Allegiance: Episode 2 (raw)

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Allegiance: Episode 2 (raw)
Source: collected/046-allegiance-episode-2-raw.mp3
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Model: scribe_v2 | Transcribed: 2026-10-10T18:19:04.055043+00:00
Machine transcript — uncorrected. Speaker labels are local to this recording and do not identify people.

[00:00:00.260] Speaker 1: Allegiance. Chapter Three. Storm at the Edge of Civilization. Maria Felter, mayor of Far Reach, stood on her balcony watching the two storms race toward each other. The first storm, a deep, dark blue, had come creeping up the foothills over the past day.

[00:00:36.160] Speaker 1: Its thunder was the slow, plodding steps of an ancient monster. The second storm formed in the northwest in just the last few hours. This one seemed to race toward them. Already she could feel the winter winds whipping about before the approaching storms. The clouds of the second storm were red, a writhing red-gray mass, like a tumor in the sky. Neither storm was supposed to exist anymore. The storm riders themselves were a thing of legend. Only the meek, broken descendants of the highland giants remained,

[00:01:11.620] Speaker 1: scraping out a living on a miserable little plateau far to the south. Of course, that didn't help explain what she was seeing today. Maria herself had spent most of the last day denying that the approaching storm was actually tinted blue, and it wasn't just some trick of the eye. That lie had died on her lips when the second storm had formed, sliding over the neighboring mountains like a blood clot in the sky. They had sent word to the capital city, New Terrace, then. They sent word to everyone. Someone was supposed to

[00:01:46.600] Speaker 1: be fetching an ambassador of the Highlanders. Someone was supposed to be explaining why storybook monsters were at her doorstep. There's a telegram, sir. And the chief of security, Rilfrid, sat in the nearby chair. The electric telegram operator waved her into the office. Maria tore herself away from the spectacle in the sky and stepped back inside. If her guess was right, the two storms would actually collide just before reaching her city nestled in the mountains. She'd passed that bit of information along and was hoping that this was their reply. The telegram operator

[00:02:21.520] Speaker 1: sat at a little desk listening to the chirping beeps of the telegram codes, writing down the words on an unrolling sheet of paper as she deciphered them. I'll read them as they come. Ambassador here. Rebel factions. Not Highlander. Well, of course they would say that. Their ambassador wasn't going to admit to treachery. Storms colliding. Infighting probable. Maria lost her patience. There was a treaty against this

[00:02:56.340] Speaker 1: kind of thing. It was dangerously close to looking like an attack on a human city. Just ask them why they're fighting outside my damn city. The telegram operator jumped in alarm. I, I have to wait until the wire's clear, sir. There's more. Arm yourselves. Okay, that's the end of the message. How should I respond? The mayor just stood there, stupefied. Arm themselves? Against giants? Surely that couldn't be

[00:03:31.420] Speaker 1: right. She'd made a mistake. She was about to tell the operator so when the chief of finance spoke first. It's a bluff. Attacking a human city would be the last thing the Highlanders would ever do. They know it. We know it. Maria pointed out the open balcony doors. It was cold, growing colder by the second, but she didn't want to turn her back on this threat. Better to leave the doors wide open for everyone to see. Then how do you explain that, Eric? They're coming right at us.

[00:04:06.520] Speaker 1: You said it yourself. The storms will stop well before the city. They'll rumble around a little, and the snakes in New Terrace will concede some minor resource to the Highlanders. It's politics, dear. I know you're new at this. And you? She spun on the chief of security. Where's the militia? What's your plan for defense? The man squirmed under the sudden attention. He had been content to remain in the background until now. He probably wouldn't have even come into her office if

[00:04:41.440] Speaker 1: she hadn't caught him sneaking out of the building. The council had appointed these people. She hadn't chosen them. It was a check on her power, even though she was an elected official. This was a republic working correctly, supposedly. Lords above help them if that was true. I, I have my lieutenants going door to door, asking for volunteers. We'll have a good count of fighting men by sundown. Uh, you're asking for volunteers to fight giants? How many takers so far, Rilfrid?

[00:05:16.620] Speaker 1: With some luck, you might have enough soldiers to lower the front gates so they can walk right in. I'll make sure you're there to greet them, by the way. I think I have that much power. Rilfrid paled at the threat. The, the giants, Maria. If they want to fight, I don't think we can stop them. Perhaps we should simply surrender. She had to admit he was right about that much. What was she supposed to do? The mayor looked outside at the approaching

[00:05:51.700] Speaker 1: storms. So unnatural in the way they moved. What was happening here? It didn't feel like a political play, and it certainly wasn't a coincidence. It seemed like the entire republic was under siege these days. Droughts in the east squeezed the grain supply. The wild shapers that lived there swore they had no hand in the weather. They abided by the same treaties that were supposed to bind the Highlanders. The old magic that made their ancestors so fearsome was just a part of history now. Lords, they were part of the

[00:06:26.348] Speaker 1: Republic, if in name, not always in spirit. Worse, there was a plague in New Terrace itself. The disease ravaged the densely populated city, putting great cracks through the country's industrial might. Now magical storms from her childhood stories were rolling towards her city. It was one coincidence too many. Something bigger was at play here, but she couldn't see what it was. She could only glimpse the shape of a design larger and more frightening than she would have

[00:07:01.288] Speaker 1: believed until today. Thunder shook the building and her eyes snapped up to the clouds. The storms were approaching each other in the sky. A tendril of red clouds spun out from the mass and swirled into the blue clouds. Instead of slamming into each other, the two storms slowed, swirling around each other like dancers at a ball. They didn't look like they were fighting at all. They looked like they were... Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. A bolt of purple

[00:07:36.168] Speaker 1: lightning shot across the sky. The storm swelled and grew, mixing until only a single mass of deep purple clouds remained where two storms once churned. Tell New Terrace. Tell them. I, I can't. There's, there's static on the line. Why? I don't know. Interference, maybe. I don't know. It was hard to hear her over the sound of the approaching storm. The room grew dark as the shadow fell over Far Reach, the most

[00:08:10.968] Speaker 1: western city, the pinnacle of human ambition. They had cut a tunnel through the very stones of this mountain range to get here. It was meant to be the beginning of a new era of prosperity. As Maria stared into the sea of darkness swirling above her, she knew they'd been wrong. It was actually the end. Another bolt of purple lightning leapt from the clouds, striking the streets of the city below. She blinked away the spots of light from her eyes and saw a man standing where the bolt had struck. A

[00:08:45.948] Speaker 1: man more than three times taller than any man should stand. He wore dark purple gleaming armor. Little lines of electric power still arced off his skin. More lightning struck, and everywhere it struck, another giant burst into existence, as if they had ridden the very bolt itself to the ground. Snow fell in a great white sheet until Maria could see nothing but white, occasionally punctuated by a flash of purple. The raging storm swallowed her building entirely. The snow drifts were already piling up inside.

[00:09:21.648] Speaker 1: The other three people helped her push the heavy doors closed. Unfortunately, they had been too slow. She had already heard the first screams rise from the city. Her city. She sank to the floor. Belatedly, she hoped that the logging towns on the other side of the mountains would hear her telegram messages. Not all of them had wires, but maybe they were listening. It was the last hope she clung to as she heard the doors downstairs explode inward. If they were listening,

[00:09:56.408] Speaker 1: maybe they still had time to run. Chapter four. Useful. Elm leapt out of bed, then immediately regretted it. His body felt like it was made of wood. Muscles he didn't even know he had were sore, and yet it only made him happier. He hobbled downstairs and found the house empty. A note was on the kitchen table, written in his father's hand. Had to work late. So proud of you. He read it again, just to make sure it was real. His

[00:10:31.268] Speaker 1: father was proud? So he'd done it. He'd actually done something right? Well, that was a strange feeling. He still felt a pang of anxiety when he stepped out the front door into the winter chill, though. What if he couldn't keep it up? Anyone could do three days. The man who'd taken bets on Elm had told him so. Well, if that were true, he'd just have to do four, then five. Take it one day at a time. If he could get his saw to do whatever it did again, and

[00:11:06.288] Speaker 1: if he got a little bit stronger, well, for the first time in his life, he wouldn't be useless. Elm had walked right up to the old trader's wagon without even realizing it. He would have taken another route if he'd been paying attention. The sliding window to the wagon was slightly ajar. The smell of pipe smoke drifted out. He ducked his head under the height of the window and walked as softly as he could. Excuse me. Elm leapt forward, stumbled, and looked backward over his shoulder. The junk trader stepped out from behind her wagon,

[00:11:41.128] Speaker 1: smiling warmly. He looked down at her clothes. The corpses of things hung off her. He didn't wait for her to speak. He started running. But then something strange happened to his feet. His shoes tugged at odd angles like the ground had become uneven. He tried to keep running, but his right foot stuck to the ground as if glued there. Elm was slammed to the earth by his own momentum, his ankle twisting painfully in the frozen shoe. He cried out in pain, and when he tried to lift his foot, it resisted the move- He pulled harder and then it unstuck from the ground with a

[00:12:15.932] Speaker 1: jerk. His shoes were not particularly alive, but he sensed their confusion. This was not how they wanted to be treated, whatever he'd just done. Elm became aware of the old trader walking toward him. She was responsible for this somehow. Did she trip him? Did she have some kind of shoe magic? No, that was dumb. When he stood, the pain was incredible. His ankle was already swelling. Sensing his unease, the right sock stiffened to brace the wavering joint. It still hurt, but the makeshift brace let him

[00:12:50.972] Speaker 1: hobble away. The junk trader didn't follow him as he half stumbled, half ran down the street. Tears flowed freely from his eyes. Every other step sent electric jolts of pain that went all the way up through his thigh. Could he work? Could he still work? When he rounded the corner to the sawmill entrance, he forced himself to walk normally, gritted his teeth against the pain. He nodded at the foreman, willing the man to ignore his injury. Maybe he could just take it slow. It would feel better later.

[00:13:26.072] Speaker 1: Except a voice in the back of his mind told him that wasn't true. He ignored it. "Mornin', Elm. Listen, we, uh, we need to talk." "I'm ready to get to work. I'll do even better today." Elm tried to walk right past the older man. "Whoa. Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down there. How about that? Lords above, boy, your pants are on backwards." "What?" "Look down." Elm looked down. His work

[00:14:01.072] Speaker 1: jeans were indeed on backward. Maybe that was why he'd fallen. "Oh." The foreman signed in two other men who walked past him, exchanging pleasantries with them. "Hey, listen. I appreciate your hard work yesterday, and I'll see that you get paid for it." "I really should get to work, sir." He knew what Wilton would say, and he didn't want to hear it. He couldn't hear it, so he started walking away instead. Wilton put a hand on his shoulder, gentle but firm. "You're just not cut out for this. I

[00:14:35.952] Speaker 1: probably shouldn't have humored you yesterday, and I'm sorry for that. You're a great kid, but..." Wilton's voice faded away, and Elm couldn't hear the words anymore. It didn't matter because he already knew what they meant. They confirmed what he'd known all along. Part of him knew he was being unfair. He really wasn't cut out for this kind of work. It w- it wasn't clear why his father thought he would be. Maybe he hadn't known it was heavy labor. But still, he'd wanted so bad to

[00:15:10.792] Speaker 1: prove himself. Maybe he still could. Maybe he could move as many pieces as Gus, work twice as long as everyone else. Perhaps if he promised that, Wilton would let him stay. Someone came up to Wilton with an urgent question, and he stepped away to help. Seeing the foreman's back turned, Elm hobbled off into the outer yard as fast as he could. He, he hid behind the newly delivered mountain of logs and watched the foreman turn around, looking for him. Elm waited until the foreman gave up and closed the front gate to leave. Wilton had barely visited the

[00:15:45.832] Speaker 1: outer yard the day before, only stopping by every now and then to check on the tallies. Perhaps if Elm could get a great deal of work done before he came back... He took one step and collapsed to the ground. His sock had finally gone limp. It seemed sorry but exhausted. His ankle screamed in pain. It f- it felt as large as a melon. Elm rolled over and looked up at the pre-dawn sky. He knew it was over. He should just stumble out before anyone noticed him. But

[00:16:20.932] Speaker 1: he was just so tired of being useless. So he gritted his teeth and pulled himself onto his hands and knees. He looked around. The other workers weren't out here yet, but they would be here soon. Elm looked at the front gate. If he was going to leave unnoticed, now was his last chance. Then he turned and looked at the equipment shed. Gus' saw was in there, probably humming with that same excitement, the thrill of being useful, vibrating with a thirst for purpose. He...

[00:16:56.352] Speaker 1: So he turned his back on the front gate and started crawling towards the equipment shed. He managed to pull open the locker and get out the saw. It seemed brighter, cleaner, stronger than it did yesterday. It didn't speak to him with words. It sang to him with feelings. It sang of a hard sweat on a cold morning. It sang of the smell of sawdust. It sang of the firm grip of a calloused hand. "I'm sorry, Gus' saw. I can't use you anymore.

[00:17:31.312] Speaker 1: I think, I think this is it." But the saw didn't understand his words. It only understood work. So Elm spoke to it in a way that it would understand. He dragged himself back out to the log pile. The rest of the crew was walking out of the main warehouse now, laughing with each other. Elm didn't wait for them to notice him. Instead, he used his entire body weight to roll a big log away from the stack and started cutting. He cut into the log, and, and the saw sang. Once that was done, he

[00:18:06.232] Speaker 1: rolled another one out, ignoring the concerned questions of the others. He cut this one even faster. Sawdust showered him with each stroke. He barely noticed. When he tried to roll out another log, someone stopped him. "Let me try." It was Renfro. He took his hand off Elm, but still looked deeply concerned. Then something amazing happened. Instead of picking him up like a sulking child, Renfro rolled over another log. Elm got to work. He cut this log

[00:18:40.942] Speaker 1: even faster, the splinters of wood flying out with such force that some of them stuck into his skin. Another log rolled out. Elm sang a song of sawdust. He sang a song of hard sweat on a cold morning. He sang a song of calloused hands. He sang a song of purpose. When he was done, he couldn't even sit upright anymore. He was vaguely aware that people were watching him. His entire body was caked with sawdust. He coughed heavily as someone poured water in his mouth.

[00:19:16.822] Speaker 1: Something was wrong with the saw in his hands. It had been glowing, actually glowing for hours while he worked. It had been hours? Yes, it had been. Now it was dull, brittle, and somehow lighter in his hand, and he could tell it was lifeless. Elm wiped away the dust from his face and looked around, slowly coming back to himself. Nearly forty people stood around the outer yard. They took turns staring at him and staring at something else.

[00:19:52.282] Speaker 1: No one talked to him. Even the person who'd given him water backed away once he was sitting on his own. Elm looked through the gaps in the standing people, trying to see what they were looking at. Where are all the logs? Giant's beard, Elm. You cut them all. You cut them all. Elm tried to stand, but couldn't move. He was so tired. He didn't realize someone could be this tired. I did?

[00:20:27.042] Speaker 1: People mumbled in assent, but nobody seemed eager to talk to him. For some reason, they didn't seem all that pleased. Hadn't he done most of the week's work for them, and in a single day? He looked down at Gus's old saw. Thank you. He had spoken to it in the only language it understood. All right, all right. Get back to work. Get back to work. The foreman dispersed the assembled crowd. The man walked up to Elm, but like the others, didn't come any closer than he needed to be

[00:21:01.862] Speaker 1: heard. Lords above. I almost stopped you a dozen times, you know that? It looks like you're about to faint. I, uh, I've never seen a saw glow like that before. Then he simply stared at Elm. Elm looked away, then forced himself to stand. Most people had returned to work, or at least pretended to return to work. He didn't like the fearful looks they gave him, though. He didn't like the hushed whispers they gave him when he passed.

[00:21:37.042] Speaker 1: The foreman followed him all the way to the front gate. What? What happened? Elm sagged against the gate, worried he wouldn't be able to get moving again. And he thought about it. He couldn't have just put the saw back. When Gus left, he'd left it behind, a living thing without a purpose. Elm might be through, but he couldn't bring himself to leave the saw there to rust, alone, always wondering when it would sing again. I had to

[00:22:12.082] Speaker 1: say goodbye. Then he dropped the saw to the ground. It was just metal and wood now. Elm's walk back was slow and painful. As much as his body ached, his soul ached more. This is what it was to be useless. Even the impressive things he'd done were only borrowed, and for a short time at that. The old woman stood outside her wagon, smoking her pipe. Elm groaned, but made no effort to avoid her.

[00:22:47.622] Speaker 1: That was impossible now. Hello, Elm. Hi. Are you ready now? He was tired of these games. Just tell me what you want, then leave me alone. She tapped more ash out of her pipe, then replaced it in her mouth. If she was bothered by his tone, it didn't show. I want a legacy. He stopped walking, and for a moment, was afraid he might fall over. He was so tired. Too tired. What?

[00:23:24.162] Speaker 1: You asked me what I want, and I told you. Now, what do you want? He stared at her through half-lidded eyes. He was about to fall asleep right here. I want He wanted what everything wanted, of course. I want to be useful. The old woman smiled at that. Her teeth were stained yellow. Her drab, lifeless clothes hung off her tiny frame, making her look even more disheveled. Clothes

[00:23:58.762] Speaker 1: shouldn't do that. They should at least try to fit you. Who would even want clothes that didn't help out, at least a little? He couldn't imagine how long it must take to find clothes that fit you like that. Good. Our time is short, so let's get out of the cold. I'll make you some lunch, brew some tea. Then let me tell you about allegiance. Let me tell you about your mother.