Frederic returned the smile good-naturedly, “You’re a good man, Blessed Bell, even if you follow the wrong religion.”
SEVEN
Early on the eve of his wedding, Michael and Ronald decided to take Max out for a night on the town. The three of them, each dressed in their most stylish streetwear, were in the back of a Lux-car that was cruising along through one of East Chieftown’s commerce districts. As with every town in the Federation, the streets were spotlessly clean, pleasantly lit, and tastefully accented with various murals and art installations. The shops they passed were doing brisk business, selling a myriad of wares while screen-clouds in their front windows broadcasted cheerful, visually dazzling advertisements for said wares. The pedestrians all wore the typical dress of the Federation, mainly trousers, skirts, shirts, and footwear of varying length and fashions. Though most the youths used nanites to decorate their outfits with garish colors and animated images depicting countless themes, the adults typically chose more conservative style schemes.
“So fill him in, Michael. Tell Max the secret to a happy marriage,” Ronald insisted.
“It’s easy. You just gotta make your spouse happy every day,” Michael answered nonchalantly.
“Listen to you makin’ it sound so effortless! Care to elaborate on your earth-shakin’ advice?” Ronald challenged.
Michael found his friends pegging him with expectant expressions. “Well, to be honest,” he said, “I give Anna a good, hard plowin’ every chance I get. Fantastic sex is the secret to makin’ a spouse happy every day, which leads to a happy marriage. In fact, it’s the only secret you’ll ever need. Just ask Anna, and I’m sure she’ll tell you the same thing.”
Michael gave the men a roguish grin while Ronald burst into wild guffaws and Max massaged the bridge of his nose between a thumb and forefinger.
“That’s my sister you’re talkin’ about!” Max groaned.
“Yup, your super-hot, demon-in-the-sack sister!” Michael confirmed.
Max let out a disgusted cry, clenched his eyes shut, and clamped his hands over his ears. Ronald’s laughter had collapsed into choked, body-wracking hacks at this point.
Once his companions were collected, Michael smiled and said, “Just be yourself, Max. Seems to have worked for you so far. Hey, wouldja lookit that! We’re here!”
#
As it turned out, a group of Max’s friends had decided to surprise him with a bachelor party. The group consisted of a mix of eighteen men and women he had met over the course of his life. They had rented out a small night club, and they had all enjoyed a festive evening filled with good food and drink and copious revelry. Halfway through the party, the dance floor had been cleared and an impromptu round robin martial arts tournament had commenced. Ronald and Max were sitting at a table reserved for the guest of honor, where they watched as Michael competed against a woman named Lucy Burns-McMillan, one of Max's high school friends.
“Ha! Tear 'im up, Lucy! Whoo!” Ronald trumpeted as he excitedly pounded the tabletop with one of his massive fists.
“So, anyhow,” Max said, his voice raised so as to be heard above the rabble, “I'm still worried I won't be good enough for her, you know?”
“Uh‒huh,” Ronald replied, though he was obviously distracted.
“Yup, so I've decided to ditch her and construct a new woman from a wig, a printed picture of Caitlyn’s face, three large cantaloupes, an old rake, and a vacuum hose or two. Caitlyn 3164RV, my very own homemade SIR wife. That way I'll get a wife without havin’ to worry about making her happy or feedin’ her or any of that guff.”
Ronald nodded, “Sounds good.”
Max let out a frustrated growl and slowly dragged his hand down his face. He had spent the better part of an hour speaking candidly with Ronald about his apprehensions concerning his upcoming wedding and had now confirmed that his audience was utterly oblivious to both his words and his plight. He had to admit that Michael and Lucy were putting on an impressive show, a show which ended when Lucy barely managed to land an uncontested palm strike on Michael's sternum. The crowd cheered and applauded both her victory and the effort made by both combatants as Michael climbed to his feet and exchanged a hug with the woman.
Michael then motioned for quiet, “Is it me, or have we missed somebody?!”
A loud cheer was his audience’s response.
“Max,” he continued as he turned to the guest of honor, “this is your party, and you haven't even fought anyone yet! Get out here, hotshot! You should be rested up by now, Ronald! Come out here and help Max put on a show!”
Max could not help but smile at his friends' wild encouragement as he and Ronald stepped onto the dance floor and, after exchanging a quick bow of respect, entered battle. As usual, Max was a true master of his art. Though Ronald was remarkably skilled in his own right, he could do hardly anything to stand against his opponent. Max moved with remarkable grace, effortlessly dodging the numerous forceful blows Ronald launched at him. Those he could not dodge he anticipated and blocked with an ability that seemed born of prescience. His attacks were all lightning quick, and though Ronald was a large, solidly built man, he was staggered by their power.
Within minutes the bout had ended, and Max was the clear winner. His friends quickly surrounded him and showered him with their congratulations and praise. For a brief moment, he had forgotten all about his apprehension and was completely as ease, which was the main reason he enjoyed martial arts so much. When he was engaged in either true combat or an intense training session, he became locked in the moment, said moment becoming the only thing which existed, and the only thing which truly mattered. It was at this point all his troubles vanished, if only for the span of the moment, and he was truly free from all doubt and fear.
Now that the bout had ended, he found his troubles waiting for him, a grim companion who had let him wander for a bit but was ready to once again take his hand.
#
The party eventually wound down, Max's friends giving him still more felicitations before departing. After Michael and Ronald had headed home, Max found himself alone outside the darkened club. He decided to take a walk in hopes of soothing his rattled nerves. He strolled along at a slow, meandering pace, and though it was nearly eleven at night, the sidewalks of East Chieftown were still bustling with pedestrians who flowed around him without a second glance. His eyes only left the ground occasionally to give a quick glance at his surroundings before refocusing on the pavement just in front of his feet.
It was under the flickering light of a streetlamp that Max finally took more than a few seconds to look around, and he found himself standing in front of a small convenience store. The store, which was simply named Speedy Mart, sat on the corner of a major thoroughfare and a small side street that came to a sudden end at a tall brick wall with a massive mural of a roosting raven dominating the various pieces of graffiti blanketing its rough surface. A feeling of glee flowed through him upon realizing that his seemingly aimless wanderings had brought him to Bird Street.
Though a small side street, Bird Street was famous throughout the Federation for two reasons; the myriad of talented artists and musicians that had made the neighborhood their home over the years and because it was currently home to one of the most renown Raven rangers in all of history, a rather unassuming man who went by the name Clubfoot. With a new spring in his step, Max entered the convenience store and approached the service counter. There were two men standing behind the counter, one elderly and the other a year or two older than Max. The younger man was average looking with wide dark eyes and short, curly black hair. The elderly man had short, silvery hair, ruggedly handsome features, and wrinkled, dark brown skin. He was busily wiping down the service counter and had not noticed Max’s presence.
“Good evenin’, Senesi!” Max called happily.
The elderly man looked up and smiled brightly.
“Maximilian Von Raben,” the man returned, “Haven’t seen you in a long while. Maybe you
thought I was dead.”
Max immediately dropped to his knees and pressed his face to the floor. “Forgive me my insult, Sensei!” he begged.
The elderly man came around the counter, his stride impeded by a pronounced limp, while the dark haired man looked on in confusion. “Boy, I ain’t your sensei no more, so no more buryin’ your nose in the dirt every time you think I’m upset! I’m just plain ol’ Clubfoot now, and I’m not master of anythin' other than this store,” the man insisted.
Max stood and followed Clubfoot as the man made his way outside. They sat in a pair of rickety wooden chairs situated just beside the store’s front entrance.
“You’re gonna be a big star tomorrow. That empty-headed girl on that teen gossip channel’s callin' it the ‘Weddin’ of the Century’,” Clubfoot remarked, a remark he punctuated with a small chuckle.
Max chucked as well, albeit humorlessly. “Did they mention I’m completely unnerved by the whole situation?”
Clubfoot smiled, “Sounds like you’re in the proper frame of mind for marriage.”
Max, sighed, “I keep askin’ myself if I’m good enough for her. I mean, what do I have to offer her that she doesn’t already have?”
Clubfoot nodded slowly, “I went through the same thing just before I paired off with my wife. ‘Why would this beautiful woman want to spend the rest of her life with some gimpy, socially awkward wreck of a ranger?’ Asked myself that quite a bit before our big day.”
Max looked to the man with surprise, “I didn’t know you had a wife!”
“I most certainly did, when I was very young. Your mother and father introduced me to her, and I’ll be forever grateful to them for that. Unfortunately, she wasn’t on this planet long enough to share very many mornin’s with me as my wife. But if you’re truly worried about disappointin' Caitlyn, do what I did with my wife; try really hard to remind her every day why she fell in love with you in the first place.”
Max turned to Clubfoot with a bright grin, “That’s a great idea! Thank you, Sensei. You’ve been a huge help!”
Clubfoot’s expression grew stern, “Call me that again, boy, and I’ll remove your arms from your body!”
“Sorry. Lemme try again,” Max said before clearing his throat and making his attempt, “Thanks, bud. You’ve been a huge help.”
“Glad to know it.”
The men conversed for another hour before Max reluctantly announced that he needed to attempt to get some sleep. He stood, stretched, then turned to Clubfoot. “You know you’re invited to our weddin’, right? It’d be great to see you there.”
Clubfoot smiled warmly, “You know an old ranger like me ain’t got no place among all that madness. I’ll just hug your neck now and send you along with my best wishes.”
The kindly old ranger stood, embraced Max, and upon releasing him ordered good-naturedly, “Now go on and marry that girl, but don’t be a rare sight ‘round here, understand?”
“Yes sir!”
As Clubfoot watched with a smile as Max departed, the spiky haired man came out of the shop and sat in the chair Max had just vacated. “That the corporate trooper you trained?” he asked, to which Clubfoot nodded.
“Must be nice?” the man went on.
“What’s that, Rio?” Clubfoot countered.
“Gettin’ paid top dollar to guard a bunch of warehouses and ass around with the LSA. Abysses, they’re just an overpriced mercenary army, right? Not like we even need an army, whether it’s corporate troopers or rangers. Ain’t been a war for, like, a hundred years. Why all the prestige and money for the rangers when all they do is fine people who let their dogs shit on the sidewalk?”
“I’d like you to remember I used to be a ranger,” Clubfoot stated coolly.
Rio snorted, “Right, the first ranger to do somethin’ worthwhile in this state in damn near a century, and no ranger’s done anythin’ worth a damn since.”
EIGHT
Early the following morning, Caitlyn was being assisted in her pre-wedding preparations by her sister and her three closest friends, all of whom were her bridesmaids. She and her maids all wore clover green dresses, green being Caitlyn’s favorite color.
“So, the proud kendoka’s just gonna end up becomin’ another corporate security officer’s wife?” Megan, Caitlyn’s lovey, blonde-haired older sister, asked as she applied her sister’s eye make-up for her.
“She shouldn’t be gettin’ married. It’s so old fashioned and elitist! She and Max should just pair off like the rest of the world does. That way when she gets tired of him she can break it off, no strings attached. Divorces are a real pain,” May, one of Caitlyn's friends, remarked, her pretty and dignified face showing her disapproval as she styled Caitlyn’s hair into a classically fashionable coif.
“I’ll never get tired of Max, and he’s almost a colonel, by the way,” Caitlyn corrected, eliciting a shower of jeers and laughter from the other women in the room.
“He’s becomin’ a colonel because his dad’s the Chairman and CEO of Veriform,” Beth, another of Caitlyn’s friends, pointed out, her beguilingly buxom form radiating excitement as she bustled about the room.
“He’s earned his commission through valorous service, not just because his father’s the CEO,” Caitlyn insisted.
“I don’t see how attacks on Fulsom corporate holdings counts as ‘valorous service,’ ” Megan jibed.
“The Fulsom’s started it!” Caitlyn heatedly insisted.
“Alright, alright! Geez-āch! Anyways, are they gonna play you and Max’s song? How's it go? ‘We’ll float in space and drift in time’, right?” May asked, making sure to sing the quoted lyrics in a painfully off-key falsetto.
“There’s also the part that goes; ‘I will love you till I die, and I will love you for all time’,” a mousy-looking woman named Helena, Caitlyn’s third friend, added helpfully from a nearby vanity, making sure to sing her quote in a fashion similar to May’s.
“You two are crapping all over my and Max’s love song!” Caitlyn griped.
“Besides, there's more important questions, like are you nervous about your honeymoon?” Megan asked.
“Why should I be? I’ve been intimate with Max before,” Caitlyn shrugged.
“We know, we know! Countless time, even. Didn’t he also take your virginity?” Beth asked.
“He did.”
“He’s good in bed, then?” she pressed.
“I’ve been intimate with three guys and two women in my life, and Max was my best lover, but of course I’m biased,” Caitlyn told her bride’s maids.
“Who was the worst? Helena asked.
“A kendoka named Paulo,” Caitlyn answered without hesitation.
“Didn’t you beat Paulo in several kendo matches?” Megan asked.
“Two of your lovers were kendoka you later defeated, right?” May joined.
“First I lay 'em, then I slay 'em,” Caitlyn quipped with a small, mischievous smile.
“Blessed Creator, Caitlyn!” Helena gasped as the other women cackled madly.
“Forgive me for askin’, Little Sister, but after all the turmoil he put you through, why’d you decide to marry Max?” Megan asked after the laughter had died down.
The other women looked to Caitlyn with expectant expressions. “Simply put, whenever I’m with him, he sends my spirit soaring,” she related.
“Spirit soaring?! There’s gotta be more to it than that?!” Beth joshed.
“That and he’s a well-paid, high ranking officer in his father’s security force, who's also amazing in bed,” Caitlyn replied with a wink.
“Well you’re pretty spoiled, aren’t cha?” Megan asked in a teasing tone.
“Whatever gave you that idea?” returned Caitlyn, feigning offense while her bride’s maids laughed with gusto.
“Seriously, though,” Caitlyn said as everyone calmed, “Max has earned my forgiveness, and I couldn’t care less how much money he makes or how good he is in bed; those things are just sweet ic
ing on an already delicious cake. Max is absolutely wonderful, and I’m incredibly happy and thankful to have him.”
#
Meanwhile, Max had dressed in his stiff navy blue military dress uniform, which featured white silk gloves and sash, medals of achievement, and a thick, white leather sword belt from which hung his scimitar, the principle weapon of the VSF. Once he was prepared, he was flown from East Chieftown to the White Seat, which was located in Grand Bismarck, a large city in the state of Shark. The White Seat, the central temple of the Order of the Creator, was a massive dome of alabaster covered in complex geometric designs, religious art and imagery, and quotes from the Book of the Creator, the religion’s main text. As Max exited his transport, a group of VSF troopers quickly assembled around him and hurried him towards the Seat’s great golden doors. Silence greeted Max as he entered the vestibule of the holy building, and he quickly dropped to his knees and kissed the white marble floor in a gesture of devotion.
Upon rising, he found his older brother Bertram standing in front of him with an eager smile on his face. Bertram, Bert to those close to him, was a tall, well-built man of thirty-four who boasted a charming demeanor and markedly handsome looks, much of the skin on his body being covered in splendid tattoos. He was clothed in expensive formal wear featuring a sleeveless tunic, the cost of which was justified by his being the beloved governor of the state of Raven. Although Bert was not on speaking terms with Frederic, he still maintained a warm, loving relationship with his mother and siblings.
“As best man it’s my duty to escort you to the altar, Little Brother,” he informed Max in lieu of a traditional greeting.
Max giggled nervously, “Everyone afraid I’d duck out?”
“Let’s just say I’m simply here to ensure that Caitlyn has a groom waiting for her when she enters.”
Raven's Song Page 5
