The Fields of Fire

Chapter 18: Michael Branton

"Oy, I didn't respond. And trust me they believe the lines are cut." He stroked his fiery red beard with some aggression, "I did go against orders. But Fort F is situated along the middle of the wall, so any message going east to west on the telegram line has to go through us. I was just listening onto chatter from the other parts of the wall that hadn't had their lines cut. And apparently the Sentry master was considering getting somebody from Fort I to come evaluate us."

"Well shit."

"Oy, it is a real shit situation. I checked the armory and I couldn't find any artifacts left to barter. I think we're right fucked on this one."

Michael raised his eyebrow in suspicion, "Artifacts?"

"Well, that's right. I mean, when Fortmaster Walton ever had trouble with evaluations, we always just went into the armory to look for Artifacts to bribe 'em with. That stuff's as good as Gold."

"What kind of Artifacts?"

"I don't know. Trinkets 'n shit from the other side of the wall. Weird stuff, definitely not human. Back when they shut down the ranger corps, the geographers just packed up and left it behind. Apparently now there's a market for it." He shook his head, "But I'm soirry to say Cap, that there ain't none left. So I guess we gone need a new plan. I'm thinking we kidnap the evaluator and replace him wit somebody-"

"Wait." Michael interrupted, as was his prerogative as the de-facto Dictator of their 2000 by 2000 foot nation, "How often did this bribery thing work?"

"Every time we troid it." The bearded fellow responded.

"And what's stopping us from going and just getting more?"

"From where? I don't know where da heck dey found 'em in the first place."

Michael shook his head, "No you don't." He looked out the window of his office, the throne room of his shadow kingdom. Down one hundred feet below him were hundreds of men and women in animal skin clothing, sharpening spears and axes, singing by fires, some just standing aimlessly, "But they probably do."

Michael ripped open a cabinet under his desk and pulled out a book he had seen when he was rifling through Fortmaster Walton's things. The book's title read, "Cultural Objects of the Frigid Beyond." He tossed the book to the bearded man and said, "Show me what your Artifacts looked like in there."

The man thumbed through the pages and said, "This one." The picture he pointed to was a small circular object, he handed the book back to him. To Michael's astonishment the picture was in color, but his surprise faded after he realized that it was simply an incredibly detailed drawing. the label underneath the picture said, Object of unknown origin. Imaging Technology is malfunctioning so our mapographer sketched it above, incredibly heavy for its small size and includes glowing blue features. The ink on the rest of the line was smeared away before it continued Rangers near the object reported experiencing hallucinations. All other Artifacts will be recovered, this object will be abandoned as no further study can take place at this time. "They didn't look exactly like that one, but they were sorta similar."

He folded over the page to mark its place, "Okay." He looked at the man, "What's your name?"

"Arondon."

"Arondon, you're with me." Michael stood up, and walked over to the personal elevator inside his office, he hit the down button. Eventually the elevator, making a terrifying screeching noise, climbed its way up into his room and clambored itself to a halt. The door opened with great difficulty, and Michael stepped in. "You as well?"

"No 'ay in hell am I goin in that thing. It's a gift from God you every time you survive a trip down in that monster. I'll take the stairs."

"My luck has been pretty sound so far, your loss I guess. Have fun walking Arondon."  With a Shudder and a Groan the elevator decended to the ground, and much to Michael's continuing good fortune reached the bottom safely. The blackened steel doors squealed open and Michael stepped through. It was a short walk from his personal elevator through a hall out to the courtyard. When he opened the bolted steel door that barred any unwanted visitors from using his elevator, he stepped out into a world of white. It was snowing. The tribesmen were surprisingly hardy but he knew he'd have to make accommodations for them inside the keep at some point.