Uncouth: Awkward and uncultivated in appearance, manner, or behavior; Rude.

  “Saint Tristan,” Brutus said as they walked side-by-side.

  “Just Tristan, please,” Tristan said with a courteous wave of his hand.

  “Alrigh’. Saint Tristan da Jus’,“

  “Umm—“

  “Somefing’s been buggin’ me. Wha’ does aggregarious mean?”

  “Beg pardon?”

  “Wha’ Sebastian said befo’. ‘e said a word I don’ know. An’ since you’re the only one who don’t look angry o’ dead, I figure I could ask you!”

  Tristan walked with his face scrunched like he was thinking, so Brutus gave him some time. He knew he’d just said a lot of words, so he might—

  “Are you trying to say egregious?”

  “Tha’s the one!” Brutus was just about to clap Tristan on the back in congratulations, but stopped halfway as he remembered what happened last time. So instead he pretended like he was stretching… stretching mechanical limbs…

  “Egregious means,” Tristan began. Smooth. Brutus thought. ‘e didn’t even no’ice! “Something that is used in the wrong way, or used ad nauseam. Your friend was mocking me.” Something changed in the way Tristan walked. Brutus’ bionics picked up that his back went straighter by 1.8*, and his steps fell faster by 1.1 seconds, but Brutus couldn’t tell why. He decided to guess what was wrong.

  “Oh, make no mistake, ‘e is no’ my friend. I jus’ me’ da guy when I go’ ‘ere.” Tristan looked at him without turning his head, which Brutus knew, meant that he didn’t believe him. “I mean i’! I nevah me’ ‘im! In fact, I e’en tried to kill ‘is ca’ no’ two mi’utes ago!!”

  Tristan scoffed. “How could you be trying to kill his cat if you never met him?”

  “We’, I nevah me’ ‘im, but I ain’t said nofing abou’ no’ mee’in’ his cat, did I! Duh bligh’in’ fing tried to kill me! So I sho’ i’ wiff ma blaster!”

  “This is making no sense.”

  “Jus’ know dis: we aw no’ friends. If you’d a done seen tha’ ca’ befo’e we go’ teleportranspor’ed ‘ere, you woulda seen i’ missin’ a whole leg!”

  Tristan gave an exaggerated sigh. “That does not make me feel any better. You were supposed to be heroes, united! Come here to save us! Not some ragtag group of misfit monsters—“ Tristan stopped himself and did that sideways look again. “I apologize. I was uncouth. Please forgive me.”

  “Naw,” Brutus waved it away. “We all ge’ our coof undone now an’ den.”

  Tristan sighed again, but said nothing. Brutus decided to give him some time to get his couth back in order. It sounded important.

  Sebastian was perfectly content to not make small talk with the human, Derek. He figured it’d be best to see what happened next, since conversation thus far had proven an ineffective way to gather intel.

  As they travelled through the fief full of farmers and laborers, he spotted lots of stares and hushed whispers. They passed one guard making rounds, who stopped to salute Derek. Derek nodded respectfully in return.

  Hror had mentioned Derek wanting the Court Magician Seat. Sebastian wondered what that meant. As they came closer to the capitol, he decided to break the silence by asking Derek, “why did that guard salute you?”

  “Because,” Derek said in a monotone. “I am King Wrolfson’s court magician, which is the most respectable position in the kingdom for a wizard.” He added a not-so-subtle note of pride with his words.

  Sebastian nodded. So Derek is already the court magician. Sebastian thought. Why do I get the sense that Tristan threatens that position for him? Glancing back at Derek revealed his glowering stare toward the front of their group.

  “What position does Tristan hold?”

  “Tristan does not hold a position. He’s what we call a freelance mage. Freelance mages give the rest of us a bad name,” he added venomously.

  This is good Intel!

  “Uhuh. And why is that?”

  “Because they don’t follow the same rules as members of the guild. They only have layman’s laws to follow, and they don't answer to the Archmage.”

  “So… what’s wrong with that?”

  “You’ll learn soon enough, I’m sure!” Derek spat as they came up to the castle gate. “Just watch your back around him. If he’s nearby, you can be sure trouble’s not far away.”

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  “Then why did you help him cast that spell?”

  Derek looked away and said, “because my king commanded. And unlike some, I do as I’m told.”

  To emphasize the end of their discussion, Derek walked quickly past Sebastian and inside the castle grounds. Sebastian gave a little huff to himself.

  “Looks like it’s still just you and me ol’ girl,” he said as he patted Fang’s side. “At least I’m not alone,” he added in a whisper as he followed everyone else into the castle proper, where solid stone engulfed him and blotted out the sun.

  No’Dea awoke to the sound of whispers. Her entire face felt on fire, which somehow prevented her from opening her right human eye. She dimmed the bionic eye on the left to look around so the light didn’t increase her already throbbing skull.

  She was lying on a bed. A very uncomfortable bed. Thick coarse blankets covered her from the neck down, and it smelled like B.O. and blood. So I’m not in a hospital, she thought, not sensing even a hint of antiseptic.

  The ceiling and walls were solid stone. Not concrete, but large stones stacked on top of each other, with gray plaster between them. It reminded her of a restored castle from olden-times, which she’d had the pleasure of exploring during one of her short vacation trips.

  The whispers were coming from a man and a woman.

  “…survive that,” the man was saying excitedly. “She must have powerful magics to not only live, but start healing before our very eyes. It must be a permanent enchantment.”

  “But permanent enchantments can only come from the gods,” the woman replied with skepticism. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, considering she is a hero.”

  Are they talking about me? No’Dea wondered. They think I’m a hero? What for? And why are they talking about magic and enchantments and gods?!? She was either dead, or else she’d fallen unconscious somehow and been picked up by a couple of loonies.

  She tried to recall the last thing she remembered: I put on my suit and went into the arena, she thought. And then… and then I walked out with a couple androids… did we find any scavs? She couldn’t remember, and trying to do so caused a wave of pain and nausea to overtake her senses.

  She groaned and put her right human hand to her head.

  A man walked into her bionic line of sight. He looked very strange, wearing a green shirt that resembled leaves. His facial features were so sharp that he must’ve had surgery done to make all his contours so pointed; even his ears were pointed! A strange man indeed.

  “You’re awake?” The man asked “so soon?… I mean…” he cleared his throat. “Welcome Hero! Would you like some wine and bread and cheese?”

  Wine, bread, and cheese? She thought, unable to comprehend how disjointed it was for a human in exotic clothes to be offering her such delicacies. Did he mistake her for someone else?

  She shut off her bionic eye. Trying to focus on the man’s face was not helping her migraine. She involuntarily groaned again.

  “Elva,” the man said. “Please bring a plate of wine, bread and cheese for our Hero. Oh, and tell her friends that she’s awake. I’m sure they’ll be overjoyed.” No’Dea heard soft footstep retreating, and she wondered, Eva isn’t wearing boots? What kind of place exists where someone doesn’t wear boots?!? And what friends? Were others kidnapped too?

  “Where am I?” She asked, but her voice was choppy, like her voicebox aug was having trouble making the sounds she wanted. Had she been captured by scavs who’d pilfered her for parts?

  No, she surmised. If these were scavs I’d be dead already. And they would not be able to afford cheese, much less give it to a prisoner.

  “You’re at Castle Gravon. My name is Duerson, and I am the physician. I’m the one who’ll see that you have a safe recovery.” His voice was gentle and had a lilt to it, almost like he was singing. Which, again, was completely at odds with his sharp facial features. “I was told that you had a near fatal accident at the portal, and I must say, with the damage to your head and arm, I wasn’t expecting you to be awake for at least another week.”

  No’Dea lifted her right human arm to see it covered in bandages. Why do I have bandages on? She thought, with a little panic. Are my nanos malfunctioning?

  “Yes, we had to bleed that arm instead of the other, what with it being so twisted and…um…metal.” his voice trailed off. No’Dea activated her dimmed bionic eye to see him pointing at her mechanical left arm with his mouth hanging open. “your arm!” He said with astonishment. “It looks perfectly normal! It was bent the wrong way not two hours ago!”

  No’Dea raised the arm to see it in perfect condition, which comforted her to know her nanos still worked. However, her suit’s sleeve had been mangled or cut down to her elbow. She cringed at that.

  Then she registered what else he’d said.

  “Wait,” she said in her metallic voice. “You bled me?!?”

  Duerson looked confused. “Of course! How else would your body heal unless we let the bad blood get out of your body?”

  No’Dea had no idea what to say. It’s like she’d woken up to an alternate reality, where nothing made sense! Was everyone in this place this idiotic? This was so much worse than the punishment her boss would’ve given her.

  “How…” she said, pausing to smack her lips together around her cotton-dry mouth. “How did I get here?”

  “The court magician summoned you with the help of a couple other mages,” Duerson replied.

  “Wh-Where am I?” She repeated, her speech starting to slur from the migraine.

  Duerson looked confused.

  “Castle Gravon, m’lady,” he responded warily.

  This man was clearly useless.

  She started to stand, but he put a gentle hand on her shoulder.

  “I wouldn’t re—” his voice was cut off by No’Dea’s mechanical hand around his throat.

  “Don’t. Touch. Me. Again,” she said slowly and quietly. Her malfunctioning voicebox made her inhuman sounds even more menacing.

  The feeling of power made her migraine ebb a little.

  Duerson nodded adamantly, so she let him go. He put a hand to his neck and started coughing.

  She let him catch his breath before saying, “where’s my sleeve?” while raising her left arm.

  “We—cough—put it with—-cough cough—the rest of the linens.” He pointed to a barrel in the corner.

  No’Dea walked to the barrel and looked inside to see a rancid pile of rags in different stages between stained to decomposing. Luckily, the cut up bits of her sleeve were on top.

  She plucked them off and held them in her left hand. She couldn’t put those in her pocket now.

  She saw Duerson look toward the door and make an expression that could only be described as: I’m saved! As two cyborgs, a human midget, and a sharp-faced human in billowy robes walked through the wooden doorway.

  She instantly recognized Caesar, two-time champion of The Tournament, but the other only looked familiar…

  Her targeting systems instantly pulled up through her bionic eye a freeze-framed image of the scav that was running away from her only moments before.

  They all turned from Duerson’s pointing finger, to her. She suddenly realized she wasn’t wearing her utility belt. That meant she was stuck in a stone corner with malfunctioning and missing gear, facing off against a champion, a blighting scav, and a few humans who’re clearly off their meds.

  Well crap.