Floating just of the eastern coast of Motueka, a single boat holding two people rowed peacefully atop the calm ocean.
Ruataupare gazed wistfully at the landmass hidden beneath a thicket of cloud, ash, and smoke.
They were less than a hundred kilometers from the shore, but the risk of being spotted by the Settled Folk remained as high as it ever had.
Not that either of them knew it, but Arihona and Ruataupare were passing the same spot where Sirene had been mowed down by arrows two days prior.
Whatever Arihona was saying, Ruataupare had effectively blanked it all - "hm?", she asked.
"What?", he looked ahead and over her shoulder.
"I didn't catch that last part", Ruataupare shook her head, trying to bring herself back to earth.
"What were you looking at?", he asked, discarding his previous conversation topic.
She gazed longingly at the distant coastline.
"Home".
"Over there?", he pointed.
"Uh-huh", she grunted in agreement.
"Jeeze", Arihona sighed. "I'd be lying if I said I understood everything that's happened over these last few days. Less than a week ago, we're out doing border patrol, today I'm two countries away and trying to keep Ratapu from conscripting us in a war we have nothing to do with".
"He seems like a good bloke", Ruataupare shrugged.
"Yeah, he is".
"Are you two...?", she didn't have to finish the question, her implication was clear.
"No", Arihona put bluntly.
"Right - I mean, you never know".
"What about you and Thatcher - are you two...?", he mocked her cadence.
"Yeah", Ruataupare fired back sarcastically, without thinking.
"Wait - what? Really?", Arihona half laughed, humored.
"Yeah, that's why we were fighting so much up North... She cheated on me with Rena, but I forgive her", Ruataupare tried her hardest not to laugh at the sheer absurdity of her joke.
Or perhaps it wasn't the absurdity of the joke, maybe it was the fact she was making a joke, to begin with.
"I thought Rena and Magnus were-".
"Oh yeah, but then Magnus slept with Jim-Bob Garrison, so she and Rena were on a break", Ruataupare felt her chest burst with laughter - laughter she mustered hard to suppress.
"That cannot be a real name", Arihona laughed.
"It's as real as the yarn I'm spinning", Ruataupare finally broke, allowing her laughter to spill forth.
"Oh very funny", Arihona smiled.
For two generally cold people, they really did bring the warmth out in one-and-other.
"Well - you're so serious all the time", Ruataupare noted.
"It's a bit hard not to be", Arihona replied scandalized.
"Yeah", Ruataupare agreed, "it is".
*
"We'll leave the boat here, make the rest of the journey on foot", Thatcher pulled the small canoe up to the rocky shoreline of the river.
They were in a gully between two snowcapped mountains, stained gray with the ashfall from the volcano north.
"Fuck it's cold", Ratapu shivered slightly, pulling his sleeves closer to his waistline.
"That's that Rebury snow for you", Thatcher climbed from the canoe, securing the oar inside her seat.
Ratapu followed suit, pulling himself from his seat, placing his oar, and standing behind Thatcher as she caught her bearings.
"We probably could've gone up a bit further, but if I recall correctly, it gets fairly rocky a couple of clicks up", Thatcher set forward, her feet crunching rocks as she walked.
"How often do you come here?", Ratapu asked, struggling to keep up.
"Once every month or so, just to see how things are going. Usually, Wolesley or Grayson handles food swaps so I'm not needed", Thatcher explained, hardly noticing Ratapu lagging behind.
"Seems you've got a good setup, if I'm honest", Ratapu admired.
"It's better than a whack on the nose with a rusty poker, yeah", Thatcher replied humbly.
For a minute, the pair walked in silence. A rock fell from a clifftop, rolling in front of them and causing them to stop briefly, before continuing on their way.
"Notice you're quiet on Waikato, though", Ratapu noticed.
"I don't think that's a conversation we ought to have today", Thatcher answered dryly.
"I'm not going to be annoyed, you know", Ratapu pointed out, "I value the honesty you've brought to King Tama".
"You know he said to me that 'he likes me but he doesn't trust me'?", Thatcher stopped, turned, looked Ratapu in the eyes, and asked.
"I can see how he'd feel that way", Ratapu sympathized.
"Really?", Thatcher placed her hands on her hips and asked.
"Well, you're an adult woman, who - to be honest - has a very intimidating aura to her".
"I find it interesting that you use the word 'intimidating'. If I had a cock and balls, I feel you'd've used the word 'strong', or 'authoritative'", Thatcher frowned.
"That's not what I meant at all", Ratapu shook his head disappointedly - either at himself for his choice of words, or at Thatcher for thinking he meant it in that way.
He continued - "you've got an aura about you, one that commands attention".
"That's something that happens when surrounded by absolute clowns for ninety percent of your working life", she reflected back on her choices the previous two years.
"Exactly", Ratapu insisted, "I didn't mean it in a derogatory way. I meant that you know what you're doing, and that radiates from you".
"Well", Thatcher coughed, relaxed, and began walking once more, "I've had no choice, have I?".
That, she thought, wasn't necessarily true, though the Royal Council of the past seemed a distant memory.
"To go back to the main point, I can understand why King Tama doesn't trust you", Ratapu followed her, speaking with caution.
"Do you feel the same?", Thatcher asked with an air of impatience.
"No".
Thatcher sniffed, even she was feeling the cold now, though maybe that was more of an internal thing.
"Please don't think I'm like that", Ratapu pleaded after a few seconds of frosty silence.
"Like what?", Thatcher twisted, still looking at the rocky, winding, path ahead.
"Someone who underestimates people's capacity because of surface details", Ratapu tried selecting his words a bit more carefully, though the feeling of walking on eggshells made him feel uneasy.
"I don't think you're like that", Thatcher replied, trying her hardest to regulate her tone.
"Right, because I'm not interested in that, I'm interested in the way you operate".
"Can we drop this conversation point?", Thatcher scrunched her nose a bit and asked.
"No. We can't. Because if we're going to work together in the future, we need to be on the same page, and right now, I feel like we're not", Ratapu was the one to stop this time.
Thatcher took a few more steps before she noticed he was no longer following her.
"Alright then", she spoke as she spun on her heel to face him, "what is it you want to be on the same page with?".
"I know you think our country is doing things wrong", Ratapu informed her.
"I do, that's correct".
"And I agree with you".
"Then I'm failing to see how we aren't on the same page", Thatcher frowned.
"What are you going to do about it?".
"I beg your pardon?", Thatcher took a single step towards Ratapu.
"You have the armies of four countries behind you, it's not unreasonable for me, Arihona or King Tama to assume you might try something to impose your views on Waikato, is it?", Ratapu asked.
His tone carried an air of true curiosity, but Thatcher could only focus on the words.
"Do you think I'm some kind of war-hungry tyrant?", Thatcher asked, though it seemed rhetorical, it wasn't.
"No, I think you're a smart, empathetic, caring person who would commit any number of unpredictable acts to make the most well-informed decisions", Ratapu crossed his arms.
He continued - "I watched you lead six people into an active volcano, just to figure out how long the sky would be black - so I need to know, Thatcher, are you going to commit some kind of coup against King Tama?".
The reality was, she didn't know. If she'd've been asked the same question a year ago, she'd have said 'yes'. Two years ago, 'no'. Today? She had no idea.
"I want to. Okay. I want to. But after spending hours speaking with the guy, I've realized that I'm out of my depth when it comes to the Waikatoan way of life, and the reality is, I have my own shit to deal with right now. However, when the time comes, I'll let you know, so you can help or hinder to your hearts' content", Thatcher replied angrily.
"Look, I'm not trying to put you in a little box. I don't think you're a bad person - and I do trust you. I just want to make sure that whatever you do - it's going to help people, not hurt them", Ratapu insisted.
"That's all I want, too", Thatcher eased up a tad.
"Good. Then if that's the only thing we share in common, I'm glad", Ratapu tried to smile, but Thatcher couldn't bring herself to reciprocate.
Joel stood at the bottom stairs of the lakehouses' front porch.
The place where Ben Shultz had fallen to the ground was now empty, a depression in the grass sat perfectly where he'd been lying less than three hours prior.
"You see where Ben went?", Ariana asked, opening the front door and stepping out.
"No - he fucked off about an hour ago", Joel responded, "you'se all set up yet?".
"Almost - the Soldiers are helping to clear out the rooms, we'll dump his shit out here as we empty the rooms", Ariana replied.
"Ariana - do you really think this is a good idea?", Joel scratched the back of his head nervously.
"What part?".
"You know", Joel nodded in the direction of the house, "take over".
"Joel, you're the one that said 80 or 90 percent of people supported our platform-".
"- yeah that was before you decided to override their votes to rule as a fucking pentarchy", Joel insisted.
"Joel - I need you to hear me; this is none of your concern", Ariana stepped down a stair, getting eerily close to Joel.
"What are you going to do when one of you isn't a fan of what the others suggest?", Joel asked her.
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it", Ariana put bluntly, "for now, I've got a job for you and the others in the house".
"What?", Joel asked annoyedly.
"Find Ben Shultz, and make damn sure he doesn't try any shit".
"What? Kill him?", Joel grimaced.
"God! No!", Ariana exclaimed, "Take him to fucking Hanston or something, keep him far the fuck away from here".
"Hanston is Zedeylian territory now", Joel reminded her.
"So? Find him and dump him there", she took a pause between each word.
"Ariana - are you pushing to restart The Southern Wars?", Joel frowned, asking with an air of demand.
"They're going to march on us anyway, best to have the upper hand", she countered.
"This isn't the upper hand! This is asking for it!".
Ariana locked eyes with him and drew her sword from the sheath around her waist - all without losing her focus.
Slowly, she pointed the tip of the blade at Joel's throat and said - "I'm not asking you. Find the doctor and take him to Hanston, or the next time we meet, this blade won't be outside your throat".
The pair glared at each other, both wanting the other to strike first.
Joel's heart thumped in his ears, pulsating faster with each passing second.
"You gonna kill me, Ariana?", he stepped closer to her, knowing she wouldn't spare Ben but have him killed.
She bobbed her head side to side - "no. But I'll make it my personal mission to make sure you spend the rest of the year at Cocatan Prison".
Joel scoffed, though he knew this was no idle threat.
"Send them out then", Joel looked past her, towards the door, and spat out.
"Good man", Ariana resheathed her sword and turned to make for the door.
Joel's hand wrapped around her right wrist.
Ariana stopped in her tracks and gazed at Joel distastefully.
"If Cocotan's an option, why not send Ben there?".
"Do you want people to think this is a hostile takeover?", she asked with a smile that betrayed her intentions.
Slinking inside, Joel let out a slight shudder.
*
The sky had grown dark over Little Motueka, signaling the end of the late afternoon and the beginning of evening time.
"Grayson", Rena pulled him from his work fixing the weatherboard on the exterior of a home.
She did not stop, leaving him no choice but to follow.
Throwing his hammer to the ground, he jogged after her, tearing down the street south towards the sand.
"Wolesley's fetching Asper, we need to figure some shit out", Rena spoke over her shoulder as she marched towards the shoreline.
Both Wolesley and Asper stood at the end of the street, waiting for Grayson and Rena.
Rena brushed past the pair, leading them all down to the waterline.
She stopped at the point where the waves ended, making sure they were far enough from the town to be heard, but equally distant from the waterline so their feet did not get soaked.
The other three caught up, Grayson slightly out of breath.
"What've we done to earn this task?", Grayson sniffed.
"We have, if my research is correct, 950 able-bodied fighters", Rena noted aloud, "people who are physically able, and old enough to be willing, to fight".
The other three nodded - "that's for Little Motueka alone", Wolesley pointed out, "the Gossfordshire Guardsmen number upward of two and a half thousand".
"Fuck, you've gained up since last count", Rena noted.
"Yeah", Grayson shrugged, "numbers swelled after the Battle For Gossfordshire".
"Well, we're gonna need it. Based on my discussions with Ngeru, 95% of Te Miriona Whero are still trapped in Motuekan Outerlying Villages, unable to move north", Rena pointed out.
"Right", Grayson nodded.
"Weapons?".
"Our lot were notoriously underarmed", Asper spoke grimly.
"As were ours", Rena chimed in.
"And we've only got enough for our men. Since the black sky, we haven't had the resources to trade for surplus weaponry - and our metallurgy is notoriously poor", Grayson said.
"Our's isn't", Asper flitted her eyes between Rena and Grayson.
"How'dya mean?", Grayson asked, intrigued.
"His name's Poe, he's quite good at making weapons - the issue's always been lack of raw materials", Asper cast her glance north, towards the village square.
"We're not exactly flush with ore, here, either", Wolesley noted.
"No, but you have the Key Pits", Rena said with an air of eureka, "I've been here when you've cast bodies in there - there are tonnes of old weapons that can be recycled".
"Yeah, but Rena, those weapons are covered in rust", Grayson coughed.
"That's irrelevant", Asper chimed in, "I've seen Poe take rusted swords, sand them back, hack out any major damage, smelt them down and reforge them stronger".
"All right then, get Poe, and we'll head out there", Wolesley announced.
"Tonight?", Grayson turned to his friend and asked.
"Those fuckers in Motueka have a boat capable of bringing their entire fleet north. We have to get a move on. Ikime is leading the crafting of long-range weapons in a hall up the road. Atua and Ngeru have pooled the Motuekans together in crafting carry bags and medical shit - we need to do our part, too", Wolesley gruffed.
"All right then, I'll meet you outside mine in ten minutes", Asper peeled away from the group and announced.
"And I'll fuck off and grab a couple horses", Rena followed suit, leaving Wolesley and Grayson alone.
"You nervous?", Grayson asked, once the women were out of earshot.
"Honestly? Yes", Wolesley answered.
"We've done it before", Grayson clapped him on the shoulders.
For a moment, they forgot all that ailed them, the world spun silently bar for the crashing of the waves.
The usually busy main strip in Perk was abandoned, closed up for the day.
Arihona and Ruataupare made their way east, headed towards Government House.
"What's this guy like?", Arihona asked, gazing at the empty storefronts.
"Eldore? He's a bit.... eccentric. Smokes a lot", Ruataupare shrugged.
"Smokes?".
"Tobacco", Ruataupare replied.
"Yeeeeah", Arihona groaned, "that's not a word that means anything to me", Arihona laughed.
"Stinky shit, addictive, not particularly nice".
"So that's it on this man - bit weird and he smokes?", Arihona asked.
"Being honest, yeah. I never really liked him, so maybe Thatcher's the better one to ask".
Arihona and Ruataupare entered the front yard of the House, crossed the small path and knocked on the door.
They waited for a brief second, before it swung open, revealing Eion Fissure.
"Eion", Ruataupare greeted.
"Madam Head Of State", Eion replied, "and friend".
"Arihona, of Waikato", Ruataupare announced.
She watched as the two shook hands, greeting in silence.
"I assume you're not here for a whack about the head", Eion joked.
"Eldore. We need to speak to Eldore", Ruataupare nodded.
The pair sat snugly in front of Eldores' desk, Eldore took his seat and steepled his fingers, gandering over them.
"So, you've brought me someone new", Eldore cocked his head.
"More than someone new, Eldore, this here is the newest member of the FPA", Ruataupare announced.
"Is it?", Eldore asked somewhat rhetorically.
Ruataupare smiled weakly, she had come to expect this from Eldore.
"Well, if you let him, of course. Though Thatcher and another Waikatoan have gone to Rebury; so if you say no but Harreina says yes, then he's in. If you say yes and she says no, then he's in".
"Harreina's dead", Eldore dropped his facade.
"What?", Ruataupare dropped her own smile.
"She killed herself a few nights back", Eldore dropped his gaze.
"Fuck, Eldore -", Ruataupare was literally taken aback.
"What does this mean for Ratapu?", Arihona looked to Ruataupare and asked.
"I'm assuming that's the other Waikatoan?", Eldore asked Ruataupare.
"Er- yeah. Yeah it is", she said to Eldore, "and I don't know", she addressed Arihona, "what does it mean, Eldore?".
"As it stands, Ben Shultz, a man I've come to trust, is serving as interim President in Rebury, Thatcher should be safe", Eldore gazed between them.
Reaching beneath his desk, Eldore pulled out three glasses and laid them upon his desk.
A bottle of brandy soon followed. He poured three equal glasses, each about a quarter full.
"To Harreina", Eldore handed the glasses to Arihona and Ruataupare, raising his in the air.
Ruataupare clinked her glass, but Arihona felt a bit uneasy joining in.
"Ben told me about Motueka", Eldore pulled his glass to his lips and took a slug.
Arihona sipped his drink, whereas Ruataupare shot her own glass back in a single gulp.
"Yeah", she coughed, "that's partially why we're here".
"Is it, now? So this isn't just a social call to push me into allowing the Waikatoans into the FPA?", Eldore teased.
"We've got a war on the horizon, Eldore, one that requires the full might of the FPA", Ruataupare wiped her lips.
"I'd assume so; it was the Zedeylian mission to eradicate the Cold Country bastards from the south, but now they're north, you've got the entire Settled army on your doorstep", Eldore slugged back his glass and eyed Arihona cradling his drink carefully.
"So you've had it easy, then?", Ruataupare taunted playfully.
Eldore, however, wasn't laughing.
"Easy? Miss, we've been building farms from here to Kingdom Fucking Come", Eldore gruffed, his face glowing a delicate red.
The torches on the wall made him look slightly menacing in the dark.
"Well, that's why we're here Eldore, to see how we can all help. With the Waikatoans in the FPA, and with the land Thatchers secured for her pet project in the North, we've got a swell of people to come down and help you build, but first, we've got a small issue that needs resolving", Ruataupare leaned forward and placed her glass on Eldores desk, "so pour me another drink, and let's hammer out an agreement".
Eldore looked Ruataupare up and down, finally cracking a smile.
With a swift motion, he cracked the lid from the brandy bottle and filled Ruataupares' glass to the brim.
Arihona watched with slight bemusement, entirely unsure of the dynamic the pair shared.
Joel led his small gang of ten through the nearby town of Beacon, about two hours walk from the lakehouse.
Each held a flaming torch, the light shining upon the dirt path beneath their feet.
"Joel - there's a barn with some food just up the road", a female soldier two people behind Joel spoke.
"Go ahead, check it out", he instructed her.
The woman and two men jogged ahead, sparks flying from their torches as they ran.
Joel peeled off the path and walked through a small yard.
Knocking on the door, he waited for a response.
An older gentleman opened the door, and eyed Joel up and down - "yes?".
"We're looking for Benjamine Shultz, have you seen him?", Joel asked grimly.
"Ben? No. Haven't seen 'im in days", the gentleman responded.
"Cheers, Joe, have a good night", Joel nodded, turned, closed his eyes, and listened as the man closed the door.
Opening his eyes, he was surprised to see the seven remaining soldiers giving him strange looks.
"What?", Joel asked them.
"You didn't really seem to look very hard", a square-jawed male soldier commented.
"Honestly, Lincoln, I kind of couldn't give a shit", Joel sighed, feeling the weight coming from his shoulders.
The soldiers murmured collectively - most seemed to agree.
"How 'bout you, Clara?", Joel gazed over the men's heads and asked the women as she returned.
"How about me, what?", Clara asked as she rejoined the group with her two consorts.
"He wants to know if you're interested in finding Shultz?", Lincoln fired over his shoulder at her.
"I - uh, no, not really", Clara admitted with a shrug.
The light shimmered from the farmhouse onto Joels' shoulders as he surveyed the group.
"All right, let's get a consensus, who here wants to find Shultz?", Ben asked, "Raise your hands".
Eight out of ten kept their hands down, Lincoln and one of Clara's friends were the only two to raise em.
"Linc, why?", Joel asked.
"It's what we've been asked to do", Lincoln admitted.
"And you?", Joel asked Claras' cohort.
"Same reason, innit", the bloke responded.
"We've been asked to uphold a coup - these fuckers have erased all pretense of being democratic, is that what any of us want?", Joel implored them.
They all murmured in agreement, no one, not even Lincoln, dissented.
"Right. We might want to leave the FPA, and that's perfectly fine if you do, but why the fuck are we allowing the vote to be overruled?", Joel asked.
"I thought you wanted that", a man in the group replied.
"I don't - do you?", Joel asked Lincoln.
"No", Lincoln replied.
"No. I don't think any of us does. There's an entire country here, relying on us to protect them, and if we allow the process to be overruled, then what the fuck are we doing here?", Joel asked.
No one replied, he seemed to have their attention completely and undividedly.
"So, we can leave now, forget Shultz - fuck him - and go back to that house and demand they uphold the election", Joel announced, "are we in this together? A united front?".
"Yeah!", the hand responded in unison.
"And if they won't agree, we pick one - one who won't force us back into pointless fucking wars with the Zedeylians! We might not like the FPA, but let's not lie, I don't miss my friends dying in Goddamned Hanston every week. I don't miss attending funerals and having arrows being fired at me over farmland. I don't miss it. Do you?".
"NO!", the group practically jumped with the adrenaline pumping through their veins.
"SO LET'S GO BACK THERE AND PROTECT THIS COUNTRY, THE WAY WE'VE ALWAYS DONE!".
The front door behind Joel swung open, Joe stood there looking incredibly disapproving - "can you lot shut the fuck up, I'm trying to sleep".
Joel turned around awkwardly, the moment ruined, he replied - "sure thing, Joe".
The door slammed shut, leaving Joel with a violently red face, he retroactively cringed at his motivational speech.
Turning back to face the crowd, ten quizzical looks faced him, all the excitement of the last two and a half minutes had dissipated, the group collectively sharing in the embarrassment Joel currently felt.
The Key Pits were a large square pit sitting on the shoreline in the Citadel of Gossfordshire, a cavernous hole in the ground holding thousands of discarded skeletons, and equal amounts of old weapons.
"The stink", Asper grimaced, bringing her hand to her nose and pinching it shut, as they approached on horseback.
"Yeah, well", Grayson noted from his and Wolelseys horse, "you chuck bodies in a single place for over two hundred years, it's bound to get a little smelly".
"So, this is why the water situation is so bad?", Rena asked. "The ground at the bottom of the pit cracked open and leaked the fluid into the aquifer?", they stopped at the edge of the Pit and climbed from horseback. Grayson fixed a small flaming torch at the left-hand corner of the Pit, lighting the ghastly interior.
Two horses, four people, twelve eyes all locked into the muck and mess contained within the huge, overbearing, Pits. Two large trailers sat hitched to the horses, ready for loading.
"That's the leading theory", Wolesley grumbled from next to Grayson.
Digging inside his rucksack, he pulled two, rather long, coiled ropes.
Breaking off from the group, Wolesley made off to fix the rope to something for Grayson to climb done.
In his absence, the group continued talking.
"Why is it the Key Pits if there's only one?", Asper looked past Rena and asked Grayson.
"Honestly?", Grayson chucked back, "Couldn't fucking tell you. I know that the word 'Key' comes from some ancient leader that people didn't look too kindly on - couldn't tell you why - but the pluralization is a mystery to me".
"An ancient mystery", Asper gave a weak smile, her stomach turning at the sheer drop below.
"That's the one", Grayson returned a small smile, watching Wolesley drag two ropes from a small, grounded, rusty, pole.
"All right, ladies, we're headed down, you two dangle these rucksacks down for us to load up", Wolesley spoke, passing them two, large, burlap sacks, with flax ropes affixed to the handle straps.
"Cool", Rena spoke, taking her sack and watching as Asper took hers in hand.
"Down we go, then", Grayson looked at Wolesley anxiously.
"Calm down, mate, we've done it before", Wolesley referred to the mission to extract the trebuchets during the Battle for Gossfordshire.
Grayson said naught. Wolesley broke back off from the group and strolled over to the trailer hitched to his horse, where a large sheet of plywood sat atop the empty tray.
He hefted it up, and grunted as he carried it back to the edge of the pit,
Together, he and Grayson eased it into the pit, dropping it and listening to the gut-churning CRUNCH it emitted as it hit the skeletons and weaponry below.
With the plywood platform laid, both Grayson and Wolesley readied themselves, grabbing a rope each with their faces towards the Citadel.
Together, they lowered themselves into the Pits, a large drop.
The smell above the Pits was absolutely nothing compared to the interior.
Evidence from the earthquakes abounded and cracks lined the interior walls.
"You two are chummy", Wolesley spoke quietly to Grayson.
"Hmm?".
"You and Asper", Wolesley frowned.
"Oh, yeah, well", Grayson cocked his head and whispered back, "she's sort of proven she's one of us".
"You reckon?", Grayson half laughed, grunting as they abseiled closer to the mess of bones and rusted weaponry stacked fifteen feet high.
"You didn't seem to second guess Ikime, why second guess Asper?", Grayson countered.
"ALL RIGHT LADIES, TOSS THE BAGS DOWN", Wolesley yelled up to the women on the edge of the Pits.
With a whoosh, the bags fell past them.
"PULL 'EM UP A FOOT OR TWO", Grayson called up.
Slowly they rose - "YUP, THAT'S ENOUGH", Wolesley yelled.
"Fair enough", Wolesley replied to Grayson once the bags were at hip-level.
They were approximately fifteen feet deep in the hole.
Almost simultaneously, they kicked from the wall and landed atop the plywood platform beneath them.
The bags were now at chest level, making it easier to fill them.
"Where to begin?", Grayson asked Wolesley.
"From the top down, I guess", Wolesley shrugged.
Both wanted to retch, but neither wanted to show weakness to the other.
The Pits were incredibly grim. Moss and blood covered the cracked walls in equal measure.
Wolesley bent over the right-hand edge of the platform and tugged at a rusted blade sticking out of the muck.
Grayson copied from the northern end of the platform.
"You nervous?", Rena asked Asper from above the Pits.
"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't", Asper replied shortly.
"Those... weapons... the ones Thatcher says the Settled used to wipe out Motueka... they're the same weapons she maintained she made you keep behind, right?", Rena asked tentatively.
Asper felt her face grow hot - it wasn't bad enough that she felt guilty on her own terms, now she had Rena pushing it in.
"Correct", Asper replied quickly.
"I don't blame you for doing it", Rena replied quietly, shuffling her feet against the ground.
"You don't?", Asper looked to her right and focussed on Rena.
"No", Rena looked at the ground.
"Your home was obliterated, the world you knew is gon-".
"Look", Rena threw her eyes at Asper, "I've spent enough time with my wife now to know that moving you and your family north was the most important part to making all our lives easier".
"I fail to see how".
"We knew two years ago that your people were good people. Two of them took Thatcher and Ruataupare captive - actually, that's happened more than once to Ruataupare... But it wasn't Noxas' group. Bringing you here wasn't a material choice, it was an ethical one. People would've died either way... I'm just glad they died after we got you lot here, and not before", Rena coughed, "and also I'm just glad Ngeru has someone who can give him back as much love as he can give to you", she tacked on quickly at the end.
"He is a good man", Asper nodded.
"He is", Rena chewed her bottom lip, "is the language barrier not an issue?".
"Not really... I find it helps, actually".
"How so?".
"My husband, Joran... I, uh, find it hard to talk about... So it's easier having someone who wouldn't understand me, even if it wasn't so hard to talk about".
"That's fair", Rena agreed.
"And you...?".
"What about me?", Rena asked with a half-laugh.
"How long have you been married?", Asper questioned.
"Two or so years", Rena returned with a smile.
"Everything here is always 'two years'", Asper noted with a frown, feeling her bag twitch as Wolesley loaded, "it's almost like the world began two years ago".
"I guess in some ways it did", Rena shrugged, "or, at least, my world did".
*
"We're so far south now that we've found villages that've only been abandoned within the past week", Eldore spoke to Arihona and Ruataupare.
"And what's the significance of that?", Ruataupare asked, slurring her words slightly as she spoke.
Traditionally, the Motuekans didn't drink; but just as Gossfordshires' way of speaking had rubbed off on them, so too had the Zedeylians drinking habits.
"Well, Madam, we've got food", Eldore cocked his head with a wry smile, an unlit cigar sitting between his lips.
Arihona watched with apprehension as Eldore stood, approached a small torch above his desk, and lit the cigar.
In a plume of smoke, Eldore swished back into his seat.
"Food, you say", Ruataupare replied with a giggle
Arihona couldn't put his finger on it. Since they'd arrived in Eldores office, Ruataupares' usually icy exterior was replaced with something a bit more... engaged... flirty, even.
He struggled to figure out if she was playing Eldore, or if Eldore just had some kind of sway over women that other men could only dream of possessing.
"Food", Eldore echoed, "enough to sustain the Northern Quadrant of the FPA for two weeks", Eldore tempted.
"And what would we need to do to secure this food, exactly, Eldore?", Ruataupare became stern.
"Nothing", Eldore shrugged, taking a drag on his cigar.
"No?", Ruataupare simpered, knowing this deal was too good to be true.
"Well, something", Eldore teased.
"Cut the shit, Eldore", once more, Arihona noticed, Ruataupares' icy demeanor was back.
Eldore leaned in, looking Ruataupare dead in the eye.
"I want you to swear to me, that once this war is over, you'll send me the men I need to get these farms built", Eldore said with an air of warning.
"If you ensure that Waikato and Jorania are included in the FPA and that you'll dedicate at least forty percent of the Zedeylian Defence Forces towards the battle, I'll make sure that you've got the men you need - not just from Motueka, but from the others as well", Ruataupare countered.
"And you, Sonny-Jim?", Eldore asked Arihona.
"What about me?", Arihona coughed back.
"You're here as a representative of Waikato - do you agree to send forth men to aid us farm?", Eldore gruffed, a blot of ash from his cigar falling to his chest.
"Aye, I do", Arihona returned, "anything that keeps these monsters from our shores and keeps us fed".
"Right. Write it down", Eldore pointed to a piece of parchment and a quill atop his desk.
Ruataupare leaned in and began scribbling.
Ash or snow, Thatcher didn't know, and between the cold and the smell of far off smoke, it was impossible to actually tell.
She and Ratapu emerged from the valley and out onto the lake between The Alps and The Presidential Lakehouse.
"S'chilly", Thatcher shivered.
With teeth chattering, Ratapu replied - "you're telling me".
"It's just the weather here, I guess", Thatcher spoke as they grew closer to the lake.
The Lakehouse was clear in view, now.
Together, the pair stopped at the western edge of the lake, glancing on across the water at the lights in the lakehouse.
"So - that's where we're headed?", Ratapu asked, looking to Thatcher.
"Yeah, come on", Thatcher began walking once again.
Stones crunched beneath their feet as they walked, the lakehouse nearly two kilometers away.
The wind blew flakes of white into their hair, some melted, others didn't, leaving Thatcher with the impression that perhaps they were an even mixture of snow and ash, as opposed to just one or the other individually.
The lights from the Lakehouse grew nearer.
Halfway between them and the Lakehouse sat a fairly large rock.
Not big enough to be a boulder, not so small to be considered a stone.
"It's odd, isn't it?", Ratapu asked Thatcher from a few feet behind her.
"Odd? What's odd?", she threw back over her shoulder.
"The sounds of bug and bird used to dominate the night soundscape - now, there's nothing but silence", he spoke over the sound of the lake moving.
Thatcher had no response. Sniffling loudly, she pressed on.
The reality was, she thought, that Ratapu was correct.
He said exactly what she was thinking - "it's like... the whole chain is collapsing", he spoke vaguely.
She didn't want to think about it, but he continued.
"The flowers die, not feeding the bugs, the bugs die, not feeding the birds, the birds die, not feeding the deer, the deer die, not feeding us", he said dejectedly.
Thatcher gritted her teeth, clenched her fist, and pressed forward, the Lakehouse now looming ahead.
"We're hanging on by a thread, one extinction to the-", he was cut off.
"-RATAPU, ENOUGH!", Thatcher stopped, stood, and shouted.
She turned to face him, the slight orange glow from the house illuminating his face.
He gave a look of apology.
"Sorry - look - I recognize that I've been a bit cunty, these last few hours, but I'm tired and hungry and I really don't need to hear what you're saying because the truth is; I'm already thinking it. So, if we could just get inside, speak with Harreina and piss off home, I would appreciate it- ARGH!!", she let out a howl.
"GET DOWN!", Ratapu yelled, diving to the floor, taking Thatcher down with him.
Arrows flew through the air, whooshing past their heads and getting stuck in the dirt around them.
Thatcher cast her head over her shoulder as she lay, a large arrow stuck from her rear thigh.
"TO THE ROCK!", Ratapu began to crawl in the dark, a ceaseless barrage of arrows were being fired upon them from the Lakehouse window - the very same window above Harreinas bed.
Thatcher followed Ratapu forward, hiding firmly behind the rock - a brief piece of respite.
Ratapu crouched over her back leg and took a look at her wound.
"Thatcher - it's struck an artery", Ratapu grimaced, "I need you to bite your hand - this is going to hurt".
The sounds of arrowheads pinging of the rock put further a tone of urgency.
With one hand holding the arrowhead close to the wound, he used his other hand to snap the arrow in two.
"ARGH! FUCK!", Thatcher cried out.
"All right, it shouldn't be so intrusive now, but if I pull the arrow out the bleeding will become uncontrollable", Ratapu rubbed the back of her neck soothingly.
He tore the sheath from his waist, throwing his sword to the ground below him.
"Thatcher, I need you to pull yourself up for a second so I can tie it off", he whispered urgently in her ear.
Grunting, she did so.
He threw the sheath beneath her leg and tied it as tightly as possible around her thigh. Blood drenched his hands, soaking the ground below her.
"You've not got long, we need to get this cauterized as quickly as possible", he told her, still watching the arrows hitting the dirt around them.
They were pinned down, and Thatcher was bleeding out.
With their trailers loaded, Asper, Rena, Wolesley, and Grayson set back off on their journey back to Little Motueka.
Rena and Wolesley took one horse, Grayson and Asper rode the second.
The Citadel fell away until, finally, they were on the cracked highway separating the city from the rest of the country.
"How you feeling?", Grayson turned over his shoulder and spoke to Asper.
"In the grand scheme or just right now?", Asper questioned back with a frown, her arms wrapped tightly around Graysons' waist.
"Either, or".
The sound of hooves clip-clopping on the concrete contrasted with the crashing waves to their right.
"I mean, now? Fine. In the larger sense, though, I'm shitting myself", Asper admitted.
"You've fought these guys before, right?", Grayson chucked back.
"Then, though, we were the technologically advanced army. We were conservative with our use of those bombs. Noxa owes us no favors", Asper warned.
Grayson pondered this for a moment.
Noxa. This myth of a man who was omnipresent in all of their lives this prior week.
"Noxa, Noxa, Noxa", Grayson muttered.
Asper said nothing, instead, she closed her eyes and took in the sounds of the world.
"You know, Asper, I've been meaning to apologize to you - if I've made you feel unwanted or unwelcome", Grayson swallowed hard, "you've done more than your fair share and you're a welcome addition".
Asper said nothing, but the words meant everything.
"What'd you two talk about while we were down there?", Wolesley asked from behind Rena.
"Y'know, things, and stuff", Rena replied dismissively.
"Ah, of course, the daily go-to chat topic", Wolesley rolled his eyes.
"Aw look", Rena lolled her head about, "I told her I didn't blame her for Motueka, okay?".
"That's big of you", Wolesley nudged her in the back.
"Well, I don't", Rena shrugged.
"Grayson reckons she's one of us", Wolesley relayed.
"I don't disagree with him", Rena admitted.
"No?".
"No", she echoed, "we've got enough enemies, isn't it time we made a friend or two?", she referred to Ikime.
"I guess you're right", Wolesley looked over his shoulder briefly, catching Graysons' eye before turning back to stare at Renas' hair.
"And why not? Despite the language and cultural differences, it's the thing we all seem to have in common; our willingness to make friends", Rena reminded him.
"You married your friend", Wolesley laughed heartily.
"Yeah, well, we can't all be blessed with the charisma I've been blessed with", Rena joked back.
"No. No, we can't. Speaking of, where is your darling wife tonight?", Wolesley asked.
"She's back at the house, tidying Thatchers' office", Rena answered quickly.
"You better watch that, she's exactly the type of person to take up camp there and refuse to leave", Wolesley noted with only a slight tint of jest.
"No, she's following a new path nowadays", Rena frowned.
"Eh?", Wolesley sought clarification.
"She's opted to have a baby", Rena told him, somehow feeling free to talk about topics she would otherwise keep private (unless she was annoyed, of course).
"That may have changed in the last few days, seeing as she hasn't got a home to raise them", Wolesley observed.
"You know Magnus, the minute she clenches her jaw on an idea; it's going to happen".
"I'll give you that", Wolesley joked.
"I don't seem to get much nowadays, so I'll take it with glee", Rena clenched her jaw.
"You know she loves you, right?", Wolesley chucked over her shoulder.
"I do", Rena nodded, "I just get bitter. Not even at her, but just at time. I wish I had more time".
"You can wish for days, Rena, it won't do you any good. The moment you appreciate what little you have - even if it isn't enough, that's the moment you'll be set free", Wolesley spoke sagely.
"Life advice from the murderer? Cheers", Rena went icy.
"I'll pretend that was a general comment and not an insult", Wolesley was visibly affronted but attempted to clear that from his mind.
"Sorry... Like I said, bitter".
They both held silent.
Wolesley couldn't help but feel his gut twisting uneasily at the reminder of his crimes.
*
"Get them inside", Ariana spoke coldly, looking down at the bound and gagged Thatcher and Ratapu.
Allid and Van Mason wrenched Ratapu upwards, while Mona and Chianti Byron took Thatcher.
The four candidates dragged them towards the rear deck of the Lakehouse.
Once inside, they were pulled up the stairs and thrown in the bedroom once occupied by Harreina.
"We don't know if there're others", Ariana followed up the rear, speaking as the hostages were cast to the floor.
"Ariana - we've got Thatcher - this is our ticket out of the FPA", Van stepped back from Ratapu and said to Ariana, who was still standing next to the door.
"This will pop everything off", Mona warned, "if we weren't already pushing our luck before, we certainly fucking are now".
"Zedeylia was going to march on us anyway", Ariana stepped towards Mona, "this is our way out".
"Yeah until Gossfordshire and Motueka come to get her - we don't have the manpower to beat 'em back", Allid replied, "and who the fuck is this guy?", Allid pointed to Ratapu.
"Who cares?", Ariana spat to the floor, "We've got Thatcher, that's our ticket out of this shit!".
"We aren't going to have her for long if she bleeds to fucking death!", Chianti Byron chipped in.
"Where is Ben?!", Ariana borderline shouted to the rest, spinning 360 degrees in hysterics.
"Joel's still out looking for him", Van answered quickly.
"Well, get downstairs and get the word out that we need Ben here to patch her up!", Ariana barked.
"Who the fuck declared you leader?", Chianti frowned.
Ariana didn't have time enough to respond though, as the sound of breaking glass radiated throughout the room.
Thatcher didn't have the energy to so much as raise her head.
Ariana and the others left the room to see what was going on.
The hallway in the upper floor of the Lakehouse was alight.
A broken bottle lay among the flames.
Van made to reenter Harreinas' bedroom, but Ariana pulled him back.
"LEAVE THEM, WHOEVER TOSSED THAT MOLOTOV IS WITH THEM!", she screamed.
"THEY'RE BARGAINING CHIPS!", Allid yelled back at her.
"SHE'S FUCKING DEAD ALREADY, WHAT THE FUCK IS SHE GOOD FOR?", Ariana screamed as a second Molotov was heaved through the window in the bedroom at the end of the hallway.
Ariana bolted down the staircase, skipping three stairs per step.
The others looked at each other confusedly, before shrugging and following her regardless.
Congregating in the lounge, the lot of them picked up swords, bows, and arrows.
"TO THE WINDOWS!", Ariana commanded.
No one questioned her instructions, and the lot of them converged at the windows in the rear of the living room.
With the hilt of her sword Ariana shattered the window she crouched beneath.
She dropped the sword and picked up a bow, cocking it with an arrow.
Taking a minute, she peered over the windowsill and gandered over the yard - now illuminated by the flames slurping at the upper level.
A lone Benjamine Shultz stood behind the rock, where Thatcher and Ratapu had taken cover, and fired bottle after flaming bottle into the upper windows of the house.
"IT'S FUCKIN' SHULTZ", Ariana called out, Van and Allid had taken the window to Ariana and Chiantis' left, all four loaded arrows, they stood and fired.
Ben threw himself behind the rock, the swishing of arrows surrounded him.
In the upper floor of the Lakehouse, Thatcher and Ratapu coughed as smoke filled the upper floor.
Still gagged, Ratapu stood, struggling against the binds tied around his wrist.
Thatcher was long since passed out, but her coughs told Ratapu that she was breathing, at least.
He ran across the floor, the raging crackles of fire grew louder with each passing second.
The heat, as he crossed the threshold into the hallway, was intense.
Turning to his right, the flames scorched his body, the heat unbearable.
Nonetheless, though, he walked towards them.
Spinning on his heel, he walked backward, arms jutted out with bounded wrist facing flame.
He screamed out in pain, pulling outward as the flame melted the fabric tying his wrists together.
Hot, molten, fiber melted against the soft underside of his arm - the intensity was brief, though - until finally the fibrous material broke and he was free.
Tearing the gag from his mouth, he strode back into the room with the energy of a rhinoceros.
Tossing Thatcher over his shoulder he crossed back into the hallway and jogged down the stairs towards the front door.
Seeing the fire inching closer to the bedroom where they were kept, Ratapu knew the time to get the fire out was increasingly limited.
Leaving Thatcher on the bottom two stairs of the stairwell, he turned into the living room.
The candidates were gone - the living room empty and the back door wide open.
Outside, near the lake, Ben was still cowered by the rock as Ariana and the others closed in on his position.
Ratapu stood next to the liquor cabinet where Harreina kept her bottles of brandy.
Thinking on his feet, he took a bottle, still filled to the neck, and smashed it as hard as he could against a corner of the cabinet. A mixture of glass and brandy sprayed over his feet.
He had no clue who the man behind the rock was, but he knew that the bloke had saved both he and Thatcher from certain doom.
Taking the shattered bottle, Ratapu amped towards the door, hyping himself up for a fight.
The candidates saw him long before he was ready to be spotted.
Ariana and Chianti spun on their heels and fired arrows.
In a circular formation, both Ben and Ratapu were in the firing line.
Ratapu dove behind the door, narrowly avoiding taking an arrow to the skull.
"Fuck", he exhaled, daring himself to look out from behind the door, but not pulling himself around to actually doing it.
Screams rang out, an even cacophony of male and female.
Ratapu took the leap and peered out from behind the door.
Joel, Clara, Lincoln, and the others, fired arrows into Ariana, Allid, Chianti, Van, and Mona, wiping the lot of them out in a single and boringly brief attack.
Ben rose from behind the rock, looking over the scene.
"Joel", Ben approached, "what the fuck did you just do?".
"Saved your life you ungrateful shit", Joel barked, marching forth towards Ben.
The pair stopped, nose-to-nose.
"Well", Ben gruffed clearing his throat, "thank you".
"I need some help here!", Ratapu walked out of the Lakehouse with Thatcher over his shoulder - she was still bound and gagged.
He hopped off of the back porch and crossed the back yard.
"You lot get some buckets and deal with the fire", Ben looked from Joel to the Lakehouse, then to Ratapu and Thatcher, "I'll get Thatcher tidied up".
"Come on", Joel turned to his armada and spoke.
They backtracked across the yard, leaving Ratapu to lay Thatcher down at Ben's feet.
Ratapu untied her wrists, moving to her mouth and removing the gag.
Once done, he rolled her over, showing Ben the arrowhead still wedged in her leg.
Ben gandered close, taking in the sight.
Appreciating the gravity of the situation, Ben tugged an arrowhead from the dirt and waved in in Ratapu's face.
"Take it, heat it till it's red", Ben commanded.
Without question, Ratapu took it and vanished, leaving Ben alone with a still unconscious Thatcher.
With his bare fingers, he pulled the arrowhead from the wound.
Blood gushed forth. Casting the arrowhead to a side, Ben placed the ball of his hands against the wound and pushed as hard as he could muster.
After thirty seconds, or so, Ratapu returned with a steaming, red, arrowhead.
"Here", Ratapu grunted, handing the arrowhead to Ben.
"Thatcher, this is going to hurt", Ben spoke, just in case she was still aware of her surroundings.
At once, he pressed the hot arrowhead into her wound, causing a thick stack of steam to whistle out at ferocious speed.
"FUUUUUUCK!", Thatcher screamed herself awake.
The smell of hot, burning, flesh stank out the scene.
Thatcher panted deeply, finally conscious.
"Ben?", she whispered weakly.
"Yeah", he replied, taking the arrow and setting it to a side.
"Where's Harreina?".
"So, we're sorted, then?", Ruataupare slurred slightly, sliding the newly signed FPA across the desk into Eldores waiting hands.
"Indeed", Eldore stood, his composure not much better, "you can return in the morning, until then, just up the hall you'll find two bedrooms you both may occupy", Eldore crossed the floor and opened the door to his office.
Ruataupare and Arihona copied him.
"Until morning", Ruataupare approached the door and shook Eldores' hand.
Eldore grasped it and gave her a nod.
"And you, my new friend", Eldore gazed at Arihona with glazed eyes, "it was a delight t'meet you", he held out his hand.
Arihona took it tentatively - "likewise".
With Arihona and Ruataupare safely in the hallway, Eldore released his grip and closed the door behind them.
Alone, Ruataupare and Arihona turned and stared at each other.
Without saying anything, they both moved up the hall until they reached two doors parallel to one and other, both with open doors and lit lamps spilling orange light onto the floor beyond.
Arihona went to the left, Ruataupare took the right.
Neither said anything as they slipped into their respective rooms and closed the door.
Standing against the closed door, Ruataupare closed her eyes and inhaled tipsily.
Was she so drunk that this decision was irresponsible? No, she answered herself, she knew what she wanted, and she was sure he wanted the same thing.
Opening the door, she crept across the hall and opened Arihonas' bedroom door.
He stood naked, next to the bed.
"You mind if I crash in here with you tonight?", she asked.
He said nothing, merely picking his pants up and climbing back into them.