Archer's Den (THG)

Synopsis
Honey takes Orpiment and the drunk to the place where rebel wits and bravery work hand-in-hand.

Story
The long-coat smiles, as she sits in her chair at the police station.

Now that the two darts are in Orpiment and the drunk’s necks, she can see everything see they see. She can hear everything they hear. She can feel anything they think.

At this rate, they will get the needed evidence for an evening at the gallows in no time. But for now, she must wait for the right moment. Currently, they’re at the Red Crescent:

The drunk raises his hand, ordering a drink for him and Orpiment.

“Sir, I’m still quite curious.” Orpiment tugs slightly on his shirt’s collar.

“Yeah?” he says, pouring Orpiment another drink.

“What’s black steel? What was it used for?” Orpiment asks.

“Heh, you expect me to know?” the drunk laughs.

“Yes. You said, after all, that you fought in the Rebellion.” Orpiment says.

The drunk’s eyes lower.

“Good point.” he mutters. “Black steel was our first attempt to outshine Homeworld when it came to weaponry.” he explains.

“Outshine?” Orpiment is curious.

“Homeworld had cannons, ships, muskets, swords, everything. All we had back then were swords, so we needed to make sure they were the best fucking swords on the planet. Hence, Blackforge was built.” the drunk explains.

“Why was it built so deep underground?” Orpiment asks.

“Because it was close to ore-rich rock and lava, which were both needed to make black steel, and because it was an easy place to hide it from Homeworld. It was our most well-fortified stronghold.” the drunk says.

“I see… But.. It was huge. Why was there only one gem, Obsidian, in there?” Orpiment keeps wondering.

“The conditions there were hard. Toxic fumes, blistering heat, terrible visibility. Only a coarse, rough and sturdy gem like Obsidian could do so well in there. Even his crow messenger couldn’t stay there for more than an hour at a time usually from the bad conditions.” the drunk explained. “Plus, Obsidian was the only gem we found that was such a good metal-worker. I don’t know if you noticed, but it takes a lot of skill and precision to be able to transfer your own life-essence into an object.”

“Why would one do that in the first place?” Orpiment asks.

“Because a living sword can coordinate perfectly with its holder. You know the phrase: only view your sword as an extension of your arm? That was real. The sword had its own reflexes, helping the holder block, dodge, and parry far easier and quicker than most Homeworld swordsmen at the time.” the drunk says.

“I see…” Orpiment finishes his drink, before getting up. “Thank you for your time. We’ll meet tomorrow, same place?”

“Sure.” the drunk says, waving to Orpiment as he walks outside.

The long-coat smiles, before telling two constables to prepare to meet them at the cement factory tomorrow.

Tomorrow....

Orpiment meets with the drunk as scheduled. In front of the cement plant, at 2 PM. It was pouring with rain, making it even easier for him and the drunk to sneak inside unnoticed.

But with the long-coat’s help, the two constables know their location. Sneaking inside, they both wait, right behind the hole in the wall, for the two to leave.

With two spoonfuls of honey, both enter the dream realm. Orpiment’s vision once again blurs and fades, and he once again finds himself in the same room as in the previous dream, with Sard writing the letter.

This time, it was for the Bixbite.

“Dearest Bixbite,

This letter is an invitation to you, for your attendance at the General Council. The meeting will commence in a week, at 5 PM, at the Sea Spire, and I hope that you will be there. Please have the ships of the fleet prepared and ready.

Sincerely, your comrade at arms, general Sard.”

Sard straps the letter to the leg of the hawk, and it starts to soar through the skies. Orpiment, just like with the crow, is pulled towards it.

For 3 days, the raven soars over the ground, allowing Orpiment to admire the Earth scenery: Its flowing sparkling rivers, its never-ending forests, its fascinating wildlife. Truly, he could see why a gem would rebel for this planet. He wouldn’t do it himself, but he understood why some may find familiarity in these surroundings that is worth protecting.

For him, about 3 minutes pass until he can see a silhouette of a building on a hill. Not any building, it appears: A citadel.

Four huge stone walls, creating a boxy fortress, with little windows near the tallest parts of the walls, where archers and cannons stood, overlooking the plains that surrounded it like statues.

It stood on a hilltop, with plains to the east and west, forests to the south and sea to the north. Where the forests stood, the walls were higher. Where plains were, the walls had more windows for archers. Where the sea was, little wooden docks sprawled and poked their way out of the walls, for ships to dock.

In the middle of the citadel was a huge tower, with the rebel banner atop it. While Blackforge was all about stealth, this fortification did not even try to hide its alliances. And soon it became clear to Orpiment what this was, just by looking at it:

A rebel military outpost. A pain in Homeworld’s side. A fortification built not only for tactical purposes, but also to mock Homeworld over their inability to stomp it out of existence. Scorches, dents and black-spots on the citadel’s walls only stood as a painful, embarrassing reminder to Homeworld’s failures.

The hawk flies to the top of the tower, were a single, pink lady covered from head to toe in armour, with a bow on her back stood. She raised her hand and the hawk landed on it, allowing her to grab the letter.

She reads it quietly.

“I see…” she mumbles to herself, tossing the letter on a table, before walking to the window of the tower and jumping off. Orpiment, shocked, is pulled down alongside her, as she lands on the ground and looks around her surroundings. Arrow-racks, swords from Blackforge wrapped in sheets of fabric, and gems sleeping in huge piles of hay…

...Wait a second, gems sleeping in huge piles of hay?

Bixbite walks to one of the sleeping gems, before shaking her shoulder. The gem wakes up, yawns and stretches a bit, before turning to Bixbite.

“Yeah, guvner?” it asks.

“Fly out to sea, and warn all the ships to dock.” Bixbite says, as the gem grows a pair of wings from its back, along with dragon-like eyes.

“No prob, guv!” it says, before it takes a run-up and takes flight, soaring through the air like the hawk from earlier, soaring out to sea.

Then, time starts to speed up some more. It appears a whole day passes in a minute, with Orpiment examining the surroundings further. It appears this fortification was the Rebellion’s main military outpost. And slowly, it all connected: Blackforge was their factory, producing weapons and armour for the war; this was their main military command center. Now all that’s missing from the full picture was Amatrix’ location.

By the time time stops speeding by, it’s night, and most of the rebels there started huddling around fires, with only a few archers still remaining as lookouts.

Suddenly, the winged gem that Bixbite sent out arrives.

“I found ‘em alright, guv!” it yells from the sky, making everyone rush to the windows to see what she found.

There, stationed at the docks, five ships are docked. All of them battle-scarred, all proudly bearing the rebel flag. The ships of the rebel fleet.

Bixbite climbs to the docks, to talk to one of the crewmen.

“How’re the waters?” she asks.

“The zea iz nice and peaceful here. Nothing compared to the waterz to the north.” the sailor says, in his characteristic accent.

“Alright. They say we’re meeting at the Sea Spire in a week. Get your ships ready.” Bixbite says.

“The Zea Zpire? Wazn’t it controlled by Homeworld’z Navy?” the sailor asks.

“Apparently. I can only presume Sard wants it captured.” Bixbite explains.

“Zis ‘Zard’ is insane. Homeworld’z Navy is not an opponent to undereztimate. We tried capturing it a month ago. Half our zhips are now at ze bottom of the zea.” the sailor says.

“It’s Sard. We can expect him to have a plan.” Bixbite says.

Orpiment’s vision starts to blur and twist again. It appears the dream is now ending. He wakes up, with the drunk beside him, and stretches a bit.

The two constables in waiting smile, clutching their batons as they wait for the two to leave...