The airship emerged from the clouds, dark blue flags dancing in the wind, behind it loomed a township built atop a boar the size of a mountain. Black smoke belched from exhaust pipes as those aboard the vessel sailed away from their home.

  “Come on now, it’s not like we’re flying off to our impending doom,” said Etienne with his usual stupid grin.

  Cleo and Henri, his two best and oldest friends, went from staring glumly back towards home to glaring daggers at him.

  “Hey, if I were to come back without the both of you, your sister would never let me hear the end of it,” said Etienne. “And then I’d never get a chance to take her out for a proper evening in the night lights of the Fleur District.”

  Henri, short but sturdy as an ox lunged at Etienne. They wrestled around for a moment on the uneven wooden deck of the airship before he had Etienne in a headlock. Etienne was tall and thin like a scarecrow with a head full of long straw-colored hair, closely faded on the sides but long and textured on top. He wasn’t the wrestling type, that was on full display in the way he was being tossed around like a ragdoll.

  Etienne’s face was turning purple as he tapped desperately on his friend’s muscled forearms, “you win, you win!”

  Henri released him and the three young friends fell to the floor. Cleo and Henri rolling with laughter, Etienne rolling with the desire to get some oxygen back to his brain. The three of them got back to their feet all smiling. In that instance no one was thinking about the fact they were aboard a shuttle flying straight into the mouth of hell.

  For some reason Etienne had never quite figured out, men weren’t allowed to speak about their emotions. Short of talking through their feelings, letting his friends cause him physical harm generally seemed the quickest way to cheer them up. All things considered, it was usually what he defaulted to in the darkest of times. He would let his friends beat on him every day if it kept them in good spirits and hanging around.

  Sometimes he wondered why his friends couldn’t bury their emotions deep down inside themselves and project unshakable confidence like he could.

  Township Sanglier, the ramshackle city built atop a living boar god faded into the horizon behind them. The morning sky blooming slowly, like violet and amber ink spilling into water.

  Majestic sunrise splendor was interrupted by Henri’s stomach rumbling loudly, “what have we got to eat on this suicide mission?”

  Cleo’s attention turned to the entirely unreasonable number of bags and pouches she was wearing on her person. Her fingers probed through them as her two friends watched with great interest.

  “Hmm, well gents, it appears our options are oats, oats, or more oats.” Cleo said pulling her tricorn hat off and throwing it at the deck. Long, dark hair fell free.

  “That pig of a captain!” Henri shouted, bushy brows furrowed. “There’s no bloody way they send their own soldiers on missions with no rations other than stinking oats!”

  Overhearing the disparaging remarks about the captain, a soldier flying the airship shot the three a dirty look.

  “I’ll have a talk with him when we get back home.” Etienne said, then his eyes lit up as he noticed a flock of colorful birds soaring through the sky alongside the ship.

  “I don’t like that look.” Cleo said.

  Henri nodded, “me neither. It’s the look you always get right before you nearly get us killed.”

  Etienne looked back and forth between them nodding, stupid grin returning, “never fear, my dear friends.” He pulled what appeared to be a disassembled rifle from his knapsack and began assembling it, “breakfast is saved.”

  Next thing she knew, Cleo was aiming the gun out at the birds, “how does this work again?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” replied Etienne.

  “Easy for you to say, you’re not the one holding the gun!” Cleo shouted.

  “You know what they say,” Etienne laughed, wagging his finger around like an esteemed professor. “You can’t live your life in fear!”

  Henri rolled his eyes, “they clearly haven’t had the pleasure of working alongside Etienne Archambou!”

  “And what’s that supposed to mean?” Etienne said, feigning outrage.

  Henri and Cleo replied at the same time, “Your bloody inventions never work!”

  “Never is a bit of an overstatement,” Etienne said. “What about the machine I built to help Ms. Waterlou do the dishes at her tavern?”

  “Her cat, Whiskers only has whiskers on the left side of its face now.” Henri said.

  “That was an unfortunate accident, perhaps not a bad idea to rename the little guy,” Etienne said. “What about the machine I made for Mr. Lafontaine’s cabbage farm?”

  “That machine blew up and burned up half his harvest!” Cleo said.

  “Well no one likes smelly old cabbage anyway,” said Etienne. “No more finger pointing, you’re the best shot out of the three of us, you going to take the shot or not?”

  Cleo groaned, rubbed her aching stomach then aimed down the iron sights of the rifle and pulled the trigger. A plume of black powder smoke rose in the air heavy with the smell of gunpowder. Rather than a smoothbore musket ball firing out of the barrel, a projectile more akin to an arrow sliced through the sky towards the graceful birds.

  The three young friends watched, eyes large, as the arrow pierced right through its black billed target. Rather strangely, a rope connected the rifle barrel to the arrow that was now firmly stuck in the bird.

  All three of them gasped aloud, the invention made perfect sense for hunting birds or other airborne prey!

  At that moment the bird fell from the sky taking the rope and the friend’s hope of a delicious breakfast with it. The rope had become severed from the gun somehow. They all three fell to their knees. Cleo and Henri covered their faces with their palms and grumbled. Etienne pulled a small moleskin journal from his knapsack and scribbled down some notes.

  “Not too shabby!” Etienne laughed. “Rope needs to be constructed from a stronger material, but it almost worked.”

  Henri put his friend back in a headlock, “we can’t eat almost!”

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Eventually they cooled off, though no one was especially pleased to choke down boiled oats for breakfast. If one were to bet on how many more times Etienne ended up in a headlock that morning and guessed less than three, they would be a bit poorer.

  Unrolling a poorly scrawled map and placing it on a wobbly wooden table, Etienne began explaining the plan, “They’re going to drop us here at the edge of the city on the rusted bridge. From there, we cut across the ruined train station, slide down into the tunnels and come up underneath the hospital. We grab as much medicine as we can carry, and we hightail it back to the bridge where the ship will be waiting to scoop us up.”

  “Hold up,” said Cleo. “No chance in hell I’m going into those tunnels. That’s where the white eyes live, you damn fool.”

  Etienne waved his arms as he spoke, trying to deescalate the situation, “It’s all good, they sleep during the day. If we move quietly, we’ll be good as gold.”

  Cleo wore an expression like she didn’t necessarily feel so confident about it.

  “I’m with Cleo, I don’t like this plan one bit,” said Henri.

  Etienne threw his hands up in the air, as if the plan wasn’t fraught with unspeakable danger and the very real risk of being eaten alive by the white eyes, “I didn’t realize you two were all of a sudden the head of the plan haters committee…”

  “I’m just having some conflicted feelings about why we always let you of all people make the plans,” Cleo said.

  “And what’s that supposed to mean?” Etienne asked, turning and looking over the railing down at the endless scar of ruins that was the surface.

  “It means that your damn inventions and schemes never work! And everyone knows that but you!” Henri shouted.

  Etienne knew it was true, but hearing it expressed by one of his closest friends, hurt him in a way he felt difficult to bury deep inside of himself. He considered throwing a witty retort back, but just slunk down on the railing instead. What’s even the point, they are right, he thought.

  Cleo shot her brother a dirty look. Henri responded with a shrug that seemed to say, hey you said a mean thing too. The two of them stepped up beside their defeated friend and patted him on the back.

  “Who even cares if your inventions and plans don’t always work,” said Cleo. “At least you try. You make an effort to make things better for all of us.”

  “She’s right, Tienne. At least you care enough to dream. It’s not like the rest of us are any better off for having accepted our fate and how shit things are for the majority of us. We went to bed one night and woke up complacent.” Henri said.

  Etienne stood up tall, brushing his hair out his face and looking down at the abandoned surface. “You’re wrong.”

  The three stood in silence, letting the wind beat against them.

  “You’re not complacent. You’re right here beside me when I need you most. Just wait and see, we are going to change this world.” Etienne said.

  A soldier in a dark blue coat with red cuffs climbed up a stairwell from below deck and shouted at them, “approaching the drop site!”

  Thirty minutes flew by like a fever dream. Before they knew it they were standing on the bridge, airship disappearing back into the clouds.

  The bridge groaned in the wind, iron bones red with rust and age, as if the blood of a fallen empire might still seep through the joints. Once a proud crossing of cobbled grandeur and cast-iron artistry, it now stood half-choked by ivy and ruin.

  Etienne’s breath caught in his throat. For others it would have been a nightmare, but not for him. For him it was a dream come true. Ever since he was a young boy at the orphanage, he imagined what it might be like to return to the surface. And yet, it was so much different than he had imagined. It didn’t look anything like the monochromatic blur it resembled from up above the clouds. It was nothing like the ghost stories people on the townships told.

  The thing that stood out to him immediately was the sheer scale of it all. The buildings, even in their current state, being slowly ripped apart and reclaimed by nature were enormous. Urban sprawl in every direction as far as the eye could see. Buried in that wasteland were countless treasures and relics of lost civilizations.

  Etienne thought of the countless sick people back home. Dying of an illness that could be cured. They were counting on him and his friends.

  Reminded of their mission, he looked once more at his map, then out at the cityscape brought low by mother nature. Ivy poured from shattered windows. Houses barely stood, cracked and half-buried in thickets of fern and wildflower. Mighty oaks rose from courtyards once used for parades, their limbs stretching through what remained of shattered balconies and collapsed rooftops.

  The skyline stood defiant in the distance like the bones of a forgotten deity, jagged with shattered spires and roofless domes. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he could make out the silhouette of the train station in the distance.

  Henri and Cleo looked around nervously, as if the white eyes might suddenly appear and rip them limb from limb. Who wouldn’t be nervous, this was the first time any of the three had set foot on the surface.

  Etienne tucked the map into his knapsack and pointed towards where he thought the train station was, “let’s stay together and keep our eyes peeled.”

  Wearing his mask of unwavering confidence, he nodded to his friends and they set off into the ruins. Cleo gripped her rifle tightly, eyes constantly scanning their surroundings for threats. Henri carried a saber and he used it to clear the path of overgrown brush and vines. Some of the time it wasn’t even necessary, but Etienne was happy to let him do his thing if it made him feel helpful and calmed his nerves.

  Surprisingly, it felt sort of peaceful to Etienne. No bloodthirsty white eyes. No toxic spores. No cannibalistic pirates. Just the soothing sound of the cool breeze whispering through the foliage.

  “Did either of you happen to talk to Camille about her last surface mission?” Cleo asked.

  “Negative. Last I checked she was still mad at me,” said Etienne.

  “I’d be mad too if you poisoned my dog,” replied Henri.

  Etienne scoffed and shook his head, “poison is a strong word for what I did.”

  “Dogs can’t have chocolate.”

  “Well, duh! Everyone knows that. I only gave him a little bit.” Said Etienne, “only enough so that he would lose the dog race. Little guy made a full recovery.”

  Henri shrugged, “just saying, I’d be cross with you if you poisoned Turbo.”

  “I didn’t bloody poison anyone!”

  “Stop arguing you two, bafoons!” Cleo shouted, “Two of her crew died on their last mission.”

  Henri made a face like he tasted something sour, “well that’s a bit of a mood killer, isn’t it?”

  “Classic Camille,” laughed Etienne. “Killing the mood even from a hundred miles away.”

  Cleo’s eyes grew dark, “you two idiots are hopeless. Someone just ask me how they died?”

  “How?”

  “White eyes,” she said.

  “During the day?” asked Etienne, head tilting ever so slightly.

  “She said they were scavenging at the seed vault when a raiding party of white eyes ambushed them.”

  “During the day?” asked Henri.

  “Yes!” Cleo tightened her lips into a thin line and sighed, “during the bloody day! Came up out of nowhere from a tunnel beneath them and started shooting arrows around like a god damn shooting gallery.”

  Etienne looked down at the dirt beneath his boots, “how’d they make it out?”

  “Camille and Anna hid in a vault for hours,” said Cleo. “Poor girl said there were no bodies around when they finally came out of hiding. She thinks they took her crew as prisoners.”

  Henri and Etienne gulped audibly before sharing a glum look.

  “I really shouldn’t have poisoned her dog,” Etienne said.

  “Stop joking!” Cried Cleo. “This is serious you clown. I don’t want to die today. And I certainly don’t want to be taken prisoner by the white eyes!”

  “She’s right. We need to be extra careful. No unnecessary risks. Get the medicine and straight back to the bridge.” Henri said.

  “Agreed,” smile gone from his face, Etienne nodded. “No unnecessary risks.”

  They stopped at the cracked stone steps of what seemed to be the train station. Etienne drew his pistol and the three of them walked up the steps and through the massive arched entrance. Inside, the vaulted ceiling was decorated with the remnants of baroque frescoes—faded laurels, trumpeting angels, and battle scenes in muted ochre and soot. Rusted iron girders, stretched across the high roof, some buckled from age, others collapsed entirely, allowing shafts of sunlight to fall freely into the immense, silent hall.

  The three of them scanned the place for threats. Training barrels on every inch of the station before nodding and heading for a large stairwell in the center of the hall. Standing at the top of the stairs they collectively looked down into the darkness. Minds imagining all the dreadful things that could be waiting for them.

  “Are we doing this?” Etienne asked.

  Cleo and Henri nodded. Etienne took a deep breath pulling out an oil lamp from his knapsack and lighting it.

  With only a lamp to light their way, the three of them descended into the darkness. Step by step, they continued down the stairwell. Though no one spoke, they all shared the same fear of what might appear before them.

  Reaching the bottom of the stairwell the tunnel forked to the right. As they turned the corner they came to an unexpected stop. The only path was fully blocked by a cave in. Of all the terrible things that could have appeared in the darkness, it was one of the least immediately fatal. Though that’s not to say it wouldn’t be eventually fatal.

  Etienne turned and started climbing back up the steps they just descended, “looks like we need a new plan.”