30: The Mortuus Fortes

They all sat in the cell mostly quietly. Every so often Ray would ask them a question and Fitz or Watson would answer, but everyone else would glare at them until they shut up.

Ray spent most of his time thinking about Rex and what had happened to him. He thought that there must be some way of fixing what had happened. ‘What did Tuesday do to him?’ He thought, but then he recalled that he was covered in the metal before Tuesday showed up back in Port City. Then Ray realized that Tuesday wasn’t human.

“Um… excuse me.” Ray broke the silence again, “but do you guys know anything about Tuesday?”

“HA!” burst out a bird on the opposite side of the cell, “he’s only the reason we’re outlaws.”

“You’re outlaws? He said you were pirates, but I knew he was lying.”

Watson chimed in, “Yeah, he would call us pirates. He’s more the scoundrel. If a machine could be a scoundrel.”

“A machine! Yes, he kept that from me, it wasn’t until your bomb blew up in our faces that I could see what was under his mask. What’s his deal?”

“He’s an android.” Continued Watson, “Made by the True King’s right hand man.”

“His master. Tuesday said he built machines and one of his things killed him.”

Watson scoffed, “More like Tuesdays what killed him.”

“What did you say?” asked Ray.

“I said Tuesday killed his master.”

“I knew it, that’s how I knew not to trust him. I heard you say that before.”

“Yeah, the first time I said it, like three seconds ago. Man, you need to listen better.

“Anyway,” he continued, Ray just took note of his memories and continued listening, “his master mostly made things to make life easier or more enjoyable. One day, though, He decided the King should make a pass at obtaining the other worlds.”

“Like my world?” asked Ray.

“Good, you’re following. But you see, the King only cared about, Veritan.”

“Wait, I thought it was Pravos.”

The dog glared at him. “Man alive! One second you’re up the next you’re stupid again. Pravos is what Tuesday calls Veritan. Anyway, the King had built a very prosperous civilization; he even created the Ronin here and helped us to prosper. He took care of us and we served him whole heartedly.”

Fitz leaned in, “And we still do!”

“Yeah!” The room echoed.

“So the King is still alive? Are you trying to rescue him?” asked Ray.

“Well, no.” Fitz clarified, “Tuesday and the King had a huge battle that was carried across half of the kingdom. The King himself fought most of the battle with his elite guard, we Ronin did what we could but we were not fighters. In the end the King was killed and we were hunted down and sent to the prison camp where we are forced to fight with human prisoners.”

“So, you fight for his legacy? But you have a new leader. This Oliver I’m going… was going to see?”

“Oh no,” Fitz seemed almost upset about the question, “Oliver is only our leader until the King’s sons come.”

“The King has sons? Where are they?”

Ray’s answer would have to wait, the gate swung open and some five walked pulled guns on them, “Alright, everything out!”

They were all herded down the hall and into a large elevator an elderly sailor pressed the button to take them up top. The sun was shining and an oilrig sat in the sun in front of them. It looked as if someone who had no idea how they worked had placed it there, leaning to one side.

They were pushed off the Mary Reed, across a plank and onto the rig, a sign swung lazily in the wind, ‘Mortuus Fortes.’

“’Strong Corpses,’ I don’t know if that’s actually conjugated correctly.”

“It’s where the strong come to die.” smiled a guard. Ray just looked at him as he walked by and dodged the butt of a rifle in the nick of time.

They were pushed into an open area filled with an assortment of familiar and humans alike. Ray expected a speech from a warden or something, but he later found out there wasn’t one. Once inside there weren’t very many guards, just enough to keep the inmates from climbing onto the upper deck where civilians watched. They were one of the first things Ray noticed. He looked over a crowd of prisoners and across some large open space to see a large section of bleachers, packed with people. They stared into the gap and cheered.

Ray looked back at Fitz, only a few steps behind him, “What’s going on?”

“Uhm…” The dog didn’t seem to know how to explain it.

Ray’s adrenaline began to pump as he walked forward and began to feel the energy of the crowd. He started to hear the sound of metal on metal, then the sound of men out of breath. He made his way through the swell of people and looked over the edge of the prisoner’s deck down into the pit. There was a man fighting what appeared to be a boar-man. The man had a sword but the boar had a large mace the size of the man’s torso.

The creature stumbled around, he seemed injured, and the man moved as if dancing. He acted as if the fight were only a trivial matter, dodging every powerful swing of the club and slicing bit by bit away at the monster. The man eventually tired of the battle, took a wide stance, ducked an attempted mind altering experience, and landed his blade deep into the chest of his opponent.

“What? What just happened?” Ray whispered to himself.

“Excuse me, son?” asked a strange mangled creature next to him. “What do you mean? He killed the thing.”

“But why? What is this?” He then realized his mistake and saw no way out of what was to ensue.

“What are you? Some kind of noob?” The thing turned to the rest of the crowd, “Hey guys, we got a noob!”

There was a roar in the crowd around Ray.

“What you say about showin’ this boy what goes on here?”

They all yelled enthusiastically. The man in the pit even took notice. Ray looked down, it was about two stories, he would make his fall but he still fought the manhandling the crowd gave him.

It only took a few seconds and he found himself looking up into the face of a short muscular man. His voice was deep and reveled signs of fatigue. He sighed and said, “Grab a sword, I don’t fight dirty.”