As they rode through the streets of Waython Hollow, Tatehan couldn’t help but take in the city around him with fresh eyes. He had seen it before, but had done so in a blur and so much surprise and uneasiness.
Now, it was different, he was instead calm as he looked at the city.
The morning sun cast everything in a warm, reddish glow that was uniquely Martian, and the city was already fully awake and bustling with activity.
People filled the streets— walking, riding various vehicles, conducting business. Futuristic as it could ever be.
Riven tapped his shoulder and pointed to the left. "Let’s park over there!" she called over the hum of the dust rider’s engine. "I promised I’d show you around the city properly, rember?"
Tatehan had almost forgotten. With everything that had happened—the duel, the dinner, the conversation with the commander, Riven’s casual offer to show him around Waython Hollow had slipped his mind entirely.
He steered the dust rider toward a designated parking area she’d indicated, a small lot between two buildings where several other vehicles were already parked. He pulled into an empty spot and powered down the engine.
The sudden silence was almost jarring after the constant hum of the ride.
They both dismounted, and Riven stretched her arms above her head, working out the stiffness from the ride. "Okay," she said with a small smile. "Welco to my city. Well, not mine, but you know what I an. I’ve lived here for about three years now, so I know it pretty well."
"Three years?" Tatehan asked, genuinely curious. "Where were you before that?"
"Another place?," Riven replied vaguely, starting to walk toward the main street. Tatehan fell into step beside her. "I moved around a lot, never stayed in one place too long. Waython Hollow was supposed to be just another stop, but..." She shrugged. "It grew on . It’s not perfect, but it’s safer than most places on Mars. The Red Crest Clan actually does their job protecting it, unlike so other settlents where the so-called defenders are just glorified gangs."
As they walked, Tatehan observed the people around them more closely. Most were dressed practically—sturdy clothing designed for the harsh Martian environnt, often with so kind of protective gear or armor pieces. Many had visible weapons, long swords, weird looking guns...
"Everyone’s ard," Tatehan noted quietly.
"Of course," Riven said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Mars isn’t exactly safe. Even in the city, you never know when sothing might happen. Mostly creatures that wander in from the wastelands. If you’re not ard, you’re either very brave or very stupid."
"Or very confident in your abilities," Tatehan added with a slight grin.
Riven glanced at him and smiled. "Fair point. You did kill the Mauler and the clan’s champion. I suppose you can afford to be confident."
Riven was right though. The stronger your weapons or ability, the greater chance of your survival.
They walked for several more minutes, Riven occasionally pointing out notable buildings or explaining what certain areas of the city were known for.
For a second there, Tatehan was scared the Dust rider might get stolen, but he shrugged it off. Since Riven who had lived here for Three years thought it was a good idea, then who was he to object.
There was a district that specialized in chanical repairs and salvage, another that was mostly residential, and a central market area that apparently had the best selection of goods and food in the entire city.
"Speaking of food," Riven said, as if reading his thoughts, "are you hungry? Or thirsty? There’s a coffee shop not far from here. It’s one of my favorite spots. Good coffee, decent food, and they have screens showing news broadcasts from across Mars. It’s a good place to catch up on what’s happening in the world."
Tatehan considered. He’d just had breakfast with the commander, but suddenly that felt like it had been hours ago. The idea of good coffee was actually appealing.
"Sure," he said. "Lead the way."
Riven’s face brightened, and she imdiately changed direction, leading him down a side street that was slightly less crowded than the main thoroughfare.
After a few minutes of walking, they arrived at a small establishnt with a hand-painted sign that read "The Rust & Grind" in faded red letters. Through the large front window, Tatehan could see a cozy interior with several small tables and a counter where a tired-looking woman was operating what appeared to be so kind of advanced coffee machine.
"Here we are," Riven announced, pushing open the door. A small bell chid above them as they entered.
The interior slled wonderful, rich coffee mixed with sothing sweet, possibly baked goods. The space was small but comfortable, with perhaps eight or nine tables total, about half of them currently occupied by various patrons. Most were focused on their drinks or the large screen mounted on the far wall, which was displaying what looked like a news broadcast.
Riven led them to a table near the window but with a decent view of the screen. They sat down, and within monts, a young server approached them—a kid who couldn’t have been more than sixteen, with bright eyes and a smile.
"Morning, Riven," the kid said familiarly. "The usual?"
"Morning, Kai," Riven replied warmly. "Yeah, the usual for . And..." She looked at Tatehan questioningly.
"Just coffee," Tatehan said. "Black, if possible."
Kai nodded. "Two coffees, one with cream and sugar, one black. Coming right up."
The kid disappeared back toward the counter, and Riven settled into her chair, looking relaxed for the first ti since Tatehan had t her.
"You co here often?" Tatehan asked.
"Often enough that they know my order," Riven confird. "It’s a good place. Quiet, mostly. The owner doesn’t allow any trouble inside, and people respect that. It’s nice to have a place where you can just... exist without constantly watching your back."
Tatehan understood that sentint completely. Mars was exhausting in its constant danger and unpredictability. Having a safe space, even a small one, probably ant a lot.
His eyes drifted to the large screen on the wall. The news broadcast was showing aerial footage of what looked like a battle or its aftermath, smoke rising from damaged structures, scattered debris, and what might have been bodies, though the image quality made it hard to tell for certain.
A news anchor’s voice, slightly distorted by the speakers, provided comntary: "...the third such attack in as many weeks. Witnesses report that Obscuron forces numbered in the hundreds, overwhelming the small settlent’s defenses within hours. Casualties are estimated to be significant, though exact numbers are not yet available. This latest incursion represents the Obscuron’s continued expansion into northern territories, raising concerns among settlents like Waython Hollow and..."
The broadcast continued, but Tatehan had stopped listening. His mind was racing.
The third attack in three weeks. Hundreds of troops. Expansion into northern territories.
The information his system had given him about the Obscuron’s northern push was accurate, and apparently accelerating.
What he wondered was why the humans living in the area didn’t just team up and take on these guys, together, with their abilities.
"You okay?" Riven’s voice cut through his thoughts.
Tatehan blinked and looked at her.
"Yeah," he said, though his voice sounded distant even to his own ears. "Just... thinking about what the commander said. About the Obscuron expanding north."
Riven’s expression darkened as she glanced at the screen. "It’s getting worse. Everyone can see it. The Obscuron’s been consolidating power in the west for years, but now he’s actively expanding. And not slowly, either. He’s moving fast, taking territory, crushing anyone who resists."
"Why?" Tatehan asked. "What’s his goal?"
"Complete control of Mars," Riven said simply, as if it were obvious. "He wants to rule everything. Every settlent, every resource, every person. So say he’s building toward sothing bigger, maybe trying to leave Mars entirely, to reach other worlds. Others think he just wants power for its own sake. Either way, he’s...dangerous actually, and he’s...winning of I’m being frank."
Kai returned with their coffees, setting them down gently on the table. "Anything else I can get you?"
"Not right now, thanks," Riven said with a smile.
Kai nodded and left them alone again.
Tatehan picked up his coffee and took a careful sip. It was hot, strong, and surprisingly good, better than he’d expected for a small coffee shop on Mars.
On the screen, the news broadcast had shifted to a different story, sothing about resource shortages in one of the southern settlents, but Tatehan’s mind was still on the Obscuron.
If the Obscuron’s forces continued pushing north at this rate, they’d eventually reach the wastelands where his spaceship was hidden. That couldn’t happen. He needed ti to repair the ship, to figure out his next moves. A full-scale invasion would complicate everything.
Maybe agreeing to help the Red Crest Clan wasn’t just about gaining allies and resources. Maybe it was also about self-preservation. If the clan could slow down or stop the Obscuron’s northern expansion, that bought Tatehan the ti he desperately needed to get the vessel into his system space.
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