Warhammer YA fanfic: Celeste part 1

[KrrNiGit]

The Painty Men podcast did a bit wondering why there was no warhammer YA fiction. It got stuck in my head so I wrote an intro chapter for Celeste. Happy for peoples thoughts and feedback.

 

CELESTE 

 

Waking in Salzburg 

 

The light of Hysh peeked over the horizon, outlining the peaked roofs of the sleepy village of Salzburg. The coolness of a new spring hung about the town like a cloak. Salzburg was nestled deep in Ghyran; the Realm of Life. It was a quiet place now. A long time had passed since Chaos was banished and Allarielle was reinstalled as the undisputed ruler of the realm. From the outside you would say it was an idyllic existence.  

 

As light peeked in through the window and Celeste rose sleepily, pushing herself up from the crumpled sheets on her bed. She slept in the attic of her family’s small cottage. Seeing her reflection in the old mirror, Celeste sighed. The soot from the previous days training still clung to the corners of her face. She hadn’t had the energy to clean it the night before. Even that grime didn’t hide her straw coloured hair and sharp Azyrite features. Her parents had come to Ghryan and Salzburg shortly after Sigmar’s Stormcast Eternals had freed the realm. She set about pulling her hair into a rough bun, not wanting more cruel comments from her marksmen instructor, Maximillian. Maximillian was a vicious little man, and thinking of him this early in her day would only ruin it so she did her best to put him out of her mind.  

 

Growing up she always thought she would apprentice as an alchemist or a teacher, not a guard. She loved to wander the glades around the town when she could, picking through the wide variety of plants available. Exploring fallen logs for rare herbs, or under stones for mushrooms. The small, quiet places fascinated her and she loved to spend long hours wandering bare footed in the fresh grass or laying by streams and brooks, listening to the bird song and other sounds of life surrounding her. If she wasn’t wandering outside in the wilds, she was in her small room reading. Books were piled haphazardly around her. Books on a wide variety of topics as her eclectic interests dictated. She had an intent interest in things that captured her attention, it was just the rest of the things that she couldn’t hold on to. Those seemed to slip from her mind as quickly as they were introduced to her. 

 

Avoiding the low beams of her attic bedroom from memory, she crossed the room to the basin of water to wake herself and to try and wash the remaining soot from her face. It had taken her some sixteen years but she had finally mastered waking without banging her head into the beams, she thought to herself proudly. Growing up she had gained a reputation for clumsiness, often wearing the evidence in welts and bruises. It still surprised her that the town guard had taken her on for an apprentice hand gunner. Her parents thought that a recipe for disaster and she thought her trainer agreed.  

 

The town’s bell tower chimed and Celeste was already running late.  

 

Running down the stairs from her room, she pulled on her hose and puffed doublet as she went. Heading straight for the door pushing on it to leave. It was her third day as part of the town’s guard and she can’t be late.  

 

‘Forgetting something,’ her mother asked from the table. Celeste stopped in the doorway, turning to face the floppy hat her mother was proffering towards her. It was new, puffed and coloured in the style of her regiment with a small stubby white feather tucked into the brim. The cap she loved, bright blue and gold, made from soft felt and satin. The feather, the sign of her rank as apprentice, she did not love.  

 

Blushing at her forgetfulness, she snatched up the offered hat and turned to leave once again. She surely would have received another verbal thrashing from Maximillian if she had forgotten her cap.  

 

‘Love you,’ her mother called out. Celeste paused in the doorway for a split second, mumbling her reply and then burst out into the morning air. 

 

 

 

[KrrNiGit]

The brisk morning air stung against Celeste’s blushing skin. Her shoes clacked against the cobbles as she worked her way hurriedly through the sleepy town of Salzburg. Celeste had spent all her life in the little town. Surrounded by the wilds of Ghyran, life was abundant everywhere; bright green moss grew between the cobbles, wild flowers poked their way through cracks in the walls and bird song was ever present in her ears. Others may have called it idyllic, but for Celeste it was boring. 

 

Salzburg sat atop a small hill surrounded by green forest. The forests hid the town, making it appear almost by magic as you walked down the northern road. Home to several hundred people, all migrants from Sigmar’s realm of Heazens; Azyr it was in the wilderness of Ghryan by the assent of the realm’s goddess Allarielle. Salzburg was tolerated more than accepted if the guards’ scuttlebutt was to be believed. Allarielle favoured her children, the Sylvaneth, beings of tree and spirit that fostered life in all its growing abundance and defended it with the ferocity of a mother dracoline over the mostly human migrants. The Azyrites were accepted in part due to Sigmar and his Stormcast’s role in liberating the realm from the corrupting touch of Nurgle. As part of this alliance, the City of Hammerhall was founded. It was in Hammerhall’s orbit that the tiny town lay. Several days journey it provided the city with rare lumber and Aqua Ghyranis harvested from the pools and streams in the deep woods around the town.  

 

Aqua Ghyranis was both currency and life for the people of Ghyran. It was the lifeblood of the realm, containing the magical essence of life within it. There was no better salve or balm available in all the realms and it was highly sought after. In the centre of Salzburg loomed the great vat. A squat tower and tallest building in the small village. This was where the Aqua Ghyranis was stored before being collected at midsummer and shipped out to Hammerhall and from there to the realms. The “tower” was more of a brass barrel, disproportionally large compared to the sleepy town. At this hour the tower cast a shadow across the square making Celeste shiver as she crossed it. 

 

The bell tower chimed again, abruptly rousing Celeste from her day dreams.  

 

‘Damn,’ she said under her breath, Celeste was late.  

 

- - -  

 

She redoubled her efforts and sped towards the guardhouse with its attached training yard. Bursting through the gate as the third bell chimed she had made it... just.  

 

The guardhouse was set against the small ring wall that surrounded the town. The house was a long and low building with a heavy thatched roof. A dirt yard separated the guardhouse from the town demarking the training ground set aside for the guards to practice their profession. The town wall was barely taller than a man, and was dwarfed by the trees surrounding the village. Every day the halberdiers would march out and clear the forest to clear the firing lines for the hand gunners and every night the trees would grow back. This was the struggle of living in the realm of life. More a store and mess room than a guard house it had always seemed adequate enough for the sleepy village Celeste had always thought. 

 

Celeste, paused in the entrance to catch her breath. Then before she knew it she was knocked to the dirt by a heavy weight. Grasping out her hands found the hard muscle and thick arms pinning her to the ground. The skin was bared in preparation for a hard day’s work. It took her a split second to realise that she had run into another guard on their way to clear the growth surrounding the town. Celeste began to apologise looking up at her fellow guard. Looking down at her was Toumas, with his piercing green eyes. She and Toumas had been friends growing up though he was a year older than her. They had spent countless hours wandering the glades surrounding Salzburg together lost in their own thoughts and the beauty of the realm. Celeste’s apology stammered in her throat. Toumas untangled himself from Celeste and stood up, offering a hand in aid. Celeste froze and she felt the heat spread across her face and before she could string her apology together he was gone.  

 

It was the barely comprehensible cursing of Maximillian shocked her out of her state. Hurriedly she picked herself up and joined the line of other trainee handgunners. Standing in her spot at the end of the line, Celeste wanted to bury herself and hide from her embarrassment. She didn’t know what had come over her. Toumas had changed much in the year he had been part of the guard. The physically demanding nature of his job had hardened his arms and broadened his back and a small patch of dark curly hair had sprouted in the centre of his chest. His brown wavy curls had been cropped short as per the regiment’s regulations though he couldn’t grow a moustache yet as was the fashion of his regiment, his piercing gaze remained. 

 

Then Maximillian was directly in front of her screaming into her face. She could smell the fried Hornhecht fish he had for breakfast and see small chunks of it in the spittle that flew from his mouth. She reddened further, redoubling her efforts to shrink into herself. Maximillian was a rotund little man. Well past his middle age, wrinkles and grey hairs ran riot through the shock of black a top his head. Old scars accentuated the roughness of his character along with the coarse stubble on his chins. His uniform, while matching to Celeste’s was faded with age. There were signs of patches and repairs if you looked carefully. Each done with an attention to detail making them blend into the whole. He also wore a hat in a similar style to Celeste’s, though instead of the white feather of an apprentice he wore the long black feather of a master. When it caught the light just right, the feather appeared almost luminous and alive with lustre. Maximillian had been the master marksman and part of the town guard as long as Celeste could remember and he had always been a ******.  

 

Celeste froze. She tried to force herself to speak. She was only able to force out a small squeak, her eyes firmly fixed upon the ground at her feet. Long seconds passed as Celeste felt her temperature rising. Then Maximillian thrust her hat into Celeste’s face. It had fallen off when she collided with Toumas and she hadn’t realised it.  

 

It was going to be a rough day, Celeste thought. Maximillian was going to make sure of that.  

 

[KrrNiGit]

Tough Training 

 

It had been a rough day. Maximillian had spent it at her shoulder, yelling constantly. She fumbled with her handgun, struggling with the simple action. All her shots all went wide. It was terrible, and if anything Maximillian only got louder as the day went on. She was covered in the grime of repeated black powder use, her ears rang from the sound and the yelling. It was too much for her. Celeste’s nerve frayed. She needed to get out. Blurting out an excuse about her gun being jammed, she fled to the gunsmith’s shop not waiting for a response. 

 

Slamming the door behind her, she slumped down into the cool, dark quiet of the gunsmith’s shop. The overwhelming noise of the firing of her fellow gunners was muffled and was replaced by her racing heart. She breathed in haggardly.  

 

‘Calm down,’ she screamed internally to herself, ‘breathe,’ she tried to command herself. Repeating her mantra over and over until she could get her heart and breathing back under control.  

 

As she listened to the thump of her heart, she swore she could hear the steady chop chop chop of the guards beyond the wall cutting wood. The image of Toumas sweating with the effort of his work came unbidden to her mind. She shook her head to clear the image from her mind. ‘What was happening to her,’ she wondered. 

 

‘Who’s that?’ a gravelly voice croaked. 

 

Celeste looked up at a broad duardin face. In the dark of the shop, his broad features caught the few beams of light looking like a craggy outcrop. Glinting from his broad head was a set of a dozen lenses of various sizes and styles. The juxtaposition caught Celeste by surprise and she let out a single laugh before catching herself.  

 

‘I’m Celeste,’ she blurted out, ‘an apprentice hand gunner.’ 

 

Celeste lifted her handgun towards the duardin cogsmith, as evidence of her claim.   

 

‘Fine work,’ the duardin said. ‘Is there something wrong with it?’ 

 

Before Celeste could reply, the duardin jumped off his high stool disappearing from view behind his workbench. Then upbruptly he was in front of Celeste, carefully examining the gun as he flicked through his various lens. Snatching the weapon from Celeste’s hands he turned it over, checking the mechanisms intensely.  

 

‘Good work, good work,’ he said, ‘though that frizzen is a little lose and the hammer could do with some adjusting.’ 

 

With that the duardin reached into his tool belt, rooting around for something specific. As he did so the door burst open and Maximillian entered with a shout, ‘there you are girl!’ 

 

Before Maximillian could get another word out the duardin was upon him, thrusting the handgun into his waist. 

 

‘What are you doing to my guns!’ The duardin gruffed. ‘Look at this,’ thrusting the gun again into Maximillian’s gut. ‘The frizzen’s loose, the hammer is out of alignment, you are as likely to blow your own head up as anything else, keeping these in good order is my responsibility, what am I to tell the guild, mistreating good iron like that.’ On and on, the duardin went, not letting Maximillian get a word in edgewise and always pushing him roughly to the door. Then Maximillian was gone, the door shut and darkness returned. 

 

‘Now where were we,’ the duardin said, looking once again to the weapon in his meaty hands. Returning to his work bench the duardin hrmphed as he pulled himself up onto his stool, cranking a lever slowly opening a panel in the roof, flooding the workbench with light. He sat hunched over the handgun, fussing intently and murmuring to himself. Now Celeste could see him properly. He had thick light brown hair, pulled back tightly into a pony tail. His craggy features weren’t that lined with 

 

age, Celeste thought he almost looked young for a duardin. His beard was tightly braided and tucked neatly into his work apron. His hands were broader than a mans, but worked with a meticulous speed and a dexterity belying their size. All his proportions were off, he was only maybe as tall as Celeste’s waist, but he was broader by far. He was stocky but not fat. Solidly built, like a statue carved from stone. 

 

‘I’m Celeste,’ Celeste squeaked rising to stand and offering the duardin her hand.  

 

The duardin stopped, looking up from his work at her. He quickly flicked through a number of lens until Celeste was in focus.  

 

‘I’m Thorpe, journeyman cogsmith, member in good standing of the Hammerhal gunsmith’s guild’ the duardin said before returning to his work. Celeste stood there in shock for a second at his abruptness. She did not want to go back outside to Maximillian and his yelling so she stood there. After a while she began to notice the little details around the gun shop. It was a small space, dominated by the workbench in the middle of the room. Off to one side was a small forge and metal working anvil. Various flasks, tubes and containers were strewn about. Against one wall was a series of glass boxes filled with various materials, roots, tree barks, powders of all colours, quicksilver and even more exotic fair. Celeste wandered over and began looking over them. 

 

‘Are you an alchemist?’ she asked. 

 

‘Alchemist? Pah! I told you I’m a cogsmith! I search the realms uncovering the secrets behind them, I seek to know how Grungni’s great machine ticks.’ Thorpe exclaimed.  

 

Gesturing towards the samples around the room Thorpe continued; ‘I search, I examine, I discover, I learn and understand. I take all things down to their smallest parts and I truly know them. Once I know them, I then use them to build something new,’ thrusting the handgun towards her as if to emphasise his point. 

 

‘Oh,’ Celeste trailed off, embarrassed, her eyes returning to study the wall.  

 

Then there was a click, a fizz followed by a BANG. Thorpe had triggered the handgun.  

 

‘The black powder that fires this weapon, I make from the tools Grungni has set around us.’ He said hopping down and moving towards the wall of samples.  

 

‘Fire sand from Aqhsy, silver salts from Chamon and a little something from closer to home to give it something to burn,’ he said pointing to a damp ground powder.  

 

‘Charred wormwood?’ Celeste asked. 

 

‘Wormwood... yes actually. You’ve a keen eye little one.’ Thorpe said clearly astonished in her response. 

 

‘Why wormwood?’ Celeste asked without thinking, ‘it’s so dense and wet, I would think it wouldn’t burn well.’ 

 

‘Well what would you suggest,’ Thorpe asked slightly taken aback.  

 

‘Oh, there’s ground Bitterspurt mushrooms, but they’re hard to come by in decent quantities this time of year. How about growing strangle vines? Though they are hard to cut and transport with their poisonous barbs. Stringy haunt wood? It’s light, compacts easily and burns bright and quickly and without much smoke? It repels water too.’ 

 

‘Right.’ Thorpe exclaimed as he practically leapt off his stool. ‘Time to take me to this haunt wood.’  

 

Thorpe grabbed Celeste’s hand practically dragging her outside with him. Celeste was astonished at his iron grip, it was like being held in a vice. Not painful but immovable and inescapable. Dazzled by the light Celeste followed along behind him like a lost puppy. 

 

Pausing at the gates from the training yard Thorpe stopped, barely looking back and boomed in his deep duardin voice, ‘I need this one Maxi, I return her when I’m done.’  

 

With that Thorpe and Celeste left. Celeste did not look back. 

[NinthMusketeer]

I dunno if I'm really qualified to be offering C&C, but I can definitely say that it's hard putting ones own work out there and I respect you for that! Thanks for giving this dusty old narrative section some narrative to chew on!

[KrrNiGit]

That’s ok, I definitely wasn’t qualified to write it 😁

 

I really appreciate your response anyway, it’s much nicer than the silence. 

[KrrNiGit]

3. 

Spring to summer 

 

From then on Celeste split her time between helping Thorpe and training with Maximillian. She and Thorpe would spend hours collecting samples, processing them and analysing them before storing them away in his workshop. She admired his drive to learn as much as possible but still didn’t understand what he meant by “trying to know” the heart of things. That said, she much preferred the time spent with Thorpe to her time training with Maximillian. 

 

Maximillian was definitely annoyed with that but couldn’t say anything to either Celeste or Thorpe. Without Thorpe and his black powder their handguns were little more than clubs and Thorpe, Maximillian and even Celeste knew it. This unspoken knowledge helped build her confidence and she was able to ignore Maximillian a little better and her aim improved accordingly. 

 

She hardly saw Toumas still, despite both being in the town guard. When she did though her words caught in her throat. She tried to push him out of her mind, but every now and then the thought of him would pop in unbidden. Thinking of him would bring a fresh flush to her cheeks. 

 

This was the pattern of Celeste’s life as early spring, with its crisp mornings and clear days was replaced by a hot, sticky summer. Clear spring skies replaced with a constant summer haze. The heat had the town on edge, and nobody more so than the town guard. Celeste thought that even the wildlife seemed on edge.

 

     * * * 

 

One morning as Celeste was walking to the training yard she noted how full the Aqua Ghyranis vats in the town square was getting. The midsummer festival was fast approaching. It was the time where the caravan from Hammerhall came to Salzburg to collect their stores of Aqua Ghyranis bringing with them a huge armoured convoy, troops and their camp followers to town. It was a high point of the year and a great celebration. Everyone looked forward to it. Celeste liked to mentally marked where the Aqua Ghyranis was up to and every day as it inched closer to full, closer to collection and therefore closer to the festival.

 

Walking into the training yard a messenger bumped past Celeste. She smiled to herself remembering the day where she and Toumas had bumped into one another and how embarrassed she’d been then. Not thinking anything more about it Celeste entered the gunshop. Thorpe was there, turning a letter in his hand, hiding it hastily when Celeste entered. 

 

‘Oh, you’re here,’ Thorpe muttered, his mind clearly on the letter more than on her. ‘We need to get some of that stringy hauntwood you were blathering on about,’ he stated slightly more gruffly than normal.

 

‘I know it’s been hard to find, the woodsmen must’ve cleared out a lot of the local copses to help store all the Aqua Ghyranis, did you see the vat? I’ve never seen it so full,’ Celeste replied. 

 

‘Aqua Ghyranis?’ Thorpe said sardonically, ‘pah, just get me my sample girl or what good are ya.’

 

Thorpe’s rebuttal stung Celeste more than she was willing to admit, ‘there’s one place they probably wouldn’t have harvested, it’s a bit of a trek and you couldn’t have gotten their carts up there.’

 

‘You go and get me a sample then,’ Thorpe replied at her unusually snappily. ‘I’ve more important things to do than chase more mystery trees with you.’

 

A sudden thought came to her. ‘It’s going to take me all day and I might need some help...’ she trailed off.

 

‘Just grab some idiot then and get out of my beard,’ and that was all the excuse Celeste needed.

 

Heading straight out towards the town gate, Celeste waved at Maximillian as she passed, ignoring his barely concealed annoyance. Once outside the town wall she paused and listened for the sound of wood cutting. It was time to get herself some help.

 

Walking towards the sound of the town guards clearing the trees from the wall, Celeste stopped short and watched them for a moment. Seeing Toumas, she took a deep breath and readied herself. She puffed out her chest, stood up straight, fixed her cap and put on her best airs of importance. She went straight up to the old sergeant who was directing the guards work from the shade. 

 

‘Sergeant,’ Celeste said trying to project a level of command in her voice she did not feel, ‘the cogsmith needs one of your men to support his work.’ Barely pausing to spot Toumas from the crowd who had stopped their labours to see what the commotion was about. ‘That one will do.’

 

Bemused more than anything the sergeant replied, ‘well if the old cogsmith demands it, we obeys,’ proffering a sarcastic bow. Celeste ignored the sarcasm in it. 

 

‘Good. Well come along then boy,’ and before the sergeant or anyone else could say anything more Celeste walked off into the woods and confidently as she could muster. 

 

It was a few minutes before she stopped and looked to see if Toumas had followed. She breathed a sigh of relief. He had followed. 

 

* * *

 

Turning away from him once again she said, ‘we are heading to that small glen we found with the stringy hauntwood sapplings where we... where you... you know...’ Her voice trailed off and her face reddened.

 

‘Where what?’ Toumas replied trying to sound gruff.

 

Celeste turned and looked daggers at him.

 

‘Where I picked you a little flower,’ Toumas said shrugging his broad shoulders.

 

‘Yes,’ Celeste said quietly, ‘it was the colour of my eyes.’

 

   * * * 

 

Their journey continued on the same way with Celeste trying to break the silent tension and Toumas barely responding if at all. It hadn’t been this difficult last time they had talked, she thought. 

 

After an hour or so of painful silence they came at least upon the little glen from their shared childhood adventures, and there at the darkest corner was a collecting of tall, sinewy branches. Pale white with ****** ever few feet, it was stingy hauntwood. 

 

‘Well, there it is, let me at it,’ Toumas said brashly, gripping his axe. 

 

‘Wait,’ Celeste called, but Toumas ignored her and swung at the tree. 

 

As his axe hit the branch, it seemed to absorb the force, bending at the ****** like a multiple jointed snake. Toumas swung again and again, each time to little or no effect. After a few minutes he was breathing hard and glistening with his exertion. 

 

‘Stop, stop,’ Celeste said, grabbing Toumas’ arm, ‘don’t you remember anything from our lessons. To harvest hauntwood you need to cut it at the knuckles.’

 

She took a small knife from her belt and put a neat slice around a ****** of hauntwood, cleanly severing the bark. Bending the branch down, she beckoned to Toumas, ‘now use you axe.’

 

Toumas’ next blow nearly severed the branch completely. The power of it shocked Celeste as it reverberated up her arms as she held the branch down. Working together they quickly had a neat bundle of hauntswood ready to go. With their work done they sat together on the soft grass of the glen. Leaning back and resting on their arms, their hands were no more than a few inches apart. Each time their eyes met, Celeste smiled involuntarily and looked away. She swore his eyes were smiling back.

 

After what felt like too short a time to Celeste, Toumas sprung to his feet, ‘we’d better head back.’ 

 

Celeste started to complain and ask for a few more minutes but there was something about the look on his face that brokered no further discussion. 

 

  * * * 

 

By the time they returned to Salzburg it was almost dark. 

 

‘Thanks for all your help today Toumas,’ Celeste said smiling and looking at her feet, ‘it was nice to get out of the town with you.’

 

Toumas mumbled softly in reply. 

 

‘There you are girl,’ Thorpe exclaimed as her shot forward to meet the pair. ‘Where have you been, it’s almost nightfall. You never know what’s about those blasted woods at night?’

 

‘Look here, we’ve got the hauntwood,’ Celeste said proudly. Turning to show what Toumas had been carrying to the duardin. When she turned, Toumas was gone and on the ground was the neat bundle of white wood. 

 

Thorpe, his anger forgotten, pushed past the stunned Celeste and began to closely examine the stringy hauntwood. 

 

‘This might actually do,’ Thorpe said almost to himself, ‘course I’ll need to dry and powder it first. Water repellent powder. I’ll be known from Shyish to Azyr. The most famous duardin since Bugmansson. Then even those fools at the guild couldn’t hold back my masters rank.’

 

Thorpe trailed off enthralled in the small stack of lumber before him. Celeste recovering from the shock of Toumas’ sudden disappearance took a step back. She had learned to leave Thorpe when we was in such a state, and she was tired. It had been a long and confusing day. 

 

As she turned to go she saw it, a small flower. It was pale blue with upturned petals. Thorpe had absentmindedly knocked it from atop the bunch of logs as he busily looked them over. Picking it up, Celeste smiled to herself and practically floated all the way home.

 

[KrrNiGit]

4. 

A true guard

 

Over the following weeks, Celeste hardly saw Thorpe and when she did he was muttering to himself. Ever since they had brought back the stringy hauntwood Thorpe had been obsessed. She had also not seen Toumas, not even the short hellos and glimpses she had gotten used to, though she did look out for him. This left her spending more time in Maximillian’s company. The increasing heat had not helped Maximillian’s mood either. His antagonism seemed to get steadily worse, making Celeste almost look back fondly on some of their initial interactions. 

 

Waiting for Maximillain to arrive with today’s torments Celeste stood next to some of her fellow gunners, Gunther and Heidi. While she was tolerated by her fellows, she was still an outsider amongst them due to all the time she had spent away with Thorpe. She did not begrudge the resentment they had for her as she was spared the worst of Maximillian’s attentions. 

 

‘I hears the convoy is late,’ Gunter loudly whispered to Heidi.

 

‘Trouble in the woods,’ Heidi responded, ‘my pa says that the woods are more dangerous then ever. He said they’ve been having lots of close calls gather the Aqua Ghyranis.’ 

 

Quietening her voice as she noticed Celeste nearby she continued, ‘says the beasts have become vicious and even the sylvaneth have left.’ 

 

‘They’re not the only ones who’ve left us,’ Gunter replied, ‘when was the last time you’ve seen a travelling merchant pass by? I’ve been wanting to buy a ribbon for Pip for when I ask her to the midsummer dance.’

 

‘Ooo, Pip,’ Heidi teased.

 

Celeste feeling embarrassed overhearing this personal conversation moved to her place at the end of the line. It was five bells before Maximillian showed up. It was unlike him to be late. In fact this may have been the first time Celeste could think of that she had arrived before he did. 

 

   * * * 

 

Celeste busied herself while waiting by cleaning her handgun. Noting some burnt powder in the barrel, she pulled her hankerchief from her trousers. Stuffing it down with two fingers, Celeste worked it back and forth to dislodge it. 

 

Maximillian blustered up to where the trainee handgunners had gathered. Stopping dead when he saw Celeste.

 

‘What in the realm of Shyish do you think you’re doing?!’ His face was a bright shade of red Celeste had never seen it. ‘You’ll clog the barrel cleaning it was a rag like that! That better not be charged with powder or you’ve made yourself a bomb. You’ll bloody kill yourself acting like that!’

 

‘Use a wire brush you idiot!’ He finished throwing a small brush at her, hitting her square in the face.

 

Maximillain took a few breaths to try and compose himself.

 

‘Guess what my little ones,’ he continued sarcastically, ‘you will all be on guard duty for the midsummer festival.’

 

The company groaned.

 

‘It is tradition for the trainees to show their dedication and growing professionalism by taking on their first watches during the midsummer festival. In the coming weeks before the festival I shall teach all you will need to know to keep our lovely town safe. By the end of this week, you shall walk like a real guard, talk like a real guard and act like a real guard.’

 

‘What has all this shooting training been for then,’ one of the other trainees said exasperated.

 

Maximillian rounded on the trainee like a predator who has just found a helpless morsel, ‘I, in my infinite generosity, have been teaching you how to use your tools safely. We don’t want you accidentally blowing off your own thumbs, or worse yet mine.’ Maximillian paused for laughter and when none came he continued, ‘now I will teach you how use those tools to be a guard.’

 

Maximillian forced the trainees to walk back and forth across the training yard, instructing them how to carry their guns, which side they should stow their spare powder and shot and how to call out to each other. After several hours of marching back and forth in the uncomfortable heat, Maximillian must have thought their progress acceptable enough. 

 

Turning to face the group Maximillian yelled, ‘grab your gear and follow me!’

 

He walked them all around the town wall, pointing out good firing positions, cursing the constant growth and the laziness of the halberdiers for not clearing it well enough or far enough. Whenever one of the trainees held their weapon incorrectly, or slouched, Maximillian would pause his instructions and berate them. The heat had not dampened his temper. 

 

Upon completing a full rotation of the town, Maximillian gathered his trainees together forcing them to stand in the upright posture he had shown them and split them up into watches. Each watch was to work together to complete the overlapping circuits that he said would keep the town safe. When he got to the end of the line where Celeste had taken her usual position he stopped.

 

‘You there, girl,’ Maximillian said pointing to Celeste, purposefully forgetting her name, making her feel small. ‘Since you are the worst shot you will be responsible for fetching the powder and shot for the gunners in their positions.’

 

The other recruits snickered at this obvious slight.

 

‘You should be used to running errands with all that chasing about that dwarf has got you doing,’ Maximillian snickered at his own joke.

 

Celeste reddened with anger at Maximillian, struggling to hold it in check. She nodded slightly to him. Maximillian took this as a victory and continued to yell out his instructions to the squad of handgunners. 

 

‘Breaks over slackers,’ Maximillian yelled, ‘back to marching the wall.’

 

* * *

 

Maximillian pushed his trainees back into a marching column and started another loop of the town. As the day went on, Celeste fell further and further behind the group. The group was clearly happy to ignore her, and as the day went on she was more and more happy to ignore them. By mid afternoon they had returned to the section of the wall near the barracks. Celeste took this opportunity to duck out and visit Thorpe. She hadn’t seen him in a week and part of her worried about him, a larger part just wanted to leave Maximillian and the others.

 

Entering into the cool dark of the cogsmith’s workshop Celeste was stunned. While it had always been full of things before there was always an order to things. Now it looked as if there had been some sort of tornado loose. Samples were strewn across the room, the workbench was covered almost a foot deep with all sorts of odds and ends. In the middle of it all sat Thorpe, head in his hands. His usually tightly managed hair and beard was wild surrounded his head like a frizzy mane. 

 

Looking up at her Thorpe croaked, ‘this this this... hauntwood... you said it’d work... you said... you...’

 

‘I just told you what I knew of it,’ Celeste responded shocked at the accusation in his tone. ‘We’ve always used it to twist the ropes for the Aqua Ghyranis barrels. If doesn’t rot like regular ropes. I’ve seen it, everybody knows that.’

 

‘You’ve tricked me, wasted my time and my mind on your lies,’ Thorpe said, ‘you were just a scared little girl saying whatever it took to escape her situation. You’re not fit to be a cogsmith, we follow Grungni! We don’t deal in lies.’

 

Thorpe rose as he spoke, spitting the words at her with what little saliva he had left.

 

‘You don’t know, you can’t know, sitting hiding away in your dark corner,’ Celeste screamed as she ran from the room. Slamming the door behind her, Celeste did not stopping until she was back in her room in the attic of her parent’s cottage.

 

Alone once again, Thorpe slumped back down, head into his hands. 

 

‘Twisted bloody rope,’ he muttered.

[NinthMusketeer]

So it came to mind the other day that the Soulbound Artifacts of Power supplement has a lot of lore regarding realmstone, including its gathering and transport, that could be of great use when writing a story like this.

[KrrNiGit]

I will have to look into it, thanks for the advice @NinthMusketeer