The international arbitration panel in the case of Chevron v. the State of Ecuador determined on November 17, 2025 that Ecuador should pay the company $220 million. The Office of the Attorney General of Ecuador (PGE) made this information public 21 days later.

It is difficult to understand why the Ecuadorian government, or rather the current administration, is celebrating this defeat. According to the PGE, Ecuador “saved” $3.13 billion because Chevron had originally demanded $3.35 billion, and will now “only” receive $220 million.

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cross-posted from: https://slrpnk.net/post/31433260

Indigenous and other Ecuadorians have lived with millions of gallons of toxic pollution from Texaco’s operations for decades. Now, those victims’ tax dollars will go to Chevron, which acquired Texaco in 2001.

Over a quarter century in the Ecuadorian Amazon, oil giant Texaco (now Chevron) perpetrated an ecological disaster: It dumped 3.2 million gallons of toxic waste, spilled 17 million gallons of crude oil and flared nearly 50 million cubic feet of methane gas. The company also collaborated with U.S. evangelical missionaries to forcibly displace Indigenous peoples from their oil-rich lands. The victims have received no compensation.

Atualmente existem dois textos diferentes que buscam alterar a jornada de trabalho — um tramitando na Câmara dos Deputados e outro no Senado.

O texto da Câmara está parado em uma subcomissão especial criada para tratar sobre o assunto. Não há acordo para votação. Depois disso, ele ainda precisaria passar pela Comissão de Constituição e Justiça da Câmara — que determina sobre a legalidade e a constitucionalildade da proposta — antes de ir finalmente à votação no plenário da Câmara.

Já o outro texto que tramita no Senado — e que foi aprovado nesta quarta-feira na CCJ da casa — está em estágio mais avançado, e segue agora para apreciação do plenário. Caso seja aprovado, o projeto tramita na Câmara e depois — se não houver alteração — pode ser alvo de veto e sanção do presidente.

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cross-posted from: https://lemmy.ml/post/40278335

Published Dec. 12, 2025
https://archive.ph/h23Jt

Firms with ties to Cuba are getting a larger share of Venezuelan oil exports, as the island’s security agents boost President Nicolás Maduro’s defenses.

[If the US didn't embargo and sanction Cuba and Venezuela, this wouldn't be necessary.]

On Friday, Cuban officials condemned the American seizure of the tanker, calling it in a statement an “act of piracy and maritime terrorism” that hurts Cuba and its people.

“This action is part of the U.S. escalation aimed at hampering Venezuela’s legitimate right to freely use and trade its natural resources with other nations, including the supplies of hydrocarbons to Cuba,” the statement said.

The White House did not immediately respond to a request for comment.

[...]How have the copywriters been faring, in a world awash in cheap AI text generators and wracked with AI adoption mania in executive circles? As always, we turn to the workers themselves. And once again, the stories they have to tell are unhappy ones. These are accounts of gutted departments, dried up work, lost jobs, and closed businesses. I’ve heard from copywriters who now fear losing their apartments, one who turned to sex work, and others, who, to their chagrin, have been forced to use AI themselves.

Readers of this series will recognize some recurring themes: The work that client firms are settling for is not better when it’s produced by AI, but it’s cheaper, and deemed “good enough.” Copywriting work has not vanished completely, but has often been degraded to gigs editing client-generated AI output. Wages and rates are in free fall, though some hold out hope that business will realize that a human touch will help them stand out from the avalanche of AI homogeneity.

Mark Carney, once a U.N. special envoy on climate action and finance, is now winning praise from industry but alienating former environmental allies.

archive.ph/v9Qpo

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/ralo_ramone on 2025-12-13 15:19:55+00:00.

The tunnel seemed to stretch forever. Without [Foresight], I might have lost track of time. Other than the occasional scratching sound of the rats against the stone floor, the tunnel was completely silent. Holst moved like a shadow, and Talindra had silenced her hooves with leather sandals. At some point along the walk, Jorn’s agents wordlessly took a side exit. Prince Adrien’s men took another exit shortly after. The three of us kept going until we reached a stone wall with metal rungs embedded deeply into it. Ten meters above our heads was an opening lit by the warm light of fire.

“Let’s go.” I climbed the ladder into an old, windowless room that held nothing but a fire pit and a boiling cauldron. 

A familiar man was removing the embers and got up as soon as I entered the room. The fire shone against his metal gauntlets concealed under his cloak. He seemed to be waiting for us.

“Captain Garibal, I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” I greeted him.

The man gave me a polite bow.

“Prince Adrien has prepared countermeasures if things get out of control, Lord Clarke.”

The uncomfortable feeling of being on the edge of the precipice receded. Having the backing of the royal family felt great, although Talindra and Holst gave me an even greater comfort.

“Please use these. It is carnival night… again,” Captain Garibal handed us handcrafted masks. A wendigo, a wolf, and a bird. 

I could tell from a mile away that they were made by a low-level artisan. The seams were durable enough, but the materials were cheap, and they lacked that ‘masterpiece’ vibe that even Ginz at level twenty could give to his creations. They were perfect for passing unnoticed among commoners.

I grabbed the wendigo skull, Talindra the wolf head, and Holst the bird mask.

“Does this make me look fierce?” Talindra asked, showing her profile.

“Yes,” Holst replied, somehow making the ‘yes’ sound like an ‘absolutely not’.

Captain Garibal nodded and walked to the room’s only door. In the vestibule, ten royal soldiers stood, their uniforms hidden beneath long cloaks. Given their mana signatures, they were in their high thirties.

“Do you know where to go, Lord Clarke?” Captain Garibal asked.

I nodded. [Foresight] served me like an extremely accurate GPS. We were a couple of hundred meters from the location of the anti-nobility rally, deep in the East Ward. I didn’t expect the royal family to have a safe house here, though.

The lookout on the door signaled us to approach and opened it.

“Good luck,” the captain said.

Holst and Talindra stepped out, but I fell behind.

“If you have days off, take a trip to Farcrest. I know a craftsman who makes really good prosthetics,” I said, pointing at Captain Garibal's empty sleeve.

He gave me yet another of his polite bows.

“Let’s hope things slow down after the coronation,” he replied.

Without saying more, I followed the faun-eared wolf head into the main street. The East Ward was unrecognizable. The streets were as pothole-ridden as ever, but paper lamps and festoons made of old fabric hung between buildings, covering the night sky almost completely. Just like in the inner city, artists and performers fought for the most crowded corners while the inns and taverns kept their doors open to itinerant partygoers. As soon as we stepped outside, the sharp smell of offal and onion hit my face.

Holst was more than happy to move out.

“What if we are the only ones at the rally?” Talindra whispered near my ear.

“Then we won’t have to struggle distinguishing guilty from innocent,” I replied.

Prince Adrien had assured me he was only interested in the rally's organizers, not in the people curious about their message. Given the stakes, I hoped he was telling the truth, for both our sakes. So far, he seemed legit when it came to keeping the peace in the East Ward.

I led the way. We passed countless food stands until the crowd became sparser. The anti-nobility rally was scheduled to take place near the city's edge in an area notorious for its blacksmiths and tanneries. I understood why the party didn’t take place there. The odor of the tanneries wasn’t pleasant.

Neither Holst nor Talindra complained, but I noticed their wrinkled noses.

We stopped in the shadow of a nearby alley and examined the surroundings. Masked figures dressed in all the colors of the rainbow slowly poured into a warehouse, barely exchanging a glance with each other. There were way more attendees than I expected. 

Prince Adrien’s agents were nowhere to be seen.

“Last chance to back out,” I whispered.

“If I take even a step back, I won’t be able to sleep thinking about what happened in there,” Holst replied.

[Foresight] told me the event was about to start.

“Remember, we are not here to fight. Let’s stick together. If something goes wrong, let’s watch each other’s backs until Prince Adrien and Lord Jorn’s people arrive,” I said.

Holst and Talindra nodded.

We crossed the street and entered the warehouse through the gap in the sliding gate. The place was dimly lit by a few torches and old Lightstones. I counted two hundred people clumping around a stage made of old crates. Some wore masks, while others walked with their faces uncovered. Most were dressed as the everyday commoners of the East Ward market, but I noticed some Librarian robes and expensive fabrics. 

I walked to the corner to have a panoramic view of the warehouse and leaned against the wall. Talindra and Holst stayed close, but not so close that others would notice we were together. Given the dim light and the number of people, [Foresight] was the only thing keeping me from losing them in the crowd.

There was a small commotion at the front, and a crow-masked man climbed the old crates. I held my breath, but the man remained silent, simply looking at the audience. Talindra gave me a nervous glance, but I gave her a reassuring smile.

Whoever the crowman was, he knew how to build suspense.

“It’s good to see you here tonight, both the new faces and the old ones,” he said with a magically amplified voice. His voice was higher-pitched and more nasally than I expected. “Have you been enjoying my potions? Haven’t you been leveling up like I said you would?”

There were a few cheers from the crowd.

“That’s good to hear. Don’t let those so-called nobles say you are defective. Ever,” the crowman continued. “It’s not your fault you don’t have an armory of enchanted items ready to help you level up. They don’t realize it, but they are the real coattailers here, not us! Who are they to say they are better when they have coffers of gold ready to buy the most exotic materials in the kingdom while we skin rats?”

The crowd roared again, but the sound quickly died.

“It’s okay, you can show your anger,” the crowman continued. “I have a couple of Scholar friends casting a Silence Dome around the building. We could be butchering a pig and nobody would notice, so go on, scream for me, Cadria! Let me hear the injustices you have faced!”

The crowd laughed and applauded as the crowman continued performing on the stage. His message encapsulated the main objections commoners had to nobles. Firana had articulated them even better than the masked man. As he continued his speech, something else caught my attention. Among the people continuing to drip into the warehouse, I caught a glimpse of a hockey mask.

My body moved on its own, and I cut through the crowd until I found him.

The Sound Bandit.

What was he doing here?

I stood by his side, shoulder to shoulder. He was shorter than me, shorter than I was even before the ‘stretch’ I had experienced when I became a high-level Sage. 

“You survived the explosion,” I whispered in English.

My words startled the Sound Bandit. He examined my mask, and I did the same. I couldn’t see anything through the holes in the hockey mask, and he seemed to be wearing a balaclava underneath. His only response was an affirmative grunt. A very juvenile grunt, if I had to guess, just like those I used to hear in detention.

“Are your ears still ringing?”

Another grunt.

“Up close, you are rather short, aren’t you?” I taunted him.

Grunt.

The crowman raised his hands to silence the crowd.

“...I know, I know. It’s been a while since I handed off my potions. I’m really sorry, but gathering the ingredients takes time. The royals and their thugs really want to keep them away from me.”

The crowd swallowed the man’s words without hesitation. With a movement of his hand, four big men brought crates from the back of the warehouse. I stood on my tiptoes and looked through the forest of feathers, little bells, antlers, and fake animal ears. 

“These are for you! A gift! From me, to you!” the crowman continued as the purple potions were revealed. “There’s plenty for everyone! Drink one! Bring another for your friend!”

There was something circus-like about the man’s performance.

The mob pushed forward, and the Sound Bandit was dragged along, though I was strong enough to resist the flow of the crowd.. This was bad. Didn’t they know about what happened during the selection exam with the corrupted potions? I opened my mouth to warn them, but stopped short. 

The first rows had already drunk the contents of the vials.

“Don’t overdo it! You won’t sleep for a week!” the crowman shouted. “Don’t push!  There are more in the back!”

I turned around just as two more men entered the warehouse carrying the same unmarked crates full of potion racks. After the first pus...

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Quetzhal on 2025-12-13 14:55:02+00:00.

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Chapter 46: Yeast

"Yeast," Cale said, very patiently.

Damien stared at him. The poor dreadshade looked like he was getting increasingly confused rather than enlightened, which, frankly, was a little insulting. This explanation had worked perfectly well with Vesuvius!

Although Cale supposed that Vesuvius hadn't actually had to worry about how yeast worked. It wasn't really necessary for the vision, and it was technically a vision. It operated on how they both understood the world. All Cale had needed to do was procure the ingredients, mix them in front of an increasingly fascinated elemental god, and then stick them in an oven.

Vesuvius had been both surprised and fascinated the fifth time he went through the process, when the dough rose and baked into a reasonably bread-looking loaf. He was familiar with his element burning things, charring things, and even with the general idea of cooking. What he apparently hadn't encountered yet—or hadn't paid much attention to—was baking, where the application of heat transformed raw dough into a different product entirely.

That was when he'd really gotten invested. Cale sighed wistfully; that had been a good few hours of baking. He'd have to find a way to repair the artifact quickly and get another one of those visions... although that meant he'd have to confront Imrys, and he did technically run away from her earlier.

Damien, who had no real way of realizing that Cale was in the middle of a nostalgic reverie, cut through his thoughts. "Yeast?" he asked helplessly.

"What? Oh. Yes. Yeast." Cale nodded distractedly.

"I don't... um... I don't know what you want me to do with that," Damien said.

There was a small jar sitting on the table between them. As far as Cale was concerned, the jar was just the starting point. It had been a long time since he'd had a good loaf of sourdough bread, and while he could technically get Alina to bake one for him the normal way, it just wasn't the same for him if it wasn't made from start to end with magic.

And now he had that magic. Sort of. He still needed to actually evolve the spell, but first he needed to get all the ingredients together, and he had to make his own starter. Cale had ended up running all over the academy grounds just to collect everything he needed.

Which was the following: a jar from Syphus (who had a jar collection, for some reason); several types of flour from Alina (who was very interested, but unfortunately busy trying to tame her mandrake root); water from Flia (who chased him back out of her room immediately after, muttering something about almost having it); and space from Imrys (which he had only acquired after promising to cast the next [Awaken Artifact] with her present.)

Now all he needed to do was to get Damien to accelerate the process of making the starter. Decay mana was closely related to fungal mana! All Damien needed to do was use his magic to accelerate the growth of the yeast in the air while he fed it various types of flour...

...Hm. Now that he thought about it, Damien would probably be a lot less confused if he'd said all of this out loud. He sort of assumed he had, but thinking back, he was pretty sure he'd actually just stared intently at his apprentice and then said the word "yeast."

"Damien," Cale said. "Did I ask you to make some yeast, or did I just stare at you and then say the word yeast?"

"The, um... definitely the second one," Damien said awkwardly. "You wanted me to make yeast? How do I even... shouldn't we talk about, you know, everything that just happened?"

"What?" Cale asked blankly. "Oh, you mean with our fire resonance class? I mean, we can't just run off to Haelforge to solve their problems. Professor Delia seems like she has it handled, and they have an alchemist that knows how to alleviate the symptoms of shimmerdust poisoning. Imrys already said she'd help fix the Firestorm Scale. I feel like everything resolved pretty neatly."

Damien stared at him. "First of all, they didn't," he said. "We have those... those fly things all over the academy! We have to do something about them!"

"If we did, they'd know we're on to them," Cale said reasonably. "What we should do is find out where they're coming from and destroy the source artifact before they can hide it. Which Sternkessel is doing, so I think we get to focus on baking."

Damien sighed. "And second, I was talking about our History of the Great Realms class," he said. "You know, the class we just had, where you took over the professor and started lecturing the class instead? Three students fainted, one of them somehow discovered a new spell, and I'm pretty sure you gave the professor nosebleeds for several different reasons."

Cale paused, frowning. That had been... a pretty normal class, it felt like. Certainly less eventful than most of his other classes had been. "What's there to talk about?"

"Everything!" Damien gestured wildly, then groaned at Cale's blank expression. "You can't just completely overturn centuries of..."

The dreadshade trailed off and sighed. "Nevermind. You're going to do it no matter what I say, aren't you?"

Cale shot Damien an offended look. "The textbook was wrong. And rude! I wasn't just going to let my friends be slandered. K'xoarcl might have a mouth in its exposed brains, but it also has feelings."

He paused. "Twice as much feeling per feeling, actually," he added. "We checked. Mathematically sound. It really messed up the utilitarians in that realm for a bit."

"I think if I question that I'm going to end up the same way our professor did," Damien muttered to himself. "Okay, um... just nevermind all that, then. I do have something I need to talk to you about, but that can wait until Syphus gets here again. I don't think I should let people overhear me. Especially if those fly things are around."

Cale shot him a curious look at that, but shrugged, choosing not to question it. "So, you'll help me?" he asked brightly.

Damien hesitated. "What did you want me to do? You wanted me to make yeast?"

"Fungal magic is closely related to decay magic," Cale explained. "All you need to do is figure out some sort of decay spell that accelerates the growth of yeast in this jar while I feed it."

Damien stared doubtfully at the various packs of flour Cale had brought with him. "Are you sure that's how you're supposed to make... whatever this is?" he asked. "Decay isn't usually something I would want to mix with food..."

Cale shrugged. "Mostly!" he said, beaming. "Technically you're just supposed to feed the starter with one type of flour, but I figure we can mix it up. Give the yeast a nice, varied diet. Enrichment, you know?"

"I don't think that's how that works," Damien said hesitantly.

"It'll be fine." Cale waved off his concerns. "Just hit the jar with a [Decay Bolt] or something. It should kickstart the whole process."

"We're not starting with [Decay Bolt]," Damien protested immediately. "That's just a full decay effect! It would make it rot!"

Cale paused. "Good point. What about [Yeast Bolt]?"

"I would have suggested that already if I had it," Damien mumbled. "I don't know how to make one."

"Would be a great time to try!" Cale gave him a friendly grin. "You never know what you're capable of. Besides, think about it—you'd be proving that you can use decay mana for much more than just death and rot. You'd be able to use it for baking. Which is kind of like healing, if you think about it."

"You lost me at that last part," Damien said, though he couldn't help but smile slightly. "But yeah, I guess... I guess that would be nice."

—

Damien stared at the jar and hesitated, feeling slightly ridiculous. There was no reason to feel nervous about his ability to follow through on Cale's absurd plan—especially since he was pretty sure Cale wouldn't blame him if he failed—but the guy was so sincerely excited about it that Damien just didn't want to disappoint him.

That and he was liable to come up with something even more worrying if this whole thing with decay mana didn't work out. Damien wasn't sure which one was worse. After everything Cale had helped him with, though, this seemed like a minor favor to return in comparison.

He just had to figure out how exactly he was supposed to do this. Safely. As powerful as Cale was, he wasn't invulnerable, and one of the few secrets he had been concerningly open about was the fact that he was still vulnerable to most non-magical kinds of poison.

Damien really didn't want his only effective mentor-slash-friend to die of food poisoning before they got to understanding his new mana aspect. Or after, for that matter.

Or ever, preferably, but from what Cale had said...

Damien studiously avoided thinking about that by engaging the one defense mechanism he'd practiced thoroughly with: changing the subject he was dwelling on. He still hadn't gotten the chance to talk to Cale about his new [Legacy of the Verdant Flame]; Syphus had been in a bit of a rush when they were meeting with it earlier, but had promised to meet them "soon." Damien was only willing to talk about this with Syphus in the room, especially now that he knew that the Red Hunte...

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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/CrackHeadSchzioMarin on 2025-12-13 13:27:48+00:00.

First: Chapter 1

Previous: Chapter 8.5

After Ae was told politely to leave, and by politely meaning being forced out by heavily armed guards, Oril decided to follow Ae for answers, and by extension, the rest of her friends. Though she didn't really mind them. Right now, surely Ae had a reason for what he did…he always had!

“Ae! What was that?!” She asked, making sure to keep her distance.

“It was nothing.” He said, coldly.

“It clearly WAS something!” Oril asked, now this time annoyed and concerned.

“Minor altercation.” He said vaguely again before going quiet.

“Ugh! Ae! What— where— tell me what happened! Also where are you going!”, She said, trying to keep pace with his speed while keeping distance from him, trailed closely behind by her friends of course.

“Returning back to our dorm unit. Not much to do now is there?” He said without even breaking pace or even glancing at her face.

Oril said nothing to that. Standing where her last step was placed and allowing Ae to continue walking on his own. It was so annoying…she did nothing wrong…infact, she did everything right. Why did he always have to act like this? WHY DID SHE CARE?! He wasn’t her responsibility but being around him always made her feel…special.

She sniffled, and an appendage was placed on her shoulder, the smooth and soft sensation clearing coming from Kai. “Hey, why don’t you join us in our apartment? Maybe even talk about whatever you want?” Kai said in a motherly tone.

She turned to Trisha, wiping water from her eyes. The face Trisha wore was solace and comfort, bearing a smile with no teeth so as to not look threatening.

“I’d like that.” Oril whispered.

…

Ae marched through the busy city street, watching with amusement as everyone around him parted, giving a clear path wherever he went. It was honestly quite empowering seeing them scared of him and to intentionally avoid him.

Then one of them didn't, how could it? It's back was turned to him and what little footsteps Ae’s boots made were practically silenced by the background roar of the crowd.

Ae’s left body hit the side of the being who dared stand in his way, he expected at least some resistance or something a bit more solid but, to his surprise, it felt like hitting a large mattress. He didn't see the sentient fall, but he certainly heard it as it fell to the ground with a surprised scream.

Yet Ae didn't falter, his pace remained and his glare unyielding as the crowd around him redoubled their efforts in avoiding him.

Eventually, Ae made it back to his dorm unit. Alone.

…

“I-I don't know… I guess he's always like that.” Oril said while sitting on the couch in her friends’ apartment.

“Why do you even care? As you said he's not your man.” Trisha said lazily as she tossed another fried Kulsa ball into her jaw.

“I…” Oril hesitated. She knew Ae wasn't her responsibility, yet it just felt right. She loved being around him, despite his…lack of emotion.

Maybe she was starved of male contact and she just jumped at the opportunity. Maybe she was this desperate for male attention, she hadn't even considered the warning signs…like Ae being an predator…an apex predator at that…would he even be attracted to different species? Fuuuccckkk.

“Listen, Oril, we know you want him.” Trisha said calmly and Oril’s feathers began to rise on end with embarrassment. “But you gotta take it slow. If he ain't yours, don't act like he is.”

At that Oril fell silent, deep in thought. She knew Trisha was right, Ae wasn't her responsibility, hell, Ae event stated he could handle himself. But then why did it feel so wrong when she wasn't with him. She thought back on the times they interacted with each other, they were friends…friends? Were they even considered friends?

‘this would be so much easier if Ae showed emotion.’ Oril said to herself.

“But aye, you still got us!” Kai said walking into the living carrying a tray full of various snacks. “What dont we watch a movie huh? Night’s still young.” Kai said and Oril smiled.

One thing was for sure, she had to talk to Ae. She didn't know how she would start, but she had to try. But for now, that can wait till tomorrow.

For a moment, the thought of Ae slipped her mind.

Next:

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Engletroll on 2025-12-13 11:16:08+00:00.

Previously.../...

Patreon .../.... Project Dirt

“Can't we go any faster?”

He looked over at her and chuckled. “Not when they are linked up. I told you it would be slow.  Max speed is about 75 to 80 kilometers an hour.”

“Why? We should have the energy,” He could hear she was annoyed by the answer, and he could not help but smile.

“We are dragging a big box that is not very aerodynamic after us; most of the energy is used to give us height.  You want to go faster? Sure, we have to lower the height, but I prefer keeping us up here with no risk of some idiot shooting at us with a bow.”

She looked down at the ground fare below them, then at the indicator, five hundred meters above ground.

“So if we go down to, let's say, three hundred, we get more speed?”

“Yes, but trust me, it's better to take it slow and safe than fast and risk detection.”

“We can still be detected. And we move slower.”

“We move 75 kilometers an hour, I don’t think they can keep up on the ground.”

“It's just these scooters are so damn fast, and  we are using them at grandma speed.”

“We must have different grandmas,” he replied, and she turned toward him.

“What do you mean?”

“Granny was a racer, she would kill me if she saw what I have done with the scooters.” He said, thinking of his granny working on the engines and teaching him everything he knew. She wanted him to be a mechanic, but he wanted to fly. She had never said it, but he thought she was proud of him.

“Damn, my grandmother was a judge, corrupt as hell. The other owned a couple of nightclubs. They never wanted me to meet her, I was banned from them. I only met her once. When we raided her so-called nightclub.”

“Oh, so is any of your family besides you that’s not involved in the family business?”

“Got an uncle. He works as a psychologist. He and his family are out of it. There was one other, but he got killed.”

“Damn, sorry to hear that.”

“Oh, I never met him, but they used him as an example to keep us in the family business. The speech goes like this ‘Be careful, Uncle Gino left, but our enemies killed him when we could no longer protect him.’ I’m starting to think there was never an Uncle Gino.”

“Yeah, so they had a scary story to keep the family from turning to good. Damn, not what I would expect.” As he spoke, the nature below them changed from snow and ice to green forest as they came down from the mountain and into the long fjord. They quickly left the forest behind and flew over the water. He looked at the map.

“There is an island at the end of this fjord, we can stop there for the night. I want to run a diagnostic on the scooter and make some adjustments.”

“Wait, you want to run diagnostics now? Are you sure this scooter can handle the stress?”

“Don’t worry about it, they can handle it. I just want to check the energy output, and if the highness wants to increase the speed, maybe even a little. Oh, and the scooters can be detached, and then you get the full speed.”

“I’m highness now?”

“Well, you are a mafia princess.”

She laughed at his comment as they started to fly through the fjord. Below them, they saw some fishing boats in the middle of the fjord.

“Locals below!”

“Where?” She looked down, but they had already passed them.

“See, we have enough speed.”

“There is never enough speed!” She replied.

“You’re the fast-is-always-better type?”

“Yes! I hate waiting.”

“So I should be faster in everything  I do?”

“Yes.. wait, no, not always.. You bastard!” He could hear her smile through the microphone.

“What me?”

“By the way, do we have any music on this thing?”

“Yeah, music, movies, small drones for action recording, lights, radar, and for weapons, the guy had installed a forward-mounted concealed plasma autorun, two grenade holders that were modified to be dropped as bombs, and a smokescreen.”

“shit. I  think I know what these bikes are… fuck.” She started to mess with the interface, searching for something. “They have camera recordings, right? Or were they wiped?”

“Yes, of course? Why. I didn’t touch that. Why?”

“It’s the bikes they used when they kidnapped me.  People died then, and I remember they spoke on several raids on the safe houses, too.  I’m sure they recorded it. Hell, if I’m lucky, I get who sold me out.”

“Go wild. I got the driving. I’ll let you know when we arrive at the first stop.”

He looked around as they flew above the fjord. The place was beautiful, with green and yellow trees along the sides. Waterfalls are coming down the steep mountainside.  He could see the deep fjords below, wondering what was below the surface.  After a while, he entered the interface and found the music files and looked for something nice to listen to. It was mostly alien music, and he ended up skipping most of the songs as he made a playlist of something he could listen to.

After a few more hours, they left the fjord, and the three islands popped up, protecting the fjord from the harsh ocean outside.  He spotted three villages.

“Locals coming up. Three villages, two on the first island and one by the entry of the fjord.”

“Uh, oh.. ohh .. are we stopping?”

“You want to stop?” he looked at her, and she seemed confused.

“You don’t? Can we check out the locals?  How long a range do these small drones have?”

“About five kilometers. Why? “ He slowed down the scooter to a full stop.

“There, that island. It looks empty, so we fly over and take the drones for a spin. Just to see what they can do.”

“These are not as good as the ones back on Peppermint.  They are for recreational purposes.”

“Yeah, but I want to see. I mean, are these as bad as the green ones?”

“As you wish, princess.” He started the scooter and found a place to park that seemed to be difficult to access by foot and did a quick scan. Some small bird life and semi-aquatic life were playing on the water and shore. They looked like large cats with fins instead of feet. It reminded him of a seal except for the catlike face and a long, thick tail. He got off the bike and stretched. It felt good to move. She looked at him, and he helped her off.

“They can't see us here,” he checked the wrist computer and then smiled. “And we are at the breathable area now.

“so we can remove the helmets?”

“Yeah, but I would not recommend it. Better to do that slowly, start the adjustment protocol.”

“So I don’t get to see your beautiful face?”

“Hey, check your carbon levels. You're speaking nonsense.” He replied, and she teasingly pushed him.

“Stop it, you're actually good looking.”

“It’s not like you have many people to compare me with here.” He leaned back over the scooter display and released a tennis-ball-sized round drone.

“Well, let's see who we can compare you with.” She replied and did the same, and soon two small dark metal cubes flew over the water towards the closest fishing village. The village wasn’t big, it had twenty-two houses that looked like a mix of Asian and Viking longhouses, and the people were the same pigmen who were busy doing their daily work. The men were powerful and strong. The children were helping their parents.  They spied on them for a while. Kiko was leaning into him as they moved the drones around.  Then they quickly checked the other two villages and didn’t see much difference. But they noticed the village on the shoreline had a salted field facing the forest.

“Hey, we were right, these guys are not so bad.”

“We don’t know that yet, but they don’t seem so bad. Let's get going. I want to go further out. There is an island two more hours out. I will feel safer there.”

“If you insist.  But we could take an early night.”

“Look, you saw that they all were carrying axes or swords, right? Those guys are used to fighting, and an axe to the  display can make us stranded here.”  He replied, and she gave him a salute.

“Yes, sir! As you wish, Sir!”

“ha ha. Very funny.”

They collected the drones and flew off, and two hours later, as he had promised, they found a new island. It looked like a giant dead tree stump, and he landed it on top.

“You picked a volcano?”

“A dead volcano. It won't burst unless we blow off the top and start blasting down to the mantel.”

“So you’re a geologist too now? So many secrets.” She replied as they went off, and he released the drones and put them on guard mode. They would circle the base slowly and warn them if anybody approached.  Then he opened the container, and they entered. He closed it and activated the cleaning program, then removed the suit. Kiko followed him and smiled as she saw his face.

“There you are, beautiful.” She smiled, and he helped her out of the suit. He had made a small room for them to stay. It had a small kitchen and a bed with a large screen. They settled in as he made them dinner. She started watching something on the screen, but ended up watching him make the food as she had her head resting on her knees, hugging her legs. She didn’t say anything, but the way she looked at him made him feel something strange. Like he wanted, no, he craved her. When he finished, she just smiled and bit her lips, shyly looking at him.

“It's not poisonous.” He said, and she giggled.

“I know, I’m just not used to this.”

“Being kidnapped and dumped on a forgotten planet with a farm boy?”

“Well, that too, but you are also much more than a farmboy, and I mean this. You make dinner from scratc...

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Helbram’s eyes fluttered open slowly, but the ache in his heart continued unabated, unaffected by the usual morning dullness over his other senses. He shifted in his cot until he sat at its edge, breaths deep and slow to calm the pain. His hands rubbed over his face and cradled it as he sat in silence, the echoes of unfulfilled dreams bouncing through his mind. He knew that the girl wasn’t real, a vision of a future that would no longer come to pass, one that he thought he hardened his heart to many moons ago.

Yet, why did it hurt just as much when he first saw it?

He closed his eyes and lifted his head up, taking in a final deep breath. Pushing away the girl’s smiling face, those eyes that were the same as his, should have been easy by now. It still wasn’t, and so he resigned himself to the torment of her visage until it finally faded away, the wake of her absence turning pain into an empty void that gnawed a larger gap in his soul.

The tent’s entrance flapped open as footsteps thundered in. “Oi, sleepy head, the beasts may be hibernatin’ but that doesn’ mean you ha-... are you alright?” Leaf’s tone had shifted from light to concern the moment he was fully under the canvas.

“I’m-” Helbram sighed. “I am fine.” He opened his eyes and flashed his friend a small smile. “Did I really sleep in that much?”

The hunter’s eyes narrowed at him, but whatever furrowed his brow did not press any further. “Yes, usually you would have been awake about an hour ago.”

“Well, I blame you,” Helbram said as he stood up. He stretched his arms and let a groan slip through his teeth when his muscles started to relax. “Had you not chosen such comfortable hides to sleep on, I would not have been so lulled into a deep slumber.”

Leaf scoffed. “Don’t blame me for havin’ good taste.” He looked Helbram in the eyes again, a searching air to his own sky blue irises, but once again he did not press any further. “Anyways, get ready, I’m sure we’re bound to have a busy day.”

“No doubt…” Helbram hefted his armor, which was piled neatly next to his cot, onto the hides and laid it out. “Has breakfast been started?”

“Aye, and with a pot of tea, too.” Leaf turned and stopped once he reached the entrance of the tent. “Consderin’ that we did most of the work, we’re expecting a heavy gratuity for our services.”

“I can see a rather lonesome tour of woodchopping in my future,” Helbram said in a dull tone.

“I wouldn’t say lonesome, there’ll be plenty of ribbing involved.” His companion flashed him a grin and stepped out of the tent.

Helbram could only follow after it with a shake of his head and a smirk to himself. Minutes passed as he strapped on his brigandine, the black armor piece fitting snug over his broad chest. His boots followed next, then his pauldrons, but he kept his hands free of his gauntlets for the time being and strapped those to his waist. After slipping a hand through his hair to brush it into the semblance of order, he picked up his helmet and examined its surface. The armor piece, despite the enchantment that was placed on it, was scuffed and nicked in various places; the consequences of battles that had been fought at a pace many would find too frequent. It was recently polished, a small project of Helbram’s own while they were on the road, and when he examined his visor, he expected his own tired face to be looking at him.

The girl stared back at him instead.

He clenched his jaw and closed his eyes once again to let the sting of her face fade away. Upon opening them, she was gone, and his face was staring back at him, a clear mask trying to conceal the pain that smouldered beneath.

“It is just a dream, Helbram,” he admonished himself while he strapped the helmet to the other side of his waist.

After taking another moment to gather himself and make his mask not so transparent, he grabbed his shield and flipped it idly in his palms as he stepped out of the tent. The sizzling of a frying pain greeted him first, followed by faint scents of eggs and a few sausages, luxuries they had picked up in Dunwich not so long ago. Soft scents of black tea slipped through the smell at times, and the combination made him all too aware of the rumbling in his stomach. Jahora stooped over the fire pit, humming a tune to herself as she shifted pans from directly over the flames to just off to the side of the burning wood.

“Morning, Jahora. Deciding to start this excursion off on a high note, I see.” Helbram took a seat on a fallen log that had been rolled next to the fire.”

“But of course,” the Mage said in a chipper tone, “and we can only keep such foods for so long, even if we did manage to procure an icebox.” She tapped her wooden spatula against the edge of the pan and let it hang off of its edge before giving Leaf an expectant stare. “I leave it to our hunter to manage our food supply from now on.”

Leaf snorted. “So I get the supplies but I’m not allowed to cook, is that how it is?”

“It’s not my fault you burnt breakfast last,” Jahora countered.

“I’m takin’ no blame for that.” His ears perked up at the sound of pattering. “There’s the real culprit right now.” He turned and caught Shadow mid leap before cradling the cub in his arms. The black wolf panted happily as Leaf rubbed the top of his head aggressively. “This oaf just had to look at me with such an adorable face, how could I resist not pettin’ him with my full attention?” He wrapped his hands around Shadow’s face and scrunched its features before pointing the beast at Jahora, who chortled at the sight.

“You may have a point, but only a slight one.” She left the hunter to his bliss and focused her attention to Helbram. “Care for a spot of tea?”

“Always,” he said.”

The mage poured the steaming, herbal scented brew into a tin cup and handed that to him. It might have been too hot in normal circumstances, but in the midst of the morning chill, his fingers were thankful for the relief.

“Honey?” Jahora offered, holding up a small jar.

“Not today, no.” He sipped at the bitter drink and looked over at the tent opposite to his. “Are the others still asleep?”

“Indeed.” The Mage poured a cup for herself. “Elly spent most of the night pouring over her notebooks, rather obsessively, I may add, while Aria is just sleeping in.” She clicked her teeth. “A rather bad habit to pick up.”

“Indeed,” Helbram said, “it is truly a mystery where she could have learned such behavior. You are up much earlier than usual, by the way.”

“Nonsense, this is when I’m always up. I just happen to linger in bed a bit longer afterwards.”

Helbram shook his head and let the small woman get back to her devices. His eyes strayed to the airship for a moment, the fading emptiness in his chest finally washed away as he traced its intricate make to the sky. His thoughts drifted to what may lay in wait in the structure’s interior, which started a stirring in his chest that nearly brought him to his feet right there. Such a high was not meant to last, for at the corner of his vision, he saw Leaf staring towards the mercenary’s camp.

He followed his friend’s gaze and saw that one of the mercenaries, a younger man with less stubble on his chin than the others, was walking towards them. The man’s eyes darted between Helbram and Leaf, unsure of which of them to focus on. Eventually, they settled on the hunter, who was not shy about his confusion when the man walked up to him.

“Xanchil wants to see you.” His eyes darted to the breakfast that was in the midst of cooking, and not so subtly licked his lips at the sight.

Leaf frowned. “Why?”

The mercenary shrugged. “Dunno, he just said he wanted to speak to the leader of this party.”

The hunter’s mouth opened, a correction no doubt ready to spring from the tip of his tongue, but Helbram spoke first.

“His duties will leave him otherwise occupied, at the moment.”

Leaf’s eyes widened and he turned to Helbram, but he said nothing when the warrior subtly raised a finger that only the hunter could see. “I can speak in his stead.”

“I dunno about that,” the man said in a wary tone, “Xanchil is very peculiar about his orders.”

“Then leave such things between me and him.” He stood up and motioned for the mercenary to take the lead. “Shall we?”

He gave Leaf a final glance as he was led to the mercenary camp, meeting his companion’s continued confusion with a small wave to let him know that there was a reason behind his actions. One that he hoped would pay off, given who he was dealing with.

Upon his approach to the camp, he took a measure of those that walked in its confines. To his surprise, not many of the men were out and about. It was still morning, but late enough that he had expected most to be awake. Instead, only a handful of them were outside or emerging from their tents, still rubbing their eyes or letting yawns stretch their jaws as they plopped around their semblance of a firepit. The place wasn’t a mess, but it felt… lived in, like the piles of rations and other supplies fell into designated messes as opposed to being laid out in an orderly fashion. The only thing that wasn’t like this were their weapons, which were either laid out on tables and spaced to allow for easy access or strapped to each of the men’s waists. Helbram did not feel like any of them were going to make use of their armaments anytime soon, but he k...

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