving automatically. The memory of the incident that had cost Ximena her leg weighed heavily on him. He had blamed himself for not being quick enough, for not anticipating the attack that had led to her injury. If he’d only expended more lifeblood during the battle, then he might have seen the whip sword coming. And even though Ximena had shown resilience and a strong spirit since then, he couldn’t shake off the guilt that had settled in his chest.

Ryker’s voice broke through Caerus’s thoughts. “Hey, Caerus, how’s everything coming along?”

Caerus shook his head slightly, forcing himself to focus. “Yeah, almost done here,” he replied, his voice lacking its usual energy.

Ryker shot him a concerned look but didn’t press further. Instead, he turned to Ximena, who was now plating the cooked food. “Smells delicious as always, Ximena.”

Ximena managed a small smile, though Caerus could see the sadness that lingered in her eyes. She handed them each a plate, her gaze briefly meeting Caerus’s before she looked away. He felt a pang of regret, wishing he could undo the past and spare her the pain she had endured.

As they sat down to eat, the atmosphere was heavy with unspoken emotions. Caerus focused on his food – his appetite diminished by the weight on his conscience. He knew he had to address the situation, to somehow convey his remorse and guilt to Ximena before they departed.

After they finished their meal, Ximena began cleaning up, and Caerus and Ryker walked their saddlebags to their motorcycles.

The narrow alleyway outside of the hidden workshop seemed to contain all the weight of their parting. Caerus stood with Ryker and Ximena – their faces illuminated by the soft morning light that filtered through the tall buildings around them. The hum of the city buzzed in the background, but at this moment, their world felt quiet and intimate.

Ximena’s tearful gaze was fixed on Caerus and Ryker, her lips quivering as she tried to hold back her emotions. “I wish I could be with you both,” she whispered, her voice laced with sorrow. “But I know my path is here, and I’ll find my way.”

Ryker stepped closer to Ximena, wrapping his arms around her gently. “Hey, we’re not saying goodbye forever,” he said, his voice filled with reassurance. “We’ll be back to mess around your workshop before you even realize it.”

Caerus looked at his two friends, a mixture of gratitude and regret swelling within him. He cleared his throat, his voice hoarse as he spoke, “Ximena... I’m so sorry for what happened to your leg. If I had been more vigilant if I had reacted faster...”

Ximena’s eyes flashed with a blend of frustration and affection. In one swift motion, her hand shot forward and connected with Caerus’s cheek in a sharp slap. The sound echoed off the alley walls, and Caerus blinked in surprise.

“Caerus,” Ximena’s tone was stern, her gaze unwavering, “do you honestly think so little of our friendship that you believe a lost limb could break it?”

Ryker’s lips twitched into a small smile, his eyes reflecting the strength of their bond. “She’s got a point, buddy,” he chimed in.

Caerus’s cheeks reddened from the slap, but it was the truth of Ximena’s words that hit him the hardest. He stepped forward, closing the distance between them, and pulled Ximena into a tight hug. “Forgive me, Ximena,” he murmured, his voice filled with genuine remorse.

Ximena returned the hug with equal strength, her voice soft but firm. “You’re forgiven, Caerus. Don’t you dare forget to write me a letter, wherever you might be heading.”

Ryker joined the embrace, completing the circle of their connection. The three of them stood there for a moment, locked in a heartfelt embrace that spoke of unbreakable bonds and shared experiences.

Eventually, they reluctantly pulled away, wiping away their tears with small, sad smiles. With a collective breath, they turned and approached their motorcycles, the engines rumbling to life beneath them. Caerus cast one last look at Ximena, his eyes conveying a mixture of gratitude and sadness.

Then, as if driven by a shared purpose, they revved their engines and roared out of the alleyway, leaving behind the echoes of their laughter, tears, and unwavering friendship. The city of Serendell witnessed their departure, and as they merged into the flow of the bustling streets, they embarked on a new chapter of their adventure, bound by the unbreakable ties that had been forged in the crucible of their experiences.

The train station was a whirlwind of activity as Caerus and Ryker roared into the entrance, their motorcycles drawing immediate attention. Caerus could feel the curious gazes of onlookers as they parked their bikes, their powerful engines rumbling beneath them.

Ryker wasted no time, his impatience evident as he practically sprinted toward the ticket counter. Caerus followed suit, navigating through the throngs of people who couldn’t seem to tear their eyes away from the unusual vehicles.

Ryker’s hurried exchange with the ticket attendant was punctuated by his exasperation. He returned with the tickets in hand, his expression a mixture of annoyance and amusement. The barrage of questions from the curious crowd only seemed to intensify Ryker’s irritation.

“Seriously, can’t a guy buy some tickets in peace?” Ryker muttered under his breath as they walked back to their motorcycles.

Caerus couldn’t help but chuckle at Ryker’s frustration, but he understood his friend’s sentiment. The attention was both flattering and overwhelming, especially when they were in a hurry to catch the train. It didn’t help that a few weeks prior Ryker was a simple researcher and scholar in the Civic Athenaeum, now he was more of a celebrity.

The crowd continued to buzz with excitement, bombarding Caerus with inquiries about their motorcycles. He did his best to answer while keeping an eye on Ryker, who was growing visibly agitated. The questions ranged from the motorcycles’ speed to their construction, and Caerus found himself explaining the mechanics of the machines with enthusiasm.

As Ryker rolled his eyes and cleared his throat, Caerus took the hint and motioned for the crowd to disperse. “All right, folks, let’s give us some space. We’ve got a train to catch.”

The crowd reluctantly backed away – their fascination still evident in their glances. With the area cleared, Ryker and Caerus revved their engines to life, drowning out the lingering chatter. Caerus’s heart raced with anticipation as the powerful rumble of the motorcycle vibrated through his body.

Following Ryker’s lead, Caerus followed suit as they navigated through the train station, their motorcycles turning heads at every corner. The bustling atmosphere of the station enveloped them, filled with the scent of coal, steam, and gravel. The rhythmic sounds of passengers preparing for their journey filled the air.

Approaching the entrance to the train yard, the uniformed conductor scrutinized their tickets before allowing them passage. Caerus and Ryker stood by their motorcycles, surveying the scene before them. The train, a magnificent behemoth of iron and machinery, stood before them like a colossal beast, its chimney billowing a column of hot air that hissed of steam as its engine purred to life. Caerus exchanged a knowing glance with Ryker, both eager to get their motorcycles safely aboard the train.

The train yard was a maze of tracks and platforms, each one occupied with the hustle and bustle of train preparations. Caerus’s heart raced as he weaved through the organized chaos, following Ryker toward a designated train car.

Caerus wiped a bead of sweat from his brow, his eyes narrowing as he approached a stern-faced train conductor who was busy overseeing the loading of cargo. “Excuse me,” he began, his tone polite but determined, “we need to transport our motorcycles with us. Can we arrange that?”

The conductor glanced at Caerus with a mix of annoyance and skepticism. “Motorcycles, you say? And what’s in it for me?”

Ryker threw his hands up in exasperation, his frustration evident on his face. “Come on, can’t you see we’re in a hurry? We just need to get these bikes on the train.”

The conductor’s gaze shifted between the two of them, his expression unyielding. “Fifty gold coins,” he stated flatly. “That’s the fee for transporting those contraptions of yours.”

Ryker’s face contorted in disbelief, his eyes widening. “Fifty gold coins? Are you out of your mind?”

Caerus stepped forward – his voice steady. “Sir, we understand the cost, but that’s quite steep. Could we perhaps come to a compromise?”

“Do you morons even understand the repercussions if the workers union – not to mention the city council – find out I let an unregistered vehicle in cargo?” The conductor crossed his arms, considering Caerus’s desperate expression for a moment. “Fine. Thirty gold coins, but on one condition.”

Caerus leaned in – his interest piqued. “Name it.”

The conductor pointed toward the train’s schedule board. “We’re making a stop in the port town of Lyndhythe. I’ll let you know when we’re approaching, and we’ll let you off there. Deal?”

Caerus weighed the offer in his mind, he took a glance at Ryker and pulled him aside.

“How close is Lyndhythe to…” Caerus scratched his head.

“Wanthai” Ryker replied. “If we disembark in Lyndhythe it’ll take us another week before reaching our destination by motorcycle. But… Maybe that is the best solution? We can lose any pursuing Laresians if we take a detour across the countryside.”

The duo smiled and nodded in agreement before Caerus extended his hand to the train conductor. “Deal.” The conductor’s grip was firm as they shook on their agreement. “You better not cause any trouble on my train,” he warned.

As soon as the conductor moved away, Ryker raised a single finger in his direction, his lips moving in a not-so-silent proclamation of his feelings.

Caerus rolled his eyes, his lips curving into a half-smile. “Save it for later,” he whispered to Ryker, who responded with a dramatic huff.

With their deal struck, Caerus and Ryker carefully maneuvered their motorcycles onto the train, securing them in place as the conductor barked orders to the crew. The other passengers watched with varying levels of curiosity and interest as they stowed their belongings. Caerus could feel their eyes on him, a mix of awe and curiosity. The rumble of engines reverberated through the air, and the train jolted to life, slowly pulling out of the bustling train yard.

As they made their way into the train car, Caerus settled into a seat near the window, taking a moment to catch his breath. The rhythmic chugging of the train’s engine and the gentle swaying of the carriage created a sense of calm amid the bustling surroundings.

Leaning back in his seat, Caerus looked out the window, watching as the city of Serendell slowly receded into the distance. With Ryker by his side and their motorcycles safely stored, Caerus felt a sense of anticipation and excitement for the adventures that awaited them beyond the horizon.

The rhythmic clatter of the train wheels against the tracks had become a steady backdrop to Caerus’s thoughts as he sat by Ryker’s side. His friend’s face was a shade paler than usual, beads of sweat forming on his forehead as he retched into a bucket. Caerus’s expression was a mix of concern and sympathy, his hand gently rubbing Ryker’s back in a soothing gesture.

“Easy, Ryker,” Caerus murmured, his voice low and comforting. “Just take deep breaths. It’ll pass.”

Ryker’s response was a strained groan, his grip on the bucket tightening. The motion sickness had hit him hard, and Caerus knew all too well the discomfort his friend was enduring.

He continued to offer words of reassurance, his presence a quiet comfort as Ryker rode out the waves of nausea. Caerus’s stomach churned in sympathy, memories of his past bouts of motion sickness resurfacing. Luckily, he’d managed to use his lifeblood ability as a Laresian to remove the motion sickness as soon as it struck him, otherwise, they’d have a hard time sharing the same bucket.

Eventually, Ryker’s retching subsided, leaving him slumped against the seat, breathing heavily. Caerus remained by his side, a supportive presence even in silence. But as Ryker’s irritation began to seep through, his voice grew sharp.

“Caerus, could you just... I don’t know, take a walk or something? I need some space.”

Caerus’s brow furrowed, concern flickering in his eyes, but he nodded understandingly. He patted Ryker’s shoulder gently before standing up. “Yeah, sure, Ryker. I’ll be just outside if you need anything.”

Ryker’s gaze followed Caerus as he walked toward the compartment door, his expression a mix of frustration and discomfort. Caerus offered a slightly awkward smile before slipping out of the compartment and into the narrow aisle.

As he walked, the train gently swaying beneath his feet, Caerus couldn’t help but feel a sense of empathy for Ryker. The closed confines of the train, combined with the constant motion, could certainly trigger claustrophobia, and make even the strongest stomachs churn.

He leaned against the window – his eyes fixed on the passing scenery outside. The world outside the train seemed to blur together in a hazy dance of colors, the landscape shifting and changing as they hurtled forward.

Caerus’s mind wandered, thoughts drifting between his concern for Ryker and the uncertainties of the journey ahead. Despite the adventure and excitement that awaited them, he couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that seemed to settle in the pit of his stomach.

After a while, Caerus turned away from the window, his thoughts still with his friend. With a sigh, he decided to give Ryker the space he needed, returning to their compartment only when he felt the train slow down and the motion grow gentler.

Ryker’s gaze met his as he reentered the compartment, and Caerus offered a reassuring smile. “Feeling any better?”

Ryker’s scowl softened, and he nodded. “Yeah, a bit. Sorry for snapping earlier.”

Caerus waved off the apology. “No worries. Just glad you’re feeling better. We’ll get through this train ride together. I’m heading for the food carriage, maybe get you some soup and bread?”

“I’d like that.” Ryker nodded, “I do, something to fill my empty stomach.” Caerus’s brow furrowed with concern as Ryker closed his eyes, tilting his head back while still cradling the sloshing bucket of liquified breakfast.

Caerus stepped out of the carriage and was welcomed by the rhythmic clatter of the train’s wheels against the tracks. It filled Caerus’s ears as he walked through the narrow aisles of the compartment. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe as he glanced out the window, watching the landscape blur by in a mesmerizing dance of colors and shapes. The train was a marvel of engineering, a cast iron beast hurtling through the world with purpose and power.

As he moved through the train, Caerus’s attention was drawn to the coach that housed the dining area. The promise of a warm meal was enticing, and his stomach rumbled in agreement. He stepped inside, the clinking of cutlery and murmurs of conversation greeting him.

Unbeknownst to Caerus, a figure sat at one of the tables, his gaze fixed intently upon him. The man’s features were peculiar, his face was obscured by white strands of long hair and hood, and his eyes seemed to glow a ghostly blue. He had an air of mystery clinging to him like a shroud. Caerus lost in his thoughts, failed to notice the stranger’s unwavering attention.

He approached the counter where a harried-looking server stood, her hands full of trays and orders. “Excuse me,” Caerus said politely. “Could I please have a meal for myself and my friend in compartment seven? Some warm soup and bread, if you have it.”

The server nodded her expression a mix of exhaustion and kindness. “Of course, sir. I’ll have that brought to your compartment shortly.”

Caerus thanked her and turned to head back, his steps measured and his mind drifting.

It was then that he felt a prickling sensation at the back of his neck as if he were being watched. A chill ran down Caerus’s spine, a feeling of unease settling in his gut. And he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something off about the food cart, as if a presence was there that set it apart from the other passengers.

He glanced around the dining area casually, his eyes scanning the patrons. And the enigmatic stranger ducked from Caerus’s view – Caerus none the wiser.

Quickly regaining his composure, Caerus made his way back to his compartment, the short trip to the food compartment giving him time to stretch his legs. Ryker looked up as Caerus entered, a faint smile on his face.

“Food’s on its way,” Caerus informed him, though his eyes briefly flicked toward the window, his thoughts still lingering on the strange feeling he had in the food compartment.

Ryker nodded, seemingly unperturbed. “Good. I could use some hot soup.”

As the train continued its journey, Caerus couldn’t help but feel a sense of restlessness. The strangeness in the food compartment left a lingering sense of curiosity and wariness. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something told him that whatever he felt in that compartment would be destined for him to cross again.