Steel Melody

Chapter 2: Old and New

 Heartrik had seen his fair share of death, enough to lighten it to the point he didn't squeal at a corpse. He had killed too, first years ago when he was young. He hadn't taken a life in a while, though. A man brushed by his side. They moved hastily but once they connected he spun around.

"Heartrik!" the grey haired, grey stubbled man with drooping eyes cried. "Marro- I mean your father, wants to see you. He's doing a briefing to some additional muscle we hired, he wants you to be there." the man explained. He was a solid keg of a human, looking as strong and akin to an ox.

Heartrik's eyes peered up. "Thanks Weirwind, I'll go now," he said.

"I'll follow Heartrik, Marro - I'm sorry, your father's quite eager about this. He says that this might be the biggest score we've ever had! And he wants you to be there for it when it happens." Weirwind said.

Heartrik chuckled "You don't need to call him my father, Weirwind. I don't even call him my father. I can't remember the last time he called me by my name. Ever notice how he just calls me boy?"

"No matter what, he's got high hopes for you. Even if he doesn't call you by your name he still respects you enough to stand beside him. That's an honour he only gives his oldest followers." Weirwind explained. Weirwind had rode beside Marrow since the very beginning.

Heartrik's hand felt against his chest where his new pistol was holstered. An unconscious fascination with the weapon had grown in his mind and spread to his hand.

"Such as yourself?" Heartrik asked.

Weirwind smiled. "Yes, such as myself. I've ridden with your pa for god knows how long." Weirwind had told Heartrik his story many times, how he had been childhood friends with Marrow. One night he can scarcely remember, his father was killed in a street robbery, and his two siblings were stolen to some terrible fate he'd never know of. Weirwind fled, running away with his mother to safety. Only when they reached safety, his mother had left a part of herself behind. From them on his mother was worse than his father, as whilst his father was dead and broken, his mother was emptied, her passion and life being sapped from her. She sat at the window of the hospital everyday Weirwind would visit her, looking to the horizon for when her family would reappear. Worst of all, her ability to be a parent was killed. Weirwind was adopted into the family of his best friend, Marrow, and at the age of thirteen they both ran away to begin their own lives. "And you know, as strange as it is, not once has he ever needed a new horse. His old destrier, Sail, has always been with him for longer than any other Raider, and that horse is damn well older than you. Sail's got to be at least in his late twenties." he exclaimed.

"That's because my father pumps more cybernetics into that destrier than he does funds into his crew. That thing is practically more robotic than it is meat." Heartrik noted the copper wiring threading through the beast's body. Weirwind nodded faintly and dismissively.

"My boy!" Heartrik heard his father Marrow shout as he passed a large pine into the centre of the camp, revealing Marrow standing tall and straight. His father was speaking to a man Heartrik was unfamiliar with. The unknown man was tall and lean and muscled and robust like how knights were written of. His nose was sharp, but his clean shaven face was soft, yet rough, lined with worn scrapes and scars. His hair was shivering black down the centre, greyer to the sides as if aged even though he seemed too young for such a thing and inky strands fell across his eyes. His hat hung by the strap over his back. He wore a black duster coat draped across his sides. Upon his chest was a blackened breastplate, intricately forged. Gauntlets and grieves shielded his limbs, so intricate that the number of folds and mechanism looked spiked and crude. Firearms ruled the field of battle in most cases. Sweltered steel, so complex and careful it took years to forge, could stop a bullet in its path, lacking the regular heavyweight layers of plain steel needed to stop rifles. So naturally swords and blades were sidearms to stab into joints where firearms failed. The Raiders didn't wear full plate, as it slowed them.