The Steampunk Empire

The Crossroads of the Aether


Prolouge


 


Après tout cela

 


 


It was a common morning in Cowford. As the sun rose, the final corpses from the night before were being drug into the alleyways. The legitimate store owners opened their stores, and began to sell illicit goods.Steam rose from most of the buildings in the city, signifying there was work being done. The finest, most honorable maidens of the city were cooking breakfast for the man they met the night before. All was right.


On a hill, not far from the city, two men stood, observing a fire arm of some sorts. One of the men was large, and held a confused, yet determined look on his face. He wore a suit, as he normally would around the city, and a small top hat was placed upon his head. The hat was black as pitch, and held a pair of bronze goggles on its rim. He held the heavily marred bronze revolver, and stared at it, attempting to learn of the secrets the gun held. ''Only you...'' He said to to the other man, ''Only you would have something this useless. The bullets fly everywhere. There's no reason to have a gun you can't aim." He groaned, firing a single round into the distance. The bullet swerved in the air, dodging a few trees, before flying straight up, hitting a small dove that was flying by.

 

The second man was struck in the head by said bird, and fell to the ground. He quickly hopped to his feet, smiling to the man. This man was shorter, and lanky. He smelt of cheap alcohol, singed flesh, and fine tobacco. His outfit,a common three peice suit without the jacket, was brown, with a white shirt. Well, it was at a time. It was heavily burned, and punctured repeatedly. He wore a beige driver's cap, and upon his shoulder was a golden comedy mask, with the words 'Porter le masque, le masque devient' written down the side. He was obviously tattered and beaten, however, he seemed to have a genuine kindness about him. ''Well, father, it obviously hit -something-. You just don't know how to weild it.'' The taller man groaned. ''Alan...'' He bashed the smaller man's head in with the butt of the revolver. The crunch of the skull, and splurch of blood was all that could be heard, before the man crumpled completely on the ground. ''Stop. Calling me that.''

 

As the larger man said this,another Alan walked from behind him, and checked his corpse's pocket... He pulled a wallet from the pocket, and looked inside, before groaning, and tossing it away. ''Why do I never find any money in these? It's statistically impossible by now.'' The larger man fired another round from the revolver, this time aiming at the Alan still standing. However, the bullet fell as if it weighed a ton as soon as it left the barrel, burrowing into the ground. Alan chuckled a small bit, but the larger man was not amused in the slightest. ''It's because you never do anything useful. Maybe if you started working instead of drinking your weight everyday, maybe that'll change.'' Alan laughed at this, and looked up to the man. ''Why, when I steal everything I need?''

 

The Larger Man looked to Alan, and sighed. ''How? You're so drunk most of the time you cannot even walk straigh, much less sne-''


And that was all he could say, as at that moment, both men simply vanished from the hill. A quiet 'poof' was all that took them, and all they left were a dead bird and a hole in the ground.

NOTES: ... Early draft. Just needed to post this before I lost it. Thought I might as well post as soon as one chapter is done, at least to me, that the project stays alive in my head. >_>; Erm... Might come back to this. Might quit after this, might just write an entire book. Dunno yet.

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Tags: Alan, Conrad, Epic, Folley, Frenchman's, of

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