24/04/81 ATE
“Thanks for coming so soon, Illuminus,” First Citizen Roderick said, his voice tight with restrained urgency. He sat behind the gleaming polished desk in his private quarters, the room’s stark simplicity amplifying the tension in the air. “I have a sensitive matter to discuss with you. Close the door.” Illuminus stepped into the room, sealing the heavy metal door behind him with a groan and sharp hiss. He turned toward Roderick, his tone steady but edged with curiosity.
“What’s this about, First Citizen?”
Roderick rose from his chair, pacing slowly behind the desk. Roderick rose from his chair, pacing behind the desk. His greying hair was neat, but worry lines etched his forehead.
“Olaf is missing,” he said flatly, the words landing heavily in the small room. Illuminus blinked, the statement taking a moment to register.
“Missing? How? Where was he last seen?” Roderick let out a slow breath, his expression hardening.
“The last time anyone saw him was a week ago, after an... argument we had.”
“An argument? About what?” Illuminus pressed, frowning slightly. Roderick’s sharp gaze flicked toward him, his voice hard.
“That’s not your concern. What matters is this: Olaf is out there in the wasteland, and his absence puts the Bunker at risk.” Illuminus tilted his head, trying to understand.
“Risk? Olaf knows the protocols. He wouldn’t compromise the Bunker.” Roderick leaned forward, his pale blue eyes unflinching.
“Even the strongest resolve can falter under the right pressure. If someone coerces or tortures him into revealing our location...” He left the sentence unfinished, the weight of it hanging between them.
“Olaf wouldn’t betray us,” Illuminus said, though uncertainty crept into his voice. “He’s too disciplined for that.” Roderick’s voice remained sharp.
“Disciplined or not, he’s still human. We can’t take chances. That’s why I need you to go after him.” Illuminus stared, stunned.
“Me? But... I’m not ready for this. I’ve only been outside the Bunker twice. I barely know what I’m doing out there.”
“With Olaf gone, you’re the best scout we have left,” Roderick said grimly, his pacing slowing. “You learned from him. You know enough to survive.” Illuminus shook his head slightly, frustration in his tone.
“It’s one thing to follow Olaf’s lead; it’s another to track him alone in the wasteland. What if I fail?”
Roderick crossed the room to a metal cabinet, his movements brisk and purposeful. He unlocked it and retrieved a sleek black handgun, along with a small box of ammunition. Setting them on the desk, he spoke with firm resolve.
“Failure isn’t an option.” Illuminus hesitated, his stomach tightening as he stared at the weapon.
"What is it you need of me?" Roderick’s face hardened further.
“Your mission is to find Olaf. He must be brought back—alive, if possible.”
Illuminus reached for the handgun slowly, the cold metal feeling heavier than it should. As he slid it into the holster, a knot tightened in his stomach—this wasn’t just a tool; it was a reminder of the danger waiting for him beyond the safety of the Bunker.
“I’m going to need money to buy supplies out there in the wasteland,” he said, his voice steady despite the tension in his chest. Roderick nodded, retrieving a small bag of cash from his desk and handing it over.
“This should suffice. But remember your training—don’t go looking for trouble. And above all, don’t ever reveal the location of the Bunker to anyone.”
Illuminus secured the bag of money in his pack and gave a firm nod.
“Understood.” Roderick’s tone softened, though his expression remained stern.
“You’re young, Illuminus, but I believe in you. The survival of the Bunker depends on what you do next. Don’t let us down.”
With those words lingering in his mind, Illuminus left the room, his footsteps echoing faintly in the cold steel corridors of The Bunker. Everything felt heavier as he walked, each step taking him closer to the massive gates that separated the only home he’d ever known from the vast, unforgiving wasteland beyond. When he stepped through, the steel mechanisms groaned loudly, and the gates closed behind him.
He stood motionless for a moment, the wind tugging at his worn jacket and carrying the bitter scent of dry earth and decay. Adjusting the pack slung over his shoulder, he set his sights on the distant ruins of Jares. His boots crunched over the cracked ground as he walked, Roderick’s words replaying in his mind. A week. Olaf had been gone for a week. Illuminus clenched his fists, forcing down the gnawing fear in his chest. A week is a long time, so much could have happened by now.
Many hours later, the ruined city of Jares loomed ahead, its jagged skyline etched against the fading light. The air was thick with the faint hum of bees as Illuminus entered the familiar courtyard where Viktor kept his hives. The beekeeper knelt beside a wooden box, carefully removing a honeycomb frame. The golden liquid glistening as sunlight filtered through the crumbling walls. He glanced up at Illuminus, his sharp eyes narrowing in recognition as he rose to his feet.
“Back so soon?” Viktor asked, wiping his hands on a rag. His weathered face held a faint smirk, though his watchful gaze betrayed his surprise. “Didn’t expect to see you again so soon, boy. Where’s Olaf?” Illuminus stopped a few steps away, his tone measured but serious. “That’s why I’m here. He’s missing. Have you seen him since we were here last?”
Viktor’s expression darkened, the smirk fading as he frowned thoughtfully.
“Missing, you say?” He scratched his chin, his eyes flicking briefly toward the horizon as if searching for an answer there. “The last time I saw him was when you two came through for honey,” he said, his voice carrying a note of unease.
“So, you have no idea where he might be?” Illuminus pressed, his shoulders sagging slightly. Viktor sighed and shook his head.
“I haven’t seen him,” he admitted, his voice steady but tinged with concern. “Try asking the tribes in the area. The White Moon, Scorpion Sting, even the Sharp Spear—they might have heard something. Just pray the Flame Brotherhood hasn’t found him.” The mention of the tribe brought a grim silence, Viktor’s words heavy with implication. Illuminus stood quietly, the weight of Viktor’s suggestion settling in his chest. Finding Olaf would clearly be no simple task. The dangers of the wasteland felt sharper than ever.
Offering a quick thanks, he adjusted the pack slung over his shoulder and turned toward the north. His sights set on the White Moon Tribe, Illuminus left the courtyard behind. The faint hum of bees lingered in the air as Jares receded into the distance. Before him, the vast emptiness of the wasteland stretched endlessly.
26/04/81 ATE
On the second day travelling north, the silence was broken by distant voices. Illuminus froze, pressing himself against the crumbled remains of a rusted wall. Two scavengers emerged from the haze, their ragged clothes flapping in the wind.
“I told you I heard something,” one of them said, his voice sharp and nasal. Illuminus tightened his grip on the handgun holstered at his side. He tried to keep his breathing steady, willing himself to remain hidden. Slowly, he shifted his weight to creep away, but a loose chunk of debris betrayed him, clattering loudly. Both scavengers spun toward the sound.
“There!” the shorter one barked.
Illuminus sprang from his hiding spot, the scavengers closing in fast.
“Stop right there!” the taller one snarled, drawing a rusted blade from his belt.
Illuminus’ pulse hammered as he fumbled for his gun. He raised it with trembling hands, aiming at the nearest scavenger.
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“Stay back!” he warned.
His finger hovered over the trigger, sweat beading on his temple. He wasn’t ready for this—he wasn’t Olaf. But there was no time to think. The shorter scavenger lunged first with his broken pipe, and Illuminus’ instincts took over. The gunshot cracked across the wasteland, and the first scavenger dropped with a thud. Before Illuminus could steady his breath, the taller one also lunged. Another shot rang out, and the second man crumpled to the ground.
The silence that followed was deafening. Illuminus stood there, panting, his hands shaking as he lowered the gun. The metallic scent of blood mixed with the dry, acrid air. Illuminus had never killed anyone before, it all felt surreal. He approached the bodies cautiously, his stomach churning at the sight. Gritting his teeth, he began searching their belongings.
The taller bandit carried a small stash of coins, and a makeshift map marked with strange symbols. Illuminus studies to map intently. The map was of the tribal region, not well made but still useful. Folding the map, he slipped it into his pack and moved on. The bodies lay still behind him, a grim reminder of the choices he’d had to make. As the sun dipped lower, the air cooled, and shadows stretched long across the cracked earth. Illuminus trudged forward, his senses heightened now, scanning for any signs of danger. Every distant rustle of wind or creak of the ruins made him tense, but the landscape remained eerily quiet. Setting up camp is a well-hidden location he went to sleep.
27/04/81 ATE
The sun hung high in the hazy red sky, casting long shadows over the rolling hills and rocky terrain. As Illuminus approached the territory of the White Moon Tribe, a sense of guarded curiosity welled within him. Scattered across the landscape, clusters of sheep grazed on sparse vegetation, their wool white and thick, glistening under the sunlight and blending almost seamlessly with the land. Shepherds moved among the flocks, their long cloaks flowing behind them as they guided the animals with whistles and sharp gestures.
One of the shepherds noticed him first—a young man with a wiry frame and sharp features. His muscular build, more defined than Illuminus expected from someone leading a pastoral life, hinted at regular physical training beyond tending sheep. He adjusted his grip on the staff he carried, his movements precise and deliberate.
“Well, stranger,” the shepherd called out, his voice carrying easily over the gentle bleating of sheep, “you don’t look like one of those common bandits. What brings you here to our tribe?”
Illuminus stopped at a respectful distance, raising a hand in greeting.
I’m looking for someone.” Illuminus kept his tone steady. “A man named Olaf.” He’s been missing for a while now, and I was told your tribe might have seen something.” The shepherd narrowed his eyes slightly, studying Illuminus with an intensity that suggested he wasn’t easily fooled. After a moment, he nodded.
“Olaf, you say? Doesn’t ring a bell. We don’t get visitors often—who sent you?”
“Viktor,” Illuminus replied. “He mentioned your tribe might assist with finding him.” The shepherd’s stern expression softened slightly, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
“Ah, old mate Viktor. How is that old bastard doing these days?” Illuminus allowed himself a faint smile at the shepherd’s tone.
“He’s still as sharp as ever. His bees are thriving, and he seems to be doing well for himself.”
The shepherd shifted his weight, leaning slightly on his staff.
“If Viktor sent you, then you’ve got my ear. But Olaf, you said? Still doesn’t ring a bell.” Illuminus frowned but remained composed.
“What’s your name? Perhaps you can take me to your chief. Maybe he’s heard something.”
The shepherd tilted his head, considering Illuminus’ words. After a moment, he straightened, tapping his staff lightly against the ground.
“Name’s Tyler,” he said. “I’ll take you to Kukul. He’ll be able to tell you more than I can.” Tyler motioned for Illuminus to follow, turning toward a winding dirt path that led deeper into the tribe’s territory.
The settlement unfolded before them, a harmonious blend of rugged functionality and natural beauty. Stone houses with thatched roofs were interspersed with animal pens and small vegetable gardens. The sounds of life filled the air: the bleating of sheep, the distant laughter of children, and the rhythmic pounding of a hammer against metal from a blacksmith’s forge. “Kukul’s our chief,” Tyler explained as they approached the largest building in the settlement. It was a longhouse made of sturdy timber, decorated with carved patterns depicting the tribe’s history. “Speak plainly, and don’t waste his time.”
Illuminus nodded, taking in Tyler’s words. He stepped into the longhouse, the heavy wooden doors creaking open to reveal a warm interior lit by a central fire. Shadows danced across the walls, adorned with intricate carvings of tribal lore and ancient symbols. Kukul sat at the far end of the room, his upright posture and commanding presence making it clear he was a man of authority. His weathered face was framed by shoulder-length hair streaked with grey, and his piercing eyes betrayed a lifetime of hard-earned wisdom. Tyler cleared his throat, breaking the stillness.
“Chief Kukul, this is Illuminus, a traveller sent by Viktor. He seeks information about someone named Olaf.” Kukul’s faint smile faded as he regarded Illuminus.
“Ah, Viktor. A good lad. Reliable. Who is this Olaf? What does he look like?” Kukul replied with Illuminus meeting his gaze.
“He’ll be pale like me, with red hair. Pretty distinctive, really. You’d notice him in a crowd, even out here,” Illuminus spoke. Kukul nodded slowly, his sharp eyes narrowing as he processed the description.
“Red hair, pale complexion. Yes, that’s not a common sight in these parts. I’m afraid we haven’t seen him.” Illuminus hesitated, then asked,
“Is it possible the Flame Brotherhood got to him?” Kukul’s expression darkened at the mention of the tribe, his faint smile vanishing.
“The Flame Brotherhood,” he said, his tone heavy with disdain. “Their name alone is a curse. They are a blight on these lands—raiders, slavers, and killers without honour.”
Illuminus noted the change in the room’s atmosphere. Tyler had stiffened beside him, gripping his staff tightly, while a tense silence seemed to settle over the longhouse.
“If they’re as dangerous as I’ve heard, how does your tribe deal with them?” Illuminus asked, his voice calm but probing.
Kukul let out a long breath, his eyes flicking briefly to the carved patterns on the walls, as if seeking counsel from the past. “We have an... understanding,” he said carefully. “A detente of sorts. They do not trouble us, and we do not interfere with their affairs. It is a fragile balance, maintained by necessity, not trust.”
Illuminus will try and lighten the mood. “I still don’t know if they are involved, perhaps I should ask the other tribes.”
“Perhaps you should, but let’s set that aside for a moment. You’re clearly resourceful to have made it this far. Tell me, boy, how do you intend to fund your travels? Food, water, supplies—they don’t just fall into your lap out here.” Kukul inquired.
Illuminus hesitated, the question catching him off guard.
“I... hadn’t thought that far ahead,” he admitted, his voice steady but uncertain. “I have some coin, but it won’t last forever.” Kukul’s eyes narrowed, and a faint smile tugged at his lips. “Then perhaps I can offer you some advice. There’s opportunity here, if you know where to look. Trade is the lifeblood of these lands. No tribe is self-sufficient—not even ours. A clever trader bridges the gaps, turning need into opportunity. Out here, survival and profit often walk the same path.”
“You mean... running a caravan?” Illuminus asked, his brows furrowing slightly as he considered the idea.
“Precisely,” Kukul replied, his voice firm. “It doesn’t have to be anything grand at first. Start small—we tend many sheep here, and their wool is always in demand. You could purchase some from us and carry it over to the Scorpion Sting Tribe. Their lands are harsh, and they’re always looking for materials they can’t easily produce themselves. You’d be surprised how much value a reliable trader can bring to these lands.”
Illuminus rubbed his chin thoughtfully, the idea beginning to take shape in his mind.
“But wouldn’t that make me a target? But wouldn’t that make me a target? Raiders. Thieves. The Brotherhood?” Kukul chuckled, though there was no humour in it.
“Of course, it’s dangerous. Everything out here is. But danger and profit often go hand in hand. A clever trader learns to travel light, build trust, and know when to avoid trouble.” His sharp gaze settled back on Illuminus. “If you’re serious about finding Olaf, you’ll need more than coin. You’ll need connections. And nothing builds connections faster than trade. If you want to stay out here for any length of time, consider it an investment in survival.”
Illuminus nodded slowly, the weight of Kukul’s words sinking in. The idea of running a caravan seemed daunting, but it was practical.
“Sounds like a plan, but I’ll need more than just myself to carry the goods. Perhaps I could buy a pack animal from you?” he suggested, his tone cautious yet hopeful.
Kukul’s expression softened slightly, and he leaned back in his chair.
“That could be arranged. We have strong pack donkeys bred for carrying loads across rough terrain. They’re hardy and reliable. If you’re serious, I can have Tyler show you the best stock in the morning.”
“Sounds like quite the life,” Tyler chimed in, his tone light and almost wistful. He leaned on his staff, a faint grin on his face. “Wandering the wasteland, trading with the tribes, making connections... it’s not for everyone, but it has its appeal. At least until someone decides to rob you blind.”
“Comforting thought,” Illuminus replied dryly, though a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. He glanced back at Kukul, his voice steadier now. “If it helps me find Olaf, I’ll do what I need to.”
“Good,” Kukul said with finality. “Rest for the night and think it over. Tyler will see to the details in the morning. If you’re serious, we can set you up with a pack donkey and goods to get started—for a fair price, of course. You’ll find no charity here, but a trade that benefits us both.”
Illuminus thanked the chief, his mind already turning over the possibilities. Tyler motioned for him to follow, and together they stepped out into the cool evening air. The settlement was quieter now, the day’s work winding down, but the distant bleating of sheep and the glow of fires gave the place a steady, comforting rhythm. Tyler led Illuminus to a small hut near the edge of the village, opening the door and nodding inside.
“It’s simple, but it’ll do for the night,” Tyler said. “I’ll be by in the morning to show you the animals and help you get started.” Illuminus set his pack down inside and gave Tyler a small nod of appreciation.
“Thanks,” he said, his voice low but sincere.
Tyler lingered for a moment, the flicker of a smile on his face.
“You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, Illuminus. If you take this seriously, you might just survive out here. Who knows—you might even thrive. Perhaps I’ll even join you if you show some promise.” He tapped his staff against the ground and turned away, leaving Illuminus alone with his thoughts.
Inside the quiet room, Illuminus sat on the simple cot, staring at the wooden walls illuminated by a faint crack of moonlight. The wasteland was dangerous, unpredictable, and vast. But if trade could give him a foothold—and help him find Olaf—then it was a risk worth taking. For now, he let the quiet embrace him, the soft sounds of the village offering a fleeting peace. Beyond the wooden walls, the wasteland waited—but tonight, he could rest.
