March continued.

The weather had changed, announcing the arrival of spring.

Green was spreading through the trees and land around New Midian as well as within it. Splashes of colour soon followed this as wildflowers appeared. I once again turned my attention to my own flower beds. The Hunters were out clearing back the trees and other plants along the path leading to the road.

The days were spent watching the world pass by, and the nights were filled with tasks that needed to be fulfilled.

Late one day, I was looking around the land from the top of the spatial bubble when I spotted the rider approaching. I shifted to the gates to see who had arrived this day.

The rider was a surprise and a first for me. An African American woman was dressed in a man's clothing as she rode towards the gates. Mid to late thirties, I hazard to guess. She had several guns on display and had a look of someone used to violence, as she was constantly looking around for danger.

A woman travelling alone would be dangerous, but for a non-white woman, it would be far worse. Law was coming to the nation's wilder areas, but it was still ongoing. The age of the Wild West was almost dead, but had not died yet.

She dismounted her horse and tied it to a tree. She started disarming herself, unbuckling the gun belts she was wearing. She loaded them into the saddlebags on her horse. She also pulled other items from them.

"A Challenger then."

A satchel, a lantern and many knives were now adorning the woman, where the guns had been. She pulled a last weapon that she had wrapped from sight. What was revealed was strange. It was a gnarled piece of wood with a metal, curved blade inserted into it. It was similar to a scythe but closer to a hook.

"What is that?"

I had never seen or heard of such a weapon. Was it even one that a culture had used? Or was it a personal one?

The cloud cover dominated the sky, with some gaps. The clouds were high, and the threat of rain was minimal. She stopped and closed her eyes just before the gates, breathing slowly.

Her eyes snapped open and crossed into the courtyard. She walked up to the plinth and ran her hand over the words carved on it. She looked around the graveyard, her gaze fixed on the church steeple in the distance. She had marked her destination, then decided on a route to it. There were two pathways, or she could try the direct route. She went north.

[A Challenger has entered your Dungeon.]

Here we go.

My Hunters were stirring to the alert message. Rigger would be the first one up due to the changes. The overcast weather would help him with his sun issues.

The woman was making surprisingly good time. She is moving at a steady pace, constantly checking around her for danger, like she did when she arrived. But she was moving closer to a jog now. She was carrying her strange weapon in both hands and gave off the vibe that she knew how to use it.

I decided to stay with her and not look for my Hunters, as they knew their job. My ability to interact with them was significantly curtailed at the moment, so as a passive observer, I decided to stay where the action would ultimately unfold.

A light rain shower passed over New Midian, which I was not expecting. This caused the Challenger to stop and look at the sky. The rain was being manipulated, passing through the spatial bubble and falling in patterns. The twisted rainbow also appeared across the sky, its image distorted by the spatial bubble.

I heard an exclamation from her in a language I do not know. She pulled out a necklace from her pocket and wrapped it around her fist, then kissed the icon at the end. I got the distinct impression she was praying.

This did not deter her for long, as she pressed on once more.

In the short stoplight that would give Rigger time to find her. I settled back just behind her, and above gave me a slightly better view of everything around us. I chatted to myself, taking note of the state of the graveyard. All around, I could see the plants and weeds seeking to reclaim the structures and gravestones. It had been this way for nearly three decades, but it seemed that the plans were finally starting to get a foothold in this.

I considered adopting a more aggressive approach to gardening in the graveyard, or even enlisting the Hunters' help. I quickly cast that idea aside as it would take too much of my time, and I was imposing enough on the Hunters just clearing the path to the road.

Here and there, I also saw the scars caused by bullet impacts and ricochets. There were few in this part of the graveyard, but I knew over time I would probably require more. I wondered if they would be repaired when the next level was achieved and the New Midian grew again.

I thought my attention back to the Challenger. My mind was drifting, and I needed to stay focused. Rigger would be at a disadvantage in the sunlight due to his Sunbane dark trait. I wondered how you would approach this Challenger.

I knew that he had issues with people who are not of the Caucasian variety, but would this influence his approach to this woman? I knew he liked to collect his "wives", but he might not accept this woman as one of them. This gave me something to think about while waiting for his appearance.

It wasn't long after I started thinking about it that he made his move.

He came out from behind a mausoleum as she passed by. His boring life was already out and was moving in for a quick kill. The Challenger moved quickly and was ready for him. I wasn't sure whether she had seen movement to alert her, or it was his smell, but she acted.

She lashed out with her strange weapon, forcing him to dodge away. He was wrapped up extensively against the sunlight, but still was quick on his feet. The Challenger didn't hold back and pressed the advantage. She swung the weapon again and again, forcing Rigger to move or be sliced. He dodged another attack and was forced to back up from being cut with the second.

This she swung again, and this time he blocked with his Bowie knife. The blade wasn't designed for this sort of action, but was able to stop the weapon. The blade made contact with the wooden part, which was the handle. It was above the hooked blade and was able to stop its momentum.

He tried to grab the wooden stick, but the Challenger moved away this time, opening up the distance between them. She was breathing harder, but not enough to indicate that she was tired. She seemed a lot fitter than I thought she would be. Rigger wasn't breathing hard either.

I couldn't call this fight yet.

Rigger went on the offensive. He had realised that due to her strange weapon, she had the advantage of range, and he needed to negate that. If he got in close enough, his Bowie knife would end this fight. Unfortunately, the Challenger was aware of this as well.

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As he attacked, she lashed out again. This time, she caught him, but only with a glancing strike. The blade had been sharpened on both sides and sliced through his coat. Thankfully, the coat he was wearing protected him from actually being cut. It wasn't a long slash, but it represented another piece of repair work the abused item of clothing would need to undergo.

The Challenger was trying to write herself from the attack when Rigger pushed forward again. She again pulled back, but the gravestones around them hampered her this time. Rigger struck out with his Bowie knife, aiming for her face, but she bent back, avoiding the blade. She darted to the left to get away from the gravestones behind her to give no more room to manoeuvre. Rigger followed her, trying to keep her close enough so he could strike at her.

She let go of the wooden stick with one of her hands, grabbed a knife that was strapped to her waist, pulled it free, and threw it at Rigger. It was a desperate throw, but it worked, causing him to lift his arm to protect himself as the knife hit him. The blade didn't make contact, but the handle bounced off his arm. The Challenger was backing up quickly while this happened.

This woman had training and experience. Most will not survive in a fight this long otherwise. The population were becoming more reliant on firearms, and close-quarter combat was becoming a rarity among certain social classes. Most ruffian types knew how to throw their fists or cut, but skilled blade work was something becoming forgotten.

Rigger snarled and went on the offensive again. Unfortunately, he was now far from her, and she used this as a means to counter. He pushed planning to close the distance, and she came at him swinging. This stopped his momentum in its tracks and forced them to back up or be cut.

He was dodging and weaving, blocking when he could. The Challenger was not swinging wildly but launching controlled strikes at him. She regulated her breathing as she attacked, prolonging the fight. I've seen far too many of the last few years exhaust themselves quickly, but this woman had a sound head on her shoulders when it came to fighting.

Rigger was cut again, but once more, his multiple layers of clothing protected him. He could not find an opening and was in trouble. Unless something went his way soon, he might be on the receiving end of a defeat.

Fortune favoured him this day. His saviour came in the form of some mud. The Challenger stood on it, putting the weight down on the leg, ready to move the other, but her foot slipped, causing her to lose her balance.

Rigger saw the opening and took it.

He closed the distance, running full pelt at her, and they both physically collided. His momentum and heavier body weight knocked her to the ground, with him coming down on top of her. She was now completely exposed, and he took the opportunity to run his Bowie knife into her lower torso repeatedly.

She did her best to fight back, but her attacks quickly lost strength.

Rigger did not let up.

[A Hunter has made a Kill.]

I knew he got the message, but continued stabbing.

I summon my avatar.

"I think that's enough, Rigger, she's dead."

He stopped at my words and got off her, sitting next to the body. He looked at the corpse and spat on it. He then set off on a highly racist rant, using a lot of very highly offensive and derogatory terms and words.

"So, you will be taken as a wife then?"

That stopped his rant in its tracks, and he looked at me.

"Hell no!" He said, and then went on to continue his racist avalanche of words.

As he went on, I reached out to the other Hunters.

"McGregor, you're closer to the gates. Go and take care of the horse. Rigger will bury the body."

I sent some grumbling from McGregor, but I knew he would get the task done. Part of me wished this world would hurry up and adopt telephones for mass use so I could call down and have one of the Driver family members come and collect the horse.

That was something for the future. Hopefully.

I turned back and found Rigger had finally finished his ranting and went off to find a shovel.

March went on.

Fighting was still burning on in the Philippines between the locals and the occupying Japanese and German forces.

On the 20th day of the month, I read a story in the Portland Times that was three days old but instantly grabbed my attention. The first radio signal was sent across the English Channel by Guglielmo Marconi. This was a massive technological milestone that I had been waiting for. The Daughters of Medusa would need to start moving assets and resources for the time when radials become the primary means of mass communication. If this world continued along the path, I thought we'd still be 20 years away from that, but I could see it on the horizon now.

I had already told them to be on the lookout for this type of technology, and I knew that Eleanor would be coming back to see me. She came the next day. She rode up to the gates alone, and I brought forth my avatar. We quickly exchanged pleasantries and got down to business.

"You are aware of the first radio transmission, Keeper?" She asked me.

"Yes, I read the story in the Portland Times yesterday. The first radio transmission across the channel was made on the 17th."

"I was told to wait until we had confirmation, which arrived yesterday. Several of my sisters in Britain confirm the radio transmission, and we are keeping an eye on the company that created the technology."

I knew the name Guglielmo Marconi and what he would go on to do.

"Excellent. Guglielmo Marconi will be at the forefront of much technological change. Your organisation should help him as much as they can."

"My sisters understand what you have told us, and we are making moves in that direction as we speak. How long before you think the technology will become widespread?"

"Depending on circumstances, I would suspect 20 years. If that does not seem feasible, we can easily manipulate certain aspects of society to help move it along."

As I spoke, she nodded in understanding. I drove it home to her, which she then communicated to her sisters that mass communications would be the means to influence society on a scale they had never seen before. Now that the technology had appeared, they were becoming increasingly focused on creating the future I had spoken of.

"What else can we do?" She asked, but I heard the voice of those she represented behind it.

"Newspapers and radio. Those are the means of mass communication that should focus on. Have you investigated the motion picture industry I spoke of?"

"We have. The technology exists, and some of my sisters already knew of it. So far, there's no move of any company to set up production facilities in Los Angeles." She frowned slightly, giving me this news.

"Which is expected. Your sisters should be ready to take advantage of them when the opportunity arises. If there is no attempt to set up the industry there in the next 15 years, you might want to start to influence its creation."

Again, she nodded, taking my words as gospel. Again, I wondered what this would do to the future of this world, but my priority will always be protecting New Midian. I had to rely on others to help me with this, and using both organisations would help. I still thought that creating a single organisation in the form of a company to deal with this directly would be best. But every time I thought about it, that strange feeling arose within me. It constantly told me where my limits were, not to cross them.

It seemed that acting through proxies was fine, but direct control of things beyond my domain was a big no-no.

Mentally, I sighed and returned my attention to Eleanor. She was telling me about their expansion of influence in the newspaper industry. Several of the paper barons had been married by members of their organisation, or their heirs were being actively courted.

It was a sound strategy. Marry into the family and ensure the children are raised in alignment with their goals. That would mean the Daughters of Medusa would gain access to the wealth that the paper barons were accruing, along with the influence.

She left me promising to keep me updated on any further actions the sisters would take. I told her there was no need, and that the plans in motion would sometimes take decades to come to fruition. As long as they stayed on track, we had time.

This was true. But I really don't want to deal with either the Daughters of Medusa or the Way of Athamos that much. I found myself becoming less tolerant of others, preferring solitude over interaction. That's why I like my Hunters so much; I rarely have to deal with them. In that respect, I was becoming more like them.

I shifted to the top of my spatial bubble and waited out the last few days of March.

On the final day of the month, I received another delivery of papers and read them that night.

Fighting in the Philippines again was one of the biggest international stories. It was not as detailed or informative as I had wished, being mentioned only in passing in some articles or editorials. From what little I could learn, both the Japanese and the Germans were making progress, but the Philippine resistance was not making life easy for them.

The sound of thunder caused me to pause my reading and look up.

"A thunderstorm? Great, that's all I need right now."

In response to my words, another rumble echoed down the stairwell.

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