It's always a surreal experience going back to business as usual after a high-stakes situation.

Can't dwell on the fact that you almost went toe to toe with a Ranger and might well have doomed yourself either way. No time to reflect on your words and your deeds and wonder why you gotta be so confrontational all the time. Want to relax and decompress or just curl up with something warm and fluffy? You can't, because time don't wait for no one, not on a catamaran. You got sails to trim and headwinds to check, traffic to keep an eye on and cross currents to be aware of. Need to make sure you watch the waves and be aware that your ship don't lean as much as a monohull ship, so you won't know you about to flip until it happens if you don't pay attention.

All of which is good to keep my mind off of all the mistakes I almost made and the dark outlook ahead. The Askefjords don't got as much to distract them though, and they spend the next few hours immersed in a nervous sort of energy that's kinda like the shakes for the soul. They thought they was about to watch me throw down against a Ranger and take on the Federal Government itself, which makes it all the more surprising to learn that Harald and Astrid were ready to pitch in and help. I could handwave Astrid's involvement as momentary insanity brought about by brazen recklessness and a bit of infatuation, but Harald is a whole different kettle of fish. I've always thought of him as a calm and even-tempered sort, someone who speaks slowly and carefully to match his actions. While I done heard about the famous Askefjord tempers, I ain't ever seen it firsthand. Only ever heard stories, like how Miss Alice burned a man when he gave her backside a swat, or how Astrid used to shriek like a Banshee whenever things didn't go her way. Harald though? He never struck me as the hot-headed sort, but if he was making ready to throw down against a Ranger, then he can't be anything but.

As for Elodie? I know she'll back whatever I do, which is why I gotta be extra careful with her on this trip. Carter and Miss Amelie asked me to bring her out and show her the Frontier, so I doubt they'd be thrilled if I made her an accessory to a crime. And not just any crime, because if I gunned Mercer down, you can bet your bottom dollar that the Federal Government would stop at nothing to try and make murder and treason stick. Regardless of the truth of the matter mind you. Even though I had the whole encounter recorded, I would've needed to get it to a trusted notary who can't be bought and ain't no patriot. Or at least not enough of a patriot to perjure himself and get me jammed up in court, because if he claims the crystal was tampered with before I brung it to him, proving him a liar would be difficult to say the least.

Especially seeing how the first thing I'd do after getting the crystal notarized is make a bunch of copies so the footage can't get 'lost'. I don't understand the specifics, but I know good and well that the marks left behind when copying a crystal are indistinguishable from whatever marks a skilled Illusionist might leave behind while altering what's on it. Course, you gotta be top tier to do it in a way that looks believable, and top tier counterfeiters like that are few and far between, and chances of manipulating multiple crystals to show the exact same thing is difficult to say the least, but wouldn't you know it, I got Chrissy, Aunty Ray, and Tina who are all capable Illusionists I might well turn to if I wanted to do such a thing.

And that tiny bit of reasonable doubt might well be enough to convince a jury that I done doctored the recording of me lawfully gunning down a Ranger, which would not end well for me.

That's just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the legal ramifications of killing a Ranger, and I already touched on the extra-legal side of things. That's why I'm avoiding Meadowbrook after all, so the last thing I want is to get Elodie jammed up alongside me, or Chrissy for that matter. That's why I'm glad she didn't Ready any Spell to sling at the Ranger, and it's not because she don't care enough. No, she didn't Ready a Spell because in her mind, the Rangers are the good guys, so there wasn't nothing to fear from a man wearing that five-pointed star.

A notion I'm happy to leave be, because there are some things you just don't do. I want Chrissy to continue thinking of the Rangers as the good guys, because by and large, most are. Hell, even Wayne was halfway decent right up until the very end when he decided it was me or him, and were I in his place, I might well have done the same. Especially seeing how he truly believed I was the root cause of all his woes, and doubly so considering I kinda was, even though he couldn't prove it. Yeah, he was the one who made promises that landed him in hot water, but I was the one who ruined his plans.

No. That ain't on me. That fat fuck of pedophile was the one who ruined Wayne's plans. I was just the consequences of their actions, the righteous hand of God there to deliver retribution for their wicked ways. Karma as it were, because while what goes around comes around, sometimes you're what's going, and other times, you're what comes down hard.

Ha. I keep that sort of talk up, and might be I end up joining up with Errol in the Knight's Templar. Just goes to show how shook up I really am, though I try not to show it.

To get back to my original point, I don't want no one taking on the Rangers for me. I could make a life for myself living on the lam. Scurry out to the Coral Sands, flee south to the outskirts of Fuyuan, or even find passage through the Snake Fang Mountain Range to the rest of the continent where few will ever have heard of me or my daddy. Admittedly, I'd likely have trouble blending in, because how many people are out there who look and sound like me? Double digits at most, so it'd be a small haystack to hide in and a miserable existence spent running from the past until it catches up. Wouldn't wish that on anyone else, so when I weigh anchor for the night, I gather everyone up and tell them as much. "I said it already," I conclude, giving Harald, Astrid, and Elodie a good, hard look, "And I'll say it again. Don't you be riskin' your necks for me. I can handle myself. You just keep your heads down and out of the way."

Astrid don't like that much, while Elodie looks properly subdued, and Harald is only half paying attention as he still reading his latest book. "Understood," he says, first to answer once he notices the long silence. "Permission to disembark?"

"After I say one last thing." Stifling a sigh, I do my best to convey sincerity as I say, "Thank you. The fact that you three was willing to throw down is touching, even if it's the worst decision you could've possibly made." With that said, I hide my embarrassment by raising my hand to sweep the area with Detect Abby, a Spell I keep up whenever I'm out and about. Sensing nothing of note nearby, I wave Harald away and add, "Permission granted. Don't blow yourself up."

"I try not to." Bland and boring though he might seem, I always liked Harald's sense of humour. Bone dry to match a razor-sharp wit, and a work-ethic to surpass mine. Shows in how he spends all day with his nose buried in his books, and only getting up to eat, use the lavatory, and head out to shore to run his experiments in the limited time he gets every night before bed. It's always a hoot watching him do Alchemy though, because it done ruined his calm and sedate image, as well as my mental picture of how Alchemists do their work. I was thinking it'd be more dignified and clinical, with a man working over a beaker and other tools while carefully mixing precisely measured ingredients and casting Spells all the while. Sometimes, them shows depict it as a group effort, with three 'witches' or Spellslingers working over a cauldron while spouting nursery rhymes, but that's even less accurate.

In reality, Alchemy is about as fast and furious as it gets. Least that's how Harald does it, because he don't got one beaker or vial in front of him. Instead, he's got eight, because he likes to make his potions in batches. I shudder to think of him doing the same with Impact Oil, but seeing how he gave me eight vials in one go, that's probably how it be. He ain't working on Impact Oil though, because I'd've had a conniption if he was. Don't know what he's working on at this moment, but Astrid and Gunnar both assured me it's nothing explosive. Not inherently, but all Alchemy is dangerous since you're combining the physical and metaphysical on the fly instead of getting all your ducks in a row on the physical side before introducing the metaphysical after the fact.

That's how Etching works, as you lay the Etch, then add Aether to see if it'll blow up. With Alchemy, you're laying track while the train come rumbling down behind you, and Harald is doing it for eight separate trains. Not all in tandem. No, he decided that'd be too easy, so he's going round robin with his eight vials and doing something different for each. The foundation is the same for all eight, but he's experimenting so he can compare and contrast the final products to see what works best. Small wonder his potions keep blowing up, but that don't slow him down none. And I'm talking literally, because even as I think it, he reaches down to pluck a vial out of its stand and toss it into the water just before it blows up with a muted pop, all so he can save the remaining seven.

Ain't the first time it's happened, and won't be the last. Mind you he did that with his uninjured hand, when he got one missing three fingers he could risk, or better yet, his glowy red Mage Hand which is busy adding something to another vial instead of being on permanent explosion duty. He's not even wearing any gloves and barely pays any mind to the near miss as he goes right on mixing, Spellslinging, and all them other Alchemical things he do.

Folks call me crazy, but I ain't got nothing on Harald here.

While he's doing all this, I'm cooking up some dinner with a pair of fish I done caught with a trap. Don't take much attention, so I keep scanning for Abby while keeping Chrissy and Elodie entertained as best I can. At the same time, I can't help but watch Astrid who went ashore with her brother to give her Automaton a test run. Despite having been there for some time now, the prim and proper girlie ain't powered it up just yet, as she's busy taking Photos from every possible angle and every possible configuration so she got something to look at if everything goes tits up. Confidence is what she's lacking, and the only fix I know of is practice and experience, neither of which I can provide. Far as I can tell, them Etches looked fine, but I'm hardly an expert in these things. I'm not exactly book smart either. I like to learn by doing, and if a few Automatons blow up along the way, then that's just more Etching practice to hammer out.

Then again, I never claimed to be all that smart, as evidenced by how Astrid's first Automaton gets to skittering about without blowing itself to smithereens. Fact is, from the looks of things, the girlie is much more prepared than I was when I developed my first working prototype, as she already got all the Invocations Scripted and ready to give her Skitterbot a test run. It ain't nowhere near as advanced as Danny's, as Astrid's Skitterbot can barely keep upright while moving over loose dirt and strewn branches, but it moves and follows her Invocations well enough.

Girl's got a big, bright smile that suits her well, so it's a real shame she don't use it more often. She's a jumper too, skipping and bounding all about in her excitement while keeping quiet as a mouse because she don't want to disturb her brother. It's adorable as all heck is what it is, and I smile and wave to let her know she ain't alone in her excitement, as she done accomplished something incredible here today. It's just a Skitterbot that move around a bit, with no attachments or nothing to let it do much of anything at all. That said, she got a paved path to follow after all this, as there are countless books outlining how to make use of a Skitterbot just like the one she built, with example Invocations to lift right off the page and advice on how to Script and Assemble a comprehensive Invocation that lets you guide your skitterbot with little more than a thought.

Very different from my Automaton prosthetic, which is breaking new ground I gotta uncover all on my own in terms of Scripting Invocations. A fact I gotta remind myself to keep from feeling all sorts of stupid for struggling as much as I have. I still have trouble making it grip things I don't have a set measurement for, as evidenced by my inability to keep the flopping fish still long enough to club it dead, not with my prosthetic at least. Instead, I deploy the cattle prod in my index finger to stun it good before finishing it off, which is both a waste of Aether and an added bit of cruelty to Electrocute the fishy before sending it on its way.

Least I can hold a knife well enough to scale, gut, and fillet with, but only because my experience with Appraisal gives me a good idea of its exact dimensions allowing me to Script out a custom Invocation to use. Again, this is me going about it the wrong way, as I should really Script a single Invocation that will automatically adjust the angle and pressure of my fingers depending on what I want to hold. That shit is complicated though, so I've been working at it whenever I can and not getting all that far with it. Baby steps, and I daresay I got a decent enough workaround even if it's not as easy and intuitive as I'd like.

I'm also getting even better with my Mage Hands, which do most the finer work like measuring out a pinch of salt or tearing herbs up to go on the fish. Takes me a little longer than it used to, but it ain't like we're in any big rush. Even with the delay from the surprise customs inspection, we've made good time on this trip. Tomorrow, we'll reach a fork in the Wayfarer before noon, and since there's a decent sized town there, I figure we could stop in and pick up a proper map that shows the river routes running north to the Deadlands. Ashbend is the name, and I'm thinking we might overnight there if things look safe enough. Looks like it'll be the last bit of proper civilization for a while yet since there ain't much of anything at all between Ashbend and the Deadlands. Much like the Eastern Front, there ain't many who want to stake their claim so close to the Deadlands, so it'll mostly be military-run outposts put in place to service soldiers and suppliers on their way north.

All of which I share with the rest while we eat our fish and chips, and don't no one have any issues with my plan. The girls, they're all amped up for a trip into town, even one that's more of a checkpoint than anything else. Ashbend is the gateway to the central core of the United Federation's power base, situated west of the town all the way to the coast and south until you reach the Fuschia Flatlands. That's just what the Federation has claimed mind you, and there's been talk of reducing manpower along the Eastern Front to claim even more. They need it too, as the vast majority of American industry is concentrated over in that core, so much so that losing every town within a hundred clicks of the Badlands wouldn't affect overall production all that much. This safe pocket here is where most Americans have settled, so it's also where the Rangers staked their HQ. Which seems like a waste of manpower if you ask me. While the locals see an occasional big attack coming out of the ocean every few years, it ain't like New Hope where we get an Abby attack almost once every season. Less now with the Proggie of the lake dead, and this year's attack from the Badlands appears to have been delayed due to my adventures over Christmas and New Years, but it'll come soon enough.

Makes me feel a little better knowing Chrissy is here with me, because if that Doomspitter siege Bug we been hearing about manages to make it into range of the walls before being spotted, then the potential carnage it could cause is catastrophic, and I don't got a plan in place for that just yet. It'd be even worse if them Proggies wised up and told their shiny new siege bugs to ignore the walls and target the people inside. One mass casualty event might not be enough to win them the day, but they do it enough times and there won't be no one left to defend the town. Here's hoping they haven't made that connection and they keep sending their Bugs at the walls to die, though I will continue to prepare for the worst all the same.

Soon as dinner is finished, I announce my intentions to hit the sack. Knowing Chrissy and Elodie got first watch tonight, I also make sure to snatch Cowie before he can sneak off to the wagon to sleep with Astrid. My fickle partner do prefer to snuggle up with the ladies, but while Astrid's pout is mighty fetching, I harden my heart and carry Cowie off to bed while the kiccaws follow along behind. The three birds have adapted well to life on the boat, so much so they don't gotta stay in their cage all the livelong day, or be carried around for fear of them getting blown overboard. That's because they've learned to shuffle along the deck instead of hopping around like they usually do, and while I've asked everyone to hold onto the birds whenever they can, it's too cute watching them waddle about to not give them free rein soon as we weigh anchor for the night.

Especially when they transition over to hopping about once they inside the cabin proper. Stella and Terrance get to bouncing about in sheer joy to match Frowny's rage as he hops right up in my face and kiii-caawws up a storm before landing on Cowie's chest while the sweet, fluffy calf is curled up in my arms. On the plus side, Frowny ain't pecked me even once and I got Chrissy and Elodie to thank for it, especially the latter who knows good and well how to teach them birds to behave.

"Sorry Frowny," I say as I lay Cowie down in bed and give them both a pat and nuzzle. "Suppose I have been neglecting you just a bit." A handful of grains is all it takes to rent his love again, while Stella and Terrance are more interested in pets and scratches than filling their bellies. It ain't that Frowny's a greedy glutton or anything, but rather because his biology is changing and he needs more food to fuel that change. While most of the change is metaphysical, he's had himself a growth spurt that's got him at a full nine inches in diametre. It's odd really, because you'd think he'd grow more in height than width or depth, but his physiology is maintaining that adorably spherical shape despite ballooning so much in size.

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The difference between 6 and 9 inches might not sound like much on paper, but that there is a 237.5% increase in terms of total volume. Granted, most of that volume is air and feathers, but it's still a whole lot of growing in not very much time, so Frowny's got a real hunger which Elodie's been feeding ever since she figured out why he was so angry all the time. Makes me feel terrible it does, seeing him gobble up everything I put in front of him including strips of dried bison and smoked fish. Turns out I've been pretty much starving him since he gobbled up that Spell Core, so of course he ain't been happy. In my defense though, all the kiccaws will eat everything I put in front of them if given half the chance, so how was I supposed to know Frowny's voracious appetite wasn't just greed?

Course, I gotta show some love to Stella and Terrance too, especially when they puff up, spread their nubby wings, and get to bouncing on one foot then the other in their little side-to-side ritual dance. Elodie says it's a show of friendship and affection, one they direct towards me, and soon as I'm done getting ready for bed, I give them as much affection as I can without making a fool of myself in front of Gunnar and Harald.

Both of whom are also set up in their hammocks for the night. Not to say they've gone to sleep, as they got themselves a blanket hung from the ceiling to act as a privacy curtain so they can keep at their studies for a little bit longer without their Dancing Lights keeping me awake. Though they're better off sleeping, Harald doesn't have a turn at watch so ain't no harm in letting him study some more so long as he still gets a full 8 hours rest. I earmark 12 hours of downtime every day, from 8pm to 8am, and while that might seem like overkill, it ensures I get a full 8 hours of sleep every night with a 4-hour watch in between. Even though I ain't slinging every last Spell I can, it's always best to make it a habit of setting enough time aside for a full rest, especially when you can't travel until there's light enough to sail by.

Least I can't. There are ships with crews working in shifts so they can sail 24/7 and cut down on travel time, but I don't know these rivers well enough to navigate without light. Even with the two big old spotlights on the front of the Longhorn Belle to light our way, I'd likely run us aground trying to sail the Wayfarer at night, and just to be on the safe side, I been weighing anchor well before sunset each and every day. Most folks think sailing is easy peasy, but you gotta think ten, twenty, thirty moves in advance, because if you're reacting on the waters, then they can easily take you for a ride as you get caught up in all manner of currents pulling you this way and that. The Wayfarer is especially notorious for this, as even though the main channel is more or less a straight shot from Last Chance Lake to Thunder Bay, there are a myriad of tributaries feeding into the river and muddying all them waters as you pass.

While the trip upriver to the Deadlands should be simple as can be, I'd still rather have a map drawn by a local to navigate with. Things are tough enough sailing for 10 plus hours a day while cooking breakfast and dinner to boot. Least I don't have to do dishes, but even then, I'm drained by the time it comes time to sleep. Tonight I'm amped though, because while I been sleeping alone the last few nights, I finally got the animals all to myself for a change. Ain't nothing perk your spirits up better than cuddling with Cowie, and after that run in with Milton and dashing the last of Gunnar's hopes for my future, I could use a pick me up.

With Cowie cradled in my arms and the kiccaws nesting in between us, I can feel all of my gloom and stress just slip away as I fall asleep to the rhythmic kii's and caws of the snoring birds. Feels like I just closed my eyes when I hear the door to the cabin open and close. Real soft and gentle like, followed by the second lightest footsteps out of everyone I'm travelling with. An observation I make and conclude before wholly coming awake, as my brain decides there's no threat and I'm good to sleep a little longer. Every seconds counts after all, so I laze in bed and snuggle with Cowie for long as I can until Chrissy appears at my side and gives me a soft and gentle shake. Feeling a touch mischievous, I pretend not to notice just to see what she does, and the Princess does as Princesses do. Noticing how I'm sleepy, she lays her chin on my shoulder for a tick before patting my head oh so gently. Then she gets up and heads for the door like she ready to take on a double shift just so I can get some more rest.

That's Chrissy in a nutshell. We don't call her Princess because she needs looking after. No, we call her Princess because she's pure as snow and sweet as sugar, or at least that's what Uncle Raleigh used to say.

So as not to ruin her good intentions, I pretend to come awake with a bit of a stretch. "That you Chrissy?" I whisper, and she promptly replies with a soft affirmative grunt. "My turn at watch then." Giving the grumbling Cowie a kiss on the forehead, I slide out of bed and make ready to walk Chrissy to the wagon, but instead, she kicks off her boots then and there and slips into my vacated spot to snuggle up with the animals. Should've expected as much, even though I was hoping to get some more cuddle time in after my turn at watch. Ain't nothing for it, but as I turn to leave, Chrissy clings to my sleeve and doesn't let me leave.

"G'nite Princess," I say, figuring that's what she wants.

"Good night Howie," comes the reply, but her fingers keep clinging just as tight.

"Sleep tight." Those ain't the magic words, nor does, "Don't let the bedbugs bite," free me from her grip. Rather than stay silent however, Chrissy turns to face me and presents her forehead for a kiss. Quickly glancing to make sure Harald and Gunnar won't see nothing, I find their privacy blanket still hanging next to their hammocks as they snooze away, so I lean over and give Chrissy's forehead a peck. "Love you lots," I whisper, giving her hand three quick squeezes as I gently remove it from my sleeve, because much as I love to spoil Chrissy, there are limits when it's keeping me from my turn at watch.

And not only does she go along with it without a fuss, she even responds with a soft, "Love you too." Three simple words to share a sentiment I known in my heart of hearts, but I can't rightly remember the last time I heard her say the words instead of squeezing my hand three times right quick. Brings a little tear to my eye as the fires of hope burn just a little bit brighter for it. A paltry three months of Arcane Sign Language have got her improving by leaps and bounds, so who knows what the future has in store?

Soon as I stroll out onto deck, I hear the flutter of feathers from on high and hold still as Elodie drops down into my arms in kiccaw form. She's a right adorable bird she is, with her emerald green eyes opened so wide and round as she hops from one foot to the other with chest puffed and wings spread in a kiccaw dance. Time was I thought she was just being silly, but now I'm seeing them troubles Carter done told me about the day I found out about Elodie.

"Elodie was too young when she came into the Spell." That's what he said, word for word. "She never learned how to separate herself from the beast. She gives herself wholly over to the Spirit, becomes a combination of human and animal that is both more and less at the same time."

Words I understood individually, but I didn't really know what he was talking about until the second day of our trip here when she panicked just because I ran out ahead on a lark. Even though she knows good and well that we were having ourselves a race, her horse Spirit panicked, because that's not how a herd behaves. They run as a group, and any horse left behind is vulnerable, especially a young one like the filly Elodie Wildshapes into. Didn't matter that we was just having fun and she knew I'd come back for her. The horse in her didn't know that, so she panicked and cried out like she was about to be slaughtered, because in her horse brain, that's exactly what would happen without the security of a herd around her.

And this little birdy dance here? She's not just dancing for funsies or to be cute. She's doing it because the kiccaw in her demands it. The bird knows Elodie's feelings, so they're expressing them as the bird would, while the girl has little to no say in it. That's why it made sense in her mind to take shelter in the middle of the lake when she got spooked by the Mindspire, because she was a sea lion and ain't no safer place for them than out in deep waters. Same for her subsequent fight, when she Shaped into a Diamondclaw and put her back to a tree, one she wanted to climb but couldn't get up without exposing her back to them Mudkippers and Merhounds.

It all has to do with the light-hearted liveliness with which Elodie approaches life. That blissful innocence of hers is charming to be sure, but it's also what gets her in trouble when she Wildshapes. From what I can glean, there needs to be harmony between the caster and the animal Spirit, but Elodie gives too much of herself over to the Spirit and runs the risk of losing herself to it. Cute as her little kiccaw dance might be, the fact that she does it with all the expectations that I respond in kind is an issue I can't overlook if I want to help her find her path or whatever.

So I talk to her like I would if she were a person and refrain from petting her head or scritching her chin. Sure I seen her daddy do it, but he probably understands how to talk to her in a way she'd understand without crossing signals like she would when she's with me. "Do kiccaws see better in the darkness?" I ask. Puffing up in delight, Elodie pauses her dance to bounce in my hand and chirps out an affirmative. "How much better?" Pointing out towards the darkness of shore, I ask, "Can you see the trees out there?" Another affirmative chirp follows, and I spend some time having a conversation with Elodie to remind her she's a regular person in kiccaw form.

A kiccaw wouldn't have to think about how well and how far they see in the dark or count how many of each tree is out there and what colors can they not see. Nothing fancy, but it's all I can really think of for now. Gotta remind Elodie that she's a person first and a kiccaw second, and get her thinking in that mindset all the time, even when she's in bird form. I'm sure her parents and rest of her tribe have tried too, but I figure a bit of extra conversation couldn't hurt, especially since it keeps her from dancing and bouncing about like any other kiccaw.

Course, this is also eating into her sleep time, so I don't say much when she yawns and settles down in the palm of my prosthetic hand. I'm much more aware of the fact that she's an actual woman instead of an animal these days, so I try to preserve her modesty whenever I can. Only so much I can do though, especially when she's so prone to stripping down to her birthday suit on a whim. Besides, Astrid tends to get all glowy and embarrassed when I show up at the wagon while she's sleeping inside, so I ain't about to walk over and toss a kiccaw inside. Even if said kiccaw is Elodie who snores the same as the other birds, making me wonder if it's just how their faces are built.

Whatever the reason, it's adorable as all heck and puts a smile on my face as I get to making my rounds. With everyone asleep, I can finally break out the Red Sun Balm to soothe my aching hand, and the absence of pain is a wonderous thing. To keep myself from falling asleep, I bring out my Spellbook and break out a Dancing Light so I can familiarize myself with the new Spell Formulas I've penned in but have yet to Prepare. Formulas I got from the Arcane Grimoire which I asked Aunty Ray to quietly deposit into her bank safety deposit box, because I ain't so sure I want to Attune to it yet. I'll ask for it back when I got time to really settle down and read it cover to cover, but until such a time, I got no reason to carry it around if I ain't gonna Attune to it. Got no pressing need to, so I might as well kick that stone down the road for little longer yet.

That said, I took Photos of every page before handing it over to Aunty Ray, which has the added benefit of sidestepping any Spells Primed to go off when someone reads the book. Or at least that's how it's supposed to work, but I won't really know for sure until something comes up. For now though, I'm happy to make use of the Spell Formulas I done copied down, as well as all the notes instructing me how to properly Prepare them. As Mr. Thornwick said, there were 88 pages in the Grimoire, with a grand total of 11 Spell Formulas available to learn. 8 of those spells were split between First and Second Order, and they took up a total of 32 pages, while 3 Third Order Spells took up the remaining 54 pages.

Which I know is only 86 pages total, but the middle two pages ain't legible. Thems the pages that are made from Hihiirokane, or at least what Mr. Thornwick thought might be Hihiirokane. When I look at them with my eyes, I see a bunch of Qinese characters carved into the reddish gold metal, but every time I try to focus and read them, the characters just sort of slip away like they hiding from my gaze. Even happens in a Photo, which makes for one impressive Enchantment, one that makes it look like normal writing, but I'm guessing only the Attuned can read what's on there. Curiosity killed the cat though, and I ain't going out like that, so I'll settle for the 11 Spells on 86 pages for now.

Unfortunately for me, there wasn't no restricted Spells showing. Made sense once I thought about it, because the last thing my mother's brother would've wanted was for the Grimoire to be taken away by the Federal Government if someone spotted a Restricted Spell Formula. While not many can read Qinese, math is a language unto itself, and if I can recognize a Spell from glancing at its Formula, there gotta be others out there who can do the same. As such, there ain't no fun new Spells for me to learn to Blast Abby with. No Lance to take out Proggies. No Flaming Cloud to funnel hordes of Gobbos into. Not even a Dragon's Breath so I can pair with Cowie, which was a real kick in the pants to be sure.

Not to say there weren't any useful Spells in the Grimoire. Fact is, they all looked mighty useful in their own way, even the Spell Formulas I already had. Not because they was any different. Like I said, math is its own language, so the Spell Formula don't change just because it's from the Qinese. No, the value comes from the notes scribbled into the margins and tacked on after the fact, notes written by my mother's brother so I'd have an easier time not only Prepping them Spells, but also familiarizing myself with them once I got them in my head.

Much like how I learned to Conjure up two Mage Hands instead of one from my mama's notes, her brother has some interesting things to say about the various Spells. Now I ain't put any of it to practice just yet, mostly because I ain't done translating his notes, but that'll come in time. For now, I'm just going over the math for when I inevitably settle down to Prep my chosen Spell for real, and make no mistake, it'll be a fun one. I could've made things easier on myself and picked a First or Second Order Spell to focus on, but I'm already spoiled for choice and got a solid couple Spell Lists for my daily use, ones which ain't gonna change until I can fit a thirteenth Spell into the mix. Since that was the case, I figured I might as well go big and pick out a Third Order Spell to learn, one that I won't need to have Prepped all the time, but could come in real handy if I had the option to do so whenever I pleased.

Again, it'll take some doing to learn, as I've only really got the math available to me until I translate the notes in their entirety. I'm making slow progress there, because I was a terrible student when it came to Qinese, so terrible my daddy gave up on making me say the words right and had me focus on reading them instead. Even then, I wasn't all that good at it, because Qinese is a language unlike most others. For one, it's not based on Latin, which makes it a lot harder to pick up seeing how all the rules are different. Me, I can understand enough French and Spanish to get by because I can read and understand Latin, if not speak it. Qinese though? It's a whole different beast, and one I don't much enjoy learning.

Course, I don't do no translating here and now, as it's my turn on watch. I just glance at the numbers every now and then and do some calculations while making my rounds on deck. 4 hours pass in the blink of an eye, especially with Elodie here to keep me company in kiccaw form. Course, she'll turn back into a girl sooner or later, but again, I don't want to disturb Astrid or come across like a creeper trying to get an eyeful of her in her nightgown. Instead, I wake Gunnar for his turn at watch, then carefully slide Elodie into bed with Chrissy while making sure the green-eyed girlie will be covered when she Wildshapes back to her normal form. Ain't no need to worry about her accidentally merging with someone, crushing the animals, or anything like that, though I got no earthly idea how it works. It just does, because it's magic, and those incomprehensible inner workings is what makes it magic.

As for me? Even though I know neither one of them would mind if I climbed into bed beside them, I take a seat on the deck with my back to the girls. Not exactly comfortable, but I've slept in worse, and when morning comes, I'm only feeling a little stiff. My missing hand still hurts something fierce, maybe even more than yesterday, but I power through it because it's hard to hide a dab of balm sitting over your upper lip. Instead, I make a big pot of coffee and wrap the very naked Elodie in my duster before bringing her out for a morning run. One that goes without incident as I do what I can to keep conversing with Elodie to reinforce her mindset as a person first, and far as I can tell, she just loves the attention.

Since we about to head into town, I cook a simple breakfast of hot oats and fruit with a side of French toast. From there, it's just a simple matter of heading downriver for a few hours before joining the long line of ships waiting to dock at Ashbend. The town is named for the bend in the river, but there ain't no ash trees around it. No, the Ash part of the name comes from the military ships sailing down from up north, ones bearing the cremated remains of the heroes who done fallen in the Deadlands. Can't be burying corpses for Soulless Abby to inhabit after all, so best to burn them whenever you can. The First Nations got ways of turning their burial grounds sacred, and so do the various churches, but even then, it requires upkeep that could be better spent on space for the living instead. That's why it's cremations for everyone who steps foot inside the quarantine zone, because even 24 hours is too long to leave a body out without proper protection.

A sobering reminder of what I'm walking into, but ain't all that worse than the Badlands.

As for Ashbend… Functional is how I would describe it. I been here before, but it wasn't much of anything back in those days, and while it's certainly a whole lot bigger and busier nowadays, it's still got that same makeshift vibe. Like they built most things just to make due with plans on improving it later on down the line, only they never got around to doing it. That's the thing about temporary measures though, as they tend to be permanent more often than not. Ain't no point fixing something that ain't broke, and that sort of philosophy can be seen in Ashford even before we dock. Ain't no stonework to be found, as it's all woodwork as far as the eye can see. There's a straight, packed dirt road that runs from the dock to the gates and all the way to the other side of town, That's the main thoroughfare as it were, and all that remains of the original military outpost the town was built up from. I know this because it's the only straight line in the entire town, as every other building was haphazardly built up all around it, as evidenced by the winding, narrow streets that came about organically as opposed to the nice, straight grids most urban planners prefer. The remnants of the original wood log stockade wall are still present, with newer wooden walls raised up alongside it in various patchwork fortifications that show their age in their manner of construction. It goes from rough-hewn logs to smooth, rounded ones, then half logs, irregular wooden slats, and finally, nice, neat, rectangular planks that look factory cut.

The docks follow the same principle, with ratty, ramshackle constructs scattered in amongst neat, rectangular docks with treated wood and steel posts to tie off on. Following the bellowed orders of the dockmaster, I pull in at a nice, wide, sturdy dock and tie off the Longhorn Belle while Gunnar stands ready with a fake face, a fake smile, and all of our papers to present to the dockmaster whenever he gets around to us. Harald and Astrid are all bundled up in scarves and hooded cloaks, because they're both coming along with us into town, and Gunnar is too because I'll be damned if I leave anyone alone on board again. Better if I kept them all in my sights, but I'm not expecting too much trouble. With Ashbend being the front door into the American power base, there's a whole lot of traffic and trade that comes through here, so they got a sizable Ranger garrison sitting ready to help the Sheriff with whatever may come.

Which is unfortunate, because today that happens to be me. Gunnar don't get a chance to ply his charms as instead of a dock official, it's the Sheriff who comes a marching up to us with a bunch of armed deputies and three Rangers who ain't looking all that friendly. Couldn't have been more than five minutes since we docked, so I get the feeling these men were waiting on me to arrive, and my suspicions prove true when the Sherrif stops behind cover at the end of the docks and shouts, "Howie Zhu. This is Sheriff Beauregard of Ashbend speaking. I have in my hand a warrant for your arrest signed by circuit court Judge Abram Ketter. Under the authority of the United Federation of American States, you stand accused of Obstruction of a Federal Official in the line of duty. Lay down your arms and come out peaceably. Should you resist, I am bound by law to take you in by force. Let's not make this ugly now, so what say you?"

Bull-fucking-shit is what I say. Obstruction of a Federal Official in the line of duty? Come on now. All I done was refuse to be strong armed back to New Hope. Seems like Milton took my rejection personally and rushed home to set this up. Ain't no helping it though, not after asking to see the warrant and confirm everything is on the up and up. Which it is, so with no other options left to me, I disarm myself and lock my weapons up while apologizing to Gunnar. "If you got any contacts in the Rangers, now might be the time to talk to them about seeing you through the rest of the trip," I say, trying to get through this quick as I can since them Deputies be looking mighty twitchy. "I'd be grateful if you could look after Chrissy and Elodie until I can make arrangements for them." Turning to the girls in question, I give them a smile and reach out to squeeze their hands. As an afterthought, I pluck off my hat and place it on Elodie's head so she can record what happens while I'm sitting in jail. Chrissy don't like hats or the recording, but Elodie perks right up when she wears it, only to sink back down when she remembers I'm about to be arrested.

"Stay safe you two," I say. "I'm sure this is all just a misunderstanding and we'll have it all sorted out soon enough, so don't get into any trouble now, you hear?"

All that's left is to hand Gunnar my cash before disembarking with palms forward and arms out to the side. It's just like old times really, except this time, I don't bother with the smile. Won't change nothing, so I do what I can to look calm and neutral while they read me my rights and clap me in anti-magic manacles before dragging me off to jail.

Luckily, there's a silver lining to all this. Before I left, I had the foresight to ask Mr. Tillman for a referral to a local lawyer around these parts, so at least I'll save on the travel fees

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