LITMIR.BIZ

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cowardly,” I say, in a dull dismissive tone, taking another drink.

      Ulric perks himself up at the sound, confounded at what he just heard.

      “Cowardly?!” he repeats in astonishment. “How is a weapon designed to save the lives of your men cowardly?” His voice lines with a twinge of hysteria.

      I keep myself composed, looking back toward the window and my own battered face.

      “My men don’t need some orbital blast to save them,” I explain in a hushed tone. “We have all the weapons we need on the ship. I prefer to get up close to the enemy.”

      “It isn’t about what you prefer,” Ulric explains. “It’s policy by the Reich. A Knight needs to be on the ship no matter what…just in case.”

      “And I can disagree with Reich policies.” I argue back, in a calm demeanor. This seems to get Ulric even more infuriated. “I’m still allowing a Knight to come onto the ship. It’s just we won’t really need your services.”

      “Why did I even come on this journey with you then if I can’t even do anything?” he asks, his eyes wide.

      “Think of it like an introduction into life in the Kiln. You learn how things are done.”

      “I’ve learned for four years in school, Ansel,” Ulric complains, his eyes lowered toward his half-empty pint.

      “They are two different beasts,” I say, taking another swig. “You think I knew anything about the Kiln until I joined the military? Every man thinks he knows everything at your age, until they don’t.”

      Jokingly, I flex my metallic arm. My mind flashes back to an earlier time. I was Ulric’s age, and it too was my first time in the Kiln. Yet my reason for arriving was far different. Eagle Nest #15 had been invaded by Scavengers. A gun was placed in my hand and I was told to storm those large, tall towers. “Take back the Nest,” they said, and I followed.

      Took shrapnel to the torso. Everything went black. Within a day though, I was back in the fight with a new mechanical arm, and able to avenge that limb along with those innocent civilians murdered. Wasted many revolver rounds, firing into the surrendering Scavengers’ skulls.

      A soft female voice rings out across the bar from speakers in the ceiling.

      “Attention all passengers. We shall be arriving at the Edge in ten minutes. If you have not done so, get to your belongings and prepare to disembark the ferry when the time comes.”

      I lift myself up with a heavy grunt. My metallic limb clangs as the mechanisms inside spin to support my weight. Ulric silently stands up alongside me. His face is still sullen with disappointment.

      “No matter how much reading you do,” I reason to him, pointing a hand on his shoulder, “there is nothing that really prepares a man to life in the Kiln other than being in the Kiln.”

      “I…I know,” he says, with a trailing voice. “I was just expecting to do something.”

      “And you will, eventually. Just for now, be appreciative that you get a crash course in how things are down here.”

      We pick up the small duffle bags we brought along on our journey. There wasn’t much that I packed. Anything of particular use up north was pointless down south. Most of my gear minus my armor, which I was already wearing, was on my ship anyway.

      Ulric and I stand at the side of the ferry, gripping onto the railing overlooking the sea. This water always had a strange pungent smell to it. It smells of dead fish, but there hasn’t been a single fish in this small sea for centuries. With every movement of each wave, that foul odor splashes against the ship.

      The occupants of the boat go about their business, preparing to dock. Some wear metal-plated armor, just like my brother and I. Others wear simple, grey uniforms. Ulric holds himself stiff as a board, cautious to stay out of the way of everyone.

      In the distance, I can see a large orange cloud wafting over the horizon. It is like a monster slowly revealing its presence. A fog clashing with the teal, rippling waves. We are getting close to the Edge.

      “What is that?” Ulric asks, pointing to the orange fog.

      “That, Ulric—” I explain in a matter-of-fact manner, “—that is a dust storm. We’re getting close now.”

      After a few minutes, the concrete world of the Edge comes into full view. Our boat slows itself down as it navigates past the traffic of other ferries and vessels, each either docking or leaving.

      The flow of bodies bustles around the city like an ant colony against the gargantuan stone towers and majestic statues, the largest of which is a statue of gold in the image of a man in a flowing overcoat. One arm seems to touch the orange sky as the other rests on a large stone tablet. By his side is a pole with an eagle, its wings outstretched. This statue seems to have the most people crowded around it, all wishing to get a look at one of the Reich’s main heroes.

      The ferry blows its horn to announce its arrival at the concrete shore and the crowd begins disembarking. A long, narrow bridge slowly moves toward solid ground, allowing the flood of people to spew forth from the vessel. Ulric and I navigate our way through a crowd of sailors, crewmen, and whores, all going to their own destination. As all depart and disappear into the sea of people, we both stop and stare at the sight in front of us.

      These buildings must be thousands of years old and yet there is hardly a crack on them, only an orange hue which has caked itself onto the façades of these structures. They are all ornate. Carved with pictures of events from the past. Armored warriors defending against an unstoppable wave. A pact between two men holding up a single document.

      Above these structures loom great statues, which remain as pristine as the day they were first constructed. Images dedicated to Führers of the past, Reich heroes who fought in the Kiln, or even depictions of eagles. In every area of the Edge, red-and-gold flags wave about, gloriously.

      It truly is a magnificent sight; however, it isn’t the sight that I have come for.

      We stroll through the crowd. Sailors bumble past us on their way to their designated ships. Guards in their large metal suits lumber by with a metallic clank at every footstep. Smaller soldiers march about, waiting to be loaded onto a ship destined for some Eagle Nest out in the Kiln.

      As the minutes roll past, we move away from the pungent odor of the sea. The sound of the waves crashing against the Edge disappears in the noise of the human traffic. With every step, dust becomes more prevalent on the white, ancient floor. Wind begins to howl and cry as hot, dry air overtakes the smell of the sea.

      There is no horizon in front of me. Instead, the blue sky simply meets a small white barrier. It’s a wall that goes up to my waist. On this wall is a line of flagpoles, each flying the flag of the Eternal Reich, a swastika emblazoned on each and every one. This simple wall is the only thing preventing onlookers from tumbling down into the world below.

      After about ten minutes of navigation, we’ve made our way to the literal edge of this concrete place. As I look down past the white barrier caked in sand, I can see the desert world that stretches endlessly onward. It is the edge of the great concrete dam that holds in the entire sea which we have just traversed by ferry.

      I look down the curved face of a structure that has remained stable and intact since the days of the first Aryans. This dam is the arrival point for most people traveling into the vast desert beyond.

      Through the rippling desert air, I locate the vast array of ships lined in a row against the dam’s edge. Those are the true docks. Each ship packed with special cargo, preparing to sail forthright into the vast expanse of desert and salt.

      From the bottom docks onward, there is nothing more than endless rolling hills of orange desert. I take in the sight of ships curving over the dunes. Going off into the horizon. Long strings of dusty clouds trail behind them as their treads slowly carry them south into the basin beyond.

      “Welcome to the Kiln,”

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