Chapter 200: Human enemies
A memory unit.
From Horizon’s Mercy.
For Veyrhold, it was not just salvage. It was a piece of origin pulled from the dead ship’s closed hand.
For Rohan, it was possibility.
He sat apart after dinner, staring at the sealed salvage case where it rested beside Maerin. Pell’s charm clicked softly at his belt in the night wind.
Liora came to sit beside him.
"You look as if you are trying to see through the case."
"I am considering whether staring hard enough might repair old technology."
"If it works, Bryan will make you stare at ledgers next."
"That would be cruel."
"He would call it efficient."
They sat shoulder to shoulder in the dim heat-stone glow.
After a while, Liora said, "You did well today."
"I nearly argued to keep going."
"But you did not."
"Only because Veska said greed gets people buried."
"That sentence has stopped many bad decisions."
"It should be carved above the gate."
"It probably is somewhere."
Rohan smiled faintly.
Then the smile faded.
"What if the memory unit has nothing useful?"
"Then we found nothing useful today."
"That is a very calm way to say it."
"It is not calm," Liora said. "I am frightened to hope. There is a difference."
Rohan looked at her.
Her eyes were fixed on the salvage case.
"I grew up with stories about the ship," she said. "Everyone does. Some are records. Some are warnings. Some are lies people tell because the truth is too empty. When I was a child, I used to imagine there was a room somewhere in the wreck where the lights were still on and the old captain was waiting to apologise for stranding us here."
Rohan’s chest tightened.
"That is a very sad thing for a child to imagine."
"Yes," she said. "But it was better than imagining no one cared."
The wind brushed ash against the hollow wall.
Rohan looked up at the violet-black sky.
"Where I come from, I used to think space meant freedom. It was huge, unreachable, but full of possibility. Here, the sky feels like a ceiling."
"For us, it has always been one."
"I hate that."
"So do I."
The honesty sat between them, simple and shared.
Liora leaned back on her hands.
"If that unit has records, it may hurt people."
Rohan frowned. "Why?"
"Because answers can take away the stories people used to survive. What if the ship did not crash by accident? What if our ancestors were not meant to be passengers but prisoners? What if help was sent and never reached us? What if the merchants knew?"
Rohan had thought of some of those possibilities.
Not all.
"You think Maerin knows that?"
"I think Maerin knows every answer has teeth."
Rohan looked toward the captain.
Maerin sat with Veska near the sealed case, speaking quietly. In the heat-stone glow, she looked older than usual. The discovery must have cut close to her father’s memory. A records keeper lost chasing broken truth, and now a memory unit found under her command by the stranger she had warned not to chase ghosts.
Rohan felt the weight of it settle more fully.
"I still want to know," he said.
Liora nodded.
"I do too."
On the third day, they turned back toward Veyrhold.
The furnace salt flats would wait. The memory unit mattered more, and the wind had shifted badly enough that pushing deeper east would have been foolish. No one said the expedition had failed.
The storm-silver harvest was modest, the glassmaw materials valuable, and the memory unit beyond price if it could be read.
But the return journey carried tension.
Valuable things attracted danger on Cael Athis.
Sometimes beast.
Sometimes human.
The first sign came near midday: a marker stake cut cleanly at the base.
Maerin knelt beside it, touched the severed edge, and her face hardened.
"Blade cut."
Rohan looked around the ash field.
"Bandits?"
"Scavengers," Liora said. "Exiles. Desperate people. Sometimes merchant hirelings before a trade cycle, if they want to reduce what Veyrhold brings back."
Rohan’s eyes narrowed.
"You think the Gilded Heron sends people to interfere with resource expeditions?"
Maerin stood.
"I think convenient misfortune often walks in merchant-shaped footprints."
Anger stirred in Rohan’s chest.
Bryan’s sister. False medical refusals. Trade marks. Smiles. Polished teeth. And now, possibly, people sent to weaken the very settlement they exploited.
He looked toward the sealed case.
"Could they know we found something?"
"No," Maerin said. "But they may know the eastern expedition left. That is enough."
The formation tightened.
The next hour passed in silence.
Then the attack came.
Not from the front, where everyone expected it.
From below.
The ash to the right of the path burst upward as three figures rose from concealed pits beneath grey cloth. Humans. Or near enough. Wrapped in mismatched ash-cloth and scavenged metal, faces hidden behind cracked masks. Two carried hooked blades. One held a short crossbow aimed directly at Tavin, who carried the salvage case.
"Drop it!" the crossbowman shouted. "Drop the case and the packs, and nobody needs to bleed!"
For one absurd moment, Rohan almost felt relieved that the voice was truly human.
Then the anger caught up.
Maerin’s voice rang out, controlled and furious.
"You are attacking Veyrhold’s outer watch on a marked route. Lower your weapons and step away from the path, or you will not survive this mistake."
The crossbowman laughed, but there was fear in it.
"Veyrhold’s watch is far from its walls. We only need the case."
Only the case.
So they knew.
Maybe not what was inside, but enough to target it.
Liora’s expression went cold.
Jorren shifted his shield slightly in front of Tavin.
Rohan felt the Great System stir.
[Combat Event Triggered]
[Hostile Intent Detected]
[Protect Expedition Salvage]
[Potential Rewards: Standing, Death Essence Not Applicable]
Not beasts.
No death essence.
Human enemies meant no automatic growth.
Only consequences.
Rohan tightened his grip on the spear.
Maerin spoke again, louder.
"Last warning. Walk away."
The crossbowman’s aim twitched.
Rohan saw the decision form before the bolt released.
He moved.
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