Sheah exited her closet of a room nestled at the bow of the ship, clutching in her hand a report cataloging, in vivid detail, every single thing that had gone awry during that morning’s completely calamitous venture. Even now, hours later, their failure continued to gnaw at her. She’d had it in her arms: a full bag of relics. She’d had it! But, thanks once again to sheer rotten luck, she was now left with nothing. In the end, all this run had gained them was spent fuel and a bill of assorted expenses—expenses which needed to be paid for. Once they arrived back at port and took a night to regroup, she would have to figure out how best to salvage this situation.

  Burying her troubles with a sigh, Sheah forced herself straight—if nothing else, at least their last job could prove a decent learning experience. Alongside her report, she had taken the liberty of drafting a memo listing several strategies that she and her crew should adopt in order to avoid such catastrophes in the future. She had spent the last hour perfecting it and, with any luck, her team might even be receptive to her this time. Holding the wall for balance, she began her way down the short corridor of doors as the Redland Runner rocked and rumbled through the wasteland.

  Sheah emerged from the hall and into the ship’s galley. Upon entering the room, she offered up a slight smile. Despite that day’s harrowing experience—and the constant slew of worries weighing on her—she could always rely on her ship to bring her some modicum of comfort. After all, it was her home.

  The galley of the Redland Runner was a cramped yet comfortable space taking up the better part of the ship’s middle level, sandwiched between the deck and the cargo hold. It was a quaint arrangement, refurbished with warm wood paneling and tied together by a large ovular table anchored to the floor by a thick post. Along the walls were all the comforts of a proper abode: an electric icebox, a sink, a stove, and cabinets neatly stocked with all manner of cookware and jarred rations. At the back of the room was Sheah’s favorite addition: a pair of worn leather seats, purchased for a steal, looking out through the large bay window that spanned the stern. She often found it the perfect place to sit after a long day and watch the land fall away behind her while thinking about all the things in her life that had gone terribly wrong.

  Already seated at the galley table were Dez and Kaelis, waiting on their intrepid leader whilst engaging in polite chit-chat regarding the weather, or lack thereof. Sheah straightened her frock coat and drew in a breath. It was time to begin.

  Habitually, she reached for the lightswitch mounted on the wall as she moved towards the table. She flipped the toggle—the bulbs of the galley remained dark. Puzzled, she tried again repeatedly, her perplexity slowly giving way to dreadful weariness. Another blown fuse, another entry for her ever growing to-do list. Shelving the thought for later, she slunk over and seated herself at the head of the table.

  “Attention team,” she said in a practiced tone. Her teammates did not respond. “Ahem!” she coughed forcefully.

  Dez turned in his seat. “Ah, afternoon, Ms. Ziedler,” he greeted with an affable smile before once more returning to his musings over the unusual scarcity of the spring rains.

  “Uh, yeah, I guess we got a lot of rain in the mountains,” muttered Kaelis, doing her best to contribute to her conversation.

  Sheah glowered. Before she could open her mouth to speak again, she was interrupted by the sound of clomping boots on wood. Jira noisily trotted down the narrow stairway leading from the deck, her face locked in its usual state of perpetual displeasure. She approached the table and dropped into the seat next to Dez. Predictably, Kaelis piped down and sat up straight at the Captain’s presence.

  “Cruise will take us close to port through the flatlands,” Jira flatly stated as the Redland Runner continued to trawl across the open plains. “We should make this quick.”

  “Thank you, Captain,” said Sheah. She tamped her report on the tabletop. “Okay team, now that we are assembled, I would like to reflec—”

  “Are we talkin’ about today’s job?” asked Kaelis.

  “Yes, if you would let me—”

  “So, how’d it go down there?” chimed Dez, taking a sip from his mug of hot tea. “It sounded like it went better than last time.”

  “Well, I was about to say that—”

  “Yeah, I guess it went alright,” said Kaelis.

  Growling, Sheah launched to her feet, finally grabbing her team’s attention. “It was a complete disaster!” she cried, unable to hide her frustration. “Our spoils, robbed from us by that beast! And with all the commotion we caused, that site must be crawling with Unbound by now—and you know how they tend to haunt and wander. And what if some of them take root? It could be months before they clear out again!” She removed her glasses and rubbed her eyes, sinking back into her chair. “And it was such a good spot too…”

  Dez threw Sheah a sympathetic shrug. “Ah, ya win some ya lose some. That’s just how the dice roll.”

  “Hey, in this case we didn’t entirely lose some.” Kaelis dug into one of her pouches and pulled out a slew of various trinkets. “Look at all the great stuff I found!”

  “Oh?” asked Sheah, perking up excitedly. “You were able to salvage some relics?”

  Kaelis smiled and splayed her findings triumphantly on the table: a few dulled scientific utensils, some technical-looking diagrams, scraps of handwritten notes, and various rusted minutia.

  With every mundane object, Sheah’s elation crumbled.

  “Check this out,” Kaelis beamed. “I think this was some kind of measurement device. It looks like those old Yahtte architects might’ve been planning to expand one of the wings—see, these diagrams, they—and oh, I found this bag of fasteners!—” She upturned a peeling leather pouch over the table, showering it in rusty pellets. “Look, they had screws! This style wasn’t widely used until the mid-600s! That means people were down there even later than I assumed. This is a real find.”

  Sheah watched the pellets clatter against her meticulously finished table and sighed. “Kaelis, I don’t know how they did things on your last ship, but I must insist you stop taking these curios. We are after actual valuables.”

  “Hold on, I wasn’t finished,” Kaelis retorted, a grin growing on her lips. “I also have this.” Reaching into her back pouch, she removed an object swaddled in shabby rags. She gently laid it on the table and peeled back the cloth.

  The team leaned in. The object appeared to be a kind of face mask: a bizarre-looking thing, largely featureless, with a narrow slit for an eye hole and two deep notches across its left side. Forged from an odd, iridescent metal, it was beatified by a swirl of geometric patterns raked along its surface, bespeaking a certain hand-made quality.

  Sheah’s brows rose with curiosity. “Oh my…” she breathed.

  “It’s definitely a Yahtte ritual mask of some sort,” said Kaelis, tracing her finger along the filigree. “With craftsmanship like this, it musta been used for somethin’ important. But I can’t really say for sure, Dierrosi tradition ain’t really my area of expertise.”

  “Hm,” grumbled Jira. “The Yahtte are not true Dierrosi.”

  “Oh, uh, sorry, Captain Sirroza,” Kaelis squirmed. “Point is, weird masks are always big with the aristocracy. I bet we can get a good price for it.”

  Sheah picked up the mask and smiled, a rain of relief washing over her. Whatever it was, it appeared finely crafted, which meant it was valuable, and that was good enough for her.

  “This is quite a find!” she declared.

  “You’re welcome,” said Kaelis as she smugly leaned back in her chair.

  “At last we have something to show for our efforts.”

  “I’ll say,” said Dez. “Never seen this kinda metalwork before. Looks pretty pricey to me!”

  Jira nodded. “A decent acquisition.”

  “Thank you, Captain Sirroza!” chirped Kaelis, ecstatic at the Captain's meager praise.

  Sheah rewrapped the mask, glowing with enthusiasm. “Kaelis is correct; ritual masks are oft desirous amongst collectors. Based on recent sales reports, I estimate a specimen such as this could be worth six to eight thousand saebles—certainly enough to make this latest ordeal worthwhile.” She happily took the bundle into her possession. “I shall bring this to the broker first thing after we dock at port.”

  “We’re gonna have to pick up some extra supplies while we’re in town,” Dez quickly interjected. “We’re down a couple of fuses, plus some this and that. On a related note, everythin’ in the icebox is about to go bad, so we’ll need to restock on provisions as well.”

  “What happened to the icebox?!” blurted Kaelis.

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Aw, I had cheese in there—”

  “Yes, very well, that will not be an issue,” said Sheah. Sitting up straight, she turned her attention to her meticulously prepared report. “Now, before we adjourn, there are some notes I would like to discus—”

  Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

  “We’re approaching Bruckhaven.” Jira excused herself from the table and marched up the stairway.

  Kaelis’s eyes lit up. She jumped to her feet and bounded up the stairs to the deck as well. Dez downed his tea and briskly followed after her.

  Sheah remained seated at the table, alone.

  “…Dismissed.”

  Bursting through the hatch and onto the deck, Kaelis was greeted by the rush of the wind and the flat vastness of the lower Deadlands. Surrounding the ship on all sides was a seemingly endless expanse of arid grass, windswept and pale, devoid of any sign of civilization—but not for much longer. Dashing across the deck, she bound up the ship’s squat forecastle and planted herself at the very tip of the bow. She hoisted herself high onto the railing, her sights firmly fixed on the horizon.

  A moment later, Dez sauntered up behind her. He joined her at the rail, watching her with an amused smirk on his face. “Wow, you really don’t get tired of seein’ the city, do ya?” he asked.

  She glanced over at him and smiled. “Nope.”

  Dez chuckled. “Oh, to be young…” He leaned himself against the railing and took in a nice, pleasant breath, looking out over the thinning grasslands. His gaze was soon pulled towards a distant sight off the starboard bow. “Ah, and there’s the ravine.” He flicked his chin in its direction. “Won’t be long now.”

  “Ooh!” Kaelis nudged her sights over. A short ways off, past the fringes of the fields, a rocky, jagged line appeared across the earth. It swept towards the ship, gradually coming closer, its utter immensity growing more and more obvious with every passing moment. In time, the sharp edges of its red cliffs came clear into view, its steep walls plunging far down into dark and roaring waters.

  The Great Ravine was appropriately named, easily earning its reputation as one of the foremost wonders of the natural world. A vast and yawning canyon, miles wide and miles deep, it carved clear through the earth like a twisting serpent, boring east and west across the supercontinent, splitting it into two separate halves. For over seven centuries the ravine had served as both humanity’s savior and as its shield, for even now the nigh impassable chasm remained the only natural border between the whole of civilization to the south and the Unbound-ravaged wasteland to the north. Discounting a few scattered river ferries and the checkpoint at Border Bay in the east, there was only one crossing in the world between the two regions—and it would be coming into view any second now…

  At that moment, a glinting shimmer materialized further down the canyon, seizing Kaelis’s attention. She instantly snapped her sights ahead.

  Just beyond the next bend, tethered between the narrowest point in the gorge, stood a man-made marvel of craft and engineering, one of the grandest constructs in all of the Southlands: a steel bridge of monumental scale, over two miles in length, held high aloft by a sequence of mighty columns drilled deep in the river below and further bolstered by arching supports anchored into the cliff walls. It was a structure of both strength and elegance in equal measure, designed and built by the brightest minds to not only bear the weight of any and all landship traffic passing between the regions, but to uphold the very culture of adventuring itself. Spread atop the bridge’s surface, lancing up at the sky, was a majestic metropolis, industrious and splendid, its many towers of marble, glass, and gold gleaming in the afternoon light.

  Kaelis couldn’t help but grin. There it was: Bruckhaven, the gateway to the north, jewel in the crown of the Andren Empire. Harbor. Home.

  Her eyes sparkled as the city drew closer. In time her view was enveloped by a hundred urban blocks of stone and steel skyscrapers of the most modern design, all of it stylishly geometric in form, exuding the great power and prosperity of the post-war Empire. High above the towers, dirigible cruiseliners carried in eager visitors from every corner of the continent, while a fleet of landships of all shapes and sizes bustled about the dockyards at the bridge’s northern edge. A host of lofty construction cranes busily toiled away across all eight of the city’s wards, working to sate the Andren peoples’ unceasing thirst for progress.

  Kaelis thrust herself higher on the railing, soaking in the city’s many grandeurs. She still found it all hard to believe. Her entire childhood she’d fantasized about becoming an adventurer, about getting to call Bruckhaven her home, and even though she’d achieved those dreams and lived in the city for years now… seeing it always felt like the first time…

  Brrrrm-br-brrrm!

  A chipper horn suddenly sounded from off the port bow, jolting Kaelis from her fancy. She and Dez both swung around to face its source. A quarter mile out and growing closer was another landship, sleekly boxy and slightly battered, traveling away from Bruckhaven and out into the northern wilderness. Angling itself to pass the Redland Runner, the ship rang its horn again in a trio of friendly bursts.

  A smile lit up Dez’s face. “Hey, it’s the Noble Steed!” he exclaimed, amazingly able to recognize the ship at that distance.

  Kaelis squinted, just starting to make out the ship’s details. She knew of the Noble Steed, met some of its crew at an Expeditioners Union function once, but until that point she’d never actually seen it in person. It looked sturdily standard as far as Union landships went: Reliant-class, eight wheels, larger than the Red by half. Twin mounted turrets sat on either side of its raised wheelhouse, while slats of added armor outlined its dark umber hull. Over on its forward deck, a handful of colorfully seasoned crewmen had begun gathering at the railing. As the two ships passed within shouting distance, the Steed’s crew raised their arms and pumped their fists, hollering out comradely greetings—mostly aimed at their long-time colleague, Dez.

  Dez bound a few steps over and thrust a hailing hand high into the air, returning cheers of encouragement for the fellow Expeditioners. Not wanting to be left out, Kaelis joined him, and together the two exchanged avid waves with the other team until they fell out of view.

  “Ah, good to see ‘em headin’ back out there so soon,” said Dez, watching as the landship veered off into the wasteland.

  “What do you mean?” asked Kaelis. “Did something happen?”

  “Didn’t you hear? The Steed took a straight shot to the stern saving a lost corporate warship from a pirate ambush—right before they beat them bandits to a pulp! And after goin’ through all that trouble, you know what those corpos did to thank ‘em for it?”

  Kaelis struggled to drum up an answer. “They… quit and joined the Union?”

  “They drove away! Left without so much as a ‘thank you’.” Dez just shook his head. “These slickers, I tell ya…”

  Kaelis sighed out a little laugh. The manufacturing corporations were always being such a nuisance: charging their warships around the north as they pleased, using their resources to sit on good sites for months, if not longer. Plus the sheer scale and firepower of their ships made it way too easy for them to throw their weight around. Still, they weren’t without a few certain qualities: their continued contributions to archaeological research was unmatched compared to most government or nonprofit outfits, and if it weren’t for the very landships that they designed and built, then none of them would even be out there in the first place.

  In any case, the Union was more than equipped to hold its own. A coalition of independent adventurers, the Expeditioners Union had amassed enough power and influence over its seventy years of existence that it now controlled a firm majority of the thriving antiquities trade. And while a small handful of companies had amassed enough industrial might to build and operate their own private expeditionary fleets, most everyone else still had to charter Union ships if they wanted to venture out into the north—and anyone dumb enough to stiff the bill or operate without paying their dues would be in for a nasty, kneecap-busting surprise.

  The Redland Runner gently swung starboard, beginning its approach towards Bruckhaven’s northern entrance. Up ahead, the bridge’s wall of outer defences rose into view: two reinforced ramparts posted at the edge of the cliff, flanking either side of the city’s mechanical drawbridge. A host of swiveling cannons stood waiting and at the ready, their aim spread over a wide area, raring to put down any Unbound reckless enough to try and attack the city. And it looked like one such beast had just made their day.

  Splayed on the ground a short distance from the ramparts sat a twenty-foot tall mound of heads and limbs coated in long cactus-like spines, a gaping hole blown clean through its heart. A tenacious tugship was hard at work attempting to clear the carcass from the city’s approach, slowly dragging the creature away via a spread of cables hooked into its flesh.

  Dez instantly bristled at the sight, swiveling himself around. “Welp, think it’s time for me to head back in,” he declared, his voice gripped by what sounded more like fear than disgust.

  Kaelis watched him as he walked away. “Dez—?”

  “Gotta get ready anyhow. Catch you around!”

  Before she knew it, Dez was gone, having briskly disappeared into the galley hatch and out of sight. Kaelis shrugged and returned her gaze ahead.

  Moments later, the Red swung wide around the Unbound corpse, coming upon a handful of battle-worn landships all idling in a stout queue, waiting patiently for their turn to enter the city. Annoyingly, it looked like the attack had caused quite a traffic jam. With no choice but to join it, the Redland Runner slowed, making its way to the back of the queue. Moving at a pace of meters per minute, its wheels transitioned from the dusty grasslands to the smooth asphalt of the Imperial Highway, eventually trundling past the defensive cannons and then over the drawbridge. In time, the ship was swallowed by the city, becoming just another vessel in a sea of adventurers.

  Things slowed to even more of a crawl as the Redland Runner waited to pass through dockyard security and then customs—an agonizingly long-winded process, full of inspections and questions that always seemed to go on and on in circles. Thankfully dealing with the dock officials was Sheah’s duty as the ship’s owner, which left Kaelis free to do what she always liked to do while docking: loiter about the deck and watch the various landships as they set out into the sprawling wilds.

  The ships around came in a wide assortment, from the madcap recklessness of a single-manned Gallop-class, to Crusader-class behemoths and beyond, the largest only operated by the corporations or the occasional government-backed research team. Kaelis loved to imagine their stories: the histories of the ships, where they were going, and what they might return with. And to her delight, there was never any shortage of stories. Being the major crossing that it was, Bruckhaven, and by extension the docks, were considered the place to be for any and all adventurers looking to get a piece of the action.

  After eighty-five mind-numbing minutes, the Redland Runner finally received a port number and gently taxied into the smokey landship docks. They’d gotten a great spot that day, one at the base of the central pier, just a short stroll from the gorgeous glass and steel station lording over the area. Trident Station, as it was formally known, was one of the city’s quintessential landmarks, freely available in the form of postcards and prints for the beguiled sightseer. Named for the dockyard’s unique design, it stood over a trio of concrete platforms jutting out from the central terminal, each ribbed with numbered ports running along either side.

  As always, the platforms were thronging with the comings and goings of hundreds of hurried peoples of all walks of life: aristocrats chartering voyages of comfortable excitement, corporate workers filling their quotas with low risk jobs, and, of course, Expeditioners setting out to conquer the undiscovered. Citizens of all nations—Imperials, Dierrosi, Beladreans, even the occasional pilgrim from the Unincorporated South—all came to the docks, looking to find that one thing missing from their lives, whatever it may be.

  Kaelis felt the ship lurch into park. As the rumble of the engines finally settled beneath her, she let her thoughts shift away from the passing ships and onto far more pressing matters: namely which of her many outfits she would wear out that evening. The booming chime of the clock on the terminal rang out in four rapid notes, repeated four times. Kaelis perked up—it was later than she’d thought! Stupid traffic. Springing from her perch, she made her way down the hatch and towards her quarters.

  There was no time to waste, and she had places to be.