"Woah woah woah. Why don't we all calm down and take a step back?"

Neither I nor the Ranger respond to Gunnar's stupid suggestion, but we sure as shit react to his presence. On the surface, it don't look like much. The Ranger's cheek twitches and his elbow tucks as he draws a sharp breath. I react in kind, with my left hand drifting ever so slightly towards the Shortsword even as I tilt back on the balls of my feet to make that distance just a hair shorter. Then his eyes flick over to Gunnar for a sliver of second before going back to me, and in that moment, he sees the dishevelled man come out with hands raised, palms forward, and a nervous smile pasted across his face, so he writes him off as no threat.

I see all this of course, but I'm already in motion, even though I also see the Ranger stop short of actually going for his weapon. So of course I also stop, except in the time it took me to react to his reaction and act to stop my own, he's seen me going my gun and resumed his halted actions. Only to see me stop and follow suit, while I react to his reaction of my reaction to his action, and we keep up this back and forth a few times more. It's miniscule, barely even noticeable with our movements measured in fractions of a fraction of an inch as we both shift ever so slightly closer to drawing our weapons, but eventually I gotta throw caution to the wind and trust the Ranger to keep the peace.

A few years ago, that would've been a given, but I've been short on trust this last few years. Not without good reasons, but today, I just gotta stay my hand and trust that this Ranger ain't gonna gun me down in cold blood. So I exhale slowly and flex my hand in an effort to drive the tension out of me as I straighten back up, and the Ranger's blink is telling. That there was a man gearing up for a gunfight, so he was ready to forgo blinking for the next few seconds so as not to miss a thing. My forfeit of the initiative comes as something of a surprise, so much so it takes him half a heartbeat to decide this ain't a trick before finally dropping his guard. Our mirrored hesitation says that neither one of us really want this fight, but we ready for it all the same, so we both tacitly agree to put a pause on this and listen to what Gunnar has to say.

This right here is an acknowledgement of our respective stances. No more no less. There ain't no peace, no truce, no agreement to handle things peaceably. Just a single glance exchanged to take that step back and go back to squaring off like we were before Gunnar tipped the delicate balance between us.

That's why they say the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Gunnar there was trying to defuse the situation, and in doing so, he almost set us both off. Mostly because we were already on edge, which now that I think about it, is rather flattering. Me being nervous is one thing, seeing how I'm up against a bonafide Ranger. Him being nervous though? Now that there is a compliment, because I ain't no kid to be dismissed like Harald, Astrid, Elodie, or Chrissy. No, I'm a real threat to be watched, and while that might not always be a good thing, I can't help but smile to see that I'm finally getting the respect I deserve.

Not in the way I'd like, but I'll take what I can get. Beats the alternative at least. I'm sick of people not taking me seriously, so it'd be silly to complain when someone finally does.

Of course, this exchange takes place in less than the blink of an eye, with little to no actual thought required from either one of us. We just following the rules of engagement. Neither one of us is allowed to be the aggressor, him because of military doctrine, and me because I ain't ready to cut all ties with America. Doesn't matter if I got the Accords on my side; I gun down a Ranger, and his fellow Rangers will come for their pound of flesh with no regard for the legality of it all. That's just how it is, because like I told Revolvers Rossi, soldiers got allies and enemies, and a man who guns down one of their own can only be an enemy. Reasons don't matter, because in war, everyone got their reasons to fight, so the enemy is the enemy, and it's kill or be killed.

Ironic that this exchange here is exactly why I didn't want to go north to Meadowbrook. Chances of a Ranger thinking me responsible for getting Marcus, Wayne, and Conner killed is much too high, and I wasn't about to risk giving anything away. Or worse, having to deal with an angry Ranger who might well take matters into their own hands and administer a little Frontier Justice of their own. Marcus came to regret his actions which earned him his nickname as the Judge, but I wager there were plenty of his people who didn't much mind. Not that I blame them, because I seen firsthand how Frontier Justice is sometimes the only justice available to a man. Problem is, don't everyone have the same standards when it comes to sufficient evidence of reasonable guilt, so the last thing I want is to deal with a Ranger who's come to the right answer in all the wrong ways.

Because when all is said and done, the truth is cut and dry. No matter which way you slice it, I am responsible for all three of their deaths, and I do deserve to pay for my sins.

Can't no one prove it, but I know good and well there are plenty who believe it all the same, so I'd rather not have to deal with it. Not sure if this Ranger is one to take matters into his own hands, but my gut says no. He's a tall, lean, and wiry sort, like a piece of rawhide that's been pulled taut in all directions and moulded into human form. His sharp, angular features give him a chiselled, determined look that is only made that much more imposing by his tanned and weathered skin. While most Rangers are pretty laid back about their uniforms, this Ranger's outfit is utterly immaculate, with a tan button up shirt that is pressed and spotless as can be save for some stains from sweat and spray. He's even got his pins on display, a bronze Shield and Wing to say he's adept in Abjuration and Transmutation. Might even have a third and chose to leave off his Magus pins, because that there would be giving away too much information, but he feels confident enough to display those first two, whereas I refuse to wear even one.

Makes him a defensive Vanguard most likely then, seeing how he's here on this boat and ready to rumble with his backup sitting in the other boat. Add in his drilled posture with back straight and shoulders square, precise grooming with regulation haircut and cleave shaven chin, as well as a uniform without so much as a thread out of place, and it all paints a picture of who this Ranger is. This ain't no renegade who takes matters into his own hands. No, this here is Billy By-the-Book, with terse and rigid diction like he reading off the field manual, and a piercing stare that is sorely lacking in rage while drowning in suspicion. Add in his measured response and I can conclude that he ain't here for my head, only my freedom like he said. Might be he wants me tried in a court of law, but if that was the case, bringing me in under false pretenses is the wrong way to go about it. Makes me think this is wholly independent from what went down in Pleasant Dunes, and that he ain't doing this of his own volition, but otherwise, I'm wholly in the dark as to what this Ranger wants.

And I don't like that. I like my enemies predictable and readable, but this man here is a closed book, so I ain't about to let him clap me in chains, even if it means going to war with the U.F.A.

Course, I'd really rather not have to live my life on the lam after gunning down a Ranger. Even if I had the law on my side and the confidence to take on all comers, I know good and well how easily the facts can be twisted against me and how public opinion can turn ugly quick. As such, I ain't against letting Gunnar do his thing, even if he did almost set off a firefight by stepping forward so aggressively. He don't see it that way though, as he done missed our whole exchange and only seen us glance over at him, then back at each other. Thus armed in his ignorance, Gunnar steps forward again without realizing the Ranger don't like having a possible threat moving into his blind spot while facing off against me, so I give Gunnar a quick glance warning him to stop.

Maybe it's because he's worried about me, or maybe it's because he believes I'm more likely to start something here, but he's got his eyes on me and gets the message right quick. Freezing up, he tries his damnedest to figure out what the problem is and comes up empty, because he's still seeing this as a misunderstanding rather than a full-on standoff that's about a hair's breadth from going off. Rather than back away though, he just continues on like there's nothing wrong, because he don't know what else to do. "I'm sure this is all a misunderstanding," he begins, and I regret letting him be the face of the party. Might be fine to say to a civilian, but saying it to a Ranger is as good as telling him he done screwed up, and no military man likes to hear that.

Gesturing at me, Gunnar turns to the Ranger and says, "What my young friend here probably meant to say was that while he recognizes the authority of the United Federation of American States, he is also aware of his rights and freedoms accorded to him as a Freeholding Landowner in good standing. Unless you have an arrest warrant signed by a Federal Judge authorizing you to take him into custody, then the Rangers have no authority to arrest him in Accorded Neutral Territory. As such, he would be well within his rights to resist an illegal attempt to take him into custody. Even though we can clearly see you are a fine, upstanding Ranger, any man could easily forge a badge and pins. If you were to produce a warrant for his arrest however, then I'm sure he'd be willing to come in peaceably and help sort out whatever misunderstanding brought this about. Right Howie?"

Not really, but I ain't about to admit as much. "Sure," I drawl, meeting the Ranger's eyes and flashing a smile. He don't like that much, but he don't got nothing to say, because he don't got no warrant.

Still tries to justify his actions though, growling, "I already said this is a matter of National security. I am not arresting him. I only mean to take him into custody."

"Oh that so? Well that changes everything." Dripping with sarcasm, I let the Ranger know exactly where I stand on matters of National security. "Lemme just get my dancin' shoes on and I'll be right with you."

He don't like that much, and Gunnar hits me with a look that says 'shut the fuck up'. "While issues of national security are concerning," Gunnar begins, addressing the Ranger the same way I would speak to a fully grown diamondclaw that I'm 100% sure isn't Elodie or her mama, "Whether he is arrested or detained, the end result is still the same. Since Howie is a civilian, unless he has committed a crime and has a warrant out for his arrest, you cannot legally take him into custody against his will."

"I took an oath," the Ranger retorts, glaring at me like I done ate the last slice of cake before he got a taste. "To support and defend the Constitution of the United Federation of American States against all enemies, foreign and domestic."

"A constitution which guarantees Howie's freedoms," Gunnar replies, sticking to the same facts as before. "So again, unless you have a warrant…?"

"Mercer? I'm coming up."

A voice sounds out from the rowboat the Ranger took to get here, one with four people. Two Ranger rowers, Ranger Mercer here, and the fourth man who wasn't no soldier and I can only assume is the one sounding out his intent to board my ship.

"Negative," Ranger Mercer says.

"Unless you a custom's official, you ain't welcome on my ship." Even though I know there ain't no way to enforce it, I say it all the same, if only for the sake of posterity.

"Well why not?" the voice calls out, sounding all sorts of exasperated, but he's not talking to me.

"There are three Innates holding Spells at the ready," Mercer replies, eyes darting over towards Astrid, Elodie, and Harald who are all watching intently. "And a fourth flagged for Enchantment and Illusion." That'd be Chrissy, and I don't much like hearing how she's been flagged. Likely because of Uncle Raleigh, Aunty Ray, and now Tina who's really shown her skills, but I can't help but wonder if the Sheriff didn't put Chrissy's name up on some list after that last Harpy attack. Ain't ever gonna help no one in that town ever again, but that's too little too late for Chrissy's sake, who's sitting pretty and watching everything unfold.

What's more telling is the fact that Ranger Mercer here can tell who's got Spells readied and who doesn't. Makes me glad I didn't ready nothing, because I wasn't expecting to throw down against a customs agent since I ain't smuggling nothing nowhere. Thing is, I didn't know it was possible to know someone had a readied Spell without seeing them physically cast the Spell and hold it, and I'd like to know exactly how Ranger Mercer knows what he knows. He was very specific about three holding Spells, meaning Astrid, Harald, and Elodie are all Ready to act.

Which is pretty flattering considering that's a bonafide Ranger there, even though it goes against my express instructions to stay out of any engagements and act only to defend themselves. Astrid and Harald I can kinda understand, as they got a whole anti-establishment sort of thing going with Providence and how they and their people been treated without any help from the government, but Elodie's readiness comes as something of a surprise. Then again, might be she's Readied a defensive Spell, as she ain't one to disobey instructions, only misinterpret them sometimes. Maybe she's got Force Barrier Readied, or some other Abjuration Spell, something to protect her and Chrissy as she stands before my sorta sister who still don't understand what's going on.

Truth be told, I don't really know what Spells Elodie has Prepared besides Featherfall and Wildshape, because even among friends, that ain't the kinda question you ask. What I do know is she's got multiple copies of Wildshape taking up room in her head, as each form is a different Spell Structure or Ability depending on how you wanna look at it. I also know she's a natural-born Innate who ate a Spell Core at some point in her life, so she's probably no slouch in the Spells department. Then again, it's hard to say with Innates, because not all of them become proficient Spellslingers like Chrissy and Tina. They get access to the Spells sure, but you still gotta practice to not only get good with the Spells, but become proficient at Slinging them. It takes me less than three seconds to sling a Spell I'm familiar, and you can't do it any faster than 2.5 as that's the limit of the Spell Structure, but you can take a whole lot longer if you ain't any good at it.

So maybe Elodie's readied a Spell because she's not any good at slinging it off the cuff. I really should ask her about her Prepared Spells, but like I said, that's something you ain't supposed to share, especially when you an Innate who can't really change things up. Makes it too easy for your enemies to tailor a plan to neutralize everything you can do, so while Elodie would tell me if I asked, I don't ever want to take advantage of her trust like that. Or like this, because if she were to lash out against a Ranger and get herself in trouble on my behalf, I don't think I'd ever forgive myself.

So against my better judgement, I place myself at the mercy of the Ranger and turn aside to face the peanut gallery. "All you stand down," I say, gesturing for them all to back off. "Let your readied Spells drain off and go take a seat inside away from the windows. If the Ranger here wants to arrest me, I don't want none of you doin' anything about it. We clear?"

"Crystal." Credit where credit is due, Harald shows more sense than I might've expected as he drags his combative sister away by the arm with help from his daddy. Elodie sticks around a second longer, unsure if she should do as she asks, but a gentle bit of prompting sees her bring Chrissy away. The Princess don't look none too happy to leave, but she goes along without a fight, and soon enough, all five of my passengers are parked at the bow of the ship by the galley and sleeping area.

With Astrid shooting me glares like my refusal to let her incriminate herself on my behalf is some sort of personal attack while her daddy tries his best to soothe her wounded pride.

I pay her no mind however, as I turn back to Ranger Mercer once everyone's settled in. Then and only then does he retreat to the side of my boat where some dandy, well-dressed stranger done invited himself onto my ship. Man ain't exactly fat, but is not what I would call lean or even remotely in shape either, as he struggles to climb the handful of steps up the little ladder stair on the side. Takes a lot of excess and a dearth of exercise to keep fat on your bones here on the Frontier, as even desk jockeys tend to get a whole lot of steps in on the daily, so already I don't care much for this stranger. His well-tailored frock coat don't do him no favours either, a long Victorian jacket with a seamed waistline for a more flattering silhouette to hide his bulk. Worn over a red silk vest and white collared shirt complete with fancy silk tie and the stupidest top hat I done ever seen, and this fella got all the markings of a man who dresses for success without knowing what success or hard work actually looks like.

To say nothing of the fact that he don't ask for permission to board, even though he technically don't need it if he's working with the Rangers. Doubt he's a custom's official though, not unless he's on the take considering the fancy golden pocket watch he pulls out to check the time soon as he's on board. Wants to show it off and make him look busier, wealthier, and more important than he really is, when he sees me looking, his fat face lights up in a fake smile that makes me understand why my big smiles never worked like Aunty Ray's.

"Howie Zhu," he says, beaming that big, bright, and ultimately unnatural smile as he approaches to shake my hand. With the right hand no less, even though he should know I got a prosthetic. "The Firstborn of the Frontier in the flesh." I ignore the handshake even as Mercer moves forward to stand not directly between us, but close enough to broadcast his intent and distract the flabby stranger long enough to miss my scowl. "Oh, come now Mercer," he says, elbowing the Ranger aside in a joking manner without moving him so much as an inch. "Like the other man said, young Howie here is a law-abiding freeholder in good standing, so there's no need for this overabundance of caution. I just want to shake the hand of the fabled Firstborn who I've heard so much about."

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

"That so?" I drawl, still ignoring the proffered hand to keep mine folded in front of my belly. "And what exactly is it that you've heard?"

That's all it takes to peel back his thin veneer of friendliness and replace it with one of nervous alarm, because there ain't nothing of substance behind it. He's just saying things because he thinks that's what I want to hear, like I'm some young buck too big for his britches who'll swell up with pride so long as he lavishes a little praise. "So very many stories," the man replies, finally catching on to the fact that I ain't buying what he's selling as he withdraws his hands. "Most recently about your exploits in the badlands against those rogue Qin elements."

I scoff. "Rogue. Right." He knows it too, because he don't look all that surprised, just taken aback by my blunt retort. "Now, how 'bout your quit wastin' my time and say your piece? I got things to do and places to be."

"Of course of course," the flabby man says, only to go right ahead and show he either didn't hear what I just said or don't care one whit for my needs or wants by wasting more of my time. "My name is Milton Tremont, former Legislative Aide to State Senator Elliot Hargrove of Wyoming and current Alderman of the Frontier here to represent the interests of the American people." Seeing my complete and utter lack of care or concern throws him for a loop, as this here is a man well used to throwing his weight around and seeing his opponents sweat.

Unfortunately for him, I got no respect for him and his. Appointed Aldermen like Milton here were supposed to be a temporary measure to ensure that the American people were represented on the Frontier and weren't subject to the rule of military might. Which I never understood, because what in the hell is a politician supposed to do against a would-be warlord with military backing? Challenge him to a debate? Ridiculous is what that is. Either way, one of the first and final things these Aldermen were supposed to do was arrange for fair elections here on the Frontier so that the people could choose the Senators who'd represent them. That never happened for various reasons, with the most often cited one being the inability to ensure the elections would be fair and that every American citizen could be reached to post their ballots.

Which is a valid concern, but Aldermen like Milton here been letting perfection be the enemy of good enough and kept pushing off elections so they could keep their cushy jobs without being beholden to the people they supposedly serve. Not to mention how there are more Aldermen than I care to count, with a whole sham congress of them who don't seem to ever do much of anything at all besides draw a substantial paycheck for sitting on their asses. I was told the people wouldn't stand for tyranny and corruption like this, but problem is, most folks are more concerned about getting food in their bellies and shelter over their heads, so who has the time to gather up and protest?

Either way, I don't give a rat's ass if Milton is an Alderman. In fact, knowing what he is makes me think even less of him, which is a low back to limbo under. Nor will I give this snake in the grass the satisfaction of saying anything in response to his big reveal, so I just keep quiet and stare at him until he cracks. "Ah, ahem," he says, breaking the awkward silence by clearing his throat. "Perhaps you are unaware of what that entails, but suffice it to say that it is my duty to uphold the interests of people." Again, I say nothing and just stare while waiting for him to get on with it. Sensing my growing impatience, Milton clears his throat again and switches tack from the civics lesson he was about to give. "We are here today in part because of your encounter with the Qin in the badlands. Have you been keeping up with the developments?"

"With what happened to the kill team sent for my head? Yeah, sure." Sarcasm aside, I list out the high notes to hurry things along. "Most them Qin got sent home after a month in jail, aside from their sacrificial goat Ao Tian, who got railroaded through a kangaroo court and sent downriver to do hard labour for twenty-five to life." Where exactly, I'm not sure, but ain't like I can do anything about it, or care to. He most certainly didn't, as he waived his rights under the Accords and admitted to everything without working out a deal beforehand. Ao Tian done made his bed and laid down in it, so I ain't about to risk my neck to help him out.

Still can't help but feel for the kid though, even if he's only a day or two younger than I am. Can't be easy staring down the barrel of twenty-five to life in a foreign land where you got no friends and plenty of enemies ready to tear you limb from limb just because you got a warmer skin tone than most.

"I hear your concerns," Milton replies, his smile strained and brow furrowed as he tries to figure out my angle, but to do that, you'd have to be capable of empathy. "However, I assure you the young Qin man who made an attempt on your life was tried and sentenced in a legitimate court of law. He did not get off lightly."

"How'd you hear my concerns when I ain't even voiced them?" I really don't care for Milton now, because his first thought was that I was worried Ao Tian got off light and is back with the Republic. A prospect which honestly never entered my mind, but seeing how worried Milton is, I suppose I should look into it. Would be nice to know if Ao Tian is actually serving time or if he's back in Fuyuan plotting his next attack. To see what I can learn, I give Milton a bit of a verbal prod and reveal a bit of what he should already know. "See, even though Ao Tian owned up to the attack and claimed it was all personal, I know for a fact that the hit was sanctioned by some little lord fatty who's the son of some bigwig up in the Republic. One Eldar Chang Sang, who signed a warrant I seen with my own two eyes ordering the bearer of those documents to arrest me for dereliction of duty even though I ain't no Son of the Republic. All of which I shared with the Marshal and the Sherrif, but I didn't read about none of that in the papers, so I'm guessin' it didn't come out in trial. If that's the case, then what else can it be besides a kangaroo court?"

Milton has a pretty good poker face, but Ranger Mercer is an open book now that I've figured him out. This is the first he's hearing of any of this, but he shakes it off as irrelevant because this ain't about the attack. Not really. This is about the fallout from it, the concessions the Federation got from the Republic for returning their people forthwith. That much is clear now, though I still got no idea what this has to do with me.

Of course, Milton waves off my questions by pretending it's all so much more complicated than it really is. He goes on about burden of proof and reasonable doubt when I know it ain't about rule of law. It's about politics, and politicians like him were salivating at the opportunity to do something for the Republic so they could get a little quid pro quo, because they couldn't give two shits about what happens to someone like me. "That's all in the past however," Milton concludes, after a long-winded sermon which I only half listened to. "We must now look to the future, and that is why we are here. While the attempt on your life was inexcusable, there was some benefit to be had, as it has allowed us to open up a dialogue with the Republic. This is unprecedented, as yours are a recalcitrant people who tend to stonewall any and all diplomatic engagement."

"They. Are not. My people." The fact that I get it out without shouting is almost a miracle, and this time, I ignore Ranger Mercer's micro-reactions through sheer willpower. Last thing I need is to start this standoff again with flabby Milton standing in the hot zone, because Ranger Mercer takes his duty to protect the Alderman all too seriously. Me, I'd send the Alderman out to get eaten by Abby and think the Frontier better off for it, but that ain't my call to make. Glaring daggers at the politician, I speak as calm and clearly as I can given the current circumstances. "Like my papers say, I'm Frontier born and proud of it, so the Republic got no claim on me."

The fact that he's surprised by my outburst only goes to show that Milton ain't done his required reading. I wouldn't go so far as to call myself racist, but I've recently come to terms with the fact that I'm pretty damn close to it when it comes to the Qin. Individuals I'm fine with, but as a whole? I might well hate the Republic, and truth be told, I'm starting to hate the Federation too.

With that off my chest, I take a deep breath, exhale, then say, "You still ain't said what any of this has got to do with me."

"Right, of course." Fidgeting with his top hat for a bit to regain his composure, Milton clears his throat once more and says, "Well you see, during our talks regarding this unwarranted attack, we touched upon the subject of criminal outlaws raiding our three new outposts to the south. Ones that are well behind schedule due to the attacks and upheaval in the supply lines we continue to experience." He tries his damnedest not to look at me while he says it, because he don't want to imply it's my fault, but he's overcorrecting so much even I think it might be my fault. Not that I'm entirely without blame, as I did kill the Puglianos and throw most of mount Rime into chaos, but Aldermen like Milton here were the ones who built up that house of cards with mafiosos in charge, while I was just the breeze that happened to knock it all down.

Okay, maybe more of a gale than anything else, but I still stand by most my actions. They killed my Josie, and they had to pay.

A thought which does nothing to improve my mood as Milton hems and haws on his way to maybe making a point. He talks about the back and forth with the Republic and makes it out like they done gone to war except all they done is show up with hat in hand asking if the Republic could pretty please do something about the attacks that are most certainly not Qin Vanguard acting on orders from their Council of Elders. "After so many talks," Milton concludes, taking out a kerchief to mop his brow after jawing on for so long, "It has become clear that there is one issue the Republic will not budge on, so we were hoping to bring you in and glean your thoughts on the matter."

"Don't gotta bring me in for that," I say. "Here's my thoughts in plain English: whatever they've promised you, it's a lie they have no intention of going through with. They'll continue their attacks or call them off to suit their needs, and any concessions they might wring outta you in the meantime is just the cherry on top. So how about you find some fundin' for the Rangers and let them off leash so they can do their jobs instead of running around putting out fires all over the place? Preventative measures and all that. If you need to know more, ask the Marshal. He got a whole spiel about it. Or you could do what I would and hang them raiders until their ain't none left to be hung."

My little outburst has won me some points with Mercer, and I'm tempted to push the point further and say that maybe a Ranger with two pins could be better utilized on the Eastern Front as opposed to babysitting a do-nothing lifetime politician who don't look like he ever done a single hard day's work in his life. Course, I think better of it and just scowl at the flabby, silk-lined snake and ask, "So if we done here?"

We aren't, because Milton's got that snake-eyed look on him that says he hasn't finished saying his piece. Man can't help himself. He's gotta play everything close to the vest instead of laying his cards down when he knows he's beat. No, he's gotta wheedle and dawdle and waste everyone's time even though there's no way for him to win, and I'm starting to lose my patience and considering what little I know about the laws to see if tossing an Alderman off my ship would constitute a felony offense.

If it was, I doubt they'd find a jury in all the lands who'd be willing to convict me. I ain't the only one angry at the lack of democracy in this supposed democratic nation. Hell, I've never known anything different, so all my gripes stem from the sheer hypocrisy of it all. Gotta imagine there are true blue Americans out there who are much, much angrier, because they actually know what they're missing out on.

"The matter I am referring to is more specific in nature," Milton says, glancing over at the others still sitting pretty in the galley and watching us from afar. Even though there's no way they could overhear, Milton still tries to lean in and put a hand on my shoulder so he can whisper into my ear, but I step back to avoid his clammy sausage fingers and give him a look that tells him not to try again. A flash of irritation crosses his flabby features, one that smooths out soon after, but I seen what I seen and ain't gonna forget it. He can pretend all he wants, but he ain't here to be my friend or help me out. Whatever he wants from me, it's in service of his own interests.

"You see," he says, keeping his voice low and quiet while acting all conspiratorial. "During our talks, we were able to agree upon only one course of action to counteract these rogue elements raiding our settlements. Namely the creation of a joint task force between our two nations that would work to keep our south eastern border safe. While the specifics have yet to be decided, the Qin Republic have been quite adamant in one demand that I have personally taken upon myself to see fulfilled." Giving me a look that is half smile and half conspiratorial, he whispers, "They want you to be their liaison in the task force, a position that I am sure you will find most… rewarding."

In the silence that follows, I take a second to breathe deep. Then I exhale while counting backwards from ten, only to repeat the process twice more. I make no secret of what I'm doing, which throws Milton for a loop seeing how he was expecting me to jump for joy at the news. Now that he sees me fighting to control my barely restrained temper, he's a whole lot less sure of himself as he steps back to let Mercer stand between us. I treat the Ranger as set decoration, because he ain't gonna do nothing unless I act first, and glaring don't count. Gives me a pretty big advantage if I were to act, but also goes to show that he's a good man. Or at least one who abides by the law, and I don't want to kill a man who's just doing his job.

Even if that job is to guard a slimy shitbag like Milton Tremont.

Once I got my temper mostly in check, I decide that I'm done being polite. Giving the Alderman a look like I'm studying some new kind of fish I ain't ever seen before, I take a moment to gather my thoughts before asking, "Milton… Are you some kinda stupid?" His eyes widen to hear it, but he's got an image to maintain. As do I, which is why I ignore Ranger Mercer's efforts to hide his smile and continue with, "You know. Like… Special? Soft in the head?" Acting like I'm struggling to come up with the best way to say it, I lean in all conspiratorial like and whisper, "I know we ain't supposed to say it anymore, because it's an ugly word, but you an older gent who's probably heard it plenty in your day, so for the sake of clarity, I'll just say it. Are you retarded?"

Letting that hang in the air for a bit, I leave Milton to breathe heavy and sputter for a bit before continuing. "Not that there's anything wrong if you are. There're plenty of folks who're… developmentally challenged and still do good things. It's just that I can't imagine any other reason for you to think me takin' a position in some joint task force with the Qin Republic is a good idea." Milton sputters some more, and his eyes go up to the Bull's head medallion on my hat, which means he knows he's being recorded. As such, he can't outright offer me a bribe. He can only hint at how 'rewarding' the position would be, which again goes to show how he can't read a room. Already told him to fund the Rangers proper, but now he's offering me a bribe to go along with the stupidest demand I ever heard.

For reasons I feel inclined to explain in great detail, because while I might be taking the piss as the Brits might say, Milton do strike me as some kind of stupid. "First of all," I begin, holding up my thumb to count off all the ways this is a terrible idea. "I already done told you the hit was sanctioned. It ever occur to you the whole reason the Qin be demandin' I be the liaison is so they can take another run at me without having to trek deep into the heart of Federal territory? That's the whole reason I'm headin' west after all, to avoid the Qin as best I can."

Raising my index finger to pair with my thumb, I continue, "Secondly, being the liaison in a joint task force sounds miserable as all heck. Mostly because I don't speak Qinese, so how you expect me to liaise even if everything on the up and up?"

My middle finger shoots up, and just because I'm childish, I curl my thumb and index finger for a tick before opening them up again, like I had a bit of a cramp and its all good now. "Thirdly, you and I both know there ain't no 'rogue elements'. Them attacks are sanctioned by the Republic's Council, the same way the hit on me was sanctioned. They can deny it all they want, but them Qink are like sheep. A politician barks and the rest fall in line, so even if there were any rogue elements, they wouldn't be disciplined or well-equipped enough to take on a full settlement guarded by Rangers."

Moving on to number four, I conclude with, "And lastly, even if the task force was legit and the liaison job paid me a hefty salary, I'd still turn it down because it's a thankless fuckin' job. If I did my part and helped put an end to the attacks, I know good and well there'd be articles in the papers calling me a Republic plant who's here to play the role of hero while spreading' their subversive ideals or leakin' Federal secrets or somethin'. That's the best-case scenario mind you. Worst case would be if the attacks continued, which is more than likely. The only thing a Qink likes more than scammin' a fella, is robbin' him outright. That there is what they call a good deal, and you probably know better than I how well they've been eatin' while sucklin' off the Federation's teat. That's the real reason for the raids, because the Republic needs those resources they're stealin', but your average Qink won't see it that way. No, they think of themselves as the strong ones because they takin' what they need from the weak, only they lack the critical thinkin' skills to ask why, if the Republic is so strong, do they need to steal from the Feds in the first place?"

Having gone off on a bit of a tangent, I stop myself short to take a deep breath before continuing, "So what you think will happen when the task force fails to stop them Republic raids? You think the Rangers will take the heat for it? Or the Republic? Nah. I'd bet you dollars to donuts that I'll be the one to take the fall, get blamed for the failure like I done intentionally sabotaged the efforts or somethin'. Fact is, I bet I'll get blamed for it regardless, especially if folks learn I was offered this role. So I guess I'm damned if I do, and damned if I don't, but if that's the case, then I might as well save myself the headache and do my own thing."

To make things clear, I say it all in plain English. "I want no part in any of this. It's either a ploy to have me killed or turn Federal sentiment against me so I got no choice but to seek asylum with the Republic, and I don't fancy either outcome." Alternating my gaze between Milton and Mercer, I ask, "So if that's all, I want you both off my ship. Now." I don't say the rest, that if they will not leave, they will be made to leave, as is my right under the Accords. Don't see no point in escalating things further, which only goes to show that I do learn from my mistakes sometimes. Shouldn't have come right out and threatened Mercer the way I did, so I give him a nod in apology, one he reads and accepts after a tick with a nod of his own before deboarding with the flabby Alderman.

Course I can't just leave just yet, because this here was an actual Customs stop which Alderman Milton just took advantage of. Or had put here just to catch me. I dunno what an Alderman can do, only that they don't do much of anything productive at all. Gives me plenty of time to fill the others in on what happened and apologize some more for getting them in yet another bind. Between the Zampanos and this Alderman, I'm pretty sure Gunnar is regretting his decision to hire me on instead of contracting some real mercs who might not have been as loyal, but sure as shooting would've brung less drama.

Fact is, he's looking a little green around the gills once all is said and done, so I do what I can to find a moment to speak with him alone to give him a chance to call it quits. "I can turn around and bring you home," I say, once I've made my apologies and given him an out, "Or if you prefer, I could stop in at the next port and do what I can to help you find safe passage either way. I'd totally understand, and I'll even give Harald his deposit back."

It'd suck to lose those eight vials of Impact Oil, but I didn't earn them, so I can't be keeping them, now can I?

"No, it's fine Howie," Gunnar says, waving my concerns away. "Wasn't your fault, and I'd rather have you watching our backs than the best mercs money can buy. Higher prices mean rich customers and all the more reason to rob us after all."

All too true, and while he could probably pull a few strings to hire on a Ranger or three, that'd also tip his hand with regards to his competitors who I gotta assume have friends in high places who'd notice something like that. Course, that don't solve the issue though, because Gunnar still looks like he done swallowed something the wrong way. Which I point out, and ask, "So what's stuck in your craw then?"

A question I regret asking as soon as the words leave my mouth, because Gunnar hits me with a look I seen all too many times before. It's a sad one, so full of regret and disappointment that I know what he's about to say before he even says it. "You know Howie," he begins, and I keep quiet to let him get this off his chest. "A lot of people died because of the raids, and still more had to struggle through the winter without adequate shelter and spotty shipments of food."

And Gunnar is thinking I could do a whole lot of good if I helped out with the task force. Or maybe there's more to it, as he got that far off look in his eyes when he looks at me. He's remembering how my daddy would've been among the first to step out and lend a helping hand, so it hurts to see me want nothing to do with it. Or stay up in Rimepeak hunting bounties all winter instead of taking on shit contracts to deliver food and materials south through the snows for a pittance. Cowie could've handled it, as he moves about as fast in deep snow as a standard wagon in good weather, or about 25 klicks a day as opposed to 50 to 100. A single wagon of supplies wouldn't make much of a difference to three up and coming towns, but it ain't nothing, and I know for a fact my daddy would've made the run as many times as he could if he was still around.

Gunnar knows it too, and it hurts him to see how far I've fallen, to not only do nothing to help, but actively avoid it when offered an opportunity, no matter how fraudulent it might be. Now I could defend myself, explain it all for him again how I'd be putting myself at risk and all that, but that wouldn't get us nowhere. If it was my daddy in my shoes, he'd do it all the same, do what he could to help even if it meant risking his neck. That's how he lived, spending nine months out of the year on the road so he could help others while leaving his only flesh and blood to be raised by someone else.

And much as I wished he been around more in those early days, I idolized him for doing what he did, right up until he died and the Rangers disavowed him. Didn't change what he did, but it coloured his actions in a different light, because instead of being a good man who did what he did because that's what Rangers do, he became the schmuck who went above and beyond for base Ranger pay when he could've been earning so much more. All a matter of perspective really, and while I still love my daddy, I ain't ever gonna be taken advantage of like he was.

None of which I come out and say, because he's still my daddy and I'm proud of what he done. Instead, I give Gunnar my best neutral look and ask, "So what's that got to do with me?"

And there it is, that look I seen so many times and never really identified until now. Seen it from Marcus, Uncle Art, Uncle Rigsby, Uncle Teddy, and now Gunnar, that look of heartbreak when they realize I ain't ever gonna be the man my daddy was, because I just don't got it in me. This ain't about being a soldier, though I still don't measure up. No, this is something entirely different. My daddy was a good man, maybe even a great man, but me? I'm just a bitter, broken boy who'll do what I can while looking out for me and mine. My heart goes out to the people suffering down south, but I got too much on my plate to concern myself with them.

I'm still trying my best to be a good man, but I gotta say, my best ain't looking all that good.

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