Valknar
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NM - Chapter 43
🕑 Added 2025-05-17 11:57:46 +0000 UTC1891 arrives during a snowstorm. I am sure now, when the New Year arrives, I can count the days from my last paper delivery.
The weather keeps away The Way of Athamos for now, and at least I have that small mercy. I sense this year we might be butting heads again. I started reviewing a few ideas I had for dealing with them.
It was the start of February when I finally got in contact with the world again, and I received a backlog of papers. January was one helluva month, both nationally and internationally.
Where to start?
Well, that became obvious—the death of Sitting Bull.
The Lakotas do not take his death well. The US government protested the murder of the Seventh Cavalry veteran, and the Canadian government protested the death of Sitting Bull, who by that time was a Canadian citizen.
Raids started across the border, mainly into North Dakota. Sporadic running gunfights were reported between local law enforcement and a few military patrols in the area when they encountered the mobile Braves.
The Canadian Mounties started reporting that groups of Americans and some military units were crossing the border to chase them. This led to sporadic clashes between the Mounties and the pursuing Americans.
This further escalated tensions, and large formations of military units were quickly dispatched to the area. Britain came down firmly on the side of its dominion and promised to back them if the United States attacked them in any meaningful way.
Firebrands, mainly in the US, provoked tensions and demanded military responses. More level-headed diplomats quickly stepped in to prevent a war, but the situation on the ground was still fluid.
It was hard to tell the exact scale of what was happening, as the news reports were biased and inflammatory on the American side. It seemed that several hundred Braves were involved in these actions. I realised I would have to get another source of news to try to counterbalance what I was reading, as fair and impartial journalism was not a thing in the Crossway Chronicle.
Tensions between the two countries were only exacerbated when Canada brought suit before the United States Supreme Court or seizures of vessels in the Bering Sea. Some US Navy and Coast Guard captains had gotten overzealous about where they believed the international bounds were in that part of the world.
Many clashes were reported throughout the month, but verification of these battles was not always forthcoming. This only fuelled the reactionaries across the US and a few in Canada. I read all this on 8 February, and tensions were still high. From what I could make out from the news reports, the Canadian and US governments deployed several cavalry regiments to the area. They were keeping away from the border so as not to provoke an incident.
“Will there be war with Canada?”
Many were calling for it, and most feared it. Although the Civil War had only been over for twenty-three years, many Americans remembered its horrors.
February passed with reports of minor clashes, but the militaries contained the worst by aggressively patrolling each side of the border. Herbert reported tension within Crossway, a short distance from the Cascadia/Canadian border. Some on the city council were talking about asking for the military to establish a presence in the city.
This was not good for me.
I was concerned that the military would arrive and pace themselves around the town. They would be doing patrols, and the locals would say, “Hey, I think I saw some Canucks over there in those woods.” If the commanding officers were concerned enough, they would send over a patrol, look around, and stumble across a particular large graveyard. Then, questions would be asked.
These are questions I did not want to have asked.
February was a tense time for me.
March arrived, and tensions between the United States and Canada remained high. Diplomats worked together on both sides to prevent a war from breaking out.
I wanted to get a better source of information. The Crossway Chronicle was too focused on America and the American perspective. I had to find a different view. The answer was across the border, and I had to investigate getting news from Cascadia. Right now, that would not be as easy as before.
When I began, I was only focused on the dungeon. Over the years, I have expanded my view to include the forest. Then, I expanded to Crossway, as I needed to be more aware of my surroundings to protect myself from dangers. I took action to defend myself by buying the forest around me and creating a semi-nature reserve.
But if war comes, these would be easy for the federal government to circumvent.
I had over $5,000 under my church, not counting the change, which could come close to another $500. I had been thinking about this money for a few weeks’ worth of nights in March as I was downstairs cleaning the firearms in my possession. I’ve started doing it to help take my mind off the anxiety I was experiencing with the possibility of war with Canada.
My logical side believed that there would be no conflict, and that was the primary driver behind everything I did. But my emotional aspects were less sure.
I realised the firearms downstairs were being neglected, so I cleaned them to keep myself busy. My hunters showed me how to do it, and I became proficient over the next few weeks. The weapons were untrustworthy, but they were gathering dust and becoming unsafe without proper maintenance. I even learned how to fire them with some attempts, even hitting the arranged targets.
This is how I spent March 1891. During the day, I did my best to find information, and at night, I cleaned the weapons and thought about what I could do with the money I had in my possession.
When April rolled around, I had come to a decision.
Herbert was sent to Crossway. The town was linked to Cascadia via a rail through the Rocky Mountains. The link leads to Portland on the coast. I had him find out what newspapers he could have sent to him via the mail along this route.
Things were starting to deescalate along the border with the two countries' militaries, regaining the groups from violence. One of the side effects of this was the US cavalry driving the remaining members of the Lakota tribe up to the border and passing them into Canada. This tribe was among the last major ones left in the northern Great Plains states and territories.
Reading the de-escalation relieved me that a war that could quickly escalate had been avoided. I had been so focused on this situation that I ignored the rest of the world's events.
Herbert returned in a few days and told me he had set up a paper subscription to one in Portland, which would be delivered in monthly batches. I supplied him with the financial resources to ensure this would run for at least the following year. I would have to wait until May for my first big paper delivery.
By the second week of April, that was all arranged, and I settled into a more relaxed pattern of activity.
Unfortunately, I got a visitor shortly after. And this one always brought trouble.
I was at the top of the spatial bubble, looking out at the world as spring was in full force. Around me, the world was turning green and blooming. Wildlife was more active, and I found the whole thing quite soothing.
That is when I noticed five riders coming up the path to the gates. I recognised the lead rider straightaway as Senior Ahmed.
“Well, that has ruined my day.”
I shifted to the gates and waited for the group as they approached. I had not summoned my avatar yet and was waiting for them to make the first move. Senior Ahmed dismounted and approached the gates.
“Keeper of this place, I seek an audience.” He called out.
I waited a few moments, mentally sighing, before summoning my avatar to the gate.
“My time is limited, Senior Ahmed. What day do you wish?”
“Thank you for agreeing to speak. I bring word from my Elders. After much debate and consideration, they have agreed to respect your privacy and the rules of this place. The Way of Athamos will allow those disciples who wish to challenge themselves to come and face your trial.”
I wanted to roll my eyes and reply sarcastically, but I controlled myself.
“Excellent. I hope that also includes your attempts to place different items around my dungeon in the forest, which I own.”
“Yes, that will come to an end.” I noticed a slight shift in his demeanour when I mentioned that.
“Good. Now, if that is all, I must be away.”
“There is one last thing.” He spoke quickly before I disappeared.
“Which is?”
“The Elders are willing to make a trade agreement with you if you are inclined.” This was not what I expected.
“Oh. What are you seeking, and what are you offering in return?”
I did want to entertain the idea, but hearing the terms cost me nothing. I might be lucky if they offered me something beneficial.
“Knowledge. The elders know that someone like you knows things about the past and the future. You also know things about places beyond what we know. We offer to exchange knowledge for knowledge if you are willing.” He spoke like a professional diplomat, smooth and with an open demeanour that spoke of the generosity of what he was offering.
“Knowledge. You seek one of the most priceless things I possess.”
It was true that I knew things that could profoundly impact this world. These were not precise details of how things could be done, but more trends and indications of new technologies.
“Yes. The Elders understand that what they are asking is of great value and are willing to make sufficient reparations.”
I don’t answer straightaway and look at the man. This was far more dangerous than I think even he realised. I decided to play this out a bit more to see the result.
“Knowledge is power, Senior Ahmed. I wonder if you truly understand what you’re asking for?”
“We of the Way of Athamos understand the power of knowledge and what happens when it is mishandled.” Something in the way he said it got me thinking that he was telling the truth, and something had happened that he was part of or bore witness to that had gone wrong.
“I will say only this: I will reveal things about the paths ahead for this world. What I will reveal will equal what is offered, and I accept.”
He looked at me for several moments and then inclined his head slightly, accepting my conditions. I wanted to make sure that they would come back straightaway with something and demand more than I was willing to give up. I decided to be very selective in what I took in and what I offered in return. Knowledge was power, and I knew enough to guide them down the path of world annihilation if I was not careful.
I attended this meeting by dismissing my avatar. Senior Ahmed turned and walked back to the horses. I watched him leave, and as I did so, I looked over the four men who brought him. Further to the back of my eye. He was a young man, and it was hard to tell from the beard he was sporting. Senior Ahmed was not paying attention to him or other riders, and I missed what I saw.
Hunger.
“Yes, you will be back soon, I think.”
I watched them turn after Senior Ahmed had mounted his horse and ridden back down the trail. Sure, I had made a deal with them, but I would not let my guard down. I will wait and see what the result will be.
I trusted them as far as I could throw the dungeon.
By the start of May, the issues along the Canadian border had been resolved with an imperfect agreement, but it seemed to be working.
I got my first influx of papers from Portland. The paper’s name was the Portland Times and was almost twice the thickness of the Crossway Chronicle. I got into reading and found it had its own bias, but nowhere near as bad as the Crossway Chronicle.
I got the breakdown of the events from the Canadian perspective and found it not as one-sided as the American. In the end, the deal was struck, and tension started to drop along the border. Both sides' militaries pull back, allowing regular cross-border traffic to resume. The crux of the deal was that the individuals caught committing the crimes on both sides were handed over to the respective governments and tried under their national court system. Many complained about this until it was pointed out that they would at least be trying their people.
The Lakota Sioux Native American tribe members held by the US government were released to the Canadians in the deal. Many complained about this on both sides of the border, but the Canadians' attitude, it seems, was that they would get a fair trial on the northern side of the border.
One of the things I missed at the start of April that interested me was the establishment and opening of the London-Paris telephone system. This was one of the first attempts at cross-border international communications open to the general public. There was the telegram, but you needed specialist operators to send a message.
It was the middle of May when the rider I was expecting returned to New Midian.
He came riding up late in the evening. The sun was now starting to set behind the mountains.
I moved down to the gate to get a better look at him. He had come prepared and was pulling his supplies off his horse. He carried a satchel and a lantern. He put all of his firearms back onto his saddle. I counted the weapons that he kept. He had the same knife as all members of the Way did. I spotted two more blades in his possession before it was coat back on. His clothes were worn by the people in towns, but they had a much sturdier design—most supported leather reinforcement on the shoulders and knees.
“Someone has been doing their homework.”
He ensured his horse was tied up but had enough room to move around to eat the grass in the area. Once this was done, he walked up to the gates. Here, he stopped, and I got the first real close-up look of his face.
My initial impressions were correct. He was relatively young—in my early 20s, I would say 25 at a push—white with green eyes and light brown hair.
With a deep breath, he crossed past the gates into the courtyard. He walked up to the plinth and read the inscription on it. The words engraved on the stone seemed to relieve him.
He turned and looked at the northern and southern exits from the courtyard. Without hesitation, he turned and walked to the southern one.
[A Challenger has entered your Dungeon.]
“Here we go.”
There will be two hours of sunlight left in the day. Rigger will be active, as the weakening light will be gone by the time the Challenger reaches his hunting grounds—if he survives.
This Challenger was not beating around the bush and moving far quicker than all the others had. He was willing to bypass pathways to move further into the dungeon. This allowed him to cross much more territory faster. McGregor was the first hunter looking for him, and if he didn’t hurry up and find him, he would be out of his territory and into Rodriguez’s.
It was not against the rules to do that, but I didn’t see it often with those listed as Challengers. McGregor missed him, and the young man managed to slip into Rodriguez's hunting grounds now. He was approaching the south side of the church quite quickly, but Rodriguez was in front of him, so it was only a matter of time before the two crossed paths at this rate.
There was a slim chance that one would miss the other, but I doubt it, as only one pathway led to the central ring surrounding the church. Outside that ring was the densest concentration of mausoleums and graves, making passing by them almost impossible. You could jump over the graves and walk around the mausoleums, leading to many blind corners and ambush points.
This Rodriguez had taken a position on top of one of the wings of a mausoleum, giving him a good vantage point from which to see around. The young man making his way through the graveyard had not looked up yet, not realising that the danger could come from above.
Rodriguez spotted him as he approached and realised he was not in the best position to attack him. By now, the sun was setting, and the area was starting to darken below the rooftops of the mausoleums. Rodrigues repositioned himself, trying to get a better vantage point, but this inadvertently revealed his position. The strong sunlight cast a shadow, and the challenger saw a flicker of movement in it, and he was suddenly aware of the danger above him.
He pulled his dagger out, and I looked up. Rodrigues realised that he had been spotted. He began moving across the mausoleum's roof, no longer trying to hide its presence. The young man quickly got away from the building, trying to get to the church by a more indirect route.
The race was now on. This would enable Rodrigues, now jumping over to the neighbouring mausoleum, to catch up with the challenger. Or would the challenger bypass entirely and make it to the church?
Today, things went the challenger's way. As Rodriguez jumped into the building, the tiles on the roof were not as secure as he had hoped, and they gave way under his feet, causing him to slide down and off the building and hit the ground hard.
The challenger didn’t bother waiting and kept running towards the church as he approached the building. He realised he was on the opposite side of the building from the doors and followed the pathway, running as fast as he could to get to them.
Rodriguez was back on his feet and doing his best to follow, but he had been winded by the fall and could not catch up with the challenger in time.
On this day, the challenger won the race and made it to the doors, through them, and closed them behind him with a heavy thunk that echoed.
“Let’s see what he is offering.”
