//------------------------------// // The Debt // Story: Deathtrap Division: Virgil's "Superweapons" // by Senor Oblongo //------------------------------// By early 1010, the residents of Virgillia, the newest nation on Equus, were living through a period of extreme change, where even a single creature in the right place could turn the tide of history. Most of them didn't see it that way. To them, it was just another freezing January morning in the mountains, another day of bribing officials to get through the day unscathed, keeping their heads down to avoid seeing something they shouldn’t, and trying not to be eaten by any of the numerous cannibal clans. Only a select few creatures could really say they were doing more than just surviving, and almost all of them belonged to Virgil’s Raiders, though these days they preferred to be called the Virgillian National Guard.  Virgil and his followers were a former bandit gang turned nation-builders after, against anyone's predictions and best hopes, they wrested control of the Griffon Frontier away from Teafeather and his men in a short war two years prior. Since then, his feared crew of thieves, smugglers, and murderers have tried to assume the role of administrators, judges, and police in a bid to turn the failed state into something that at least resembles a functioning nation. To their credit, they have been surprisingly good at it, turning the nation into one of the largest exporters of crystals not just on the continent, but the world. However, Virgil and his cronies wanted more, much more than the small confines of his isolated, frozen nation could give him. He wanted to get back at Redtail, those snooty griffons in Weter, and everyone else who ever tried to oppose him. To do that he needed a weapon that would take advantage of magic in order to make him known and feared the world over. To accomplish this goal, Virgil puts his model employee, Esther Whitefeather in charge of finding someone who could make this dream a reality. On this cold January morning, in a quiet manor in Frosthill, she speaks to one creature she feels is up to the task. “So, answer me this Ms. Whitefeather,” a low voice asks, “Why are you asking a diamond dog with basically no knowledge of magic and very limited knowledge of firearms to lead a design committee on magic and firearms?” The dog sitting at the edge of his plush seat was Bernard Rochigné, a traveling doctor who was currently very much in over his head. Bernard sported a coat of brown curls that resisted most efforts to be tamed. This coat covered the bumps on his mace-like tail tip, which was currently resting in his lap. Bernard was a rare sight on the frontier. However, in this parlor, under the piercing gaze of one of the most influential griffons in the region, it did him no favors. “For two reasons,” answered Esther, “the first is that I owe you a debt that I wish to settle, and the second is, to put it bluntly, you don’t have a choice.” The sly, customer service smile spreads across the griffoness’ beak at a practiced pace. Esther was a small griffon sporting a beige coat with a short mane which she kept in immaculate condition. As the longtime accountant and an inspector of sorts for Virgil, she took pride in her business-like appearance. Esther now held the purse strings of an entire nation, financially controlling all of the new petty oligarchs of Virgil’s fledgling regime. Esther continued, “Do you remember, about a week or so before the ceasefire, when you pulled me out of that burning building and stayed in town, while it was still being shelled, to make sure I was alright? Along with dozens of other creatures that had been hurt around that time?” “Yeah,” Bernard scratched his head, “But I'm also pretty sure I said not to worry about it.” “Yes, you did” Esther replied with a short chuckle, “I also know that nobody works for free, and it can’t have been cheap or easy to get all that medicine into an isolated town under siege. So I made a note that I would keep you in mind for the future. That brings me to my second point” Without taking her eyes off the dog in the other chair, she reaches over to the coffee table next to her and grabs a sealed envelope, which she hands to him. As Bernard opens the letter, Esther continues, “It's an induction letter. The national guard was going to scoop you up and send you out to die on the fields of Rudeigin. Fortunately for you, the letter was ‘lost in transit’, and so you were deferred until the next round of draftees in about a few days' time. Your name will not come up then either, because you are going to accept my offer today and receive a special exemption.” Bernard sits back, finally able to fully appreciate the corner he has been pushed into. After a moment of contemplation he swallows and asks, “So what do you need?” A real smile flashes across Esther’s face, but only briefly. “We have an arms plant that specializes in magic to the north of Tsasbaatar. You will be in charge of making sure their efforts yield something that could prove useful to our military.” “Fantastic. Anything else I should know about this job?” “Well there are your benefits. You will receive lodging near the factory as well as payment of ten thousand bits per month. You will also have a direct phone line to my offices, where I will be able to provide you with regular supplies as well as any special requests you should need to further your research.” “Great, but this is quite a lot of resources you’re allocating for someone you barely know.” He leans in and squints his eyes, “What’s the catch?” “You have one year to come up with something usable.” “What.” “Doctor, let me make you understand something. You have been shown to be extremely resourceful when pressed, you have a predisposition to wanting to help people rather than steal from them, and you have a pair of working ears. That sets you leagues apart from most of the rank-and-file criminals that I normally work with and will soon be your peers. You will come up with something usable or you will find someone else who can. As I said earlier, you don’t have any other choice, but when you do, you will be in a position that most can only dream of. And when you get there, you will help me make something respectable of this Boreas forsaken land.” The force behind these words make Bernard sit straight up, looking at the now intense griffoness with fear, but something compels him to nod and agree. “Yes Ms. Whitefeather.” “Excellent. An airship will take you to the workshop, where you will be briefed on their progress.” Esther stands up and leads Bernard to the door of the parlor, which swings open as they approach revealing two burly griffon knights. “ I expect an initial report in a week’s time. Remember that you are allowed to request anything from the administration, so long as you can justify its usefulness to your research, but above all do not forget:” A pause prompts Bernard to look back at Esther one more time, but nothing could have prepared him for the look on her face, which could have frozen a minotaur’s blood in his veins as she said, “You work for me now.”