《Drone》


 Prologue

    Trinefore Keep was Relgar¡¯s biggest history book. Built before Paramount Strock Ward united the Relrin Vors into a single Gar, the Wards built the inner walls and great hall¡¯s architecture to accommodate an outdated ideal of security. Constructed of hewn stone, mortar, and thick lumber beams, the inner walls still had rusted housings that told of archaic siege engines.


    The history book changed when the Calviden Tribe eventually seized Relgar¡¯s presiding seat and established Relgar as one of the great nations. After the Calvidens cemented their reign, they erected additional towers and outer walls more conducive to contemporary times. Compact yellow brick and mounted cannons made it a fortress. With the passage of generations without enemies approaching the walls, the keep evolved yet again. The Calvidens reoutfitted the fort with fine woodwork and polished glass, making it a luxurious palace.


    Paramount Stuart stood in the dim Prime Hall with his back to the stone wall. He wore a loose grey shirt and a muted crimson doublet. He always sported crimson. He wore no weapons, Stuart was incapable of using a sword, yet no one thought less of him for it. Everyone present knew he kept his greatest weapon curled behind his teeth. They were far warier of his words than they would have been of a pistol. Undoubtedly, his tongue had slain more people than every shrye sword in all Relgar. Today, more would die because of it.


    Next to Stuart, Demi-Paramount Votrig Durwin shot him sidelong glances. The shorter man looked anything but dangerous, even with a dirk buckled to his belt. Unlanded, Demi-Paramount Durwin was a master at administration and a vital tool in today¡¯s play.


    Paramount Stuart gave Durwin a subtle nod of encouragement, and Durwin¡¯s eye returned to the prime table.


    The Prime Hall was the heart of the oldest version of Trinefore Keep. Usually, it was a lively place where paramounts and esteemed guests mingled, enjoying free-flowing drinks and entertainment. Today, it was unrecognizable, without music, comics, jugglers, servants, or guards. The castle staff had not lit a single torch. Instead, the only light came from a pair of dim lanterns placed along the long oak table.


    The twelve prime-paramounts sat motionless at the table, their jaws tight with apprehension. None seemed willing to break the silence and start the inevitable meeting.


    Paramount Stuart himself didn¡¯t have a seat at the table, but that didn¡¯t matter. After years of his whispered secrets and hushed councils, each careful word cutting away and shaping this moment like a sculptor¡¯s chisel. Finally, the time was right. This was not a time for revelry. It was a day to control history.


    A few of the royals stole glances at Paramount Stuart. He met them with his twinkling eyes, which assured them that they were in the right place.


    [ Image: Drone Prologue.png ]


    ¡°Well,¡± the aged Paramount Pres¨¬dent Calviden croaked, ¡°Leoshawn is gone.¡±


    Paramount Pres¨¬dent Calviden wasn¡¯t a pleasant man to behold or hear. Bald, bent-backed, and covered with liver spots, his voice spilled out like tearing paper. Yet, no one so much as blinked. Every eye remained locked onto their ruler.


    The Paramount Pres¨¬dent continued. ¡°The Sharderin authorities are doing everything within their power to find Leidulf and Derian, but those Remnant Artificers have evaded them so far.¡±


    Prime-Paramount Flemming slammed his fist on the table, the metals on the breast of his blue and silver uniform jumping with the motion. ¡°Half of the Sharderin government officials sympathize with the brother Artificers,¡± he barked. ¡°They¡¯ll give us no real aid. We must strike into Shargar and flush them out ourselves!¡±


    ¡°We can not send a martial force into Shargar. That¡¯s war,¡± Prime-Paramount Chapman protested, the lengthy man¡¯s forehead glistening with perspiration. His light brown eyes quickly scanned each of his companions as he tried to gauge which of them would abandon morality for opportunity.


    ¡°Are your ears blocked, Chapman?¡± Prime-Paramount Flemming demanded, ¡°Leoshawn is gone! Civility with Shargar no longer matters. They have the Fusillade Remnants, not us. Everything has changed.¡±


    ¡°The Sharderins are innocent,¡± Prime-Paramount Chapman insisted. His voice declared that he would oppose not only Flemming but the rest of the prime-paramounts as well. ¡°We can not invade a sovereign territory because of two men''s actions.¡±


    Prime-Paramount Alred spoke up, keeping his tone civil. ¡°Unfortunately, Prime-Paramount Flemming is right.¡± He said, ¡°The Fusillade Remnants change everything.¡±


    Each of the other prime-pramounts watched Alred intently. His black hair starting to turn grey in a prelude to him entering his mature years, he had developed a way of commanding the attention of his fellow paramounts when he spoke. Where some called him curt, others named him a realist. Either way, they hung onto his every word.


    ¡°Leidulf and Derian destroyed a nation in less than a day. Inaction is no longer an option.¡± Alred glanced sympathetically at Chapman, who looked sick. ¡°We have no means of self-preservation.¡±


    ¡°No means but a swift and decisive offense!¡± Prime-Paramount Flemming proposed. ¡°The Freven prepare to sail on Shargar. They recognize the threat. We¡¯re close enough to stop Leidulf and Derian before the Freven cross the Lehnug.¡±


    ¡°Would seizing the Sharderin Remnants be prudent,¡± The Paramount Pres¨¬dent asked? The flickering lantern light made the liver spots dance across his bald head.


    Prime-Paramount Alred tapped a long finger on the table. ¡°The only way that law can maintain order with Colgar and the Freven is if we seize the Remnants first and issue a declaration that we won¡¯t weaponize them. The rest of the world will demand oversight over their power.¡± Alred glared at Flemming to cut off a protest.¡± This goes beyond state security. It¡¯s a matter of global safety. If we gain the means to destroy entire nations in one stroke, then every other kingdom and empire would be forced to descend on us as we now must stop the Sharderins.¡±


    ¡°The Sharderins haven¡¯t weaponized the Remnants,¡± Prime-Paramount Chapman protested. ¡°Only Leidulf and Derian have. If we take the Remnants from the Sharderins, we will breach their trust in a way that we will never be able to rectify. The Sharderins have been our neighbors for as long as Relgar has existed. They live among our people. How could we agree to occupy them?¡±


    ¡°War!¡± Prime-Paramount Flemming slammed the table a second time. ¡°Don¡¯t say it like it¡¯s a bad thing! They have practically no military: only a scant police force and sanctuary guards. I don¡¯t care if they have the Remnants; they don¡¯t use them properly. How hard could it be to defeat a tribe of artists and poets? This is our chance to expand. Leoshawn¡¯s sacrifice can easily justify Relgar¡¯s development.¡±


    ¡°Bloodmonger!¡± Prime-Paramount Chapman cried. ¡°Restrain your ambition. We are not savages!¡±


    ¡°War is coming,¡± Prime-Paramount Flemming insisted. ¡°We have a duty to our people to be ready for it. Tomorrow, Relgar could share Leoshawn¡¯s fate.¡±


    ¡°We must do something about the brother Artificers, but we have no right to attack our allies,¡± Chapman snapped.


    ¡°I hate this,¡± Prime-Paramount Alred prefaced. ¡°But we have to ensure our people¡¯s survival. We must act. We must win this war before it starts.¡±Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid you¡¯ve already lost,¡± Paramount Stewart spoke. All eyes turned to the serpent of a man. ¡°Leoshawn was the least of Leidulf and Derian¡¯s crimes. They also created the Sarine Pestolance.¡±


    ¡°And now they can create disease?¡± Prime-Paramount Lucan moaned. ¡°Will the nightmare never end?¡±


    ¡°That was two years ago,¡± Prime-Paramount Payne noted. ¡°We managed to minimize its spread. It also turned out to be less deadly than preliminary reports indicated.¡±


    Paramount Stuart shook his head. ¡°That¡¯s because when the Sarine Pestolance swept Chalsick, it only affected Sharderin women,¡± Paramount Stuart explained. ¡°Almost every Sharderin woman had taken ill.¡±


    Prime-Paramount Rowan paled. Having been content to listen up to this point, he nodded. ¡°My grandson married a Sharderin priestess. She was quite ill for months.¡±


    ¡°You see!¡± Flemming gestured to Stuart. ¡°When we take Shargar, it¡¯ll be for their own good!¡±


    ¡°Why would they strike at their own?¡± Alred questioned, ignoring Flemming¡¯s outburst. ¡°Leidulf and Derian claim to be champions of the Sharderin people.¡±


    ¡°They don¡¯t merely fight for Sharderins,¡± Stuart corrected Alred. ¡°They believe that the Sharderin she-god has forordained them to inherit Momalgar.¡±


    ¡°How have they won, Paramount Stuart?¡± Paramount Pres¨¬dent Calviden asked.


    Paramount Stuart bowed. ¡°I¡¯ve been conducting investigations for some time now. It seems most of the Sharderin women affected by the Sarine pestilence have made a full recovery, so clearly, the sickness¡¯s intent wasn¡¯t to harm them. I found that suspect, so I sent my inquisitors to conduct experiments. Despite recovering, the pestilence has changed the Sharderin women.¡±


    ¡°Changed them how?¡± Alred demanded, his voice sharp enough to cut maille.


    ¡°Changed their biology, Prime-Paramount,¡± Paramount Stuart said. ¡°Leidulf and Derian changed the Sharderin women¡¯s wombs, so any child they bear will be stronger, smarter, and more vicious than our posterity. We¡¯ve studied several infants born after the pestilence. The brother Artificers have succeeded in realizing their ideal. A world where Sharderins are the masters.¡±


    ¡°Blasphemy,¡± Flemming barked. ¡°As Posterians, this mocks our faith.¡±


    ¡°Is this possible?¡± Prime-Paramount Chapman choked. ¡°The Sharderins couldn¡¯t have agreed to this?¡±


    ¡°I do not doubt that the Sharderin women are ignorant about the change,¡± Paramount Stuart started to circle the table, looking from each paramount to the next. ¡°It doesn¡¯t change the fact that we have lost. It may not be this generation, it may not be for two generations, but shortly, the Sharderins will rule us.¡±


    ¡°Paramount Stuart,¡± Prime-Paramount Alred said. ¡°I presume you have evidence of this change?¡±


    ¡°Yes, paramounts,¡± Paramount Stuart bowed. Because of my inquisitor¡¯s experiments, I can prove beyond any doubt that this threat is real.¡±


    Prime-Paramount Alred mumbled an oath and rose to his feet. ¡°Paramounts, I¡¯ll curse this day as long as I live, but we must strike. We must execute the brother Artificers and recover the Remnants, and we must¡­.¡± Prime-Paramount Alred looked at his feet. ¡°We must slay all of the Sharderin Women who this plague has touched.¡±


    ¡°Genocide!¡± Prime-Paramount Chapman cried, jumping to his feet. ¡°Our plan gets viler by the word!¡±


    ¡°You think I don¡¯t wish there was another way?¡± Prime-Paramount Alred snapped back. ¡°What would you have us do, murder their children as they¡¯re born?¡±


    Chapman looked down. ¡°How can we punish the innocent?¡±


    ¡°May these sins rest on Leidulf and Derian¡¯s heads,¡± Alred said. ¡°We have no choice.¡±


    ¡°May our sins rest on their heads,¡± Prime-Paramount Chapman said, flushing white.


    Paramount Stuart could see a disturbed sickness in Chapman¡¯s grimace. A few other prime-paramount visibly shared his temperament. Others, Prime-Paramount Flemming chief among them, had the gleam of greed in their eyes.


    ¡°How do we conquer Shargar without being annihilated by Leidulf and Derian¡¯s new weapons,¡± Prime-Paramount Archard asked? ¡°War is not easy. People will fight. Fathers will protect their wives and their daughters. Sharderins may be known for their pacifism, but not all Sharderins will submit.¡±


    Prime-Paramount Durwin stepped forward from the wall and withdrew an envelope thick with documents.


    Stuart smiled inwardly at his puppet¡¯s ideal timing.


    ¡°I¡¯ve drafted an initiative that could end all of this by tomorrow,¡± Demi-Paramount Durwin said as he began to pass out sheets of paper. ¡°I¡¯ll need to broker contracts with several teams of martial men to detain Leidulf and Derian and then seize the Remnants.¡±


    Prime-Paramount Flemming failed to suppress the traces of a smile. The low light cast sinister shadows on his face, outlining his black sideburns that grew into dark mutton chops. ¡°I¡¯ll do it on my own, clerk,¡± he challenged, in no hurry to allow Demi-Paramount Durwin any credit. ¡°I¡¯ll take the Sovereign Host and subdue their state in less than a day.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a prime-paramount, Irick,¡± Demi-Paramount Durwin deliberately used Flemming¡¯s first name, and Flemming glowered. ¡°We don¡¯t know how The Freven Kingdoms or Colgar will respond to our invasion. There is a degree of political risk in all this.¡±


    Demi-Paramount Durwin hurried to the Paramount-Pres¨¬dent and dropped to one knee. ¡°I love my country and am no more than a servant. Let me serve. If this invasion has negative ramifications, you can claim I acted against your authority. You can give them my head in appeasement. Use me as a shield against your enemies. If the nations around us see our actions as justified, you can maintain that I acted under your command. There is too much risk to send a Prime-Paramount or the Sovereign Host.¡±


    The Prime-Paramounts watched their presiding ruler as he contemplated the man groveling at his feet.


    One-piece has made his move. Paramount Stuart thought, and now another.


    On that inward thought, the Pres¨¬dent-Paramount opened his swollen lips, showing gapped teeth. ¡°Do it, Demi-Paramount Durwin. Save your people. Do it for us, do it for me¡­.¡± Pres¨¬dent Paramount Calviden took a contemplative breath. ¡°Succeed, and Shargar is yours.¡±


    ¡°How do you propose to conquer a kingdom without an army?¡± Flemming demanded. ¡°My Pres¨¬dent-Paramount, I am your sword! I¡¯ll give you Shargar!¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t need an army, Senior General,¡± Demi-Paramount Durwin cut in. Then he held his paper to Pres¨¬dent Paramount Calviden. ¡°All I need is your blessing, and this nightmare disappears.¡±


    ¡°What about my grandson?¡± Prime-Paramount, Rowan asked. You want me to murder his wife as well? I won¡¯t.¡±


    Durwin turned to Prime-Paramount Rowan. ¡°We all must make sacrifices. If we make exceptions, our enemies can use them against us. Don¡¯t worry, Prime-Paramount; I¡¯m sure we can find your grandson a Ven Princess who could make a suitable replacement. This culling order is essential to our survival.¡±


    ¡°Genocide order,¡± Prime-Paramount Chapman leered. ¡°If you¡¯re actually considering this, have the decency to call it what it is.¡±


    ¡°They will fight,¡± Prime-Paramount Alred warned as he glanced at his copy of the document. ¡°You¡¯re sure this won¡¯t lead to a prolonged war?¡±


    ¡°Please!¡± Prime-Paramount Flemming snorted. ¡°We are talking about Sharderins. Those pacifists are so soft they won¡¯t eat meat out of sympathy for animals. Animals!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re sick, Flemming,¡± Chapman wheezed.


    ¡°Prime-Paramount Chapman, surely you see we have no choice,¡± Prime-Paramount Alred said.


    Prime-Paramount Chapman looked pale-faced, but slowly, he nodded. ¡°Flemming could at least pretend to be disturbed by the idea.¡±


    ¡°If we do this, we must only slay those whom the pestilence has affected,¡± Prime-Paramount Alred said. ¡°I can hardly call this a mercy, but we¡¯re already taking too much.¡±


    ¡°And what about you, Paramount Stuart?¡± the Pres¨¬dent-Paramount asked. ¡°I know you have no landholdings, but I want your counsel.¡±


    Paramount Stuart smiled yet again. The only man not sitting at the table or kneeling before Calviden, he almost seemed to melt into the wall. The others would have forgotten him were it not for his dagger eyes piercing them in the back. ¡°Pres¨¬dent-Paramount, I am only your humble servant,¡± he said. His voice soothed over the men at the table like a mother¡¯s lullaby to a child. It seemed to calm them from the tension of the clandestine meeting. ¡°I can only say Your Eminence should only do it if you have the total commitment of all of your Prime-Paramounts and their Vors.¡±


    The Presiding Paramount spread his copy of the plan flat on the table and looked at the nearest lantern. ¡°We are a tenacious people,¡± he croaked before licking his thick lips. ¡°We don¡¯t surrender to our enemies. This time is crucial to Relgar. These next days will decide if we fall or ascend. I hope whatever comes of this, we can stand together.¡±


    Prime-Paramount Flemming jumped to his feet. ¡°I stand with you, Pres¨¬dent-Paramount! We usher Relgar into a golden age!¡±


    Demi-Paramount Durwin was second, rising from his knees beside the Pres¨¬dent-Paramount. ¡°I¡¯m no Prime-Paramount, but I stand with Relgar!¡±


    The other Prime-Paramounts followed suit one by one, swearing to stand by the order.


    When it was Prime-Paramount Alred¡¯s turn, he hesitated. ¡°I won¡¯t pretend to take joy in this. I will carry the next few days with my deepest regret as long as I live. But we have no choice. It¡¯s them or us; my duty is to our people.¡± He stood. ¡±I stand with Relgar.¡±


    Finally, all eyes turned to Prime-Paramount Chapman. ¡°Posterity, forgive us,¡± He muttered. ¡°I have Sharderin friends. My children grew up with them.¡±


    Prime-Paramount Chapman searched the room for some escape from his decision and responsibility. He didn¡¯t find it.


    ¡°Damn Leidulf and damn Derian too. I will do what I must.¡±


    Paramount Stuart wanted to laugh and leap for joy but didn¡¯t even smile. Keeping his face neutral and expressions locked in, his eyes twinkled.


    Pres¨¬dent Paramount Calviden tipped the paper into the lantern¡¯s opening. ¡°This assembly never happened.¡± The corner blackened and shriveled as the sheet took flame, causing an abrupt flare of heat and light. ¡°Now, we will save our people.¡±

 1. Brothers.

    Eighteen years later.


    Acting calmly under immense pressure was an under-credited art. The discipline of slowing an anxious heartbeat was a skill that came from instruction and practice, not one¡¯s nature. Niklas sucked in a deep breath of air slowly. He didn¡¯t have much time, but he couldn¡¯t afford to listen to his instincts, which cried at him to act quickly.


    The tip of his nose was numb and runny, and his hands were still unsteady. That wouldn¡¯t do. Niklas exhaled long and deep, and the vaporous plume of his breath bellowed through the filter in his mask, cutting through the frigid air.


    Lungs emptied as the last whiff of air escaped. Niklas held his breath for four full seconds. That was the secret. Somehow, holding his breath for a moment between breaths did more to slow his heart than the intake of oxygen itself. Niklas sucked in another slow deep breath. Unable to wait any longer, he let out his last breath. As he emptied his lungs, his hands steadied, and he aligned his rifle¡¯s iron sights.


    [ Image: Ch 1 Brothers.png ]


    Niklas slowly squeezed the trigger, and his rifle bucked into his shoulder with a bright yellow flash. Gunshots weren¡¯t jarring or surprising anymore. He could hardly remember when they were. A master artisan couldn¡¯t afford to be startled by the tools of his trade.


    The metal target in the distance let out a sharp ping as it swung back and crashed down onto the bar.


    Quickly, he sought another target. There were still plenty left for him. He fired from a kneeling supported position, bracing himself against a brick barrier. Ping. Ping. Ping. The range sang with gunshots and chiming targets as he shot the next three rounds. He had only one bullet left.


    A drone hit the ground next to Niklas and began to assemble their weapon frantically. Niklas didn¡¯t check to see who it was. His score was at risk, and every second counted. He found his final target and gently tugged the trigger.


    Ping!


    ¡°Loga, clear!¡± the drill chief barked.


    At his consent, Niklas quickly locked the slide back and disassembled his weapon. His hands moved on their own. He had done it countless times since he was a child. Niklas left the rifle in pieces, snatched up his pack, and threw it on his shoulders. The familiar weight was cold as it pressed the sweat-soaked armor into his back. The time for calm precision was gone. It was time for speed.


    Niklas shot off after the others, the cleats in his boots cutting into the ice below. He counted eight drones ahead of him. They had been faster with the range portion of the exam. No doubt, some of them paid for it with reduced accuracy. The final part of the exercise was a sprint, and he intended to finish first. He charged behind the line of shooters, pumping his legs and leaning forward.


    Only a few obstacles remained, the foremost among them being a wooden wall that stood nine feet tall. One by one, the drones ahead of him vaulted it, or at the very least, caught the edge and then hauled themselves over.


    Niklas didn¡¯t slow as the wall sped toward him. Borrowing the momentum from his run, he lunged at the barrier. Its wood face was scarred from the boots of the thousands of drones who had already attempted the course. Niklas kicked straight into the obstacle as hard as he could. The abrupt counterforce redirected his momentum from going forward to going up.


    He caught the lip of the wall and managed to pull himself over in one movement, giving him the momentum required to pass a drone who was unable to execute the maneuver as seamlessly.


    Niklas bolted again. His bones, muscles, and joints ached. The past four hours of constant challenges of athleticism and control had worn him down.


    Keep going! Niklas thought. The panic that he might burn out so close to the end chipped at his determination. The burden of Niklas¡¯ armor and full pack dragged him back like an anchor, and he saw his ideal score fading. No! Niklas forced himself on. Burning out was a risk he would have to take. What did it matter if he threw up or went into shock after he finished? If he could persist just a little longer, he would finish first.


    Niklas passed another drone who was starting to stagger and fall behind. The final obstacle was another wall, twenty feet high, with a two-and-a-half-foot opening at the bottom. The drones ahead of him stripped off their backpacks, tossed them underhand as they arrived, and then quickly rolled under to recover their gear. It was the smoothest way to get under, provided you timed it right, but Niklas felt his focus fading under his ragged breaths.


    He got to the wall and dove under, keeping his backpack on. His bag snagged, but he forced himself through with a snarl of determination. Niklas thought a quick prayer of gratitude that his pack didn¡¯t rip as he scrambled back to his feet. Then he saw it. The end of this seemingly eternal final test. The finish line.


    Niklas ran like he had hounds on his tail. He sprinted as if charging Relrin lines. He quickly passed the drone immediately ahead of him and automatically estimated the remaining distance. Five-hundred meters. Niklas felt his energy drain, his hope for first place slipping away. Niklas recognized the next drone immediately ahead of him by the painted rune on the side of his mask. It was Skelv, a drone who had transferred with Niklas from his last unit, the War Bugs. Niklas smirked. He wouldn¡¯t finish first, but there was no way in Pit he would finish behind Skelv.


    He threw himself into the run, pushing his pace. Three hundred meters.


    ¡°Watch your step!¡± Niklas cried as he inched past Skelv.


    ¡°Deck you, Pink!¡± Skelv barked back as he tried to match Niklas¡¯ pace.


    Niklas felt his face heat up. He thought they were past that. Skelv knew he hated being called pink and was intentionally trying to provoke him. Niklas stole further ahead with a renewed determination.


    ¡°Gah!¡± Skelv cried as his resolve gave out, and he fell several paces behind. Niklas laughed at Skelv¡¯s expense, bounding past the finish line just ahead of him.


    As soon as Niklas came to a stop, he disengaged his mask. The helmet hummed as it split into several sections like an egg cracking along the seams, allowing him to pull it off and set it down. Everything seemed to tilt and sway, so he doubled over with his palms planted on his knees. He sucked in sweet unfiltered air in huge gulps. The cold air was refreshing to his overheated body. Yet, he still had to shut his eyes tight enough to make the back of his skull throb to avoid heaving the contents of his stomach onto the frozen ground. The price of effort in training was seldom pleasant until after recovery. He clamped his lips together. They felt clammy as they only could after he pushed himself harder than his body thought it should go. He huffed until the ground steadied under his feet.


    Skelv staggered over to Niklas, panting like a dog, and gave him a light jab to the shoulder. ¡°Deck¡­ you!¡± he gasped between breaths.


    ¡°What? Don¡¯t like losing to a pink?¡± Niklas wheezed back.


    Skelv barked with laughter, sending out a jet of vapor into the cold. Niklas could practically see Skelv¡¯s smile from behind his mask. The gold bars on the side of his mask marked him as a second-mark drone.


    ¡°You¡¯re not so bad for a pink,¡± Skelv said, offering Niklas a canteen. Niklas took it and drank deep. They were a competitive people, but that didn¡¯t mean they couldn¡¯t be friends- usually.


    ¡°That- was the worst,¡± Skelv coughed. ¡°How do you think you did?¡±


    Niklas shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know, but we finished fifth and sixth. We devoured this course!¡±


    ¡°Yeah, we did,¡± Skelv agreed. ¡°Four hours of this pit, and now I¡¯m so glad we¡¯re done.¡± With a lumaulic hum, he disengaged and pulled off his own mask.


    Skelv, like all Sharderins, was gray-skinned and had a nearly three-foot drone¡¯s braid of matted, white hair pulled back and secured by a flat metal ring. It was a drone¡¯s standard hairstyle. The ring plugged into a socket hole with the helmet on, allowing the ponytail to stick out of the back like a plume.


    In contrast, Niklas was only half Sharderin. His hair was a salt and pepper mix of the Sharderin white and the Relrin black. It, too, was pulled back and secured by a ring in Sharderin Drone fashion. Most outsiders claimed Sharderins were a haunting race to behold, almost ghostly, with their white hair contrasting their near-black eyes.


    They sat and cooled off while the others finished. Despite his armor being designed to maintain heat in the winter, Niklas¡¯ sweaty body grew chill in the frosty air.


    He glanced frequently at the lacquered wood score wall as if the drill cadre had somehow already calculated the results. He was sure he did well enough, but lingering doubt kept him from getting too comfortable.


    As they waited, Skelv jogged off, leaving Niklas alone. Probably to boast to some of his closer detachment mates that he had done better than they. Niklas didn¡¯t mind. He was used to it; after all, he was the only half-blood drone in the Sky Shred detachment. The fact that he was a fourth-mark drone didn¡¯t seem to carry him socially.


    Almost twenty minutes had dragged by when the last drone finally came bounding over the line. It was Kristoffer, a massive drone with a thick build and struggling physical conditioning.


    The drill chiefs called for them to form up in front of the scoreboard while they calculated the scores. Niklas silently prayed to Gyva that he made it into the top five.


    He had finished fifth, but an array of factors could drag his score down. His shooting, moving, sparing, and land navigation were all considered in his grade. Being in a detachment of twenty, Niklas had to make it into the top ten percent of the battalion even to be considered for acceptance in a cathedral. Niklas had ambitions to join the Raider¡¯s cathedral. He had consistently been making the top twenty-fifth percent for a month now.


    After what felt far too long by Niklas¡¯ reckoning, the drill chiefs tapped the scored wall with a short baton to reveal the postings.


    A trough, filled with metallic powder at the bottom of the board, let out a sharp whine as the filings magnetized. The black and grey powder snaked and writhed up the lacquered wood. The steel dust quivered and shifted between crystalline shapes until it settled into columns and rows of writing, forming hundreds of names and numbers. They showed a battalion score as well as a detachment score. Niklas scanned the area of probability, but his heart fell as he didn¡¯t see his name. Skelv had come in fifth in the detachment. ¡°Skelv!¡± Niklas said, catching the other drones¡¯ attention. ¡°Not bad at all!¡± he praised.


    ¡°Says the guy who took first,¡± Skelv snorted.


    What? Niklas looked at the top of the board in surprise; sure enough, his name was at the top. First from the Sky Shreds and seventh in the battalion. Niklas let out a victory cry and punched Skelv on the shoulder. ¡°You see that?¡± Niklas cried. ¡°I fragging did it!¡±If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    His rank was better than he had hoped! He had never scored first before. He didn¡¯t intend to stop there now that he had done it. After succeeding once, it no longer seemed like an unattainable goal. If he kept this up, he would probably get promoted to the fifth mark and then to drill chief. That was if he didn¡¯t get drafted into the Raiders first.


    ¡°All right, Sky Shreds. You¡¯re dismissed for chow. Drop your equipment off at the armory. Fall out.¡±


    Niklas gathered his bag and mask and joined his detachment as they filed away from the drill chiefs. Many drones groaned and stretched sore muscles from their day of rigorous testing. Those who scored well laughed with friends. Those who didn¡¯t do well skulked and muttered under their breath.


    Niklas didn¡¯t exactly have any friends to banter with, having only just transferred into the Sky Shred detachment. He was too caught up in his success to care. His test rank was unbelievable! The Raiders had to accept him if he maintained his scores. Edgar would be so proud. Both Loga brothers would be architects.


    The Sky Shreds jogged to the side of the roadway to avoid a large training transport, which moaned as it hovered by. The vehicle held two detachments of drones harnessed to the outside. The drones¡¯ helmeted heads swayed as they looked around in anticipation as they had yet to begin their testing. Niklas did not envy them.


    In contrast, the Sky Shreds slumped along, deadbeat, exhausted, and finished for the day. They passed several other units in various stages of their own testing. Gunshots rang, drill chiefs barked instructions, and formations called cadences as they jogged by. The entire Training Pit buzzed with motion as thousands of drones like Niklas did their quarterly testing and ranking. Only the best was expected from them; after all, they were Sharderins.


    Niklas still couldn¡¯t shake the swell of pride he carried. What would Edgar say when he heard that he had taken first? Niklas¡¯ older brother was an architect himself. Surely, Edgar could put in a good word for him; that was if Edgar ever came back. Edgar seemed to have been gone for ages this time.


    Niklas smiled in spite of himself. Edgar would respect Niklas even more. Finally, they might be equals.


    The Sky Shreds stepped onto a dark armory depot. Niklas drew his pistol and approached the rack in the wall. The rack housed a line of sockets mounted to a track. Niklas stuck the weapon into the socket barrel first. The pistol jumped into place as the magnetic seal locked the firearm into place. Part of Niklas wished he could keep the same weapon, but drones didn¡¯t own property. Other drones filled the pistol rack, and the whole line of sidearms slid along a track down the wall and into the back of the armory depot, allowing a new empty one to roll into its place.


    Niklas then undid the latches on his armor. The form-fitted plates hung loosely once undone, and he folded forward, allowing the heavy shirt to slide off his shoulders onto the floor. His leg platings came off next, and Niklas dropped them down a shoot where they would be sanitized and reused for another drone his size. Finally, he stripped off his underclothing and sent them down another shoot. Around him, the rest of the Skyshreds did the same, disposing of everything except their masks. Niklas clutched the helmet tightly. The only possession he had that he didn¡¯t share was the mask, which was his face as far as the clan was concerned. Four gold bars on the left cheek indicated his rank, and his rune, Loga, was printed on the right cheek.


    A door at the back of the depot opened, and steam bellowed out into the front room.


    ¡°Sky Shreds, You¡¯re up for disinfection.¡± A buzzing voice announced from a small steel plate that vibrated on the wall.


    The Sky Shreds, naked and shameless, stepped into the room.


    Niklas winced as scalding water sprayed down from the ceiling. They walked down the long corridor that poured like a steaming rainstorm. Niklas smelled the chemicals mixed in the water that killed any bacteria down the first half of the hall. At the halfway point, it became plain water to rinse the disinfectants away. By the time Niklas got to the other side, he finally adjusted to the harsh temperature, just to step through a few feet of chilled rinse water.


    They never stopped to lather or scrub, taking a steady pace; they entered filthy and sweaty and exited cleansed.


    On the other side, they toweled off and selected uniforms that fit from a line of racks.


    Clean and changed, they finally stumbled into the crowded chow hall. Drones filled the benches, talking and laughing riotously. Niklas took a relieved breath. He could breathe freely again! The pre-testing anxiety had kept him tossing fitfully in his bunk all week.


    A staff chief with a non-commissioned officer mask marked with two gold vertical bars on the left cheek stopped them. He marked the detachment on a ledger as they entered.


    Creed?¡± he said simply.


    ¡°I am a drone,¡± the detachment roared in unison without a second thought. The words had been programmed into their minds for the past ten years. ¡°My mind and body belong to the clan; my sweat, blood, and dreams are only for the clan. I work, fight, and die for the clan. I think not for myself but to execute the directives given to me by the clan. I long for death in Stigki¡¯s name so Valor can be on the clan and me.¡±


    The staff chief nodded once and dismissed them to chow.


    They waited in line and collected trays full of ram-fiend meat, bread, and mashed cas. Several of the drones in Niklas¡¯ detachment broke off to sit with friends elsewhere, casting wary eyes at the bored-looking low-mark drill chiefs who observed the rumble.


    Niklas followed the rest of them when he heard someone call his name. He looked to find Elof beckoning him to the table with two other guys. Elof was a half-blood like Niklas. So were the other two, but they were technically supposed to stay with their units. Even if their detachments didn¡¯t want the half-bloods around.


    Niklas shook his head apologetically and continued with the Sky Shreds. Having just transferred in, what would be the point of alienating himself before he had even had a chance to settle in? He slumped onto the bench, and instantly, the two next to him shied away ever so slightly. No doubt, they didn¡¯t even realize they did it. It was irritating, but it wasn¡¯t exactly a new problem.


    ¡°Gyva¡¯s gift,¡± he muttered the two-word prayer before attacking his meal. He paused when he found the detachment leader looking at him from across the table with a smug face. What was his name? Alf? His mask rested before him on the table and bore five drone marks, one mark Niklas¡¯ superior.


    ¡°First place, Loga?¡± his detachment leader said dryly. ¡°That¡¯s pretty high speed, isn¡¯t it? Why do you care so much about your score?¡±


    Niklas was taken aback for a moment. People seldom spoke with him unless they had to. So, what did the detachment leader want?


    ¡°I¡¯m going to join the architects,¡± Niklas answered over the noise of the chow hall. ¡°The Raiders.¡±


    That pulled several of the others at the table from their conversations. They turned to look at Niklas in surprise.


    ¡°See this guy, Alf!¡± Skelv laughed. ¡°He wants to be an architect.¡± That caused several others at the table to chuckle, and Niklas felt his face heat up. He knew he worked harder than anyone else in the unit. So why should they treat it as a joke?


    ¡°Well, good on ya,¡± Kristoffer, a larger drone, called through mouthfuls of food. ¡°I¡¯ve been trying to get accepted into the Siegers myself.¡±


    Niklas winced visibly. If he recalled correctly, Kristoffer¡¯s score was horrible. Maybe third to last? He was far from competent enough to make it into the Siegers, but Niklas wouldn¡¯t mention it. Kristoffer was friendly.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have a chance, Kristoffer,¡± detachment leader Alf chided, ¡°unless you can get your scores up.¡±


    Kristoffer¡¯s face fell, and Niklas tensed. ¡°What¡¯s your problem?¡± He snapped at Alf. What did he care if Alf was the detachment leader? Kristoffer seemed like he might be a potential ally. Gyva knew Niklas had few enough.


    ¡°I think Kristoffer has a great chance; plus, the Siegers are more concerned about intellect than physical performance.¡±


    ¡°Then you definitely don¡¯t have a chance, Kristoffer,¡± Alf laughed. Kristoffer tried to swat at Alf only to get his clean uniform smudged with a bit of mashed cas as the detachment leader ducked away.


    ¡°Hey, you¡¯re big. You could try to be a Berserker,¡± another drone suggested to the disheartened brute. Kristoffer turned pale.


    ¡°Now wait,¡± Niklas objected, ¡°not even I would be crazy enough to join the Berserkers willingly. I¡¯m not even sure that those guys are human.¡±


    ¡°You know I hear that they infuse Berserkers with the blood of beasts, and they give up their humanity for monstrous strength,¡± another cut in.


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe it,¡± Skelv objected.


    ¡°Have you ever seen a Berserker? After their training, I mean?¡± Alf asked.


    ¡°No,¡± Skelv admitted.


    ¡°That¡¯s right. Because the priests keep them locked in chains like mad dogs, that¡¯s what I hear. But let''s be honest. Of each of the four architects, the least natural is the Reapers. I hear that the priests sacrifice reapers on altars and animate their corpses with Stigki¡¯s spirits. That¡¯s why they have necrotic abilities.¡±


    Niklas snorted at Alf¡¯s ignorance. ¡°My brother is a Reaper,¡± he said as he began to mop up his plate with a piece of bread. ¡°He¡¯s no spirit.¡± All eyes turned on Niklas, eager for more, but Alf narrowed his eyes suspiciously. It was strange being the center of attention. But Niklas reveled in it for the fleeting moment he could have it.


    ¡°Have you asked him what happens in the cathedrals?¡± Skelv asked.


    ¡°Of course I have. That¡¯s protected information. He can¡¯t talk about it.¡±


    Skelv nodded, ¡°Typical. I don¡¯t know why the priests are so secretive about their cathedrals?¡±


    ¡°Only Stigki knows,¡± Niklas agreed.


    ¡°I¡¯m calling it,¡± Alf said. ¡°If your brother was really an architect, you would know something about them.¡±


    Niklas shrugged. ¡°They take their secrets seriously.¡±


    ¡°Liar.¡±


    Niklas looked up at Alf. Alf smiled slyly. He was taunting Niklas, testing him, provoking him on purpose. It was a ritual they all faced every time they transferred units. The detachment leader would probe to see what the new transfer would do under heat. Niklas wasn¡¯t in the mood for these games, so he ignored Alf and focused back on his food.


    ¡°Maybe you¡¯re telling the truth, but your brother is lying to you, pretending to be a Reaper, so you will feel better about being a Relrin.¡±


    Niklas slammed his fist into the table, several tin plates rattling in place. He bolted to his feet. ¡°I am not a fragging Relrin!¡± he snarled.


    Alf was on his feet in an instant, glowering back. ¡°Well, you sure look like one, Pink!¡± Heads turned from all of the surrounding tables.


    ¡°Coy!¡± a drone called out, and the others took the cue. Dozens of drones began to drum the table with their fists and stamp their feet with goading cries and taunts.


    Typical! They wanted a fight. The clamor of the surrounding tables drew the attention of a few chiefs, but they didn¡¯t do anything to stop them. History had taught Niklas that the low-mark chiefs would punish unrest, not stop it.


    Niklas bit his tongue and glared at Alf, but Alf just smiled back.


    Should he fight? It was the Sharderin way. Fights among drones over petty squabbles, serious offenses, and even just for fun were frequent and even expected.


    ¡°Are you just going to stand there,¡± Alf shouted over the jeers, ¡°or are you going to go find some mothers to kill?¡±


    Niklas recoiled as though he had taken a bullet. He had been challenged in many ways, but this was sacrilege.


    ¡°Not here,¡± Niklas growled through clenched teeth as he glanced at the chiefs who watched them casually. ¡°Outside. Now.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Alf rejected. ¡°Here. Now.¡±


    Suddenly, the taunts and pounding of the surrounding tables quieted like a wave rippling across the chow hall, plunging it into silence. Alf¡¯s eyes widened briefly, and he slumped back into his chair, refusing to make eye contact.


    Niklas looked up, startled. No one was looking at him. They all looked down at their tables, not even a whisper to be heard. ¡°Uh, yeah. That¡¯s right,¡± he said defiantly, suddenly feeling very confident. ¡°Sit down if you know what¡¯s good for you, you timid.¡±


    ¡°Well, that went straight to your head,¡± a familiar voice sounded behind him.


    Niklas gasped and spun. ¡°Edgar!¡± he cried as his brother smiled at him through weary eyes. In stark contrast to the uniforms worn by the drones surrounding them, Edgar wore the light blue robes of a priest but not the flowing robes of a preacher. His robes were cut and molded to his body with an articulating body plate, slate-grey vambraces, and leg guards. It was the uniform of an architect.


    ¡°What?...When?...Why are you here?¡± Niklas stammered despite his surprise.


    ¡°One moment, Brother,¡± Edgar sighed as he pushed Niklas aside and leaned over the table. ¡°Look at me, Drone,¡± he commanded Alf, who shivered visibly. One traditionally didn¡¯t want to attract the attention of an architect, especially a Reaper. ¡°Do you have a problem with my brother?¡±


    ¡°No, Sir.¡± Alf shook his head and turned his eyes downcast as though looking Edgar in the eyes might cost him his soul.


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Edgar said, as though Alf had passed a test. ¡°I just saved you, drone. Niklas would have fragged you up.¡± Edgar reached across and patted Alf on the face like a dog. Alf let out an audible whimper as he shied away from Edgar¡¯s touch.


    Edgar snickered at the detachment leader, turned, and threw his arm around Niklas¡¯ shoulders.


    ¡°Edgar?¡± Niklas questioned as his older brother led him out of the chow hall. Edgar didn¡¯t respond. Once outside, the clamor picked up again behind them as though nothing had happened.


    Edgar led Niklas behind the armory before turning to look at him.


    ¡°Edgar,¡± Niklas beamed like an idiot, ¡°you¡¯re back!¡±


    ¡°Yes, little Loga,¡± Edgar smiled through bloodshot eyes, ¡°I¡¯m back for now.¡± Little Loga was the name Edgar overused for Niklas. He was a little bitter that Niklas, his younger brother, had grown six inches taller than him.


    Edgar was technically Niklas¡¯ half-brother and was a full-blooded Sharderin. That didn¡¯t diminish their bond. They shared a mother, which made them full brothers as far as they cared. Of course, that was before...


    ¡°Are you here to stay?¡± Niklas asked.


    ¡°For a time,¡± he replied.


    Niklas grinned. Edgar was his best friend. They had grown up together, trusted, and looked out for each other. Edgar did for him anyway; however, despite their reunion, Edgar looked distant.


    ¡°Edgar, what¡¯s wrong?¡± Niklas asked.


    ¡°Don¡¯t mind me, I¡¯m just tired after my assignment,¡± Edgar¡¯s familiar cunning smile donned in place of his exhausted face. ¡°You won''t stop growing, will you? Just look at you, little Loga! What are they feeding you,¡± Edgar asked, grabbing Niklas by the shoulders and looking at his frame; he seemed impressed by the drone¡¯s build. Niklas chuckled, taking pride in his brother¡¯s words. He had grown broader since the last time he saw Edgar. His thick frame was anything but empty or soft, and he worked hard for it.


    ¡°I missed you, Niklas,¡± Edgar said as they grabbed each other in a brotherly embrace. He was back, and no one could stop the Logas when they were together.


    ¡°Did you ask about the Raiders?¡± Niklas asked eagerly. ¡°Could you get me into the architects?¡±


    Edgar''s face fell at the question. ¡°Niklas¡­I¡¯m sorry, but you can¡¯t be an architect.¡±

 2. Pit Two.

    ¡°What?¡± Niklas asked, aghast. ¡°What are you talking about?¡±


    ¡°I read the policies,¡± Edgar said. ¡°The fine print. There is an official reg banning half-caste Sharderins from joining the architects.¡±


    Niklas put his hand on the outer wall of the armory as everything seemed to spin. All those years of hard work! He couldn''t be a Raider because his skin was a shade pinker than the others?


    ¡°But¡­¡± he muttered, still shrouded in confusion. ¡°Why? Why would the priests deny me because I look different? I¡¯m more than qualified. I want to die cutting my way through Relrins. I¡¯m never complacent in my duties and faithful to Gyva. I¡¯m not Relrin! I¡¯m Sharderin!¡±


    Edgar¡¯s face was drawn tight with the fire at the corner of his eyes as he watched his brother¡¯s anguish. ¡°Of course you¡¯re right! The raiders have had their eye on you for years now, but they can¡¯t recruit you because you¡¯re not pure. It makes no sense for the priests to deny you for something so trivial, so I checked the policy origin. The zealots instituted it.¡± He said the name as though it were cancerous and contagious.


    ¡°The zealots?¡± Niklas asked. ¡°I thought the architects were a priest faction. How are the zealots regulating the priests'' recruiting?¡±


    ¡°I guess that¡¯s a privilege they get for being the presiding platform. They¡¯ve extended their influence into their rivals¡¯ procedures,¡± Edgar said evenly. ¡°They keep a thumb in everyone¡¯s eye.¡±


    ¡°Why do the zealots even care?¡± Niklas¡¯ voice quivered in frustration. ¡°I¡¯ve done nothing to offend them.¡±


    Edgar hesitated before answering. ¡°Sometimes I think you would make a good zealot, Niklas.¡±


    Niklas started in surprise.


    ¡°Like you, they hate everything, Relrin, and unfortunately, that means you too.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not-¡±


    Edgar stopped Niklas with an upraised hand.


    ¡°I know you¡¯re not a Relrin, but I doubt they can see you that way. There''s more to it than just purity. The zealots don¡¯t care about purity within the priests. The real reason they did it was to assert themselves over their competitors. They have many such policies only to keep their opponents in check.¡±


    ¡°So it¡¯s political?¡± Niklas demanded. ¡°I can¡¯t serve the clan to my fullest because the zealots over-regulate the priests?¡±


    Edgar shook his head indignantly.


    ¡°Deck the man who was my father!¡± Niklas snapped. ¡°It¡¯s that relrin pig¡¯s fault I¡¯m stuck.¡±


    Edgar held up a hand to stop him. The pads of Edgars'' fingers and much of his palms bore heavy burn scars. ¡°You can shiv on the dead and unable, like a timid, or you can deal with the living problem. It¡¯s the zealots'' fault.¡±


    Niklas nodded in agreement. As usual, he found himself pacified by his brother¡¯s simple rebukes. Edgar had always taught Niklas not to accept circumstances as they came but to change things and find solutions. A dangerous idea for a Sharderin.


    ¡°But what can I do? I actually don¡¯t have a chance,¡± Niklas lamented. ¡°I can¡¯t rewrite policy.¡±


    Edgar snorted. ¡°Don¡¯t be coy. There are always opportunities. You just need to find them.¡±


    ¡°What opportunity could I possibly find against the zealot¡¯s law?¡± Niklas demanded anxiously. ¡°This is daft, even for you.¡±


    Edgar smiled his wolfish grin, the smile that always proceeded solutions and turned their situation for the better. Niklas took great comfort in that terrifying smile.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Niklas asked, suddenly hopeful.


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard whispers that the Holy Ones have come to resent the zealots and their guardianship. They may reinstate a different party as the head platform.¡±


    Could Edgar be serious, a new presiding platform, but who?


    ¡°Which party?¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter,¡± Edgar assured him. ¡°If it¡¯s the priests or the elders, neither care about purity as the zealots do. If the zealots get impeached, they will undo the zealot¡¯s meddling, which will open the doors to the Raiders to you.¡±


    ¡°How long,¡± Niklas asked, ¡°Until this could happen?¡±


    ¡°Before I got involved, it could have been several years. But now that I¡¯m invested a year tops. I¡¯ll dethrone the zealots myself.¡±


    Niklas looked around hastily, checking for unwanted listeners. The idea was as impossibly ambitious as Edgar always was, and those words spoken out loud were exceptionally dangerous. Even if he was an architect, if the zealots should hear such open defiance, they may arrange to have him tried and executed. At least he¡¯d get a trial as an architect.


    ¡°Don¡¯t look so tense, Little Loga,¡± Edgar assured him. ¡°The zealots should fear me, not the other way around.¡±


    Niklas could hear the bloodlust seeping into his brother''s voice, and he wondered if this would be the time Edgar took things too far. ¡°You¡¯re a little outspoken about deliberate sedition, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    Edgar snorted. ¡°The zealots are doing fine at getting themselves removed on their own. Every power eventually shifts, brother. I¡¯m just going to expedite the process.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t do that, Edgar,¡± Niklas begged. ¡°If the power is shifting, all I need to do is wait. I can be patient.


    ¡°You tolerate too much, Niklas.¡±


    ¡°And you don¡¯t tolerate anything at all.¡±


    Edgar shrugged. ¡°You¡¯re the only thing that matters. I¡¯d slaught the entire clan if it slighted us, Logas.¡±


    Niklas furrowed his brow. ¡°Edgar, I don¡¯t want to hurt the clan. I want to bring valor to the clan. I work, fight, and die for the clan. I think not for myself but to execute the directives given to me by the clan.¡± He had injected the line from the Drone¡¯s Creed unintentionally.


    ¡°You¡¯re a good little drone,¡± Edgar said sadly. ¡°So devout.¡±


    ¡°Promise me you won¡¯t do anything foolish, Edgar.¡±


    Edgar contemplated Niklas for a moment, ¡°Fine.¡±


    Niklas felt himself relax, relieved that Edgar wouldn¡¯t escalate things as he always tended to.


    ¡°I heard you took first in your detachment today.¡±


    Niklas cried in surprise and disappointment. How did Edgar already know? Niklas felt slightly cheated, not being the one to tell him. Edgar always seemed to be perfectly informed.


    ¡°Yeah!¡± Niklas beamed like an idiot before Edgar¡¯s approving nod.


    ¡°That¡¯s my brother.¡±


    Two drones chatted as they rounded the corner and looked at them in surprise. No doubt, the brothers looked out of place, a half-blooded drone dumbly grinning at a reaper. As far as Niklas knew, Architects seldom came to the drones¡¯ training pit, and, as far as they knew, a drone speaking one-on-one to an Architect behind the armory would very likely turn up dead in a ditch somewhere. They shot Niklas a sympathetic glance, and a snap from Edgar to get lost sent them running.


    Edgar turned back to his brother, the tired look returning to his face. ¡°Let¡¯s go home.¡±


    ¡°Home?¡± Niklas cried. ¡°I won¡¯t be dismissed from the training pit for another three days. I¡¯ve got First Chief¡¯s debrief and sanitation detail!¡±


    ¡°You finished testing, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Well, yeah¡­but...¡±


    ¡°But what?¡±


    Niklas shook his head, amused. Edgar would never change. He cared little to nothing for rules or authority. The very notion of breaching protocol made Niklas freeze up.


    ¡°I¡¯ll get in trouble,¡± he said.


    ¡°And¡­?¡±


    ¡°Edgar, no!¡±


    ¡°Niklas...Yes!¡±


    Niklas squirmed a little, realizing the officers would soon call them back into formations.


    ¡°No one can blame you if you¡¯re acting under the command of an Architect,¡± Edgar tempted.


    Niklas smiled. ¡°You¡¯re the worst.¡±


    ¡°Why thank you,¡± Edgar said with a mock salute. ¡°Shall we?¡± He scooped up his backpack and threw it over his shoulder. Niklas only now noticed his Reaper¡¯s straight sword protruding from the pack. The Reaper''s blade, in reputation, compared to the scythe that Death himself carried with his Courts. Niklas had seen the slate-gray sword many times. That was a luxury he shared with few. Most who witnessed it saw it only once, usually in the last moments of living.


    Also strapped to the back of Edgar¡¯s pack was his mask. The Reaper¡¯s face mask was far more refined and elegant than a drone¡¯s. Colored black and blue, it lacked a visible mouthpiece from the outside, making it look almost ghostly. The lens eyes looked up at Niklas from the pack, warning him that it owned his brother and reminding him that his claim to Edgar was secondary.


    The brothers stopped at Niklas¡¯ barracks so he could grab his bag. The low-mark chiefs who lounged idly would have usually reprimanded him for showing up without his detachment. However, considering that his escort out-ranked them in every way, they hardly shot him a second glance. Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    They passed several barracks, plated armories, and sanitation lockers before arriving at the embankments that marked the training grounds.


    They climbed out of the training pit toward the surrounding outposts. The training Pit was appropriately named. The massive crater was over a mile wide and the training ground for almost all drones. Niklas felt strange to leave it alone. The road was empty, as it was off-schedule for shuttles to move soldiers in or out now. It was just him and his older brother on foot.


    They approached the final outpost, and, surprisingly, a sentry moved to stop them. The guards here were also drones, but the one who stopped them had five gold bars marking the side of his mask. At fifth mark, he was almost a non-commissioned officer.


    ¡°Where are you taking this drone? I don¡¯t have a note for any early dismissals.¡± His voice emitting through his mask suggested he was no youth, maybe in his fifties. Yet, despite his age, he was stocky and thick as most Sharderins were.


    Edgar looked at the man, bewildered at his insolence. ¡°I¡¯m checking him out early.¡±


    The man shifted, not in discomfort but in annoyance. Edgar was twenty-three, with his face uncovered. It was clear the guard didn¡¯t like taking orders from a youth. ¡°Do you have a written order?¡± he demanded.


    Niklas noticed the drone¡¯s fellow guards step away from him in surprise. They didn¡¯t have a death wish. They knew better. Reapers had an uncanny reputation for decapitating inferiors who crossed them.


    Edgar stepped up to the sentry, getting face to face with the drone.


    ¡°Edgar,¡± Niklas grabbed his brother''s arm. ¡°Don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Edgar said. ¡°I don¡¯t have an order. You ask that like it¡¯s going to change that I¡¯m going to leave with him right now.¡±


    The man finally flinched uncomfortably. ¡°I, uh...I can refer you to an officer who can get you one.¡±


    Edgar¡¯s eyes hardened.


    ¡°Sir!¡±


    Edgar ignored the man and walked on, the sentry finally and wisely stepping aside.


    Niklas looked at the drone apologetically. The man¡¯s body position suggested he was angry and conflicted. Once the sentry''s superiors learned he had released a drone without a note of approval, he would surely face disciplinary action, but saying no to a Reaper would prove far worse. He made the right choice.


    ¡°Where are you going?¡± the drone demanded in frustration. ¡°No shuttles are scheduled to leave for hours!¡±


    Edgar left the man with no response and headed for the dock. This dock wasn¡¯t much more than wood stalls mounted to the ground, but there were power outputs with shuttles charging.


    They moved past the larger shuttles to a few smaller dock ports. Edgar¡¯s strike bike hummed gently as yellow light pulsed through lumaulic power lines along the vehicle¡¯s body. The rune for Loga, the family name, was crudely painted on the face between a pair of light kinetic cannons that protruded from the front.


    Niklas grinned. He loved strike bikes and could only use them when on patrol. However, Edgar was permitted his own heavily modified bike for personal use; Niklas missed riding that thing.


    ¡°Get on,¡± Edgar said as he slung his pack across the front, covering the rune. He removed and donned his Reaper''s mask.


    Niklas stuck on his drone helmet and hit the engage switch. The mask hummed then clicked as its pieces sealed around his head, his ponytail ring fitting into a socket, allowing it to stick out the back. He slid on behind Edgar and held on.


    Edgar drew a key that held the ignition command rune. The rune on this key was not Sharderin. Niklas had no clue what it meant. It was some complex artificer language that was far beyond him. Edgar plugged it in, and the bike purred to life, slowly lifting off the ground six inches and bobbing ever so slightly. Niklas felt its vibration and grinned.


    ¡°Hang on,¡± Edgar cautioned as if Niklas needed a warning, and the bike lurched, shooting forward. Speeding unnecessarily fast, Edgar maneuvered the vehicle gracefully. The wind blasted Niklas in the face. If not for his mask, he would have struggled to breathe. Niklas held on more tightly around Edgar¡¯s waist and took in the blur of the surrounding foliage. Without warning, the bike rose several feet and veered from the path.


    ¡°Edgar!¡± Niklas cried, but the roaring wind stole his voice. He risked letting go with one hand and tapped the proximity com rune under the jaw of his mask, securing a connection. ¡°Edgar!¡± he shouted again.


    ¡°What?¡± Edgar asked; his buzzy, matter-of-fact voice sounded inside Niklas¡¯ mask, emitted from a small pair of vibrating metal plates near his ears.


    ¡°Why did you leave the road?¡±


    ¡°Shortcut.¡±


    ¡°What if we run into Faceless?¡± Niklas asked, his stomach lurching as he bobbed and weaved between Colossal trees that nearly brushed the sky.


    ¡°What if we do? That would be fun!¡±


    Darkness began to fall, and Niklas kept a wary eye out for the faceless men without masks or positions, banished from the clan¡¯s cities and society. Edgar would easily take care of them if they arose, but a razor wire suspended between trees would cut the brothers in half at this velocity. Niklas thought he saw shadowy figures darting in the shadows several times, but they offered no trouble if they weren¡¯t just his imagination.


    Edgar turned on his front light. No beam projected from the light, but a wide disk of illumination lit up before them, revealing the forest floor. These were directional lights, designed to expose an enemy but not betray your location, an added perk to Edgar¡¯s bike. Patrol vehicles weren¡¯t as advanced and only had regular lights. Every year, the Siegers updated gear with new toys. The Architects seemed to get exposure before the rest of the Drone Army.


    The trip traditionally took several hours in the slower shuttles on the conventional roads, but riding with Edgar; it was only half an hour before the stars disappeared, replaced by the much closer and smaller twinkling of the city lights above. Sharderins seldom built on the ground. That was where the faceless lived.


    They rode under the city along the forest floor. The entire city of Pit Two was suspended in five tiers, mounted in the treetops and on colossal support beams. The first two tiers were built below the leafline, with open shafts allowing the trees to grow through. The third level met the treetops, and the final two levels broke the canopy resting proudly above the forest.


    The bottom level was the largest, the massive platform running for several miles in every direction. Each subsequent tier was smaller, giving it a pyramid effect. It was magnificent, and it was home.


    There were three Pit cities, and they lived in the centermost of the three. Niklas was unsure why the cities had been named  Pit since Pit was the hell of the cruel man-god Stigki, where the spirits of men without valor went to after death. Perhaps it was a subtle reminder to all Sharderins that they shouldn¡¯t fear death unless taken in cowardice, for Stigki¡¯s Halls of Valor awaited those who died worthily.


    Lights ahead on the forest floor indicated a lift station, and Edgar pulled to a stop astride the half-dozen lift guards, all drones, who looked at him skeptically. Then, noting Edgar¡¯s Reaper¡¯s mask, they jumped to attention and nudged the Liftmaster, who was engrossed in a book. Niklas read the title. The Combative Dispositions. A good read. The Liftmaster pulled himself away from his reading, grabbed his light baton, and swung it into the air, casting a bright yellow light onto their faces. He was checking for faceless brands, a mark reserved for the criminals banished from the clan.


    ¡°Let¡¯s see your faces,¡± he said.


    They removed their masks and let him inspect their faces. He nodded in approval. ¡°Level?¡±


    ¡°Three,¡± Edgar said.


    He waved them to the lift, and Edgar glided his bike past the rail. The Liftmaster called for level three, and, with a lurch, the platform ascended. The lift pulled the brothers up through the first two levels, filled with barracks and drones who had finished their work for the day. Passing onto the third level was vastly different. There were no drones here. The third level was reserved for zealots, priests, elders, and officers. Neat offices and small residences lined the wooden platform streets. Edgar had a place there because he was technically a priest. Niklas¡¯ unit didn¡¯t expect him back at his barracks for a few days, so it only made sense that they stayed together.


    They took the strike bike at a more responsible speed as they coasted through residential suburbs. Edgar¡¯s apartment was close to the lift, and they soon pulled astride the uniformed box of a hut.


    Edgar docked his bike at a single-charge port beside his small apartment and opened the door. He tapped a metal plate on the wall, and yellow lights pulsed to life.


    ¡°Good to be home!¡± Edgar sighed.


    They threw their packs down, and Niklas drew a pot of water on the prylux stove. A few minutes later, he scooped a few spoonfuls of musty white joagh powder into two steaming mugs and put one in front of Edgar before slumping into a wooden chair. Niklas tasted the bitter joagh and scalded the tip of his tongue. He bit back the pain and waited for it to cool.


    They sat silently as the night matured, but Niklas¡¯ head was anything but silent. Becoming a Raider would take longer than he thought. He could only continue to train until the time was right, and they came to beg him to be an architect. He could be promoted to chief first, then become an architect when the new presiding seat lifted the zealot policies.


    ¡°Niklas,¡± Edgar said as he sipped from his mug.


    ¡°Hmm?¡±


    ¡°Why do you want to be an Architect?¡±


    The question startled him. What kind of question was that? ¡°For valor, of course.¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± Edgar nodded thoughtfully but didn¡¯t look satisfied.


    ¡°What?¡± Niklas asked.


    ¡°I just want to make sure¡­ that you¡¯re not just doing it because of me. I want to be clear that I do not expect you to be an architect.¡±


    ¡°What? No, it¡¯s not that at all!¡± Niklas said, but no sooner had the words left his mouth than he realized they weren¡¯t entirely true. ¡°I want to please Gyva in the greatest way I can,¡± he continued, more reasoning with himself than with Edgar.


    ¡°You always were the faithful one,¡± Edgar confessed ironically, as he was a priest.


    Niklas watched the steam rise from his mug for a silent moment. ¡°So, where were you?¡±


    Edgar cocked an eyebrow at his younger brother. ¡°You know that¡¯s highly classified. Did you get your clandestine clearance?.¡±


    Niklas winced at the rebuke and dropped the matter.


    Edgar snorted at Niklas¡¯ easy acceptance. ¡°I went to Colgar.¡±


    ¡°You got to leave Pit Forest?¡± Niklas exclaimed with a little bit of envy.


    ¡°A faceless escaped into Colgar and was too open about the Clan to the Colgans. So I silenced him and ensured no one who might have heard too much would ever want to think of Pit Forest again.¡±


    ¡°He should have kept his mouth shut,¡± Niklas growled. ¡°It¡¯s bad enough to be stripped of valor and cast out. He deliberately betrayed his people.¡±


    Edgar nodded in casual agreement. ¡°Then I hunted a Colgan gunsmith who got his hands on an early model Eklund kinetic rifle. I terminated him, destroyed the prototypes and blueprints, then burned his shop.¡±


    ¡°Are you serious?¡± Niklas leaned forward, imagining the valor and carnage Edgar had spread. ¡°How did you get away? Did they martial any detachments to hunt you?¡±


    Edgar took a sip and shook his head. ¡°No one ever saw me. It all happened in a tragic accident. It¡¯s my job to stop questions, not raise more.¡±


    ¡°How did he get his hands on one of our rifles?¡±


    ¡°An officer thought it was outdated enough that we wouldn¡¯t notice if it went missing,¡± Edgar said. ¡°I found Colgan gold in his quarters.¡±


    ¡°An officer sold out the clan?¡± Niklas'' face darkened. ¡±Did you execute the civ, or take him for judgment?¡±


    ¡°Neither,¡± Edgar said. ¡°I paid him a visit, and it seems my presence was too much.¡±


    ¡°What does that mean?¡± Niklas asked.


    ¡°I broke his mind,¡± Edgar said with more than a hint of satisfaction. ¡°When the zealots found him, they made him faceless. There¡¯s no room for an insane officer in our ranks.¡±


    Niklas shivered as he watched Edgar. His older brother had vicious darkness in him that sometimes made Niklas uneasy.


    ¡°After that, I hunted an Old Sharderin priest who found his way into Pit and preached false doctrine to the faceless.¡±


    That surprised Niklas. ¡°Old Sharderins and faceless. I guess degenerates attract?¡±


    ¡°Unfortunately, I had to bring him to the priests. I didn¡¯t get to do my thing with him.¡±


    Niklas stared at Edgar worshipfully. Would he also be able to leave Pit and claim valor if he was an Architect?


    Niklas tasted his joagh with his now numb tongue, which had cooled reasonably. There was a question still nagging on his mind; the question drones frequently whisper only when alone. ¡°Edgar?¡±


    ¡°Yes, little Loga?¡±


    ¡°When?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Well, every drone is a soldier, so why are we still training?¡±


    Edgar rolled his eyes, ¡°Now that is a stupid question, brother; for valor, of course, so we will be welcomed into Stigki¡¯s halls of valor when we die.¡±


    ¡°But we aren¡¯t fighting. We are just training. I haven¡¯t seen any real war, some skirmishes with faceless, sure, but nothing valorous. Nothing like you.¡±


    ¡°Niklas, one day, the Drone Army will be the backbone of our wrath, and our vengeance will be unstoppable.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± Niklas said. ¡°We all know that we are going back to our mountains. We are going to exact vengeance, but when?¡±


    ¡°When we are ready,¡± Edgar admonished. ¡°The Relrins still outnumber us one hundred and fifty to one, more even.¡±


    ¡°Then why don¡¯t we attack now? We are dying off faster than we are being born. Our numbers are thinning.¡±


    ¡°But they will stabilize eventually. New mothers are born every year.¡±


    ¡°When we are old and have passed the age of valor,¡± Niklas pointed out. ¡°I am already twenty-one. I wish to join Stigki¡¯s halls, not pass on in my sleep like our old men.¡±


    ¡°You worry too much, Niklas. Your time will come.¡±


    They finished their joagh, and Niklas washed the cups. ¡°What are they like?¡± he asked.


    ¡°What are you going on about now?¡± Edgar grumbled as he climbed into his bunk.


    ¡°The Relrins. Are they a fearsome people?¡±


    ¡°Ha!¡± Edgar let out a barked laugh. ¡°Relrin¡¯s are fragile. You¡¯ve never seen one?¡±


    Niklas shook his head. ¡°The only ones I have seen since we fled were a few stragglers stupid enough to wander into our forest. We always give them to the interrogators. I¡¯ve never been able to study one.¡±


    Of course, that was the standard procedure. Any Relrins who wandered into Pit Forest were questioned and almost always put to death so that the Sharderins could live in secrecy. Outsiders seldom crossed the border anymore.


    Niklas killed the light and hopped into the spare bunk. ¡°Edgar,¡± he said to the darkness.


    ¡°Hmm?¡± his half-asleep brother grunted.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad you¡¯re back.¡±


    And he meant it.

 3 The Mother.

    Niklas pulled himself out of bed early. Looking around Edgar''s apartment, he took a moment to remember why he wasn¡¯t still at the training pit. The rest of his detachment wouldn¡¯t return from the training pit for two days. He had two full free days on his hands, thanks to Edgar. What to do? Such idle time was a rare luxury.


    Edgar was already awake and dressed. He sat at the table on which was a neat stack of books, mostly war manuals but also, unsurprisingly, poetry. Sharderin poetry was virtually the only part of their old culture that survived the exodus. Every Sharderin was well-versed in the poetry which had survived the old days.


    Something jingled, and Niklas realized Edgar was counting a box bag of small, metallic tokens of various shapes.


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Niklas yawned.


    ¡°Gold,¡± he said.


    ¡°Gold!¡± Niklas sputtered. ¡°Edgar! That¡¯s illegal!¡± Niklas connected the dots. ¡°That¡¯s the gold the Colgans paid that officer for our tech!¡±


    Edgar smiled, slid several tokens back into a purse, and cinched it tight.


    ¡°What do you need that for?¡± Niklas demanded. ¡°We don¡¯t need money. The clan gives us everything we need.¡±


    ¡°Maybe you. My needs aren¡¯t so singular.¡±


    Niklas looked around, fearful of any eyes that might be prying. It was foolish. There was nothing but walls to the tiny house.


    ¡°I have a gift for you,¡± Edgar said.


    Niklas started in surprise. ¡°What is it?¡±


    Edgar tucked the purse away and reached into his pack. He produced a metal trinket, unlike anything Niklas had ever seen. Palm-sized and heavy. The only thing that Niklas recognized about it was the dull slate gray hue of the reaper¡¯s steel, a secret metal exclusive to Edgar''s order.


    ¡°Edgar¡­¡± Niklas gasped breathlessly, ¡°Gold is one thing, but I know for sure you shouldn''t give...whatever this is...to someone who isn¡¯t a reaper.¡±


    Edgar shrugged. ¡°Don¡¯t get caught with it, and we won¡¯t have a problem.¡±


    Niklas had to laugh at Edgar¡¯s typical disregard for authority. Niklas knew that the priests had disciplined Edgar for disobedience in the past, yet somehow, the reaper proved invaluable to his cathedral. Niklas suspected the reapers leaned on operatives like Edgar to resolve problems that needed to turn a blind eye to regulation. Niklas, by contrast, would feel guilty just knowing he had it. He hated secrets and breaking the rules.


    ¡°Flick the switch, but hold it well. It might jump,¡± Edgar said.


    Niklas noticed the switch in the center and gave it a nudge. The trinket jerked as a five-inch blade, with an accompanying crossguard, snapped into existence.


    He threw the blade to the table and cried in surprise, ¡°Deck! What the pit was that?¡±


    Edgar laughed heartily, ¡°No magic, just mechanical secrets of the architects. This model was actually developed by the Siegers and adapted by the reapers.¡±


    ¡°Edgar, I can¡¯t keep this.¡± Niklas squirmed a little.


    Picking up the blade, Edgar let out a sigh. ¡°Of course you can,¡± he said as he pulled the switch down.


    This time Niklas¡¯ eyes followed as the blade sucked back into the handle.


    ¡°You worry too much,¡± Edgar said as he returned the knife.


    Niklas shied away. ¡°The barracks get inspected regularly. Reaper tech is beyond contraband.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be coy, brother...Take it. Where is your sense of valor?¡±


    ¡°Valor includes obedience.¡±


    ¡°And bravery,¡± Edgar said, pushing it into his hand.


    Niklas gave in and accepted the gift. Why did he let Edgar pressure him so? It seemed almost everything that had ever gotten him in trouble started by Edgar¡¯s persuasive pressure.


    Niklas rubbed his temple to relieve a dull ache, and Edgar caught the motion.


    ¡°When did you last take Med?¡± Edgar asked.


    Finally, Niklas thought, something obedient.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, a couple of days? Before our final exercise.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s some in the cooler,¡± Edgar prompted.


    Niklas nodded and changed into the now wrinkled uniform he had been wearing the day before. He crossed to the cooler and pulled it open. It hissed as yellow vapors drifted out onto the ground. Inside, several glass cylinders held the med. He selected one, unscrewed the lid, and downed the contents. He felt the effects almost immediately.


    Niklas¡¯ anxieties seemed to calm slightly as a wave of heat washed over him. A fire roared in his ears and blood until it stabilized warmly within. Oh, how he loved med dosing. It seemed like he forgot how much he loved it until he took it.


    He let out a long, satisfied sigh. He would be good for the next day or so.


    ¡°Hey, can you take my books back to the library?¡± Edgar asked. ¡°I¡¯m meeting up with some other guys and don¡¯t have time to do it myself. I¡¯ll introduce you to them when you get back. I was hoping you could help us run a job.¡±


    So Edgar hadn¡¯t just gotten Niklas to spend some time together. ¡°Sure,¡± Niklas grunted and gathered Edgar¡¯s stack of books. ¡°Edgar, is this a private job? Do you think this is a good idea?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry. It¡¯s low risk. I¡¯ll have food ready when you get back.¡±


    Niklas stopped himself from protesting. Despite his fierce conviction to obedience, Niklas wanted to be more like Edgar, and a low-risk private job would be a perfect stepping stone.


    Niklas pulled his mask on, sealed it, and ducked out. He stepped into the cold, late winter air. His boots clanked against the wood of the platform that made the streets of the third tier of Pit Two.


    The morning was still dark. The two levels above them shaded the street, covering them from previous snowfall. Lights still glowed from the nightlights above, and light from the sunrise started to peak down from massive open-air channels that went through all five levels. He could see the top of the trees sticking through the shaft up here on the third level, and several catwalk bridges ran across them.


    Walking near the rail that separated him from a deep drop onto the forest floor, Niklas could look up and see the bottom of the two levels above or down onto the drones in the two levels below.


    Down at the forest floor under Pit Two, Niklas imagined the ant-sized Figures of the faceless darting around, but it was too dark to see.


    On the third level, Niklas didn¡¯t run into anyone he knew. His few friends were drones who lived on the first two levels. While he was out of place, some administrative or labor drones periodically served the elders on the third level, so he didn¡¯t draw any strange looks.


    He had never made it past the third level. The fourth was only for the highest-ranking masters, and the top was the sanctuary of the Holy Ones.


    He spotted a trio of raiders sitting at an outdoor cafe table, laughing over morning drinks. They wore flight goggles on their foreheads and carefree, confident smirks on their faces.


    Niklas felt his resolve tighten. One day, he would be one of them. No stupid zealot law was going to stop him.


    The third-level library was about half a mile away if he remembered correctly. Sadly, they didn¡¯t have a large variety of books to choose from; most of the books on the shelves were duplicates, the two most common types being war manuals or poetry from the old times.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    The law dictated that Sharderins couldn¡¯t own books, but anyone who didn¡¯t abuse this right could check out one book at a time.


    Niklas looked down in discomfort as he realized he had not one but five books underarm. No doubt Edgar had special privileges; Surely any observer would assume a drone possessing so many books acted on behalf of someone with higher authority.


    As he neared the library, the third level had grown much more populated. Most people wore the black masks of officers or one of the various architects; even a few zealots in their high-collared robes moved about with stiff necks. Niklas couldn¡¯t help but feel a stab of spite for them.


    A low horn sounded, pulling Niklas from his moment of scorn. He could have recognized the sound anywhere, constantly coming up from the fourth level. A matriarch horn was rare for the third level, but everyone knew what it meant.


    Quickly, everyone cleared off of the platform street, making way. Those who weren¡¯t wearing their masks quickly pulled them on. Up here the masks varied greater than the barracks below. A group of officers and even a pair of priests were out, mingling with senior chiefs. Those who had forgotten their masks for one reason or another fled the streets, ran into offices and supply depots, and quickly drew the window shades.


    Not being in the mood to take cover, Niklas touched his mask, ensuring it was there. He felt slightly out of place, being the only drone in the assembly. Everyone filed to the side of the road closest to the buildings, allowing plenty of space for the oncoming procession. A holy one was coming. Procedure excused no rank.


    The horn sounded again, this time much closer. Everyone quickly fell on their faces in the most humble of bows. Niklas followed suit, dropping to his knees and pressing his forehead into the ground. His mask pressed into his forehead, and he felt his heart race. He had never been present when a holy one passed, but the priests had trained the drones during religious training on how to pay proper respect.


    Niklas stared down through a gap between thick planks, not daring to move. He could see drones move on the lower level directly below.


    Being graced by the presence of a holy one was a sacred opportunity, a true honor indeed. Niklas recited the rules inwardly, which the priests had branded in his mind by years of instruction and warning.


    ¡°Do not look at a holy one, do not let a holy one see your face, do not speak with a holy one, do not touch a holy one, always protect the holy ones¡­¡± The priest''s voice echoed in his head as it recited the forbidden actions that would offend Gyva, God herself. ¡°But most important of all, always obey the directives given to you by a holy one.¡±


    Hearing the feet of the procession draw near, Niklas shut his eyes tight. It wasn¡¯t necessary as his face was in the ground, just an added precaution. He wasn¡¯t going to risk offending a holy one.


    Feet thudded before him as the procession started to pass. It was hard to guess how many people were involved, but it sounded like less than half of a detachment.


    Niklas felt humbled. A holy one was passing. It was an honor he would have missed if Edgar hadn¡¯t taken him.


    They were passing not more than ten feet away. Though Niklas had never seen one before, nor was he tempted to look, he wondered what a holy one looked like. He heard they could enchant men, though he wasn¡¯t entirely sure what that meant.


    ¡°Hey, look!¡± the shrill voice of a child cried. ¡°That one has dark hair!¡±


    Wait, what?


    Niklas¡¯ blood ran cold, and he almost glanced to the side to see if there was another possible candidate on the road. All the other Sharderins around had snow-white hair, but being half Relrin, his head had an equal mix of black and white hair, making it look darker.


    ¡°So he does,¡± a low but gentle voice followed. It was a mesmeric voice, undefinable by Niklas¡¯ sphere of experience. It was the voice of a holy one. A mother.


    ¡°You, with the dark hair. Come here,¡± the voice directed.


    Niklas froze, unable to move. Could this be happening? Was she talking to him? Hot sweat seeped from his skin.


    What was he to do? He couldn''t look at her, but he also couldn¡¯t disobey her. In a moment of panic, he pretended not to hear, hoping they would forget him and be on their way.


    ¡°Fetch that drone for us,¡± the feminine voice commanded.


    Thick footsteps broke off from the procession and stopped in front of Niklas. He dared a peek to see zealot boots inches in front of his face.


    ¡°You, Drone. The mother is talking to you. On your feet now.¡±


    There was no denying it now. The mother was speaking to Niklas. Scrambling to his feet, he found himself facing a masked zealot.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay, don¡¯t be shy,¡± the mother said.


    With Niklas¡¯ eyes glued to the floor, the zealot roughly grabbed him by the arm and towed him over to a litter, hovering several feet above the floor.


    ¡°What¡¯s your name, Drone?¡± the mother asked.


    ¡°Niklas Loga,¡± he muttered, still not daring to look up.


    ¡°Look at me, Niklas.¡±


    Niklas felt the zealot¡¯s hand on his arm tighten.


    ¡°It is forbidden, Mother,¡± Niklas protested, his voice a whimper.


    ¡°Then I command you, Drone. Look at me.¡±


    Niklas screamed inwardly. Surrounded by at least ten Zealots, he could feel their seething displeasure.


    Niklas was impure, and he was breaching religious code just by being in their presence, but it would be a greater sin to disobey a mother, and the mother was telling him to look at her. As far as he knew, no drone had seen a mother in at least ten years.


    Niklas looked up and saw them, two of them. One was mature by his guess and was round with child. The other was young, perhaps seven years old. Two mothers. Two holy ones.


    The mother regarded him kindly. ¡°I haven''t seen a drone up close in a very long time. And one with Relrin blood no less¡­¡±


    ¡°Forgive me, Mother,¡± Niklas begged as he tried to step away. ¡°I am impure. I should not be here.¡±


    She laughed to herself. Not a cruel or harsh laugh, but a genuinely jovial laugh. ¡°Join us, my child.¡± She motioned for him to join her.


    Niklas stared at them dumbly.


    She shifted over. ¡°There is plenty of room for all of us.¡±


    There was no mistaking her directive. Niklas cautiously scrambled on, and the litter bowed slightly as it adjusted to his weight. He couldn¡¯t bring himself to look either of them in the eye.


    ¡°My name is Mother May. This is my daughter, Mother Evy. Evy has never seen dark hair like yours. She would like to take a closer look.¡±


    ¡°The young mother would like to look at my hair?¡± Niklas reached back to touch his plume, startled.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Evy said, laughing. The young mother eyed him, intrigued. ¡°Why is it so dark?¡±


    ¡°Show us your face, Drone Niklas,¡± Mother May said.


    Niklas saw every zealot in the convoy tense but didn¡¯t do anything to resist. Mothers had all the power. Their discomfort secretly made him happy. But still, his hands shook as he tapped the rune to disengage his mask, and pulled it off. He looked at Mother May sheepishly with his naked eyes.


    ¡°Oh, he looks so pink,¡± Evy laughed.


    ¡°Be nice, Evy,¡± May scolded.


    Niklas shifted in discomfort, and Mother May noticed. Her eyes grew soft and concerned. The look caused something alien to stir within him. Despite his soldier stature, he was a child.


    ¡°Are you afraid, Niklas?¡±


    ¡°Drones don¡¯t fear,¡± he lied.


    ¡°The bird knows her eggs,¡± she mused. ¡°Do you know what that means?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t, Mother.¡±


    ¡°It means mothers have the special ability to know how their children are really feeling, and you are just as much my son as any of them,¡± she said, waving her hand.


    ¡°Yes, Mother,¡± Niklas agreed hurriedly, his lips pressed tight.


    Her face fell. ¡°You don¡¯t have to be afraid, Niklas. It makes me sad that you¡¯re afraid. A child should never fear his mother.¡±


    The stirring turned into twistings, and Niklas felt a flush of guilt. He had offended her somehow anyway. Oh Gyva, what had he done?


    ¡°How is life down here, Niklas?¡± Mother May asked. She seemed as though she actually didn¡¯t know, which was fair considering she lived in the sanctuary at the top of the city.


    ¡°I have no complaint. We get plenty of rations, and we have good of work to do,¡± Niklas said, trying desperately not to give the wrong answer.


    ¡°Is there a lot of fighting?¡±


    The question threw him off. ¡°Of course,¡± fighting was a widespread pastime, especially in the lower levels.


    She had a pained look in her eye. ¡°Why must my boys play such cruel games?¡±


    Oh no! He gave the wrong answer again. Niklas became distinctly aware of how warm and wet the armpits of his uniform had grown, and he wrung his hands nervously in front of him.


    ¡°I really don¡¯t mind,¡± he desperately tried to recover.


    ¡°That makes it even worse,¡± she lamented. ¡°What is happening to my boys?¡±


    Despite her conflict, her sincerity touched him. Niklas saw that Mother May was different. She cared in a way no chief ever would. He also saw an opportunity in that care. He was speaking to a mother, a holy one. zealots had to obey a mother.


    ¡°Mother,¡± he finally brought himself to address her.


    ¡°Yes, my son?¡±


    ¡°There is one thing that troubles me here.¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°Due to the influence of some...¡± Niklas suddenly became aware of the zealots¡¯ razor focus zeroing in on him, but in the presence of a mother, they couldn¡¯t touch him, and he had already started. ¡°Despite my qualifications, I have been denied an apprenticeship at any cathedral because of my parentage. Is this right?¡±


    ¡°Oh, Niklas,¡± Mother May said sympathetically as she reached out and touched his hand.


    Niklas recoiled, jerking his hand back with a sharp inhale. He would have shied away slower from a hot iron. It was forbidden to touch a mother. He didn¡¯t know how it worked if a mother touched him. Mother May pulled her hand back, her eyes shimmering in sorrow. Niklas had offended her yet again.


    ¡°What is happening to my boys?¡± she asked herself. ¡°They should never fear a mother''s touch. Niklas, I want you to stay far away from those cathedrals; Gyva knows what happens to my poor sons who go there, such horrible things.¡±


    Stay away from the cathedrals? A directive from a mother? Niklas¡¯ aspiration melted away from him, slid off the litter, seeped through the deck planks, and dripped to the forest floor.


    Niklas was about to ask why, but he stopped short. He saw a zealot with a hand on the hilt of his blade. It dawned on him that it was only in the presence of the mothers that the zealots wouldn¡¯t touch him, but in their absence, Niklas would be vulnerable. He finally saw the hole he had dug for himself.


    ¡°Mother,¡± the zealot who was leading the escort cut in. ¡°We must leave, we will be late.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t you see,¡± she said, frustrated. ¡°I am speaking to my son.¡±


    ¡°No, he¡¯s right,¡± Niklas said, shifting. ¡°I am also late. Forgive me, Mother.¡± His sweat abruptly chilled. He glanced from one zealot to the next and scanned the road for a possible escape route.


    ¡°I see,¡± Mother May said sadly. ¡°Farewell, my son.¡±


    Niklas climbed off the litter and gave another bow. ¡°Farewell, Mother.¡±


    A zealot pushed the litter, and it glided along the road on its own accord.


    Niklas sealed his drone mask on his head and looked around for a lift. There weren¡¯t any in sight.


    Three zealots stayed behind, glaring at him through the lenses in their masks. They tensed, winding up like massive springs.


    Maybe he could outrun them? He was trapped on the third level. He would take far too long to find and use a lift. He was cornered unless¡­  He glanced at a light shaft with a small bridge running across it.


    The mother¡¯s posse rounded the corner.


    Leaving Edgar¡¯s books, Niklas ran.

 4 Faceless.

    Niklas sprinted away from the lingering zealots and made for the light chasm. A long bridge spanned the light shaft at three hundred meters, which opened through all five levels.


    ¡°You, drone! Stop!¡±


    Niklas dared a glance over his shoulder. The three zealots who stayed behind pounded the deck in hot pursuit. The leader¡¯s mask marked him a master zealot. Luckily, none of the other bowing officers or priests joined them.


    ¡°Stop!¡± the master zealot barked.


    Niklas ran faster. His legs were stiff and ached from his testing the previous day.


    Niklas scrambled to the bridge and started running across. The densest branches were overhead. Three hundred meters, and he could disappear into the offices on the other side. As he ran, he sensed something off. He didn¡¯t hear the zealots'' footfalls behind him. Had they stopped?


    Striiike!


    A bolt of yellow light streaked past Niklas and shattered a branch, throwing smoking splinters into Niklas¡¯ face.


    Niklas dropped with a cry. Adrenaline surged through him as he spun. The zealots had stopped at the head of the bridge, but the leader held a pistol with yellow smoke trailing from the barrel. A Pyrlux pistol!


    ¡°No!¡± Niklas cried as he threw his hands up in his panic. ¡°Please!¡± he begged. ¡°No!¡±


    Without a word, the zealot motioned him over with his Pyrlux pistol. Yellow lights pulsed along lumaulic channels along the weapon''s body. Powerful and unstable, one hit from that thing would liquefy his organs.


    Niklas looked behind him. Over two hundred meters separated him from the other side. It was a straight line; he¡¯d be an easy, unarmored target.


    Niklas glanced down. Twenty meters further down on the second level, a bridge intersected with the one he was on. It was at least a twenty-meter drop, and several Drones were crossing it.


    Reluctantly, Niklas started to walk back across the bridge toward his pursuers. The two standing behind the leader drew zealot blades, and the Master zealot lowered his weapon.


    Niklas turned and charged back away from them. He heard one of the zealots curse, and Niklas screamed.


    Striiike!


    At the last second, Niklas vaulted the rail and dropped into the dark chasm as the rail exploded behind him.


    He jumped too early. His momentum carried him but not far enough. Rather than landing on the cross-bridge on level two, his face slammed into the rail, and he fell back. He frantically grabbed the lip of the bridge, holding on for dear life, his feet dangled over the edge. He grew dizzy at the remaining drop to the forest floor.


    Niklas tasted blood in his mouth.


    ¡°Oi!¡± a drone cried on the bridge. ¡°What happened, man?¡±


    Three drones hurriedly grabbed Niklas by the wrist to tow him back onto their bridge.


    ¡°What were you thinking?¡± one of the drones snapped as they pulled him to safety under the rail. Blood ran down Niklas¡¯ chin. ¡°You¡¯re mad taking that jump.¡±


    Niklas pulled his mask off to spit out a mouthful of blood. Already, his lip began to swell.


    ¡°You¡¯re bleeding,¡± another one noted. ¡°Do you need a medic?¡±


    Niklas looked up. ¡°No,¡± he gasped in horror, seeing three figures gliding down from the bridge above toward his bridge on level two. Their robes billowed out to the side, catching air and allowing them to glide gracefully down to the second level.


    ¡°What In Gyva¡¯s name-¡±


    ¡°Get off!¡± Niklas cried as he pushed them aside and continued his sprint.


    ¡°What¡¯s your problem?¡± one of them snapped after Niklas.


    The three zealots landed on the bridge and shot past the startled drones.


    Niklas¡¯ bottom lip was numb, but he didn¡¯t have time to worry about that. He had to lose the zealots. He fumbled to put his mask back on in preparation to disappear into the crowd of drones on the other side, but while running, It was impossible to get it on without slowing.


    ¡°Stop that drone!¡±


    Down there, the lower enlisted respected the zealot¡¯s authority. Five drones started running toward Niklas.


    ¡°Shrap!¡± Niklas cursed. Fortunately, the oncoming drones stopped the zealots from shooting. Niklas looked down and saw another intersecting bridge on the first level. He tried his desperate gambit again.


    This time, Niklas timed his jump right. He vaulted the rail and dropped onto the bridge on level one.


    With a sickening pop, Niklas cried out from the searing pain that flashed through his knee as he landed on the bridge of tier one.


    Using the rail for support, he pulled himself up and began to limp as fast as his body would allow. He looked back to see the zealots gliding toward him on level one. He was running out of options. He hopped painfully with every other step. He just couldn¡¯t force himself to run.


    Maybe he should just take the punishment, though he couldn¡¯t begin to guess the penalty for speaking to a Mother. The fact that he ran would only make it worse. They had every right just to kill him and call it good.


    He groaned in agony as he shuffled along. Mask still clutched in hand, and hopping on one leg, he pulled himself along the rail with his free hand. Where was Edgar when he needed him?


    Edgar¡¯s chastening voice came to mind: Remember, we are Loga¡¯s and Loga¡¯s fight.


    Niklas dismissed the memories from his head. Never before had that standard sounded so stupid. These were the elite of Sharderin society, the presiding party. They had the authority to enforce the law, and Niklas had done the unforgivable by speaking to a mother!


    Niklas hobbled off the bridge and shambled around the massive light shaft. He headed to a large tree that shot up through the openings. At its closest, it stood five feet away from the rail.


    The zealots landed and trotted after Niklas at a leisurely stroll. ¡°Where are you going?¡± one of them demanded.


    The drones on this level cleared away in a wave, denying Niklas the cover he needed. Accidentally giving a fugitive cover would be a mistake, especially with zealots on the hunt.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you motivated, Relrin drone.¡± another said in amusement.


    Niklas limped over to the tree, clutching the rail with a shaking hand. Each breath took a painful degree of effort. He knew he was done but couldn¡¯t bring himself to stop.


    A five-foot opening separated the rail from the tree which grew up through the city. The distance from the first level to the ground was easily twice that of any other two tiers.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    ¡°Go ahead. Jump,¡± the zealot wearing a mask that marked him a master zealot, taunted, foreseeing Niklas¡¯ plan. ¡°It will save us the cleanup.¡±


    The others laughed at his jest.


    With a groan of pain, Niklas stepped over the handrail. He looked at the zealots. They didn¡¯t try to stop him.


    Niklas panted as he held onto the rail with shaky hands.


    What foul luck had driven him to this? Had he fallen out of favor with Gyva? Did speaking with Gyva¡¯s daughter indeed offend her so much?


    Niklas looked down and then back at the zealots. The fall or the zealots? Choosing between being burned in an oven or boiling water would be easier.


    ¡°Well?¡± the Master zealot demanded.


    Under normal circumstances, the jump to the tree would have been manageable, but with his bad knee, it looked twice the distance it was.


    Groaning impatiently, an apprentice, Acolyte, drew his blade and stepped towards Niklas.


    Niklas leaped forward with his arms outstretched, reaching for the tree.


    Crack!


    Something bit into Niklas¡¯ foot, jerking him back and stealing his momentum.


    Niklas cried out loud as he swung upside down back under the deck. He lost hold of his mask, and it dropped down to the forest floor below.


    He looked up to see a braided whip tightly coiled around his ankle. Two of the zealots held him dangling upside down, threatening to drop him at any moment. The ground lay far below, peaking between several lower branches.


    ¡°Did you think you could evade justice so easily, drone?¡± the master zealot asked. ¡°No, not from us¡­now, what to do? Drop you on your head and call it good¡­¡±


    Even listening to his taunts was difficult. Blood rushed to Niklas¡¯ head, and he felt like a giant was sitting on his lungs. Niklas thrashed and looked around frantically for any way out.


    He couldn¡¯t see an escape, so he called out to the one who was always there when He needed him. ¡°Edgar!¡± Niklas cried. ¡°Edgar, help!¡±


    The zealots snickered, but Niklas¡¯ brother wasn¡¯t there, and no amount of wishing or praying would change that.


    ¡°Master, he¡¯s getting heavy,¡± one of the apprentice zealots said, letting Niklas drop a few inches before catching him.


    Niklas screamed and waved his arms before realizing he wasn''t falling. ¡°Edgar!¡±


    Remember, we are Loga¡¯s and Loga¡¯s fight, Edgar¡¯s cunning voice reminded him.


    ¡°I can¡¯t¨C¡±


    Niklas slowly spun, suspended like a weight on a string. The tree was only five feet away. Edgar would be so disappointed if he wasn¡¯t at least trying when they dropped him.


    Niklas threw his arms forward, bending at the waist, and then threw them back behind him, arching his back. He drifted back a few inches. The pendulum of a drone threw himself forward, picking up a forward swing. Rocking back and forth, he swung closer then further from the tree.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± the master zealot asked in amusement.


    Now drifting several feet, Niklas continued swinging himself to close the distance.


    ¡°Come on!¡± he grunted. He threw himself forward, curled up, and pulled out the Reapers knife Edgar had given him. Niklas flicked the switch with a snap, and the blade sprang out. He curled further, pulling himself up to his ankle. With the tension in the braid, Niklas touched the razor-sharp edge to the whip just above the knot, and it snapped.


    Niklas dropped fast. Branches slammed into him, jerking him back and forth. Twigs scraped and cut exposed flesh with their coarse fingers. The tree thoroughly beat him on his way down but stole dangerous momentum.


    Niklas hit the dirt forest floor. His ears rang, and he couldn¡¯t breathe. He writhed stiffly for several seconds before his lungs returned to him, and he gasped a choked breath. His body smarted everywhere. He saw his Reaper''s blade an arm''s distance away and weakly grabbed it. The motion hurt. He groaned before deactivating and concealing the weapon.


    Arm over arm, Niklas pulled himself toward the base of the tree. ¡°Mother Gyva,¡± he coughed, and specks of blood hit the dirt. ¡°Spare me, merciful Mother. Stay the dogs which hunt me.¡±


    Niklas could feel his heartbeat pulsing through his whole body. He felt inflamed and broken. He wheezed a couple of hoarse breaths, but his strength failed him.


    A gentle gust of wind whistled through the branches. In contrast to his burning body, it breezed like a cool but soft feather. He slumped but didn¡¯t see any zealots following. Niklas had never heard the voice of God as directly as some, but he imagined that She had many ways of making Her presence known. He couldn¡¯t help but feel maybe She was looking at him.


    With heavy breaths, Niklas pulled himself up against the tree. He didn¡¯t have the strength to crawl any further.


    He closed his eyes but couldn¡¯t afford to fall asleep. What if some faceless found him? He felt himself fading quickly. But it was peaceful, as though Gyva¡¯s gentle hand was rocking him to sleep.


    Something cold and sharp touched Niklas¡¯ exposed throat, and his eyes opened.


    The three zealots stood before him. One of them held a zealot dagger to his neck.


    ¡°Drone Niklas Loga, don¡¯t sleep. We¡¯re just getting started.¡±


    No! Everything in him screeched, and he moaned in protest. It wasn¡¯t over. But why?


    ¡°Drone Niklas, for crimes against the Mothers, for looking at them, for showing your face, for touching, for seeking to raise your position, for offending, and causing the Mothers undue distress,¡± the Master zealot said, ¡°we cannot let your crimes go unpunished.¡°


    The zealot master reached into his robes and produced a pair of iron bites, the simple pieces of metal laced around his fingers to add an edge to his punch.


    Niklas tried jerking away, but he only managed a light flinch, and the Master¡¯s two acolytes, clearly experienced in restraining people, held him fast.


    The master zealot struck Niklas in the face.


    Niklas gasped. His vision flashed red. Niklas had been hit many times before, and as jarring and painful as it had been, this was the first time anyone had hit him with an iron bite. The strike tore across his jaw. He very well could suffer permanent disfigurement to his face.


    The master zealot struck again and again. Niklas could tell each strike cut his face as the metal bit into his flesh.


    He repetitively struck Niklas in the ribs before finally hitting him in the gut. Niklas started coughing as soon as he could catch his breath, and a drizzle of blood-rich saliva dribbled from his lips.


    ¡°Tie him.¡±


    The two jerked him to his feet and pulled off his jacket.


    ¡°Master, please!¡± Niklas managed.


    They ignored his plea and produced a rope.


    ¡°No!¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t beg. You have no Valor. Face justice like a soldier.¡± The master zealot pulled out another whip.


    Two whips? Niklas thought. What kind of sick sadist carries two whips?


    They tied Niklas arms around the tree, forcing him to hug its trunk. He didn¡¯t have the strength to resist.


    They tore his loose shirt down the back. Niklas couldn¡¯t see but heard the sound of the whip whirling behind him. He clenched his jaw. Niklas had been flogged before.


    The lash came down, and Niklas screamed.


    Niklas clawed at the tree for several minutes as the Master zealot expertly lashed at him repeatedly. Each second stretched too long. Niklas prayed for it to end, but it seemed like the more he begged, the worse and longer It got. It wasn¡¯t until he was numb and faint that it stopped.


    The two zealot acolytes cut Niklas loose and dropped him before their master.


    ¡°Look at me, drone.¡±


    Niklas groaned and looked up at him.


    ¡°We¡¯re not done yet. No, your punishment must be more severe.¡± The master zealot¡¯s voice was no longer amused but bored. So they were tired of their games and would finally cut to the chase. They were going to kill him after all.


    Niklas still had his knife, but he doubted he would even have the strength to draw it, let alone fight.


    ¡°Do you want us to kill you?¡±


    With great effort, Niklas nodded.


    ¡°Beg.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he said weakly.


    ¡°No?¡± the zealot asked. ¡°Why not? You were begging earlier?¡±


    Niklas strained to look at him again. ¡°Valor. If I¡¯m going to die. I will keep my valor.¡±


    ¡°You think you still have valor, Relrin? You think there¡¯s room for Relrin drones in the clan?!¡±


    ¡°Not¡­ Relrin,¡± Niklas breathed through swollen lips.


    The master zealot frowned. ¡°You really think you¡¯re a Sharderin?¡± He asked, and he crouched next to Niklas. ¡°The Relrins took everything from us. They stole my world. They destroyed everything that was good.¡± He grabbed Niklas by the braid and jerked his head up. ¡°You have Relrin blood. Everything that¡¯s wrong with this world runs through your veins.¡±


    The master zealot grabbed Niklas roughly by the face and drew his hand back, wet with blood. ¡°You see this?¡± He held the bloodied hand in front of Niklas¡¯ face. ¡°This is why you have no valor. This is why you are no drone. Why do you think you can be a part of the clan?¡±


    Niklas glared up at the master zealot. ¡°Because,¡± he coughed. ¡°They took everything from me too.¡±


    ¡°Not everything,¡± The zealot sneered, dropping Niklas¡¯ head. ¡°I¡¯m the one who will take everything from you. The halls of valor are closed to you, Relrin!¡± the Master zealot said.


    Niklas wasn¡¯t thinking right. His mind seemed to be drunk on pain. How could the halls of Valor possibly be closed¡­ oh no.


    The zealot dropped something to the ground. Niklas¡¯ mask. With the helmet sealed, it would stop bullets, but disengaged, it would be quite easy to split into pieces.


    ¡°Relrin. You are faceless.¡±


    ¡°NO!¡± Niklas screamed.


    The zealot raised his boot and stomped down on the mask. Niklas watched in horror as It shattered. He saw his whole fractured with it. Why didn¡¯t they just kill him?


    ¡°No, no, no¡±! Niklas cried, disbelieving, as he crawled to shattered pieces of his face of valor and frantically tried to gather the pieces. His face was gone. He could not make it to Stigki¡¯s halls of valor without it. He was doomed to Stigki¡¯s Pit.


    The zealot acolytes grabbed Niklas by his ponytail and pulled him up to look at their master. The zealot produced a signet ring and slipped it onto his middle finger. He made a fist, and the seal let out a metallic hum.


    ¡°Stop,¡± Niklas wheezed.


    The rune on the ring started to glow orange.


    ¡°Plea-¡±


    The master zealot pressed the brand into Niklas¡¯ face, just under his right eye.


    Niklas squealed and thrashed, not to evade the searing metal but to escape the mark he would forever bear. The mark of the faceless.


    The zealots dropped him.


    ¡°No, no!¡± Niklas cried any hope for a valorous death gone. ¡°Kill me, please!¡±


    ¡°Do it yourself, faceless.¡± The zealots turned and walked away.


    Niklas crawled to gather the pieces of his mask and cradled them together.


    Niklas was grateful that nobody was around to see him. He rocked back and forth, and for the first time in his memory, he cried.

 5 Vidder Olsen.

    Niklas tried to pull himself to his feet, but his former casual strength betrayed him. He fell back down. His inflamed face bled, bloody stripes raked his back, and his knee throbbed treacherously. He had never wished so badly for sweet unconsciousness¡¯ merciful fingers to wrap him in her embrace. He slumped, deadbeat, and finished. His swollen eyes itched from his tears.


    I¡¯m a pathetic child, he realized. That only added an internal sting to his wounds.


    As bad as he hurt, it paled compared to the sickening reality of his broken mask. The zealots had stolen his valor. A drone''s face was his soul; without it, he would be forced to endure Stigki¡¯s endless torment Pit when he died. Beyond that, he was a criminal now. A banished outcast.


    ¡°Why?¡± Niklas whispered, his voice coarse and rough. Anger finally seeped through the pain,  fear, and solitude. Why had Mother Gyva ignored his plea? Had he not been her faithful servant his whole life? Was she really so offended that he had obeyed her holy daughter? Why did she allow him to be in a position where he was caught between two commandments? The choice to disobey a mother or to look upon and speak to her?


    Fueled by his anger, he managed to pull himself to his feet. His world spun, and he almost fell back down, so he leaned against the tree for support.


    ¡°Why?¡± he cried, this time looking at the sky through the hole through the city. He hoped Mother Gyva was listening. ¡°I have always been faithful to you. Will you abandon me now?¡±


    He received no reply. Of course he didn¡¯t. Gyva didn¡¯t care about him. Nobody did. The Clan hated him as a child, and they hated him now. They used to mock him, telling him that he wasn¡¯t a true son of Stigki. Stigki didn¡¯t bear Pink skins. Maybe they were right. Maybe the Relrin god was his true creator.


    No. Niklas recoiled in horror as the weight of his blasphemous thought fully sunk in


    That was a stupid idea. The Relrin God murdered their mothers. He was worse than Stigki himself.


    He remembered the priests telling them stories of valorous men who faced life''s trials and remained faithful. In the stories, Gyva always rewarded them for their diligence. Niklas had always wanted to be like them.


    If God wanted him faceless, he would bear it. He would gladly go if she saw fit to condemn him to pit.


    Whether he was faithful or not, the clan had rejected him. He groaned and clung to the tree more tightly.


    He was a good drone! They needed him!


    Niklas shook his head. Who was he kidding? The only person who would notice his absence was Edgar.


    Edgar! Niklas had to try to get back to him.


    Looking around, Niklas found a stick, which he converted into a makeshift crutch, and snatched his dirtied jacket.


    A wave of pain rippled across his back. Grunting yet again, he pressed on, pushing past the discomfort.


    He started heading to one of the nearest lift stations. He quickly calculated which one the zealots would have taken to get back up and started in the opposite direction.


    Niklas knew his efforts were futile. He knew what would happen, but he had to try.


    The trip shouldn¡¯t have taken as long as it did. Limping at an agonizing pace past giant trees through the city''s underbelly, Niklas considered the severity of his wounds. He could hardly put any weight on his right knee. One eye had swollen shut, and his back throbbed in hot pain.


    Niklas paced himself from tree to tree, taking a break and trying not to collapse when he had a trunk to lean on. He would never take a healthy body for granted. Just the day before, he was sprinting and clearing obstacles. Now, it took everything just to stay upright.


    Tree after tree, break after break, the cold of his blood slicked back set in.


    A lift station eventually came into view, and Niklas¡¯ stomach knotted as he considered what it would take to gain admittance to the city above.


    Five Drones manned this station.


    ¡°Please,¡± Niklas grunted. ¡°I need to go up one last time.¡±


    ¡°Oi, are you alright?¡± one of the station guards called.


    ¡°What happened?¡± the other asked.


    ¡°I uh...fell.¡± It wasn¡¯t a lie.


    One guard hurried over to Niklas but stopped when he saw the mark under his eye. ¡°Faceless,¡± The lift guard hissed as he drew a drone¡¯s blade. Its chrome sheen gave it a mirror-like reflection. ¡°Get out of here!¡±


    ¡°Please,¡± Niklas begged, ¡°I need to see my brother. He¡¯s an Architect. He can fix this.¡±


    ¡°Leave now or be executed,¡± the sentry threatened. Behind him, one of them produced a rifle and racked the slide.


    ¡°Please.¡±


    A guard closer to the lift picked up a rock and hurled it at Niklas. ¡°Get out of here, Pink,¡± he shouted as it skidded past Niklas¡¯ feet. The sentry had thrown it hard with no reservation.


    Stones. A wave of dread flushed through Niklas as he turned and hobbled away as fast as he could. He stabbed his crutch into the ground and hopped up to it on his good leg as frantically as possible. It was slow, desperate, and awkward progress. Not stones!


    A stone smacked into the tree before him, and he cried out in panic.


    ¡°Mother killer,¡± they barked.


    Niklas¡¯ mind flashed to a time before the clan had conscripted him into the clan¡¯s drone army, back when the clan was little more than lost and hollow outcasts. Before, they had a sense of purpose or direction. Several older boys had thrown stones at him. ¡°Mother killer!¡± they had accused him. He remembered his cries, then Edgar¡¯s snarl, and then the boys'' screams.


    Rocks pelted down on Niklas as the guards hurled stones at him, driving him out of their presence.


    Niklas hobbled, hopped, and shuffled as quickly as he could. Stones. He made draggingly slow progress and escaped with several new lumps and bruises.


    Once the lift station was out of sight, Niklas stole away from the road and slumped down in the overgrowth to examine his new wounds.


    He prodded bruises and touched cuts, wincing as he did so. He tried his best to assess the damage. He didn¡¯t have the appropriate supplies to treat the wounds. He was bleeding too much. He needed to wash his cuts. He flinched as he touched the biggest bruise on his forearm.


    Niklas hated stones. He could almost smell the burning flesh from Edgar¡¯s hands when Edgar came to save him as the boys threw stones at him as a child. That was when Edgar caught the attention of the priests. It was his first step on his path to becoming a reaper.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Niklas¡¯ mind raced as he tried to rest. He clenched his inflamed jaw as he failed to push the pain of his raw body out of his mind.


    He couldn¡¯t get to Edgar. What would he do? Should he wait for him here? Or find some gang of faceless to join until Edger found him? Niklas had heard of the lawlessness of the faceless. They often killed each other over the meager possessions they could salvage from the garbage. Niklas gripped his reaper''s blade concealed in his pocket and hugged his jacket. How long could he last? He was not in fighting shape.


    The more he allowed his thoughts to wander, the more his hopes fell. No, there was nothing he could do. There was nothing for him here. Nothing but the echoed voices of those who surrounded him throughout his life.


    Pink skin, Mother killer. That¡¯s what he would always be to them. A Relrin, and now, faceless.


    But not to Edgar. Edgar was his brother, and he would come for him again. Edgar would brand the mark of the faceless under his own eye if that¡¯s what he had to do to take care of Niklas.


    Niklas smiled through the pain. Yes, he just needed to survive until Edgar found him, and the first thing to do was to mend his cuts.


    Niklas fashioned a new, sturdier crutch and set off to find water.


    The wounded faceless heard flowing water before too long. Rushing to find it, he discovered that the stream flowed from a drainage pipe coming out of the city above. It was murky and filthy, entirely unusable for cleaning his wounds. There would be plenty of water outlets like this, but the clan pumped any good water up into the city, so Niklas pressed on toward the city''s outskirts. Several streams in Pit Forest fed into the Rulkite River. If only he could find one of them.


    He progressed slowly. He continued his method of shuffling from tree to tree to try and catch his breath.


    After two hours, he broke the city¡¯s limits on the west side.


    He had no rations, no water, no shelter, so he wandered aimlessly until he hurt too much to move. He watched the afternoon sun disappear behind billowy clouds, and primal fear struck his resolve. He was exposed to the sharp winter elements and was in grave danger.


    He could take shelter under the city, but he would find no food or clean water. He forced his way on. He continued his crippled pace for many hours when large flakes of snow began to drift down.


    Niklas looked frantically for shelter, a fallen tree, a rocky alcove, anything. But he didn¡¯t see any promising options. He pulled off his wet, bloodstained shirt as the wind picked up. The shirt didn¡¯t do anything to keep him warm. He looked at his jacket in concern. He was lightheaded and still bleeding. Getting the jacket wet would surely mean death in the coming storm.


    The wind started to howl, and the snow came down in smaller, much faster flakes that felt like frozen blades on his skin. Niklas¡¯ breath came out in uncontrollable, ragged gasps as he shivered. He had no fire starters, no blanket. He had to keep moving to keep himself warm. He had to avoid growing stiff. Surrendering to his instant need, he threw his jacket on. He arched his back and hissed as he irritated his wounds by pulling it tight around himself. He took labored steps as the storm matured into a blizzard. It didn¡¯t take long for fatigue¡¯s draining effect to take hold of him.


    Niklas jerked awake as he collapsed. The cold, hard ground came as an unpleasant surprise.


    ¡°Gyva,¡± he panicked, ¡°help me...¡±


    Uncontrollable shakes seized his body as the wind picked up even harder.


    ¡°Mother...Why?¡± A wave of emotion coursed through his body as he blinked tears into his eyes, and a lump swelled in his throat. So this is how he would die? Alone on the cold wilderness floor. No valor. No battle.


    Niklas lay his head in his arms, surrendering himself to the elements, nothing but the howling wind to lull him to sleep.


    ¡°Get up!¡±


    Niklas stirred.


    ¡°Get up, you coy fool!¡±


    Were those arms around him?


    ¡°You gotta help me if you want to live.¡±


    Niklas opened his eyes. A man was struggling to pull him up. A scarf covered the stranger¡¯s face, and snow dusted his clothes.


    Niklas groaned as he stood, borrowing strength from the stranger.


    The man threw Niklas¡¯ arm over his shoulders and supported him as he led the way through the white landscape.


    Niklas slumped again, and the man cursed. He felt the man heft him and throw him over his shoulders.


    ¡°Stay with me, man!¡± he grunted.


    Niklas felt himself drift back to sleep.


    Niklas woke up to the warm glow of a fire. A dry blanket covered him. The man watched him from across the fire. His eyes didn¡¯t reflect hostility or trust. He just watched. He casually held Niklas¡¯ reaper''s blade while watching him. His face had a rugged beard, but Niklas could see a faceless mark under his savior¡¯s eye. So the man would rob him? Niklas was too tired to care. He slumped back to sleep.


    Vidder couldn¡¯t believe his eyes. That drone was Niklas Loga, and he jumped! Running from zealots was stupid enough, but jumping from the third level would likely be fatal even for Niklas.


    Vidder cursed under his breath. What was Niklas doing here? He should have been out in the training pit. What madness could have brought him to the third level now of all times?


    He couldn¡¯t afford to be seen as reckless or even interested, so he made his way to the lift. ¡°Down to level one,¡± He commanded the liftman, who saluted his directive. Vidder¡¯s third mark black officers mask merited authority.


    The lift hummed as it descended two levels, resting on the first floor. The floor was less busy than usual as most detachments were cycling to the training pit, but plenty of Drones and low-mark chiefs were still moving about. Vidder approached a couple of drones.


    ¡°You, did a drone fall through the light shaft?¡± he demanded.


    Seeing his third mark officer¡¯s mask, they snapped to attention. ¡°yes sir,¡± they reported, ¡°He landed on the bridge and jumped down to the under level. He must have been desperate. Three zealots were chasing him.¡±


    Vidder smiled at the report, where the fall from the first level would kill most men. Niklas would likely survive, provided the zealots didn¡¯t ruin everything.


    ¡°And the Zealots?¡±


    ¡°Followed him, sir. To the under level.¡±


    Vidder growled and waved the drones on, dismissing them to go about their business.


    Waiting by the lift, Vidder¡¯s mind raced. What if Niklas had died? What if the coy zealots executed him? Father would be so angry. They had invested so much in that drone. Niklas wasn¡¯t necessarily under Vidder¡¯s care, but the zealots had unknowingly been interfering with Father¡¯s plans. Niklas would be the third one Father lost to them.


    Vidder patiently waited almost an hour before the bell rang in the lift station, and the lift groaned to life.


    Three zealots¡¯ heads appeared coming out of the floor as the platform lifted them to the first level. They laughed about ¡°the look on his face.¡¯¡± Surely, they were talking about Niklas.


    The lift came to a stop, and the zealots stepped out.


    ¡°Master Zealot,¡± Vidder called to their leader, who regarded him oddly. ¡°May I ask your name?¡±


    The chief zealot became defensive as he eyed the officer. ¡°Who¡¯s asking?¡±


    ¡°A friend with valuable information, that is, if you are who I think you are.¡±


    The master zealot relaxed slightly. ¡°From an officer, this catches my interest. My name is Master Brynjar. What is your message?¡±


    Vidder smiled. ¡°My message is that you will pay for what you just did to that drone.¡±


    Master Brynjar recoiled as if struck in surprise. ¡°Are you threatening me, soldier?¡± he snapped.


    ¡°Oh, you have nothing to fear from me,¡± Vidder promised. ¡°You have those much more powerful to fear.¡±


    ¡°Who?¡± Master Brynjar spat defensively. He didn¡¯t like the conversation.


    Vidder could hardly blame him. ¡°Do you know who that drone was? What did you do to him?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s just a drone. No one will care.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure? Maybe you should find out who the drones are before you play your little games with them.¡±


    ¡°Who was he?¡± Master Brynjar demanded.


    ¡°I guess you¡¯ll never know,¡± Vidder shrugged and stepped to pass the trio.


    ¡°We are not done talking.¡± Master Brynjar barked as he grabbed Vidder by the arm. His other hand came to rest on his blade.


    Vidder smiled. Oh, how the promise of violence enthralled his desires. A tickle in the back of his throat and a buzz in his spine urged him to attack. Butchering all three zealots where they stood would be too easy, but he had to curb his passions. There were too many witnesses here.


    ¡°Master Brynjar, do you really want to do something here?¡± Vidder asked. ¡°Do you want to directly act in defiance against the elders in front of all of these drones? From what I understand, the Mothers are just about ready to hand the head platform off to us. Perhaps this will hasten their decision?¡±


    Master Brynjar let go of Vidder¡¯s arm. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t need it.¡± Vidder sighed. ¡°you won¡¯t hear of me again.¡± He pushed past into the lift. ¡°Down.¡±


    ¡°Who are you?¡± Master Brynjar snapped.


    Vidder chuckled at the zealot¡¯s frustration as he descended to the forest floor below.


    Vidder stopped on the forest floor and pulled off his mask. Free from the obstructing helmet, he sniffed the air. He smiled. He could smell Niklas.


    ¡°Sir?¡± the liftman at the bottom questioned.


    Ignoring the sentry¡¯s confusion, he started off tracing Niklas¡¯ scent. It led him several hundred yards away to a tree that ran through a light shaft. There were traces of blood everywhere, but there was no body. At least Niklas wasn¡¯t dead...yet.


    Vidder touched a leaf with blood on it. His fingers came back wet and sticky. He held his fingers to his nose, his eyes rolling back with ecstasy as he inhaled the sweet scent. He began to grow restless as his appetite grew wet. He couldn¡¯t resist. He stuck his fingers in his mouth and sucked the blood off.


    Yes, it was Niklas, all right.


    Should he go after him? No. He had to report to Father first. Father would know what to do. Father always knew what to do.


    He forced himself to pull away from the bloody scene and started away when something caught his eye: pieces of a drone¡¯s mask lay shattered on the ground.


    So, the zealots had made him faceless. Niklas wouldn¡¯t be able to return to the city. Vidder sniffed the air, Niklas¡¯ scent led eastward. He could try to track him, but this would make Father angry at the zealots. Vidder smiled at the thought. He saw no need to clean their mess before it matured.


    No, he would tell Father first. Vidder scooped down to gather the biggest pieces of the mask; they could come in handy later.

 6 The Wall of Demons.

    Someone groaned loudly. Who was that? Niklas suddenly became aware of himself. He was groaning. But why was he groaning?


    ¡°Oh pit, stay with me, man!¡±


    Niklas felt something hard put to his lips, and heat flowed through him.


    Niklas opened his eyes as life surged through him. The faceless man cradled his head and held a med veil to his lips.


    Niklas surged, powered by the med. He swept the man¡¯s hand away, flinging the empty veil, and struck up to grab the man¡¯s throat.


    The man was quick, deflecting Niklas¡¯ blow, hitting his forearm away with an elbow. Then, quick as a whip, he shot his dirty boot out, pinning Niklas¡¯ wrist to the ground.


    Niklas lurched, and the searing pain of wounds opening ran across his back. The effect of the med was fresh and fueled his instincts.


    Niklas kicked, but the man stayed on top of him. The man pulled out a makeshift shiv and held it to Niklas¡¯ throat.


    ¡°Hold still, soldier!¡± he snapped, ¡°or you¡¯ll likely kill yourself. The med¡¯s the only thing keeping you alive!¡±


    Niklas felt the initial effect of the med wear off, and suddenly, all of his pains returned.


    He let out a bark of surprise. His whole body felt hot and swollen. Everything pulsed with his heartbeat.


    ¡°Easy,¡± the man said, removing the knife and putting a canteen to Niklas¡¯ lips.


    Niklas drank greedily. The cool water soothed his flaming throat.


    ¡°I only had a partial med dose. I didn¡¯t want to use it unless I had to, but I was losing you, see,¡± the man started as he stepped away. ¡°That stuff is deck difficult to get down here.¡±


    Niklas looked around. He was in a small metal structure. He had seen such structures before. They dotted all across Pit forest. It was a Fusillade ruin, or at least what had used to be a Fusillade ruin. The clan had long since stripped it of anything they could study.


    The man had a pack and gear on the far side with a dead fire in the center. From what Niklas could tell, it was a temporary camp.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± Niklas demanded.


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome,¡± the man rolled his eyes. ¡°I saved your life, so I¡¯ll be asking the questions. Your faceless mark is new. What did you do?¡±


    Niklas glared at him.


    ¡°If I wanted you dead, we wouldn¡¯t be having this conversation.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re faceless,¡± Niklas spat. ¡°You betrayed the Clan!¡±


    He looked at Niklas bewildered. ¡°I don¡¯t know if you¡¯ve looked in a mirror lately, brother, but we¡¯re in the same minefield.¡±


    ¡°I am not your brother!¡±


    He frowned, ¡°It might take a while for you to come to terms with it, but you¡¯re not a drone anymore. Stop acting like it.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m no friend to thieves or murderers. There is no valor in disobedience!¡±


    He let out a low whistle. ¡°Not a drone then, where you a zealot?¡±


    ¡°No!¡± Niklas snapped. The masks of the zealots flashed in his mind, and his stomach twisted.


    The man nodded and held up a defensive hand. ¡°I¡¯ll have you know I¡¯m neither a thief nor a murderer.¡±


    ¡°Lazy then? Sacrilegious?¡± Niklas continued. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter, you are dishonored. You betrayed your clan.¡±


    ¡°My clan betrayed me,¡± The man countered.


    ¡°How dare you!¡± Niklas growled.


    ¡°Shut up, kid,¡± The Faceless man shot back. ¡°You want to know my great crime? You want to know why I couldn¡¯t coexist with the clan?¡±


    Niklas simply glared in response.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t take my med,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s a simultaneous depressant, aggressant, and steroid. It makes you more compliant, violent, and susceptible to directives. It turns men into drones. You won''t be so disagreeable once it clears out of your system.¡±


    ¡°Med is a tool. It helps us better serve the clan,¡± Niklas said, full of confidence.


    The man snorted. ¡°The clan isn¡¯t the righteous government you were programmed to believe. You¡¯ll see that becoming faceless is the best thing that has happened to you, Niklas.¡±


    The man knew Niklas¡¯ name, but that was no surprise as the clan had tattooed his rune on his left shoulder in his tenth year.


    ¡°As distasteful as it is, I had to use some med on you because of its healing properties,¡± the man said apologetically.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± Niklas asked.


    ¡°First, Tell me what you did.¡±


    Niklas glared, but the man waited patiently.


    ¡°I spoke to a Mother.¡±


    The man¡¯s jaw dropped, then he started to laugh. ¡°How on Momalgar did you manage that?¡±


    Niklas turned away in shame, and the man didn¡¯t press him.


    ¡°My name is Ismail,¡± he introduced himself as promised. I got separated from my men when we clashed with one of Abdul¡¯s packs. We were¡­ looking for something. You sure picked an eventful time to get yourself banished.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a leader?¡± Niklas asked hurriedly. ¡°You have a tribe down here?¡±


    ¡°I have a small pack,¡± he said cautiously.


    ¡°This is great,¡± Niklas said. ¡°My brother will be coming to look for me. I need someone to side with until he does. I figured I¡¯d survive longer if I were part of a pack. It¡¯s temporary, of course. This is all a big mistake.¡±


    ¡°A brother?¡± Ismail frowned. ¡°Is he faceless?¡±


    ¡°No, he¡¯s a¨C¡± Niklas stopped himself. Ismail didn¡¯t need to know that Edgar was an Architect.


    ¡°He¡¯s a what?¡± he asked suspiciously.


    ¡°He¡¯s a good man,¡± Niklas said.


    Voices from outside roused their attention.


    ¡°Abdul¡¯s men,¡± Ismail whispered as he spun to pack an old bag with his few belongings. ¡°We need to move. I¡¯m sorry, Niklas, but you walked right into a warzone.¡±


    ¡°What are you fighting over?¡± Niklas asked, his eyes widening. Having looked forward to war his whole life, now was the worst time to find it.


    ¡°Something¡­ precious fell from Pit two. We are all trying to find it.¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    Ismail held a finger to his lips, silencing Niklas. He drew a pair of small black KN-12s from his backpack. The clan armories had discontinued the model ages ago. The primitive kinetic firearms fired shrapnel with blasting glass, ideal for a situation when you didn¡¯t have access to manufactured bullets.


    He held one out but stopped short with a stern look in his eyes.


    ¡°I won¡¯t shoot you,¡± Niklas promised.


    Ismail nodded and pressed the weapon into his hand. ¡°Three shots, don¡¯t fire unless you have to. We need to go. We¡¯re sitting ducks here. How well can you move?¡±


    Niklas got up, groaning slightly, but he nodded, noting that he had bandages wrapped around his body.


    ¡°That would be the med,¡± Ismail said. ¡°The pit stuff should wear off in about five hours tops. After that, you¡¯ll be helpless.¡±


    Niklas looked down the sights of the KN-12 and nodded. He could feel the warm med flow through and sustain him. He was still in pain even with the med. The pain lingered in the far reach of his mind, suppressed by the med.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± Niklas said, throwing on his bloodied jacket, now stained brown.


    ¡°Here,¡± Ismail said as he, to Niklas¡¯ surprise, returned his reaper''s blade.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know where you got that thing, but you had better hope its owner doesn¡¯t come looking for it.¡±


    Ismail led the way, moving out of the cave into the freshly fallen snow. He moved just like a drone, staying low, sweeping the environment. Each movement had a purpose. Seeing a bearded man move like that without a mask looked so odd. Niklas resigned to the fact that he must look just as strange with his face naked.


    They moved swiftly. Niklas felt his body protesting the movement even with the pain numbed, especially his knee.


    They hiked several miles east before they heard shouts behind them.


    ¡°They¡¯re following our tracks,¡± Ismail cursed.


    ¡°Where¡¯s your pack?¡± Niklas asked in concern. ¡°Do the guys chasing you have weapons?¡±


    ¡°Abdul¡¯s pack is probably the largest,¡± Ismail said. ¡°He can¡¯t arm his guys well, but that doesn¡¯t mean they won¡¯t be dangerous. If we want to lose them, we must head north toward Pit One.¡±Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Niklas saw a figure break the horizon to the north.


    ¡°Down!¡± Niklas barked as he dragged Ismail to the snow. A barrel flashed, and a gunshot cracked. The figure had fired from outside of the accurate range of his weapon.


    They dropped down, taking cover, and Niklas felt his knee pop. The feeling without the present pain was unsettling.


    ¡°They headed us!¡± Ismail spat. ¡°We¡¯ve run into another one of his patrols.¡±


    The voices sounded closer from behind.


    ¡°West!¡± Niklas cried.


    ¡°No! We¡¯re too close to the border guard!¡±


    ¡°What, How?¡± Had they come that far west already? Niklas was barely cognitive yesterday, but surely they weren¡¯t actually that close.


    Niklas saw a figure dart for closer cover. ¡°We can¡¯t stay! Can we go south?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll hit the border there too. We could steal away if we weren¡¯t leaving these fragging tracks!¡±


    Niklas saw four figures running at them, following their footsteps from the east.


    ¡°Deck!¡± Ismail cursed. ¡°West!¡±


    They ran as a shot sounded from the flanking pack of faceless.


    ¡°They have at least two guns!¡± Niklas cried.


    ¡°You don¡¯t think I can count?¡± Ismail snapped.


    Each step sent a relatively painless jarring sensation up Niklas'' leg as they ran. The two parties met behind them and fanned out, driving them southwest. There were eight men in total. Haggard and rough-looking faceless rogues smiled and whooped as they ran.


    The giant trees seemed too thin and shrunk as they made their way to the edge of Pit Forest. Ahead, Niklas saw a thick grey smoke wall billow over the top of the forest canopy. From it, he could hear preternatural moaning.


    The wall. Niklas faltered at the sight of the landmark. The wall wasn¡¯t solid but an illusion. On this side of Pit Forest, it would run parallel to the Rulkite River


    Seeing his comrade fall behind, Ismail turned and fired, causing several of the pursuers to duck. The pause allowed Niklas to catch up. Ismail¡¯s accuracy would be almost impossible at that distance with a KN-12, but no one liked being shot at.


    Ismail charged on, but he looked ahead with worried eyes, not at the smoke wall but at the ground. He slowed his pace, scanning the snow.


    Niklas passed him.


    ¡°Niklas no!¡± he cried.


    Behind them, a man disappeared with a scream into a column of dirt and ice that spewed into the air, causing a tremor through the earth.


    ¡°Landmines!¡± Ismail yelled. ¡°I told you we were too close to the border!¡±


    Niklas slid to a stop, surveying the unassuming snow. He tensed in futility as there was no way to ascertain a safe path.


    Behind them, their pursuers slowed, not wanting to venture after them. They were trapped. How were they at the border already?


    The faceless behind smiled as they gestured for their prey to come back.


    ¡°We need to surrender,¡± Ismail realized.


    ¡°What?¡± Niklas gasped as fire surged inside him. ¡°And deny our valor?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the med talking. It makes you unreasonably aggressive.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s only seven! And we have guns!¡±


    ¡°Five shots. I know you¡¯re not feeling it now, but you¡¯re in no shape to fight.¡±


    ¡°Be grateful they¡¯re just ragged faceless and not the border guard,¡± Niklas growled as he hefted his KN-12.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Ismail said, looking ahead. ¡°About that, where is the border guard?¡±


    A cry sounded, and ten drones broke from the cover of the surrounding trees, charging the faceless from behind.


    The border drones had painted grinning demonic faces on the face of their masks. Niklas knew the clan charged the border guard with killing anyone who got too close to the border, be they faceless Sharderins or Relrin. The border guardsmen screamed valor cries with blades drawn. They had firearms but didn¡¯t use them, as they undoubtedly craved a personal fight.


    Behind the border guard, Niklas watched in horror as a glittering dark sentient shadow swirled through the trees, flanking the faceless with the border guard. The cloud buzzed like angry hornets and snaked for the closest faceless.


    ¡°Swarf cloud,¡± A faceless man screamed before getting swallowed by the razor-sharp dust cloud.


    The pursuing faceless scattered before the border guard, some pushed further into the minefield. One of the border guards rushed past them and right at Niklas and Ismail. Niklas felt a fleeting moment of paralysis as the drone charged them. This drone was not a pathetic reject faceless but a fully equipped, battle-hungry Sharderin warrior.


    ¡°Split!¡± Ismail cried and ran south.


    Shocked back into action, Niklas ran west deeper into the minefield. The drone ran after him, dodging and weaving through mines that he could no doubt see through his mask lenses.


    ¡°Gyva, please!¡± Niklas cried as he plunged into the minefield.


    The drone quickly gained on Niklas. He ran with his chrome drones blade. Valor required Niklas to fight him hand-to-hand, but Niklas had no valor anymore. He was faceless; if he died, he would go to Pit!


    Niklas looked at the drone giving chase. He was a law enforcer, one of the good guys. Niklas didn¡¯t want to hurt him. Niklas cried as he tried pushing himself, but his leg pain returned in sharp stabs to the knee in synch with every other step.


    As he passed trees, Niklas could see the wall of gray, murky smoke billowing through vents ahead, accompanied by a dull roar and moan.


    The wall.


    He had no time to gawk. The drone wore full armor, and Niklas had only a KN-12. Niklas spun, jabbed his pistol in the sprinting drone¡¯s face, and pulled the trigger.


    Niklas¡¯ gun bucked hard, and his pursuer''s head snapped back. The stunned drone cursed as he spun and skidded into a tree. Niklas hit the load box, sliding the next chamber on the side of the weapon over, and fired again. The drone gagged as it took him in the gut. Ismail used a lot of blasting glass to load the KN-12.


    The drone reached for his pistol, and Niklas shot his hand with the final chamber.


    The drone¡¯s gloves were armored, but his pistol cracked and shattered under Niklas¡¯ shot.


    The drone shook his hand, as Niklas¡¯ shot likely broke his fingers.


    Niklas leaped at him striking him in the face with the butt of his KN-12. Niklas¡¯ pistol hit the drone¡¯s mask and broke, leaving him with a handle and no barrel.


    The drone glared at Niklas through his mask; Niklas¡¯ first shot had cracked one of the drone¡¯s eye lenses. The border guard lunged for Niklas and grabbed him by the collar.


    Crying out, Niklas hugged the man and hooked a finger under the mask near the back of the drone¡¯s mask.


    The drone switched his grip, grabbing Niklas around the waist and constricted.


    Niklas gasped as the air rushed out of his lungs. He felt his ribs flex dangerously under the pressure. He forced his finger between the helmet''s padding and the drone¡¯s head. It was a tight fit.


    The drone shifted his stance and loaded Niklas for a throw.


    Knowing how to find it only because he was familiar with drone gear, Niklas fished his finger deeper and pressed the disengaged rune. The helmet split apart with a hum, and Niklas yanked it off.


    With a cry of surprise, the drone dropped Niklas and groped for the mask.


    Niklas hurled the mask away.


    With a yelp, the drone scampered after it.


    Niklas ran from the occupied drone and dove headlong through the smoke wall. He choked on the sulfurous scent of the thick grey vapors. His boots clicked on the metal grate that spewed the dark plume. After several steps, he broke through to clear air to find himself at the top of a steep snow-covered slope. At the bottom of the hill, the wide, slow Rulkite River twisted and curled parallel to the smokescreen.


    The inhuman growl and moan now sounded behind him. Unable to help himself, Niklas turned to look at the outward-facing smoke wall. On the Relgar-facing side, twisted smoke faces animated in wails of pain and sadistic hunger. Some colossal faces in the smoke were human, others bestial, and the most frightening were a chimeric combination of both.


    Niklas stepped back at the dominating demonic faces twisting and screaming in the smoke. The twisted toothy grins seemed to growl as though hungry, pleading for destitute Relrins to offer themselves as a meal. They were just illusions, of course, but even Niklas, who knew better, shuddered as he saw them.


    The superstitions of the Relrins kept all but the bravest ¨C or most foolish ¨C out.


    Stirring inside the smoke wall roused Niklas from his trance.


    Niklas¡¯ drone lunged through the cloud with his mask fixed back into place. Niklas saw the drone blade almost too late.


    Niklas staggered back to evade the gleaming blade and lost his footing on the steep slope.


    His fall saved him. He slipped away from the gleaming point of drone steel and slid down the icy slope. Skidding away from the drone, Niklas slid alarmingly fast and cried out as he lost control of his descent.


    The icy river snaked around at the bottom of the hill, and Niklas thrashed, trying to snatch anything that might anchor his slide. He managed to grab some tall dead grass that stuck out of the snow, but it slipped from his grasp. He fumbled for his reaper''s blade, but it was too late.


    Niklas slid off the end and plunged into Icy water. He gasped as the shock of the cold stung him to the core, and icy water forced its way into his mouth and nose. Niklas thrashed and broke the surface. He sputtered and tried but couldn¡¯t get air. After several labored seconds, he finally found his lungs and gasped air.


    At the top of the hill, the pursuing drone had removed his mask and looked after Niklas. He made no effort to follow as the river¡¯s icy current swept Niklas away.


    The river roughly shoved Niklas against a boulder and spun him into another.


    Niklas thrashed and kicked as rapids threw him about like a rag doll. He spun to see a log looming across the river and tried to duck, but it was too late. His forehead struck it, and his vision flashed white and then black.


    ¡°What do you mean jumped?¡± Edgar demanded.


    ¡°Jumped right off the bridge, and honestly, if I had the nerve he did, I would have done the same with the zealots right behind him.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure it was Niklas?¡±


    ¡°No, I didn¡¯t get a good look, and it was far away. He did have dark hair, and he came from the third level. Why would a drone be on the third level?¡±


    Edgar pulled back, both scared and annoyed. Idiot Niklas, what did you do?


    Edgar interviewed the drones on the second level, and they all shared the same story. Niklas had jumped down the light shaft to evade zealots. None seemed to know what happened after that.


    ¡°Did he fall all the way down?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t see, though word is that he landed on the first level and then jumped again to the under level.¡±


    ¡°The shrap fool,¡± Edgar cried, mostly to himself. The one time he could have been there to protect Niklas...¡°What else do you know?¡±


    ¡°Only what I saw and heard,¡± the drone assured him.


    An officer stepped out to confront Edgar. ¡°I hear you¡¯re looking for your brother, a drone.¡± The officer was perhaps in his mid-thirties and was short, though not as short as Edgar.


    ¡°Sir?¡± Edgar said. The man was a third-mark officer. It was debatable who held the higher rank.


    ¡°I saw the whole thing. I was on the third level.¡±


    ¡°Is he okay?¡± Edgar cried.


    ¡°He¡¯s alive, but that may not be a good thing.¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡±


    In response, the officer handed Edgar a makeshift bag. With scarred hands, Edgar opened its folds to find the shattered remains of a drone mask.


    ¡°No,¡± Edgar gasped in horror. His brother was banished from the clan and rejected among outlaws and thieves.


    ¡°Why did this happen?¡± Edgar asked, suddenly remembering the reaper''s blade he gave to Niklas the previous morning. Could Niklas have gotten caught with it? ¡°He¡¯s the most obedient Drone I know.¡±


    ¡°A mother called him out of a crowd to speak to her.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Edgar cried. ¡°Why?¡±


    The officer shrugged. ¡°The zealots accompanying her took offense to it. They made him faceless.¡±


    ¡°She called him to speak with her, and the zealots made him faceless for obeying?¡± Edgar asked aghast.


    The officer shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t think that is really why they made him faceless. They¡¯re zealots. Maybe they were just bored.¡±


    Edgar closed and clutched the bag in a tight fist, the mask pieces grinding together inside. ¡°Who did it?¡± Edgar growled.


    ¡°The Zealot who branded him was Master Brynjar.¡±


    ¡°Master Brynjar.¡± Edgar chewed the name, committing it to memory. But he stopped short. ¡°Sir, how do you know all this?¡±


    ¡°I was on the third floor when it happened.¡±


    ¡°And you went all the way down to the under level to retrieve his mask?¡± Something didn¡¯t sit right, and Edgar reassessed the officer, trying to find and see through his deception. One didn¡¯t just do this out of the kindness of his heart in Pit. ¡°I don¡¯t think so. What interest do you have in my brother?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have any interest in your brother,¡± the officer claimed. ¡°I simply have a personal grudge with Master Brynjar, and I think you could carry it out much better than I, Reaper.¡±


    Edgar snorted. ¡°And you just so happened to know the brother of that random drone is a Reaper? I doubt. You won¡¯t lie to me again, sir. I¡¯m going to let you try this one more time.¡± Edgar shrugged his sword off his shoulder and caught it with one hand on the hilt.


    The two drones, content to watch up that point, cursed and scrambled away.


    The man held his ground. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t touch an officer, Edgar, not here.¡±


    There it was again! ¡°I never told you my name. Who are you, and why do you know me?¡±


    The officer stepped an inch from Edgar¡¯s face, his officer mask almost touching Edgar¡¯s Reaper mask. The officer drew in a long draught of air as though he were smelling for something. ¡°I have my mission, and you have yours. Master Brynjar is the name of the zealot who stole your brother¡¯s life, and that is the truth.¡±


    ¡°Not good enough. I need answers, now!¡±


    The officer laughed at the demands as he turned his back on Edgar. ¡°If you wish to settle this as soldiers, feel free to meet me in the under level, Reaper. But deal with Master Brynjar first. The Zealots are a common enemy.¡± The man stepped away.


    Edgar watched the officer in confusion. What was going on? Everything about this encounter was out of place. ¡°Where is my brother now?¡±


    ¡°Not a clue. Good luck finding him,¡± the officer said as he got to the lift. ¡°We may meet again, Reaper.¡± The lift hummed as he went up.


    Edgar struggled to contain the slew of new thoughts. Niklas was faceless? What would he do on his own? The faceless could become violent. What if something happened to him? Edgar had to find him. He stopped himself.


    Niklas wasn¡¯t a child anymore. He was a drone. He could take care of himself, at least until he found him.


    Edgar¡¯s thoughts shifted to darker thoughts as they often did. Master Brynjar. The Master Zealot had declared war on the Logas. Edgar could not allow such an act to go unpunished; he beat the pup but woke the wolf.


    I¡¯m coming, Niklas.

 7 The Sommerfeldts.

    Lill Sommerfeldt knelt over the face-down young man who occupied her son¡¯s cot. He stirred in a feverous frenzy but didn¡¯t wake. With only a towel draped over his backside, she examined his wounds.


    Several knife scars marked his body, and even a few that she figured to be gunshot wounds. She had never seen a gunshot victim, but she concluded nothing else could have made the round, jagged scars. Those scars told a story from years ago and weren¡¯t the problem.


    The problem was the cuts that lay across his back. Obviously, the mark of a whip, those she had seen before. More curious to her than the man¡¯s wounds were his tattoos. No respectable Relrin or Sharderin even thought about getting tattoos; maybe if he were a pirate, that would make sense. But she had never heard of pirates sailing up Rulkite River, so she doubted that.


    She set her role of clean bandages to the side and stirred the steaming ointment she had prepared.


    ¡°I don¡¯t like it,¡± her aged father Frode declared from the doorway, leaning on his cane. ¡°You fished ¡®em out of the river. What do you know about ¡®em? He could be a criminal or a runaway debtbond.¡±


    Lill frowned at her unconscious patient. The shade of his burning gray skin showed that he was only part Sharderin. It was likely he was undebted.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think so, pa. I searched his body. He doesn¡¯t have a debtbond brand.¡± Her debtbond brand seemed to itch just under her collar as she said it. She and her whole family were debtors of the Prime Paramount Alred, slaves in all but title. Not that she ever complained. Comparatively speaking, they were treated better than other debtbonds, and besides, she was one of the last Sharderin women to exist, having been in Chimgar at the time of the purge.


    ¡°The only brand he had is this one under his eye,¡± Lill elaborated. ¡°It¡¯s fresh, but I¡¯ve never seen a debtbond brand like this. It¡¯s sharderin. I don¡¯t know what it means.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure you searched his whole body?¡± Her older and lengthy brother Ivar snickered from the doorway.


    With a huff, Lill seized a wooden cup that young Rasmus had left in his room (despite her command to clean up) and hurled it at the man, who leaped away with a yelp.


    ¡°That¡¯s enough from you, I think!¡± she snapped. ¡°And besides, he¡¯s young enough to be my son!¡±


    Ivar chortled, bounding back into view, and she cursed as there weren¡¯t any other projectiles easily within reach. There was the strange metal trinket she found on the man, but she didn¡¯t want to break it, whatever it was.


    ¡°But where did he come from?¡± Frode asked grimly, dismissing his children¡¯s squabble.


    ¡°He probably washed in from Colgar,¡± Ivar said.


    Frode leaned on his walking stick, his frown deepening. ¡°If he washed in from Colgar, that would mean...he had to pass through Pit Forest.


    Ivar groaned. ¡°Right, the haunted forest!¡± He rolled his eyes. ¡°Maybe he was raised by demons and will hex us with his Stigki powers for taking ¡®em in and patching ¡®em up, is that right?¡±


    Lill sighed at her brother¡¯s faithlessness. ¡°You¡¯ve never seen the demon wall.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± Ivar dismissed with a wave of his hand. ¡°And the witches that fly on black wolves. You¡¯re right, I haven''t seen any of that, and you know why?¡±


    ¡°Because you¡¯ve never looked,¡± Lill muttered.


    ¡°Because they don¡¯t exist!¡± He waved his hands emphatically. ¡°God, devils, witches. I¡¯ll believe when I see.¡±


    ¡°Kel, forgive my stupid brother,¡± Lill prayed aloud, making sure Ivar heard her.


    The motionless man grunted and muttered something she couldn¡¯t understand. She turned her attention away from her faithless brother and back to the mysterious washup.


    Trygve¡¯s little fingers dug into her skirt, making applying the salve difficult. The six-year-old¡¯s wide eyes fixed on the stranger on his brother¡¯s cot. Lill sighed. ¡°Go to Grandpa, Trygve,¡± she shooed away the child, hoping for the space to work freely.


    The thud of footsteps announced the entrance of Rasmus as he ran to the now crowded doorway, looking at the motionless figure in his bed. ¡°Woah!¡± he cried. ¡°Is he dead?¡±


    ¡°Yer gonna be if you don¡¯t give me space and quiet to work,¡± Lill chastened, and the nine-year-old clamped his mouth shut apologetically.


    ¡°Okay,¡± she breathed and knelt to apply the ointment to the man¡¯s cuts. The moment the steaming salve touched the man¡¯s back, he cried out as he jerked awake, tipping the cot and the towel.


    The Sommerfeldts cried out in surprise, jumping away from the now very conscious and very naked stranger.


    The man rolled, splitting open his scabs afresh, and came up in the corner of the small room, snarling through bared teeth. He snapped at them in a tongue Lill didn¡¯t understand as his eyes switched from one to the other. Ivar and Frode looked like they might faint, but Lill huffed and planted her fist on her hips.


    ¡°Get yer butt back on the cot, young man!¡±


    The man turned to face her, but his eyes widened in horror when he saw her.


    He gasped as he shrunk from her presence and then threw himself on his face.


    ¡°Mother, forgive me,¡± he cried. ¡°I didn''t mean to look at you!¡±


    Lill stopped short. The man wasn¡¯t speaking Relric, but she recognized his words. He was speaking Sharderic. He had spoken Sharderic before, but she didn¡¯t attune her ears to pick it up right away, as it was a language she hadn¡¯t used since she was a little girl. No one spoke Sharderic anymore.


    As intriguing as that was, Lill¡¯s face darkened as she saw the fresh blood trickling from his back. ¡°Goodness, man, what are ya doing? I¡¯m going to have to start over,¡± she lamented.


    He stiffened without looking up and pressed his face against the wood floor harder. ¡°I¡¯m sorry! I meant no offense,¡± he continued in Sharderic. Though familiar to Lill, his words were difficult to follow as she was out of practice in the dialect.


    ¡°Do you speak Relric?¡± she demanded, shooting a fierce glance at her bewildered father, brother, and sons. Where this man looked ready to attack them with his bare hands, he shied from her as though she was a lioness.


    The man nodded slowly but didn¡¯t say anything.


    ¡°Where do ya come from?¡± Lill asked in wonder. ¡°The Sharderian language is dying, yet ya speak it so well.¡±


    The trembling man continued to hold his tongue.


    Finally, Frode found his voice. ¡°Now listen, ya lazy sack of dung, don¡¯t you go makin¡¯ trouble? You just let me at ''em, Lill; I¡¯ll show ''em to pay your kindness with mischief!¡±


    ¡°No, Pa!¡± Lill said sternly. ¡°He just startled me, is all. He isn¡¯t making trouble.¡±


    ¡°Please!¡± the man said to Frode in Relric now. His words were slow and heavily accented, as though he had to think about his words before he spoke. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to offend the mother!¡±


    ¡°Foreigner, eh?¡± Frode deduced from his accent. ¡°Well, a lucky one you are. If my daughter didn¡¯t fish you out of the river when she went to wash the clothes. I should suspect you would be fish food now.¡±


    ¡°Please! Where am I?¡± the stranger asked, disoriented.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    ¡°Yer in Soutfel,¡± Frode said. ¡°Where are you from, lad, and what were you doing in the river? A runaway debtbond, are you?¡±


    The man looked utterly disconcerted, still not daring to look at Lill.


    ¡°Oi pa!¡± Lill chastened Frode. ¡°I told you he doesn¡¯t have the right brand.¡±


    ¡°Do you have papers of balance?¡± Frode asked suspiciously.


    ¡°Papers?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, papers.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± the man shook his head. ¡°What are you talking about?¡±


    ¡°He isn¡¯t mad, is he?¡± Lill asked, at his ignorance, ¡°You think he doesn¡¯t know?¡±


    ¡°Look at his shape, though,¡± Ivar finally chipped in. ¡°He¡¯s a worker true as booze, not wasting away like the street greys.¡±


    ¡°Do we turn ¡®em in to the authorities?¡± Frode asked, ¡°We¡¯re supposed to report runaway debtbonds.¡±


    ¡°But he¡¯s got no bond brand,¡± Lill explained, ¡°he¡¯s in some sort of trouble. We could condemn him to much worse if we turn him in.


    The man watched their exchange with a set jaw as though he struggled to follow. He turned to Frode, keeping his eyes off Lill as though a glance might turn him to stone.


    ¡°My name is Niklas Loga, Sir!¡± he barked unnecessarily loudly. ¡°I am from far away. I don¡¯t know where I am. I need your help!¡±


    Frode jumped at the stranger¡¯s militant voice.


    ¡°I¡¯m Lill Sommerfeldt,¡± Lill introduced herself .¡°That old man is my pa, Frode Sorlie. That¡¯s my idiot brother, and you ¨C Oi, look at me when I talk to you!¡±


    ¡°Forgive me, Mother!¡± Niklas said not diverting his eyes. ¡°I won¡¯t look at you!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not your ma, and what are you on about?¡±


    The man looked confused, as though the comment made no sense. ¡°But you¡¯re a Mother?¡±


    ¡°Well, yeah,¡± she answered as she put a defensive hand on young Trygve, who had sought to hide behind the security of her skirt. ¡°But that¡¯s hardly something to call someone. Unless you¡¯re talking to your ma.¡±


    ¡°Where are you from, boy?¡± Frode asked.


    ¡°Pit Forest,¡± he responded.


    Frode paled at the mention of the forest, his grey flesh going white. ¡°Nothing good comes out of that devil-possessed wood. Having ¡®em will bring a curse upon us. Good Kel, have mercy on us.¡±


    Ivar laughed at his father. ¡°So it¡¯s true? They think you washed out from the haunted forest, from behind the wall of faces. That you lived with demons or might be a demon yourself.¡± He jabbed a long finger at Niklas. ¡°Are you a demon, boy?¡±


    ¡°No! I¡¯m no demon.¡±


    ¡°Are there more like you?¡± Frode asked, ¡°People, I mean.¡±


    Niklas hesitated just a little too long. ¡°Like me? No, there are many demons and spirits.¡± He smiled wryly.


    ¡°Hmm.¡± Frode scratched the whiskers on his chin in thought. ¡°Did they do this to you?¡± He pointed to Niklas¡¯ back with his cane.


    ¡°Yes!¡± Niklas nodded vigorously. ¡°The demons are cruel to humans. They hurt me.¡± His blunt speech sounded unpracticed.


    ¡°So it¡¯s true!¡± Frode marveled. ¡°By Kel¡¯s voice, Pit Forest is haunted.¡±


    ¡°Now, just wait!¡± Ivar cut in doubtfully.


    ¡°We can ask questions later! If this man dies in my house, I¡¯m blaming you!¡± Lill chastened the older men.


    ¡°All right, all right.¡± The old man waved a dismissive hand. ¡°Go on blaming me; looks like some things never change,¡± he muttered as he walked out, ushered by the other boys.


    Niklas gasped at the comment but mostly looked startled. ¡°You won¡¯t speak to the Mother that way,¡± he said, his voice dangerously low.


    ¡°Back on the cot, young man,¡± Lill ordered as she tipped it back up.


    Sure to avoid eye contact. Niklas hesitated.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go. We haven¡¯t got all day.¡±


    Niklas climbed belly-down onto the cot, and Lill threw the towel back over him. She wasn¡¯t disturbed by his exposure; she did have two boys.


    Niklas fidgeted in discomfort as she worked. It didn¡¯t seem to be from the pain. Instead, something about her presence was making him noticeably uncomfortable.


    ¡°Did you only now escape the forest?¡± she asked. ¡°I¡¯ve never heard of someone surviving that cursed place. No one has gone in and come out to tell of it.¡±


    He bit his tongue and didn¡¯t answer.


    ¡°Can you hear me?¡± she asked, more than slightly annoyed, ¡°Or are you mad? Can¡¯t say I would blame you if you were, considering the forest and all.¡±


    He didn¡¯t answer, but she caught sight of his face. His dark demeanor was pained but shrouded in a curtain of shame or embarrassment. Then, it dawned on Lill. She had taken off his wet, bloodied clothes to treat him. Maybe he wasn¡¯t used to such vulnerability.


    ¡°Sorry about your clothes,¡± she muttered. ¡°It¡¯s not really indecent considering the circumstances. I couldn¡¯t have you freezing to death. When I finish patching you up, I¡¯ll give you some of Ivar¡¯s clothes.¡±


    He didn¡¯t so much as grunt in acknowledgment.


    ¡°Won¡¯t you talk to me?¡± Lill asked, growing frustrated.


    ¡°No,¡± he said with great reserve.


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s forbidden,¡± he said simply.


    Lill didn¡¯t press him for any more strange answers. She worked quickly on his back. He was perhaps the tightest human she had ever seen. His back, though slashed, was taught with defined muscle. His breathing relaxed as the balm did its job. She finished wrapping the fresh bandages and got some trousers and a shirt from Ivar. Leaving them beside Niklas¡¯ temporary cot, she withdrew into the main room with her family, hoping to give the stranger a chance to rest.


    The whole family sat around the table in their cluttered living area, astute to the day¡¯s abnormality. Her father, brother, and two boys were present, but so was her humble husband, Tord.


    ¡°Mum,¡± Rasmus chirped. ¡°Can I keep ¡®em?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s enough from you!¡± she snapped. ¡°He¡¯s only a guest until he gets better.¡±


    ¡°How will we afford it?¡± Tord muttered to himself. Her husband was by no means a social man, always lost in thought, but in the confines of his own home, he didn¡¯t hesitate to ask the hard questions.


    Lill bit her lip. ¡°Kel will provide. Helping the desperate is his work, after all.¡±


    ¡°I say we put ¡®em to work,¡± Ivar said. ¡°Who says debtbonds can¡¯t have servants?¡±


    ¡°I say,¡± little Rasmus cut in as though he was the authority on the matter, ¡°that we make ¡®em carry me everywhere.¡±


    All eyes turned to the child. Few things that came from the boy''s mouth surprised them anymore. This was honestly unexpected.


    ¡°What?¡± he defended himself with the attitude inherited from his mother. ¡°All the kids would have to respect me if I had a steed.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s a man,¡± Tord pointed out blatantly.


    ¡°Even better!¡± Rasmus declared. ¡°Every merchant and noble has a horse to carry them. I would be the first to use a man. That makes me better than them.¡±


    ¡°We will not turn ¡®em into your donkey!¡± Lill declared, and to the youth¡¯s despair, that ended the idea.


    ¡°We are first going to make sure he doesn¡¯t die and then decide.¡±


    The boys room¡¯s door opened with a squeak, and the Sommerfeldts froze as Niklas stood propped against the doorway in his undersized shirt and trousers.


    ¡°Back to bed with you!¡± Lill barked. ¡°You are in no shape to be walking about!¡±


    ¡°I need to go,¡± he muttered in Sharderic before shuffling to the front door, seeking the chance to escape.


    The whole family cried out in protest, but his determination carried through weak strides. Beating Lill to the door, he pushed the door open and froze. Outside, five women hurried about stoking fires with large cooking pots and chopping vegetables. They were the wives and sisters of the herdsmen who shared the compound.


    With a despairing cry, Niklas spun and slammed the door. ¡°What is this?¡± he cried at the men, still shying away from Lill, who stood ready to stop him.


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± Frode asked.


    [ Image: Drone Ch8.png ]


    ¡°There are Relrin Mothers outside!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure what you think that word means,¡± Frode said.


    ¡°Non-men...Mothers.¡±


    ¡°Women¡­?¡± Ivar tried.


    ¡°What is this place?¡±


    ¡°Soutf¨C¡± Frode started.


    ¡°Soutfel, I know!¡± he snapped. ¡°Where are we in relation to Pit Forest, to Relgar!¡±


    ¡°Relgar-¡± Frode said, startled. ¡°You don¡¯t know? You¡¯re in it.¡±


    Niklas put a hand against a barrel as he swayed at the announcement. Lill tried to read the stranger¡¯s face, but she was more worried he might faint.


    ¡°Soutfel is in Relgar?¡± he echoed.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Fode said in amusement. ¡°This is Prime Paramount Alred¡¯s Soutfel in the Soutvor region. We¡¯re his debtbonds.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean you¡¯re his debtbonds¨C¡± Niklas stopped short as he put it together. ¡°You¡¯re slaves! I need to get out of here,¡± he said in alarm. ¡°Frode, I need a¡­Pit, man, do you speak Sharderic?¡± he asked, switching back to his native language.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Frode responded in kind. ¡°But don¡¯t let anyone hear us using it. It¡¯s dirty language.¡±


    ¡°Dirty?¡± Niklas asked, confused.


    ¡°Never mind that. What did you need?¡±


    ¡°A mirror.¡±


    Frode dismissed Rasmus to bring back a mirror shard wedged in a small wooden frame that had at one point held the rest.


    ¡°Yer scuffed up bad,¡± Frode warned. ¡°Might not like what you see.¡±


    Niklas snatched the mirror from the boy and examined his damaged face. He traced his small brand with his finger. Lill noticed his neck tighten and bulge at the sight of it.


    ¡°That¡¯s a rune seared into your face,¡± Frode said. ¡°What does it mean?¡±


    ¡°It means I can¡¯t go home,¡± Niklas explained dryly.


    ¡°You want to go back to Pit forest?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he said emphatically. ¡°It¡¯s where I belong¡­. Frode, how is it Mother Lill is here? Weren¡¯t all of the Sharderin mothers purged?¡±


    Frode looked at Niklas curiously. ¡°We were already debtbonds in Chimgar before the purge. Our former debtor sold our balance to Prime Paramount Alred long after.¡±


    ¡°I need the mother to return with me,¡± Niklas said. ¡°She¡¯s far too precious to leave in Relrin Lands. That may even be a good enough reason for them to let me back! Are there any other Sharderin Mothers here?¡±


    ¡°Like pit I¡¯ll go with you!¡± Lill snapped, joining the Sharderic conversation, causing Niklas to jump and scamper away. He stood petrified in the corner, refusing to look up, but slowly caressed the scab on his cheek.


    ¡°You know, it¡¯s a shame.¡± Frode cut in, wishing to dispel the strange reaction. ¡°If you were a Relrin, you could just have your scar removed.¡±


    Niklas started. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°That scar. You could just have an esthetic operator remove it. Then, your face would be as unmarred as the day you were born.¡±


    ¡°Esthetic operator?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Esthetic operators are a certain kind of Remnant Artificer. They use Remnant technology to change faces. The paramounts love to use esthetic operators to make themselves pretty.¡±


    A flicker of hope darted past Niklas¡¯ eyes. ¡°You said if I were Relrin? Why couldn¡¯t I do it now?¡±


    Frode snorted in laughter. ¡°That would cost you a fortune, and good luck finding a Relrin profile adjuster who would dirty his hands on a Sharderin face.¡±


    Niklas nodded emphatically as he mused over the idea. Lill saw the calculations of possibilities behind his eyes.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t go about planning on it, lad. It won¡¯t happen,¡± Frode cautioned.


    ¡°But it could?¡±


    ¡°I suppose.¡±


    ¡°Then Frode, rest assured that it will.¡±


    Lill had enough idle talk. ¡°All right!¡± she bellowed at the terrified giant. ¡°Back to bed with you!¡±


    Like a child caught in disobedience, he obeyed.

 8 Relgar.

    Niklas opened his eyes, finally waking from his fitful and feverish turmoil. He groaned and rolled over. The unfamiliar stiff shirt he wore was slick with cold sweat. His head pounded, his knee was inflamed, his back ached, and this faceless brand itched uncomfortably.


    He was in Relgar, and he was faceless¡ªtwo things he never thought would apply to him at the same time. He had to be careful. The clan''s existence in Pit Forest was a secret the clan worked hard to protect. He had told the strange unit of Sharderins that Pit was full of demons, a lie the clan worked hard to promote. If he revealed the clan''s existence and rumors spread, a reaper like Edgar could find him and silence him and anyone who knew the truth. If he kept his mouth shut, clan intelligence would unlikely even care about a faceless in Relgar.


    Niklas grunted as he scanned the dark room, looking for any sign of the mother who was clearly in charge of the strange detachment that saved him.


    He didn¡¯t see her. There was a light under the door. Niklas heard muted voices from the other side, though he couldn¡¯t distinguish the words. Among the voices, he couldn¡¯t hear the mother''s voice. Mother Lill. Her¡¯s was an unmistakably loud and commanding voice.


    He waited for a minute, getting dangerously close to falling asleep again. He shook the weariness from his head, causing a wave of dull pain to rebound between his temples.


    He didn¡¯t have time to sleep. He was in Relgar. The home of the pink skins. The mother killers.


    He sat up, and a few stripes on his back stung as they strained their scabs. He saw his reaper''s blade on the ground beside him, and he grabbed it.


    How long had he been asleep? Niklas looked out the window. It was dark outside. The room he was in was small. It housed a few wooden boxes and sacks of what he would have guessed were provisions. There was hardly room to move as he silently tried to get off the painfully squeaky cot.


    Niklas froze and listened. The muttering in the main room continued, and he relaxed a little.


    He stood in the closet of a room and looked out the small glass window.


    He saw hundreds of large shapes in the darkness.


    Cows. Niklas realized after a moment. He took a moment to gawk. They didn¡¯t have cows in Pit Forest. Niklas had grown up on a diet of goat and turkey meat. Of course, he had heard of cows. Even Edgar remembered them. The cows were herded together in a large corral built into the back of the compound that housed him.


    Niklas tore himself from the window. He could try and sneak out.


    He shook his head. The beasts out back easily outweighed him by a thousand and a half pounds, and he had no idea how aggressive the beasts were.


    He turned to the door. The floorboards squeaked, and he winced. He saw a hole in the door where a rotted knot in the wood let in light, and he peeked through.


    The old man was speaking to the tall and gangly one. The old man, Frode was his name, was rocking in a chair with a smoking pipe sticking out from his lips. The other one, Ivar, if Niklas Recalled correctly, sat on a chair that was missing several rods from the back. They both had their hair cut short, and Ivar was clearly attempting to grow a beard.


    Niklas could also see the two boys playing a game with chalk on the floor under the table.


    The Mother, Lill, was no longer present.


    Niklas pushed the door open, and the room fell silent. All eyes turned to him.


    ¡°Um. Hello,¡± Niklas said. He spoke in Relric. He hadn¡¯t needed to use the dialect since he learned it in linguistics training. All Sharderin boys learned Relric. The Elders understood that being able to speak to the conquered was necessary for invasion.


    ¡°Pit, man, you can keep the shirt,¡± Ivar said, his face wrinkling in disgust.


    Niklas only realized that sweat droplets accumulated by his fever were dripping off his shirt and pattering onto the floor.


    Niklas looked around in case he had missed the mother by some chance. She wasn¡¯t there.


    ¡°What is this place?¡± he asked.


    ¡°This is one of Paramount Alred¡¯s Cattle compounds. Do you like it?¡± Ivar swept his hands to either side as if presenting the newest strike bike model.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    The main room, already small, was cluttered. There were barrels, bags, and boxes clustered together, as well as broken stools and chairs. Pots hung from the ceiling, forcing Niklas to duck his head as he entered the room. A metal washtub filled with dishes sat on the floor, but no spout. Something else was off about the room.


    Niklas narrowed his eyes. The room was wood but also lit by candles and lanterns.


    ¡°Where''s the light plate?¡± Niklas asked, looking for the medal tab that should have been on the wall.


    ¡°Pardon?¡± Frode asked as he leaned forward.


    ¡°You have open flames here. This place is a wood structure. That¡¯s dangerous. Is your power out?¡± Niklas said. He held his reaper''s blade behind his back. He knew close to nothing about these people. If they wanted to kill him, they could have, and he wasn¡¯t confident he could fight them even in his current state. But they were Sharderins. Or they looked like them anyway.


    ¡°Power?¡± Frode asked. ¡°I don¡¯t get you. What do you mean by power?¡±


    Niklas looked at Frode in surprise. Frode sounded genuinely ignorant. So they didn¡¯t have power here.


    Niklas didn¡¯t grace Frode with an answer. ¡°Where¡¯s the Mother?¡± he asked instead, looking to a window by the door.


    ¡°Are you asking for Lill?¡± Ivar asked. ¡°She¡¯s out with Tord. Should be back any moment now.¡±


    ¡°What was it you called her just now?¡± Frode asked. ¡°The Mother?¡±


    ¡°I knew it! He¡¯s mad,¡± a young boy snickered from under the table.


    Niklas looked down at the boy in surprise. He was young. He should know better than to speak to a merited soldier that way.


    ¡°I¡¯d watch your tone, boy,¡± Niklas growled. ¡°You¡¯re speaking to a third mark, Drone.¡±


    The boy''s eyes widened, not at the words but edge in Niklas¡¯ voice. He shrunk under the shadow of the table ever so slightly.


    ¡°So this¡­cattle compound,¡± Niklas said, ¡°is it some sort of supply depot?¡± He scanned it. ¡°It¡¯s messy and poorly taken care of. It¡¯s a wonder your detachment leader doesn¡¯t discipline you.¡±


    ¡°This is our home,¡± Frode said, sounding slightly offended.


    ¡°Well, be advised. If I were your superior, I would have you on sanitation detail for a year if I saw your barracks in this condition.¡±


    ¡°Wow,¡± Ivar marveled. ¡°You¡¯re kind of an ass.¡±


    Niklas shrugged off the comment. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t report you or anything; I¡¯m just saying I wouldn¡¯t get caught dead with my station looking this far out of regs.¡±


    Niklas didn¡¯t like lazy Drones. They complained loudly, dragged down their detachment¡¯s scores, and shamed the Sharderin name. There was no valor in disorder. The whole room could be reorganized, and half of the stuff should have been thrown out.


    ¡°When do you go to training?¡± Niklas asked Ivar. ¡°What¡¯s your mark?¡±


    ¡°Mark?¡± Ivar asked. ¡°What are you saying? Speak sense.¡±


    Niklas sighed. Were these people totally stupid? ¡°What¡¯s your rank?¡±


    ¡°Debtbonded?¡± Ivar said, pulling down his collar to reveal an age-old brand.


    Niklas looked at the brand and softened a little.


    ¡°Slaves are noncombative then? I can only imagine the abuse they put on you. Forcing you to live in a dirty supply depot like this.¡±


    ¡°Once again, you¡¯re talking about our home. Kind of a scum move to keep slamming it like that.¡±


    Niklas stopped. It seemed that these men struggled to understand him, and he sure as pit was having difficulty understanding their situation.


    ¡°I apologize,¡± he said, only partially meaning it. He kept his reaper¡¯s knife out of sight but remained vigilant for the first signs of treachery. ¡°I¡¯m...lost and confused.¡±


    ¡°Clearly.¡±


    ¡°I need to get out of here.¡±


    Niklas limped to the window by the door. His head spun as he moved, making him walk like a drunk man. He relaxed his grip on the blade concealed against his out-turned side but kept it ready.


    He moved the curtain away from the window. The compound was built in a square. Over twelve apartments faced an enclosed courtyard. A large metal gate was on the far side.


    A large fire blazed in the courtyard. Niklas saw over twenty people sitting around the fire in the flickering light. Several were pink-skinned, dark-haired Relrin men, and many had pistols on their belts. Niklas noted them. He visually counted at least eight.


    Visibility was poor in the firelight, but some of the people were shaped differently and wore strange clothing that functioned more like robes than the shirts and trousers the others wore. Relrin Mothers. Some of them cleared dishes from what seemed to be a communal meal in the courtyard. Others held children, and one ran a pipe to a man.


    Niklas looked away, feeling dirty for seeing the Mothers.


    ¡°There are Relrin Mothers outside,¡± Niklas said.


    ¡°As you said the last time you looked,¡± Frode said.


    ¡°Why are their holy ones here? This is a cow compound, not a sanctuary. Some of them were working. Where are there caretakers?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t understand half the things you just said.¡±


    Niklas bit his tongue. Getting simple answers was painfully difficult. He was finally starting to understand that Relgar was more than the home of his enemy. It was a new world, and he was a stranger. He was revealing more than he was learning with his questions. If he wanted to understand, it might be a better tactic to keep his mouth shut and his ears and eyes opened.


    ¡°My last question,¡± Niklas said. ¡°There were armed men out there. Are they Relrin soldiers?¡±


    Ivar shook his head. ¡°Those guys are just herdsmen. So are we, technically. They carry guns for wolves and bandits. Prime Paramount Alred has charged us with the care of this herd of his cattle. We can¡¯t have guns, though. It¡¯s better that way; there¡¯s less expected of us, you see.¡±


    Niklas nodded and tightened his grip on his knife. What was he going to do? He had to get home and find a way to get his scar removed. Ivar had said something about an Esthetic Operator.


    Niklas opened his mouth to ask about the Esthetic operator, and the door opened.


    Niklas jumped and set himself into a fighting stance, facing the newcomer. He had been so distracted he didn¡¯t notice their approach through the window.


    He found himself looking at a startled Lill. The Mother.


    Niklas gasped and fell away from her, throwing his hands up as if it would ward her off, inadvertently exposing his palmed reaper¡¯s blade.


    He looked away but instinctually glanced at the threat to see the rage in her eyes.


    ¡°Back. To. Bed. Now!¡±

 9 The Esthetic Operator.

    Niklas spent several days with the Sommerfeldts. He slept most of the time on the cot as his fever died down. As the heat finally dissipated, his body ached horribly. While awake, he spent his time in the small apartment. He tried his best to learn anything he could from inside, where he was safe from the Relrin Mothers, who seemed to always be outside in the compound courtyard.


    He asked fewer questions, deciding to learn by observation. Anything he said to the Sommerfeldts either offended them or left them confused. He wasn¡¯t trying to be rude. They just seemed to have different expectations when it came to conversation.


    He quickly learned that he couldn¡¯t live under the same roof as Lill and her family without at least a little interaction with her. So he kept his dealings with her to a minimum, answering questions with as few words as possible and never looking at her directly if he could avoid it. That ended up being more daunting than he thought it would be. He always felt an unwelcome tension when he knew she was around.


    Niklas tried his best to help around the house but could tell he weighed heavily on the generosity of a rankless slave unit. He suspected they weren¡¯t getting extra rations for him but were dividing their portions to accommodate him. He finally decided he needed to get away and find out what he could about getting his mark removed.


    Niklas found Ivar sitting on a broken stool in the kitchen, chewing a chewing stick idly, probably lost in some mischievous thought. ¡°Ivar,¡± he asked the wiry, slouched man.


    Ivar raised a sharp eyebrow at Niklas in response.


    ¡°Where can I find an esthetic operator?¡±


    Ivar laughed a strange snort-laugh. ¡°I only know of one in all Soutfel. That would be Dr. Geoffrey. What, you realized you¡¯re too ugly?¡±


    Niklas rolled his eyes as such comments were common from Ivar. He seemed to be trying to compete with Niklas¡¯ frankness. ¡°Where do I find him?¡±


    ¡°Town,¡± he said simply, as though that clarified anything whatsoever.


    ¡°Do you think you can take me?¡±


    Ivar laughed ¨C a real laugh this time. ¡°No, I can¡¯t, devil boy. I¡¯m leaving with the herdsmen this morning, and besides, there¡¯s no way you could afford Dr. Geoffrey.¡±


    Niklas suppressed a growl and rubbed his temple as his present headache reminded him that it was there. Maybe he could ask Tord. Ivar explained that Tord was Lill¡¯s husband. Husband wasn¡¯t a word that Niklas was familiar with. If Tord wouldn¡¯t help Niklas find an Esthetic Artificer, maybe Frode would.


    Ivar, seemingly sensing Niklas¡¯ thoughts, cut in. ¡°The other guys are also busy. Why don¡¯t you get over yourself and ask Lill to take you? She¡¯s going into town soon.¡±


    Niklas paled at the idea, and Ivar saw it.


    ¡°I don¡¯t get you, devil boy. It¡¯s not like she¡¯s going to bite. Why are you so scared of her?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not scared!¡± Niklas snapped.


    Ivar raised his sharp eyebrow again as though to say Niklas¡¯ response confirmed his suspicion.


    ¡°I just...want to be respectful,¡± Niklas explained, but inwardly, he knew he shied away from her as if she was glowing iron.


    ¡°Right¡­¡± Ivar said doubtfully. ¡°I don¡¯t know about your demon woods, but here, avoiding people is weird and rude. It¡¯s not respectful.¡±


    Niklas restrained a retort, Ivar had a point. Lill seemed increasingly irritated at Niklas¡¯ behavior. Whenever he scampered to the other room as she entered, she looked angry, not flattered.


    Lill pushed open the front door and started gathering baskets for her run to town. The scabs on Niklas¡¯ back felt taught as he bit back his instinct to leave the room.


    He coughed loudly before turning to her. ¡°Mother Lill,¡± he said with as much reverence as he could manage.


    Lill gasped in surprise before turning to him. This was the first time he initiated any conversation with her. He forced himself to look at her but kept his head bowed.


    ¡°So he talks!¡± she cried. ¡°And not just to the boys. Why am I good enough for words now, boy?¡±


    ¡°I meant no offense,¡± Niklas stammered. ¡°I¡¯m beginning to see you have different customs here.¡±


    ¡°I should hope so!¡± she barked with a laugh. ¡°I don¡¯t want to know what social rules you¡¯ve learned in hell forest your whole life!¡±


    "Will you forgive me?" Niklas stammered, realizing he needed to be on her good side.


    "Will you forgive me?" Niklas stammered, realizing he needed to be on her good side. If the esthetic operator couldn''t remove Niklas'' scar, his backup plan would be to take Mother Lill back to Pit, and maybe he could be reintegrated as a drone. Convincing her to return with him would be impossible if he continued to offend her.


    ¡°I think...I need to learn acceptable social conduct here.¡±


    She snorted. ¡°I¡¯d say. Lesson one, you had best stop with this ¡®Mother¡¯ nonsense. Suppose you go around accusing every woman of being your own mother. In that case, you¡¯re going to have some confused and angry men looking for you.¡±


    Niklas nodded, still feeling hesitant to use too many words. ¡°I understand, Mother.¡±


    She narrowed her eyes at him.


    ¡°I mean Lill.¡±


    ¡°What were you going to ask me, dear?¡±


    Niklas stammered, still feeling jittery that he was speaking to a mother so openly. ¡°I, uh, was wondering if you were going to town?¡± he asked dumbly.


    ¡°Yes, dear. I could use some help if yer willing to carry stuff.¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes!¡± he cried, excited for the opportunity to serve a Mother. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have to carry anything.¡±


    She grinned at that. ¡°I say...I think I like this new Niklas. Some others...¡± She shot an accusing glare at Ivar. ¡°...should take note!¡±


    Niklas gratefully took the basket from her hands. Helping and obeying a Mother like a Zealot felt good.


    ¡°Shall we go then?¡±


    Niklas nodded emphatically.


    She led him into the compound courtyard, where the twelve apartments with adjoining walls faced. Today, seven Relrin mothers worked in the common area.


    Niklas held his breath, trying his best not to look at them. The Relrin mothers were so alien. They mostly had jet-black hair and brown eyes. They wore simple, plain, dirty work robes or dresses, as Rasmus had explained. Niklas tightened his fists. Apparently, women worked here. In fact, it seemed that they were considered inferior to men in many ways. It didn¡¯t matter that they were the Mothers of the enemy. He wasn¡¯t okay with it. It made him hate the Relrin men all the more.


    ¡°Who¡¯s this?¡± a woman cried to Lill.


    ¡°The Pit man finally showing his face to the sun?¡± another Mother chimed, and the others laughed. Niklas looked down at Lill¡¯s heels, not wanting to see them. It had taken him a week to bring himself to even look at Lill. He wasn''t ready to freely break all of the Mother codes.


    ¡°He follows you like a debtbond!¡±


    ¡°The debtbond of a debtbond can you imagine?¡±


    Niklas looked up, expecting Lill to be fuming, but instead, she was laughing. ¡°Now you watch yourself, or I¡¯ll set him on you!¡± She smirked, and the others squealed in simultaneous terror and delight at the thought.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with him? Is he dumb?¡± another asked, and Niklas made the mistake of meeting her eyes.


    Niklas froze. She wasn¡¯t as old as Mother Lill. She might have even been close to his age. Her large hazel eyes drew him out of his mind and held him suspended in an undefinable moment. Her lighter eyes paired with her hair, which had streaks of blonde that suggested mixed non-Relrin heritage. Niklas muttered something, not intelligible words but involuntary sounds. Niklas'' hands clutched the basket and drew it tight to his chest on their own accord. Surely, this was the reason drones didn¡¯t look upon mothers.


    No!


    Niklas ripped his eyes from hers, growling at himself in anger. What had just happened? Did mothers somehow have the means to enchant drones? Maybe the reason the priests issued the commandment was more practical than spiritual.


    Niklas scowled at Lill¡¯s heels again, refusing to look back.


    ¡°Oh! He¡¯s an angry one!¡± one noted nervously.


    ¡°Oh, he¡¯s harmless,¡± Lill assured her.


    ¡°Can we go?¡± Niklas begged Lill in a whisper.


    She seemed to sense the urgency in his tone and, to his relief, bid her friends farewell.


    They pushed past the rusty gate and out onto the dirt road. Niklas walked on a limp, his leg still stiff as a Relrin shirt. The vast differences between Relrin and Sharderin society struck Niklas as they traveled. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    Relrins always built on the ground, and their structures were usually cement or wood and not with the most impressive workmanship. He already knew that they didn¡¯t have lights like the Sharderins. But it struck him as odd that they used fire as light in the form of candles or lanterns. The next thing that he realized was the absence of vehicles. He noted a few people in work clothes leading horse-drawn carts with wheels.


    Once, he saw a more refined and slender metal carriage drawn by horses without wheels. Gold lines of light pulsed through lumaulic grooves that artistically accented its body. That vessel remained suspended several feet in the air.


    The yellow lights unmistakably reminded him of the power sources back in Pit. ¡°Lill,¡± Niklas started. ¡°Horses draw that vehicle, but it doesn''t touch the ground.¡±


    She looked and smiled. ¡°You¡¯re seeing a Relrin air carriage. It probably belongs to a noble or a high merchant,¡± Her words laced with pride.


    Frankly, Niklas wasn¡¯t impressed. It was slow and horse-drawn. Even a larger Drone shuttle moved faster than the air carriage, and they didn¡¯t need beasts of burden to pull them.


    Niklas didn¡¯t voice his opinion. He was learning which things it was better to keep his mouth shut about.


    They continued for a few moments, and Niklas finally saw that the greatest difference between Relgar and Pit Forest was how green it was in Relgar. Their borders were mere miles apart, but here it was lush and green when it should have been the end of winter.


    They passed a few thick fields, and he spotted an odd spinning light mounted on a stand above the crop.


    ¡°What is that?¡± Niklas asked.


    Lill followed his gesture. ¡°Crop Remnant,¡± She said. ¡°Prime Paramount Alred manipulates the weather and plants with them. There hasn¡¯t been a famine in Relgar in eighteen years.¡±


    Realization dawned on Niklas. So this is what became of the remnants the Relrins stole from the Sharderins at the genocide. He couldn¡¯t help but smile. Farming and horse-drawn carriages? If this was the extent of their focus on remnants, they were ill-prepared for the invasion. They had hardly utilized their stolen property in the least.


    ¡°Lill?¡± Niklas asked.


    ¡°Yes, dear?¡±


    ¡°Those Relrin mo...women.¡± he corrected himself. ¡°They seemed to be your friends; they didn¡¯t treat you like a slave.¡±


    Lill furrowed her brow. ¡°Niklas, slavery is illegal in Relgar and every Kelryne nation. We¡¯re debt bonded.¡±


    ¡°What does that mean?¡± Niklas asked.


    Lill contemplated for a moment. ¡°I¡¯m not very good at explaining. It¡¯s all about numbers and debt. I don¡¯t understand numbers very well.¡±


    ¡°Is debt like valor?¡± Niklas asked, trying to comprehend these new ideas.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what Valor is,¡± Lill mirrored. ¡°Many paramounts offer loans and set rents. If you get into debt and the debt grows faster than you can ever pay off, you can choose to become debt-bonded, and your debt stops growing. I think that¡¯s called interest. As a debtbond, you work directly for your debtor until you can pay off your debt. Your debtor must provide for your necessities or a liveable allowance, which slows down the payoff. If you have children, your debt is divided, and a portion is assigned to them.¡± She frowned apologetically. ¡°I don¡¯t know how to explain it any better.¡±


    Niklas nodded as if he understood but was more confused than before she started explaining. ¡°So debt is bad. It¡¯s nothing like valor?¡±


    Lill shrugged. ¡°My grandfather became debt bonded in Chimgar many years ago. He tried to invest in a silver mine, but the prospectors were con men.¡±


    ¡°You can give it a different name, but you¡¯re talking about slavery,¡± Niklas growled. ¡°Why would you choose to be a debt bond?¡±


    ¡°I chose it,¡± Lill asserted firmly, ¡°so that I don¡¯t pass a debt so crushing that my children will never be free.¡±


    ¡°You should fight!¡± Niklas growled. ¡°Better to kill and die defiant of the mother killers.¡±


    Lill inhaled sharply and looked at the nearest traveler on the road. ¡°You mustn¡¯t talk about the purge, Niklas. It¡¯ll only make them angry. If you must talk about it, please refer to it as the Sarine Pestolance.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll make them angry?¡± Niklas cried, ¡°Why would it make them angry? We¡¯re not the ones who butchered their mothers!¡±


    ¡°I know I¡¯m the last one who should speak to this as I¡¯m still alive today,¡± Lill prefaced, ¡°but that was a darker and messier time.¡±


    ¡°A small shadow compared to what¡¯s to come,¡± Niklas reflected on his life in the drone army, their weapons, and training.


    ¡°What do you mean, Niklas?¡± Lill asked hesitantly.


    Niklas recalled Edgar¡¯s last assignment when he was sent to silence a faceless drone that said too much. That would be a quick way to put Niklas in contact with Edgar, but it was more likely to be a different reaper just crossing another name off the list of dangerous dissidents.


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing,¡± Niklas lied, not ready to put himself on some reaper¡¯s list.


    They trekked on for nearly twenty minutes, and the buildings and population thickened. Seeing so many people naked faced felt odd. It was stranger still that there seemed to be an equal balance of men and women.


    The road became cobblestone, and the buildings grew two stories tall. They pushed their way through, and Niklas noticed that each building had one or several signs indicating the business it held in Relric. Bars, inns, tailors, carpenters, and jewelers were a few of the first he saw.


    He desperately scanned them, looking for one that might indicate the esthetic operator. Doctor Geoffrey would work there.


    They made their way down the street, which became increasingly busy. Based on appearance, the town held a diverse array of people. Sullen people with dirty gray work clothes, laughing cheery-eyed men with colorful garb, and even high-headed men who wore ornate suits of clothing. It was oddly familiar. It reminded Niklas of the third level of Pit Two. Only there wasn¡¯t a uniform for each rank. The citizens naturally divided themselves into classes, easily recognized by appearance.


    The most pathetic individuals Niklas saw was a group of three Sharderin men. Skin, bone, and rags, they stared absently into space as they sat on the road.


    ¡°Who are they?¡± Niklas demanded in disgust. Such Sharderins would be a disgrace in Pit Forest.


    ¡°They¡¯re street greys,¡± Lill said, not sending them a second glance. ¡°Many Sharderins broke from the Sarine Pestolance and have been worked to uselessness or simply given up. Poor souls, they sit in the streets and wait to die.¡±


    Niklas shuddered at them. That was what it looked like to have no valor.


    ¡°I need to go shop for some tea, dear,¡± she said before entering a store called Teaman¡¯s Enterprises.


    ¡°Hey!¡± Niklas called, causing her to look back. ¡°I¡¯m going to look around a bit. How long will you be?¡±


    ¡°Be back in a quarter hour?¡±


    Niklas nodded before trotting off.


    He found a man wearing dirty work clothes and approached him for directions to Dr. Geoffrey¡¯s. The man gave him a sour look and mumbled that he didn¡¯t know before walking away.


    Scowling after him, Niklas realized he might be talking to the wrong kind of person. So he jogged after a younger man wearing more colorful and better-fitted clothing.


    ¡°Hey man,¡± Niklas started. ¡°I¡¯m looking for Dr. Geoffrey.¡±


    The man regarded him as something that climbed out of the gutter and grew a mouth to talk.


    Niklas clenched his jaw and tried his best to remember where his place would be if he grew up here. ¡°Please, sir,¡± he tried again with a forced salute. ¡°My boss sent me to find Dr. Geoffrey.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s just down the road there,¡± the man said, pointing and eyeing Niklas¡¯ salute in confusion.


    ¡°Thank you, sir!¡± Niklas said, trying his best to play the part. But his false smile melted back to his glare before he turned away. The man was a true Pink, a Mother killer. Why should Niklas treat him with any level of respect?


    Niklas followed the man¡¯s directions and found a sign marking Dr. Geoffrey¡¯s Esthetic Artificer. Peeking through the window, Niklas saw a man in white talking to two men in stiff suits. They laughed at their conversations and then headed for the door. Niklas spun and leaned his back against the structure as the door opened.


    ¡°Farewell, my friends. If you ever need anything, just pop right in!¡± The man in white waved them away.


    ¡°Will do, Doctor! And thank you!¡± The two men walked past Niklas, and the man in white turned into his firm¡¯s entrance. He reached for several articles on hooks and produced a black hat, a dark overcoat, and a walking stick. Then he saw Niklas.


    ¡°Young man, can I help you?¡± The doctor asked as he turned to close the door.


    ¡°Actually, I came to see you, Dr. Geoffrey,¡± Niklas said, testing the name.


    The man¡¯s expression softened slightly.


    ¡°Tell your employer I work by appointment only; you can go in and schedule for him with my secretary.¡±


    ¡°My employer?¡± Niklas stuttered dumbly. ¡°No, I need help myself. I¡¯m a free man.¡±


    ¡°Oh!¡± The artificer started as he eyed Niklas. He scanned the scabs on Niklas¡¯ swollen face. ¡°Deep, class three scars. Burns and cuts. These are quite fresh. Removing them would take at least three, maybe even five, appointments. My secretary can explain my rates, but I wouldn¡¯t get your hopes up.¡± He spun and started walking away.


    Niklas flushed red. ¡°Hey!¡± he barked after Geoffrey and then jogged in pursuit. ¡°Hey, I¡¯m serious!¡±


    Geoffrey sighed in annoyance. ¡°I have somewhere to be. I don¡¯t have time for this. Plus, I don¡¯t think this will be a good use of your money. The scars won¡¯t look as bad once the swelling goes down.¡±


    ¡°I need your help now!¡± Niklas said evenly.


    Dr Geoffery stopped and furrowed his brow at Niklas. ¡°I simply don¡¯t have time to talk to you. Speak with my secretary, or I¡¯ll call the officers on you.¡±


    Growling at his Relrin arrogance, Niklas grabbed the doctor by the shoulder and jerked him into the narrow alley between buildings.


    Geoffrey cried out in surprise, but Niklas slapped a firm hand over his mouth. Geoffrey jerked the head of his walking stick to the glint of steel of a concealed sword, but Niklas saw it too early.


    Niklas knocked the cane out of the doctor¡¯s hand and, with a snap, held his reaper''s blade to Geoffrey¡¯s exposed throat.


    [ Image: Drone Ch 9.png ]


    ¡°Scream,¡± Niklas hissed, ¡°and the only thing they¡¯ll find is your Mother-killing head!¡± His blade¡¯s razor edge accidentally touched Geoffrey¡¯s throat, and a thin line of blood appeared. Niklas¡¯ hand trembled. He was supposed to be calm, to be a professional. He had trained his whole life, but the truth was that he had little actual experience.


    Still, the fire of valor blazed him on.


    Pit, this knife is sharp, Niklas thought.


    How good it felt to hold one of his people''s mortal enemies under its edge.


    The doctor¡¯s eyes widened, and he held up his empty hands.


    Niklas looked out into the sunlit road in worry. Had anybody seen him? ¡°Let¡¯s go!¡± he commanded, and he towed Geoffrey deeper down the lane, trying his best to hide his limp.


    Niklas pushed him up against the building again, breathing hard. ¡°Look,¡± he hissed, ¡°I need your help now.¡±


    ¡°You have an interesting way of asking,¡± the doctor growled.


    ¡°I only need to get rid of this one,¡± Niklas said desperately, pointing to the faceless scar under his eye.


    The doctor snorted. ¡°Easy.¡±


    ¡°What will it take?¡±


    ¡°You think I¡¯ll ever help you after this?¡±


    ¡°Look!¡± Niklas said, the desperation evident in his voice. ¡°I¡¯m not from around here. I¡¯m not used to your culture and bureaucracy, and you seem reasonable. What¡¯s it going to take to get me in now?¡±


    Dr. Geoffrey¡¯s eyes were hardened, but then there it was. The twinkle of greed. ¡°If you had just asked my secretary, you would know that small scar removal costs 500 cesh.¡±


    ¡°Easy,¡± Niklas said, not knowing what that even meant.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think so,¡± he corrected. ¡°This is deep and will take several sessions, at least another 500.¡±


    Niklas¡¯ grip tightened. ¡°Deal.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not done!¡± He snapped. ¡°Another five hundred because of...this!¡±


    ¡°Okay! I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°And a final five hundred to skip the queue. We¡¯re booked out for months. I¡¯ll have to operate after hours and off of the books. These are my terms, Two thousand cesh, and I¡¯ll remove that mark. You wouldn¡¯t happen to have two thousand cesh, would you?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Niklas said. ¡°But I¡¯ll get it.¡±


    ¡°Oh really? When?¡±


    ¡°In a week,¡± Niklas said hastily, still not knowing what a cesh was.


    ¡°Really?¡± the doctor laughed.


    ¡°Two weeks!¡± Niklas corrected himself based on the doubt in Geoffrey¡¯s voice.


    ¡°Okay, thug. I¡¯ll see you in two weeks, and if I see you again before then without the payment in full, I¡¯ll have you sent to prison. It will be easy, don¡¯t test me.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not one of the street greys,¡± Niklas assured him. ¡°You¡¯d be surprised by what I can do.¡±


    The doctor nodded. ¡°Agreed.¡± He glanced down at the knife.


    ¡°I¡¯m walking out now. Wait three minutes in here, and then you can too.¡±


    ¡°Are you giving me orders?¡± Geoffrey asked. A gentle nudge from the knife shut him up.


    ¡°Three minutes,¡± Niklas said, then stole back into the bright streets. Sure enough, to his great relief, Dr. Geoffrey waited.


    Niklas retraced his steps to the teashop, where he found Lill waiting on a wide set of steps that led into the shop. ¡°Lill,¡± he greeted her with his heart still racing.


    A trio of men approached the stairs ahead of Niklas, all three dressed in fitted white shirts with jewel-toned vests and hats. A young man led the trio, absently speaking over his shoulder. Lill sidestepped, but as the distracted young man turned, he stumbled into her.


    The man recoiled in surprise and caught Lill by the arm. ¡°Are you all right, mam?¡±


    Niklas stared in disbelief. A Relrin pushed past Lill, a sharderin mother like she were some faceless Drone.


    ¡°Hey!¡± Niklas barked.


    The man turned in surprise.


    ¡°How dare you!¡± Niklas said. ¡°Beg for forgiveness.¡±

 10 Wilbur Teaman.

    ¡°Niklas, please don¡¯t.¡± Lill held up a warding hand.


    ¡°Is that so?¡± the man asked as he examined Niklas curiously.


    Niklas saw that the man wore a thin-bladed sword at his side.


    ¡°Boss,¡± one of the other two men grunted. They carried themselves like soldiers but wore no uniform. Guards maybe? They were also armed with thin swords and long Relrin pistols. ¡°Is there a problem?¡± the one in front asked Niklas.


    ¡°He will apologize,¡± Niklas said, motioning to their young commander.


    ¡°Niklas!¡± Lill gasped as she rushed down to him and grabbed his arm. ¡±Let¡¯s go.¡±


    Niklas didn¡¯t feel the pull.


    The fifth law of the holy ones echoed in Niklas¡¯ head. Always protect the holy ones.


    Though not harmed physically, she had been insulted.


    The two guards chuckled, and one stepped forward, resting his hand on a dagger in his belt. He was slightly shorter than Niklas but stood confidently several steps above Niklas, bringing his eyes over Niklas¡¯ head.


    Niklas¡¯ heart pounded. Ambushing an unexpected doctor was different than engaging with a pair of trained soldiers.


    His body hurt. He was by no means battle-ready.


    ¡°Do you know who you¡¯re talking to?¡± The guard asked, stepping down nose to nose with Niklas.


    Niklas didn¡¯t move.


    ¡°Arth, that¡¯s enough,¡± the younger man stepped beside his guard, looking at Niklas as if he was the most intriguing thing he had ever seen. ¡°Obviously, this is just a little misunderstanding.¡±


    ¡°Boss, let me take care of this,¡± the guard said.


    ¡°Where are your manners, Arth? Look at this specimen. He¡¯s built like an ox. He didn¡¯t shrink from you; how many people do you know who hold their own like that? This Sharderin is a wolf.¡±


    Niklas looked from one to the other, unsure what to make of them. His eyes darted to the pistol on Arth¡¯s hip. If he moved fast enough, he might be able to get it.


    ¡°Apologize,¡± he growled, stepping into Arth and forcing the man back.


    ¡°Hey!¡± Arth barked, shoving Niklas in the chest.


    Niklas stumbled on the steps and missed his footing as he fell back.


    He flailed his arms as he tumbled head over heels down the few steps. He tucked his head and broke his fall properly, but a few deeper scabs cracked on his back, and his knee flashed with searing heat. Niklas felt his ears flush red as he looked up at Arth from the dirty cobbles.


    ¡°Please, sir!¡± Lill cried. ¡°He doesn¡¯t know what he¡¯s doing!¡±


    ¡°Pink!¡± Niklas snapped as he scrambled to his feet. He was only vaguely aware of his pain as he focused on the men in front of him.


    Arth rested his hand on his pistol. ¡°Tsk-tsk,¡± he hissed as he shook his head.


    Niklas froze. What was happening? He was a Sharderin Drone. He had not trained his whole life just to be humiliated on a Relrin street. He should have more valor.


    ¡°Gentlemen, please!¡± the younger man cut in, holding a hand toward each one. ¡°Arth. Step back.¡±


    The armsman nodded and flashed a degrading smile down at Niklas before stepping away.


    ¡°I have never seen a Sharderin with such...bite!¡± the younger man grinned. ¡°In fact. I¡¯m pleased to make your acquaintance. Who do you work for? I must meet him.¡± He stepped down the stairs and stuck out his hand as if expecting Niklas to shake it.


    Niklas stared at the hand without returning the gesture.


    ¡°Ah, right. The apology.¡± He spun and walked halfway up the stairs to where Lill held her hands clasped tightly to her chest. ¡°Ma¡¯am.¡± He tipped his hat. ¡°That was quite rude of me. I beg your pardon.¡±


    The plump woman blushed fiercely. ¡°Please¨C¡± She looked around in embarrassment. ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡±


    The man smiled with a twinkle in his eye. He spun and turned toward Niklas. ¡°Good enough for you?¡±


    Niklas slowly nodded, though he still felt embarrassed that Lill saw him act so clumsily in her defense.


    ¡°Now,¡± he offered his hand again.


    Niklas lifted his nose and turned away.


    The young man¡¯s smile melted at the response. ¡°Don¡¯t you have any manners? Are you sure you want to ignore me?¡±


    ¡°Who are you?¡± Niklas asked absently.


    The young man blinked in frustration, as though not knowing who he was was more offensive than getting called out in public. ¡°You¡¯re new around here?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    The man nodded. ¡°Well then, Newcomer, I did as you said. Now, would you do me the favor of coming to my office? I might have an employment opportunity for you.¡±


    Confused, Niklas turned to Lill. What was the meaning of this?


    ¡°You¡¯d best go, dear,¡± she said. ¡°No need to make things worse. I¡¯ll wait for you.¡±


    The man motioned and led the way up the stairs into the shop.


    Niklas hesitated but followed.


    Niklas found entering his first Relrin public space surreal. The shop was primarily lit by the bay windows and was covered with rows of shelves packed with tin, wood, and paper boxes. There was also plenty of fine glass drinkware, so delicate he feared even looking at it may cause it to break.


    ¡°I am Wilbur Teaman!¡± the man introduced himself as he led Niklas down an aisle and behind a counter. The tall and thick Arth spoke sternly to a smaller worker in a storage room.


    ¡°I move and sell in the tea industry. I have ten other shops like this throughout the Soutvor, Estvor, and Garnivor regions. I am one of the biggest tea distributors in southern Relgar. I¡¯m surprised you have never heard of me.¡± He spoke with emphatic pride. His valor in his work was evident.


    ¡°As I said, I¡¯m new to the area,¡± Niklas said.


    ¡°You sound foreign. Are you from the Uppervor region?¡± He opened a door and led Niklas into a private room. His second guard trailed close behind. It was a neat study, minimal in most respects, lit by another set of windows that overlooked the street outside.


    ¡°In a way, I¡¯m from many places,¡± Niklas said, hoping not to disclose too much, if any, information about Pit Forest.


    ¡°Please, have a seat,¡± Wilbur offered. ¡°I hope your bondholder won¡¯t be missing you?¡±


    Niklas felt a flush of sickness in his gut. Did everyone have to assume he belonged to a mother killer? ¡°I¡¯m not a slave.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± Wilber paused, looking a little disappointed. I recognize the woman you came in with. She lives in the same compound as one of my dear friends. I understood that she¡¯s a debtbond but shouldn¡¯t have assumed.¡±


    Niklas shrugged.


    ¡°What is your name, freeman?¡±


    ¡°Niklas Loga.¡±


    ¡°Funny that I¡¯ve never seen you at Paramount Alred¡¯s herd compound before.¡±


    ¡°Like I said, I¡¯m new to the area.¡± Teaman¡¯s association with the compound was too coincidental for Niklas to let his guard down, but Wilbur¡¯s words felt proud, not deceptive.


    ¡°I¡¯ll bet you wonder why I didn¡¯t have you arrested for badgering me?¡± he started. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    ¡°Arrested?¡± Niklas said in surprise. ¡°I didn¡¯t do anything.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re definitely new to this place. You pushed Arth.¡±


    ¡°He pushed back,¡± Niklas said.


    ¡°That¡¯s justifiable in the eyes of the law. You should be more careful. Some men would have you arrested for raising your voice to them.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± Niklas looked down. He would have to be much more careful about what he did publicly.


    ¡°But not me. Do you want to know why?¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± Niklas had a feeling Wilbur would tell him whether he was interested or not.


    ¡°Niklas, there are two kinds of people in this world ¨C the cattle and the wolves,¡± Wilbur started his sermon. It was clear from his tone this was a conversation he had with many people, no doubt to appear wise in the eyes of his friends. ¡°The cattle can only see what¡¯s in front of them; they let the course of life move them. Wolves push back and make their own waves. I think you might be a wolf, and I could use a man like you.¡±


    He produced a bottle and a pair of crystal glasses, poured a small amount of yellow liquid into each, and slid one over to Niklas. Niklas glanced down at it and made no move to accept it. Only officers or those of higher rank were allowed to drink liquor in Pit Forest, and most didn¡¯t.


    ¡°What employment?¡± Niklas asked.


    Wilbur nodded to his guard, who shut the door. ¡°How would you like to see Prime Paramount Alred ruined?¡±


    Niklas raised his eyebrows, his curiosity finally overwhelming his indifference. ¡°Who? Isn¡¯t that the pink who owns the cattle compound?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right. You¡¯re not from around here. Prime Paramount Alred is the regional ruler here and an enemy to some associates of mine. So we¡¯re gathering people to help us. We could use someone with your bite.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re looking for fighting men, for brusiers?¡±


    ¡°If I were looking for thugs, I would hire bums in the street. Any cattle can be a thug. I¡¯m looking for wolves, agents and enforcers to act for me.¡±


    Niklas sighed. ¡°I¡¯m not going to be here for long. I¡¯ll be gone in two weeks. Besides, I don¡¯t know this, Alred. I have no reason to fight him.¡±


    ¡°What if I change your mind?¡± Wilbur leaned forward and started rubbing his fingers with his thumb. It wasn¡¯t a gesture Niklas was familiar with.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I¡¯m unavailable.¡±


    Wilbur frowned. ¡°Don¡¯t refuse me. I have never seen a Sharderin who I thought might be a wolf. You¡¯ve seen the street greys. They result from bad breeding ¨C they¡¯re lazy, they¡¯re without ambition, they are, simply put, cattle. Not you, though. I could use you.¡±


    ¡°Is this your way of making new friends?¡± Niklas frowned as he felt his valor ignite and start to smolder.


    ¡°There it is!¡± Wilbur cried, pointing at Niklas victoriously. ¡°That bite! You are an anomaly among your kind. You just need to look at The street greys, the dead eyes, the worthless; every Sharderin eventually becomes that, but not you! That¡¯s why you intrigue me!¡±


    The more Wilbur spoke, the more Niklas was sure he disliked him. He was entitled and proud, like a Zealot. He looked at people as if they were pieces to some game.


    ¡°Listen, tea boy!¡± Niklas got to his feet.


    He felt a firm hand clap on his shoulder. The guard standing by the door had moved directly behind him.


    Wilbur¡¯s eyes twinkled in entertainment. ¡°Even if you are a wolf like me, Niklas, remember, you¡¯re in my lair.¡±


    Niklas¡¯ hand itched for his reaper''s blade, but he stopped himself. What was he going to do? Kill them? Even if he could beat them, there was a law and order in this place that he did not yet understand.


    Still, his valor pulsed from smolders to a flicker. He yearned to turn on the guard, smash his face into the polished desk, and throw the arrogant merchant through the bay window. As much as he wanted to attack, he had no delusions of overthrowing either in his current state. ¡°I don¡¯t care about your leaders or your quarrels,¡± Niklas said, ¡°and your childish system of classifying people isn¡¯t as profound as you think.¡±


    Wilbur frowned at that; Niklas insulted something that he held with valor. That made Niklas smile. It was almost as satisfying as twisting a knife in Wilburs¡¯ gut would have been.


    ¡°I hate your kind,¡± Wilbur said, ¡°you¡¯re cheap, weak, and expendable. And even if that isn¡¯t you, you can¡¯t deny that of the rest of the Sharderins.¡±


    Wilbur was wrong. If only he knew. Sure, the Sharderins who stayed behind in Relgar after the genocide lacked valor. But if only he could see the thousands of warriors trained up from birth, waiting, plotting, and preparing for when they would fulfill their glorious vendetta. If only he could see their terrible weapons designed to destroy everything he knew and loved. Then, they would shatter Wilbur¡¯s aggressive confidence.


    ¡°Do you know the reason why your people were beaten and destroyed eighteen years ago?¡± Wilbur said. ¡°It¡¯s because they were cattle. Peaceful with no bite, they were a disgrace to Momalgar, and for it, they could not survive.¡±


    Niklas¡¯ valor flared. ¡°You talk of bite! Maybe you¡¯ll remember you murdered our mothers! You plotted and slaughtered them without warning. Don¡¯t speak of that horrible day like you had any valor. Don¡¯t claim the glory of battle from massacring the week. You weren''t brave! You were cowards and liars!¡± Niklas clenched his jaw, and sweat trickled down his temple.


    Wilbur¡¯s face dropped slightly but then smiled again. ¡°Glory, battle, Valor? Maybe you aren''t a wolf. The only thing that matters is control. How you obtain it doesn¡¯t matter.¡±


    Niklas stood, shrugging the hand off his shoulder, and tipped over his glass. The clear, yellow liquid ran freely across the leather top of the desk. He spun for the door.


    The guard jumped for him.


    ¡°Let him go,¡± Wilbur snapped at the guard. ¡°He came as my guest, and even if he insulted me, I¡¯m better than him.¡±


    Niklas ignored the taunt and pulled the door open.


    ¡°Even if you are a wolf, Niklas! If you fight the way things are, you will fall. I offered you friendship, and you scorned me.¡±


    Niklas shut the door much harder than he intended to and stomped out of the shop, pushing startled people aside as he went.


    ¡°Niklas!¡± Lill cried when she saw him. ¡°That was a right stupid thing to do.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sorry,¡± Niklas said. ¡°The Pink insulted a Mother; he¡¯s lucky.¡±


    His fuming mind was speaking now. If only he could do it again. Arth would be the one at the bottom of the stairs, and Wilbur would¨C


    Lill slapped him across the face, and he yelped in surprise.


    ¡°You¡¯re lucky!¡± she snapped. ¡°This is their world, Niklas! You can¡¯t do whatever you want and hope to escape it. Praise Kel, you¡¯re still breathing.¡±


    Niklas touched his stinging cheek and looked at the trembling Lill wide-eyed. He obeyed the codes, yet again, it offended a Mother. What was he meant to do?


    She looked at him in earnest. ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± she pleaded. ¡°Let¡¯s get away from here before Wilbur makes you apologize.¡±


    Niklas¡¯ Valor flickered out abruptly, like a candle in a gust of wind, and he nodded in agreement.


    He followed her without a word, not wanting to aggravate her further, as she went about the rest of the day''s affairs. She exchanges tokens for food and other necessities. They weren¡¯t gold. As they traveled, Niklas noticed at least five more Sharderin men with hollow, sunken, and empty eyes. They sat around doing nothing. Seeing them made him sick. Given food, training, and years of discipline, these could have been Drones, but these were without valor. These were the remnants of those who didn¡¯t exile themselves to the wilderness all those years ago.


    Another thing that left him more than slightly unsettled was all of the Relrin mothers working! It wasn¡¯t just the compound; women throughout the town performed menial duties. There was no degree of reverence from the men. They treated the women as though they were Drones. He had been taught that the Relrins had no respect for their mothers, but this was just disgusting.


    Shuddering at the pathetic sight, Niklas carried all of Lill¡¯s things for her, not wanting to burden the mother that he escorted. It wasn¡¯t a hefty load, but with his aching back and limp, it proved harder than carrying a cannon shell.


    With great effort, he followed Lill back to the compound. He felt winded and fell behind, but there were no other Drones or detachment to mock him for it, so he didn¡¯t allow himself to feel too bad.


    They returned to the compound, and Niklas unpacked, struggling to find any space to put anything in the cluttered apartment.


    ¡°Mother Lill,¡± Niklas said, growing frustrated. ¡°Please allow me to turn some of this extra stuff in.¡±


    He was rewarded with a sharp blow to the head from a thick wooden spoon.


    Niklas yelped and rubbed his head to find Lill pointing at him menacingly with the spoon as though she were brandishing a Drones blade.


    ¡°I warned you about calling women ¡®mothers.¡¯ Call me ¡®Mother¡¯ again, and I¡¯ll deal you another blow!¡±


    ¡°Of course, Mother!¡± He said, bowing his head. ¡°Beat me as you see fit!¡±


    ¡°What?¡± She snapped. ¡°I don¡¯t want to beat you! I want you to stop calling me Mother. You¡¯re making me feel old.¡±


    ¡°What...what should I call you then?¡±


    ¡°You can call a woman ¡®ma¡¯am, or ¡®my lady¡¯ here. Miss if she¡¯s young.¡±


    ¡°¡®My lady?¡¯ Mothers do not belong to me; saying ¡®my lady¡¯ is blasphemy.¡±


    ¡°No, it is simply a respectful form of address. It¡¯s flattering even.¡±


    Niklas was silent for a moment. He would have to make a few changes to fit in. ¡°My lady?¡±


    She snorted. ¡°I¡¯m no noblewoman. Call me Lill or sister.¡±


    ¡°Of course, my sister,¡± Niklas said apologetically, ¡°I¡¯m sorry for calling you ¡®Mother.¡¯¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s okay.¡± She sighed. ¡°But you need to work harder at blending in. If others discover you¡¯re from Pit, they won''t trust you.¡±


    ¡°How do I blend in without becoming a Relrin?¡±


    ¡°For starters, you don¡¯t attack people in the streets.¡± She scowled. ¡°Fighting will get you hanged. For the rest, you are lucky your hair is darker and your skin is closer to a Relrin than ours. You could marry a peasant or debt-bonded Relrin woman, and your children would almost blend in perfectly.¡±


    Niklas had no clue what she was talking about. He was a man. He couldn¡¯t have children. Maybe she had misspoken?


    ¡°You could probably become a house servant,¡± Lill said but stopped short as she bent to examine his healing face. ¡°Maybe not. Your face is damaged badly. If you like slaving away until you die, you could work in the factories in the city. Though, that will likely crush your spirit. We¡¯re willing to keep you, but you¡¯ll need to pay your way once you recover.¡±


    ¡°Pay? How?¡±


    She looked at him, startled. ¡°I suppose, being raised in the demon wood, you wouldn¡¯t have any notion of money?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Niklas shrugged apologetically. The word was foreign to him. Was she talking about gold? That was against the law back home. The clan provided everything they needed, and they returned what they didn¡¯t use. They technically weren¡¯t allowed to own any sort of property. Everything belonged to the clan, and they assigned their gear to them to use.


    ¡°Here we are.¡± She fished out three of the metal tokens he noticed her trading for food. ¡°These two are raskers. One is a cesh.¡±


    ¡°Cesh!¡± Niklas cried out. ¡°Where do I get those? I need 2000 of them!¡±


    She started at his outburst in surprise. ¡°That¡¯s...an oddly specific number¡­¡±


    ¡°How do I get them? I need some!¡±


    ¡°You get them by working! Different work will get you different amounts.¡±


    ¡°I need 2000!¡± Niklas cried again, ¡°What work will get me that in two weeks? I¡¯ll do anything.¡±


    Lill laughed. ¡°You¡¯d need to work for years to get that much.¡±


    Niklas felt his stomach sink. ¡°But...there has to be a way.¡±


    Lill shook her head. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but there¡¯s no honest work a Sharderin worker can do to get that much in less than one or two years.¡±


    Niklas slumped back. ¡°The cesh I get, I can keep?¡±


    ¡°Of course. You¡¯re a free man.¡±


    ¡°But then...but then, in theory, you could have millions of them eventually.¡±


    She laughed again. ¡°That¡¯s dreaming. But yeah.¡±


    ¡°What would I even do with it?¡± Niklas asked, still confused by Relgar¡¯s money system.


    ¡°Buy a manor house, buy three, buy a ship, drink fancy drinks, and go to balls and banquets.¡± Lill sighed dreamily.


    ¡°I¡¯ll do it,¡± Niklas said, feeling determined. He had to.


    ¡°Niklas,¡± Lill said with tact. ¡°I already said. It can¡¯t be done.¡±


    That wasn¡¯t what she said. She said there was no honest work that would get it. But Niklas didn¡¯t point that out.

 11 Sharderin Council.

    Vidder stood behind Father, wearing his drone mask. He was not trying to attract attention, which was ironic considering the Sharderin council was in session and no one else wore their masks. Even the guards wore no masks. The council was a place of transparency, no deception, and no treachery. No one questioned him, however, as he accompanied Father.


    Three main sets of bleachers sat facing each other, each occupied by the heads of each political platform. In the head platform, Grandmaster Skar presided over the zealots.


    ¡°Why are we here?¡± Grandmaster Skar demanded with no small degree of outrage. ¡°Council sessions out of season are reserved for emergencies only!¡±


    High Priest Hagen stood from his seat of presidency in the priest¡¯s bleachers. ¡°Grandmaster Skar, it is now common consensus that we must discuss your removal from the head platform.¡±


    ¡°Is that so?¡± Grandmaster Skar asked more cautiously. ¡°So you have been having private conferences without us? What does the law say about that?¡±


    ¡°Tell us what the law says about your abuse of authority, and then we''ll discuss the legality of our private gatherings,¡± Chief Elder Jorgensen said.


    ¡°Our activities have been well within our right,¡± Grandmaster Skar said. ¡°But bring forth your complaints; we will settle them now.¡±


    The High Priest and Chief Elder glanced at each other, and Vidder wondered which one would speak out openly against the zealots first.


    Neither one broke the silence, each waiting for the other, and Grandmaster Skar took advantage of the hesitation. ¡°No spokesman for you? And what say you, Arbiter?¡± He turned to address Father, who had a unique spot on the council ¨C not a whole bleacher, as he represented no party but a private box.


    Father rose to his feet to address the council. Vidder felt a rush of admiration for the figure. He had single-handedly changed the course of Sharderin life and had granted him a second chance, a rebirth.


    ¡°My friends,¡± Father said, his powerful voice carrying across the room. ¡°Let me remind you, I have held a spot on this council for many years and have never sought the head platform. My interests are strictly for the benefit of our people. I hold no other ambitions.¡±


    Zealots, priests, and elders alike nodded in affirmation of his words.


    ¡°Historically, I have sided with the zealots in such disputes.¡± He looked at Grandmaster Skar, who gave him a slight smile.


    ¡°But this time, I¡¯m afraid I must say I have had enough from your people! You have stepped beyond your authority time and time again. You have stepped on our toes and tripped us in our progress!¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Skar cried. ¡°What are you talking about?¡±


    ¡°You have made laws in other platforms¡¯ operating procedures. You have executed judgment without trial on the underlings of platforms other than your own, and your ungodly obsession with purity has severely limited our ability to collect intelligence on the enemy. We are all done tolerating these practices, and it must change!¡±


    ¡°Never! Our purity is what makes us strong!¡± Skar snarled.


    The council room broke into an uproar. Priests and elders cried protests at the zealots, but the zealots stood stoic by their word.


    Father held up his hand, silencing the council room. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter what you think anymore, my old friend. You may hold two votes because you hold the head platform, but with the voice of the priests, the elders, and my voice sided with them, it¡¯s three against two.¡±


    ¡°You want to unseat us?¡± Skar spat at the Arbiter. Then he turned to the other platforms. ¡°And which of you will fill the vacancy?¡±


    Father interjected before the other platforms could respond. ¡°No, I will not impeach you, Grandmaster.¡±


    The cries of protest now turned against Father, and Vidder impulsively stepped forward protectively. How dare they criticize such a perfect figure?


    Father stood his ground and waited for the cries to die down. ¡°I won¡¯t impeach you yet, so long as you agree to some of our terms. We are old friends, and I respect you enough to give you a chance.¡±


    Skar tensed. ¡°What are your terms?¡±


    ¡°For the Priests, you will withdraw completely from regulating their operating procedures and policy.¡±


    ¡°Fine.¡±


    ¡°You will stop breaking the face of underlings without trials with a representative of each party present.¡±


    ¡°Agreed,¡± Skar growled.


    ¡°You will allow the priests to adopt and start training the abandoned sons of the Relrin¡¯s for infiltration purposes.¡±


    ¡°Out of the question!¡± Skar spat. ¡°We will not take their Mother-killing blood among us willingly.¡±


    ¡°Then, so help me, I will pull you off that platform with my own two hands, Skar!¡± Father roared back at him.


    Vidder felt a tingle of awe at his Father''s power; Father didn¡¯t need Vidder to protect him. He was entirely in control. Vidder stepped back again; he was only worthy to stand in Father¡¯s shadow.


    Skar slumped back into his seat, pale and beaten.


    ¡°And finally, you will give me the authority to restore the faces of those I deem worthy,¡± Father said.


    ¡°That is the decision of the entire council. The zealots don¡¯t have the authority to grant those privileges alone.¡±


    ¡°Who opposes the notion?¡± Father asked as he looked around.


    ¡°Within reason?¡± High priest Hagen glanced at Chief Elder Jorgensen, who shrugged. ¡°Very well.¡±A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    ¡°I¡¯ll have this right added to my statutes. What further demands do you have?¡± Father asked the priests and elders.


    The priests and elders looked at each other. Some were smiling in satisfaction, others scowling in discontent, but their leaders spoke up. ¡°We are content.¡±


    ¡°As are we.¡±


    The blow was dealt. There was no way Father would see such a drastic change in government so quickly, so he took subtle steps. The combined council had confronted and humiliated the zealot.


    ¡°Very well,¡± Father said, ¡°but let this serve as a warning. If you violate any of these conditions again or step out of line as little as an inch, we will remove you without hesitation.¡±


    Skar didn¡¯t respond. He simply glared at Father from across the room.


    ¡°Draw up records for these new conditions, and if there is no objection, I declare this emergency council adjourned,¡± Father said.


    The council broke up, and Vidder followed Father out of the council chambers onto the fourth-level deck of Pit One. They headed for the nearest lift when a call from behind stopped them.


    ¡°Arbiter,¡± Grandmaster Skar called as he ran after them.


    Vidder growled in annoyance. Who was Skar to summon Father like a dog?


    Skar ran up to them with his zealot¡¯s robe billowing behind him. ¡°Arbiter.¡±


    Vidder stepped between them protectively as Skar approached them.


    ¡°Why?¡± Skar demanded betrayal in his eyes. ¡°After so many years of support, why are you siding with them now?¡±


    Father turned to face the aged grandmaster. ¡°Because Skar, your people have stolen not one but several of my sons. What kind of Father would I be if I didn¡¯t look after my children?¡± Father lovingly placed his hand on Vidder¡¯s shoulder.


    Vidder felt his valor flair at Father¡¯s touch, like tongues of fire twisting inside him.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know. If you would mark your sons, I would ensure you that my people wouldn¡¯t touch them.¡±


    ¡°I do mark my sons, Grandmaster, but they will remain hidden behind the mask of the common drone.¡±


    ¡°Why? Why not factionalize yourself like the others?¡±


    ¡°Factions are a thing of men. I am doing the work of old gods,¡± Father said. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t understand, and I don¡¯t ask you to. I ask you to be more tolerant of your brothers and their needs.¡±


    ¡°I know you have done so much for us. You have given us strength unparallel with our rivals. But we could have settled this between us privately. Why are you working with them?¡±


    In response, Father simply turned and started to walk away.


    ¡°Arbiter!¡± Skar snapped, ¡°Do not ignore me!¡± He started after him, but Vidder put a warning hand against Skar¡¯s chest. He could feel the old man¡¯s heartbeat just behind the frail ribcage. It would be so easy to dig in and pull it out. ¡°Arbiter!¡±


    Father whirled to face him. ¡°Because you are my friend, and we would soon have a civil war if I didn''t. We must keep the clan united.¡±


    ¡°We would prevail.¡±


    ¡°Do you honestly think the zealots would win a war against the elders and the priests?¡±


    ¡°We are the elite.¡±


    Father snorted. ¡°The priests alone could overthrow the zealots. They have been preparing for it for fifteen years. They created the Architects as a check on your power.¡±


    ¡°Why do you think we were regulating their training ¨C and we can¡¯t do that any longer thanks to you.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome,¡± Father replied. ¡°I don¡¯t want you to pass away in the night by the hand of some Reaper. You will find room to forgive me. In the meantime, tread carefully, my old friend.¡±


    They left the baffled grandmaster as they started to head back to the lift. No lift went all the way to the fourth tier, so they would need to catch a different lift down on the third level.


    Vidder sniffed the air and was instantly assaulted by frustration as the familiar scent closed in. Edgar was crafty. Vidder wouldn¡¯t have known if his nose wasn¡¯t so effective. With a sigh, he turned to the Arbiter ¡°Father.¡±


    ¡°Yes, my son?¡±


    ¡°That reaper is following us, the brother of Niklas Loga.¡±


    ¡°Then he is good,¡± Father nodded affirmingly. ¡°I would have never known.¡±


    ¡°My eyes deceive me, but my nose is true.¡±


    ¡°Yes, it is. Talk to him, get him off of our tail, Vidder.¡±


    ¡°You have a tail?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not what I mean,¡± Father chuckled. ¡°Divert his attention.¡±


    ¡°What should I tell him?¡±


    ¡°Tell him the truth. Tell him that you are going to find Niklas.¡±


    ¡°I am?¡± Vidder asked in surprise.


    ¡°Yes, I need you to find the Nightbeast, the White Spider, and the Troll. All those who the zealots have foolishly stolen from me.¡±


    ¡°It will be done, Father.¡±


    Sniffing the air, Vidder broke away from the Arbiter and followed his nose to an elder¡¯s hut. ¡°Come out, Edgar,¡± he said.


    A figure rose from the shadows on the roof.


    ¡°I know that you have been following me. What do you want?¡±


    Edgar dropped from the roof in front of Vidder, his Reaper''s mask donned on his face and his Reaper¡¯s blade on his back. ¡°How did you know?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m vigilant,¡± Vidder shrugged.


    ¡°No one is that vigilant.¡±


    ¡°Maybe you¡¯re not as good as you think?¡±


    Edgar snorted. ¡°Few are as good as I. Why are you interested in Niklas? You never told me, and I came to figure it out.¡±


    Vidder sighed. ¡°I was hoping to spare you a long sob story. But if you must know, I used to serve as a drone in Niklas¡¯ unit. He was good to me, and I didn¡¯t have any friends. We have been close since then.¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± Edgar pondered. ¡°You were a drone in his unit; you are now an officer, and yet, at this moment, you wear a drone mask and stand on the fourth level.¡±


    Vidder cursed, caught in his lie. He had so many masks he frequently forgot which one he was wearing.


    ¡°If I recall correctly, having two faces is quite forbidden,¡± Edgar said, stepping forward. ¡°Punishable by death.¡±


    ¡°I have special authorization and my own reasons,¡± Vidder said


    Edgar stepped in and placed two fingers on Vidder¡¯s throat.


    Pulse detection. Vidder realized too late he was digging himself deeper.


    ¡°Are you who you say you are?¡± Edgar asked.


    Vidder¡¯s confidence wavered, and surely Edgar had already felt it. Seizing Edgar¡¯s wrist, Vidder forced Edgar¡¯s hand away from his neck. Vidder tried to not use too much strength, as it would be unnatural, but Edgar cried out in surprise.


    ¡°Listen, Edgar Loga,¡± Vidder hissed, letting all facade slip. ¡°You can let me help find your brother, or you can cross me again, and I will kill you.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t cross you?¡± Edgar gasped. ¡°Who are you? You¡¯re not in any records, elder¡¯s priests or zealot.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not for you to know,¡± Vidder warned. ¡°You¡¯ve plowed into a field that was to remain unturned. Back out now, or you will die.¡±


    Edgar narrowed his eyes regarding Vidder in all consideration. ¡°I¡¯m a reaper. I represent the Architects.¡±


    ¡°We both know that¡¯s not true. You¡¯re here alone because you¡¯re looking for your brother, even if you were...¡± Vidder grabbed Edgar¡¯s hand and pulled the Reaper''s fingers back to his neck. ¡°...I¡¯ve killed reapers before.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Edgar gasped in disbelief at Vidder¡¯s pulse, allowing his hand to drop. ¡°It¡¯s true.¡±


    ¡°I am going after Niklas. I think he is with the Relrins.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Edgar cried in surprise. ¡°Why...how¡­that doesn¡¯t make any sense.¡±


    ¡°Feel free to search the under level for him. But I¡¯m searching Relgar.¡±


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t make any sense. Why would Niklas go to Relgar?¡±


    ¡°Are you sure you know your brother at all? Or were you gone in the moments when he needed you most?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know what I¡¯ve done to be able to protect him!¡± Edgar snapped at Vidder.


    Vidder broke out into a fit of laughter. ¡°And a fine job you have done.¡±


    Clearly enraged, Edgar reached back and grabbed the pommel of his sword.


    Vidder looked around gleefully to see that there was no one around, no witnesses. ¡°Please do, Edgar.¡±


    Edgar froze. ¡°What¡¯s wrong with you? You¡¯re unarmed, and you want to fight me?¡±


    Vidder shrugged. ¡°Weapons are for the work of men. I am about the work of the old gods.¡±


    Edgar released his weapon and backed away. ¡°If you hurt my brother, I will rip you apart, and I will do it with my hands.¡± He turned to leave.


    ¡°No fight?¡± Vidder asked disappointedly.


    ¡°Not today,¡± Edgar spun and disappeared around the corner.


    Vidder frowned in disappointment. He was getting restless. He needed valor to claim. But he had been unable to find a fight in a while. Something was different about this Edgar. He felt dangerous. He could hinder Father''s plans, not stop, but delay them.


    Should he just kill Edgar? It could be the easier option. A Reaper was an asset, but Edgar was by no means under Vidder¡¯s control. He was crafty, sly, cunning even.


    Niklas was probably getting further and further. Vidder couldn¡¯t afford to get distracted. With a growl of discontent, he turned to his task on hand ¨C finding Niklas.

 12 The Lumber Yard.

    When Niklas woke up, his pulsing headache had escalated. His room spun as he sat up. He grunted when the room finally stopped spinning. He combatted his vertigo by clutching the side of his cot. Aside from the smarting dizziness, something was missing. He didn¡¯t feel like himself at all. He had no drive, no fire, no valor.


    Niklas groaned, slipped off his cot, weaving his way past the sleeping boys, and made his way to a wooden basin and cracked mirror. He poured some water into the tub and plunged his head into the water, hoping to drive the pulse away. His head ached horribly just behind the eyes.


    Pulling himself out, he studied the mirror. His eyes were bloodshot, and his brand was a garish mash of white and red. He looked as exhausted as he felt. Something was wrong. He needed something.


    Two days in Pit Forest, three asleep, and five days with the Sommerfeldts, it had been almost two weeks since he had Med!


    Niklas cried out as he realized that the last of his Med must have been entirely out of his system. He bit his fist and gagged. Phantasmal panic tickled his mind. He had an unscratchable itch in his head, lingering and teasing him. The med¡¯s familiar warmth didn¡¯t burn within. He was partial and incomplete.


    A disturbed muttering drew his attention from the ache and helped him push it back just a bit. Outside, herdsmen discussed something urgently. Niklas cradled his head for a moment before pulling on a stiff shirt.


    The drone pushed his way out into the common area in the compound. Ivar and Frode stood in the still dark morning with a dozen other herdsmen and Relrin mothers. Careful not to look directly at any of the mothers, Niklas approached Ivar and Tord. They were arguing, but Niklas didn¡¯t hear what it was about. He stood by Ivar and listened.


    ¡°How did it get past the gate?¡± the head herdsman demanded.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know!¡±


    Another anxiously said, ¡°There are no signs of digging or damage to the fence.¡±


    ¡°Could it have jumped?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s possible, but highly unlikely.¡±


    ¡°What happened?¡± Niklas muttered at Ivar, not wanting to butt into their conversation.


    ¡°Wolf,¡± he answered. ¡°Got in and killed a cow last night.¡±


    Tord, generally quiet, looked sick to his stomach.


    ¡°Hmm,¡± Niklas grunted. Usually, news of such things would have fed his valor and urged him to action. A hunt for the beast at the very least, but without the familiar warmth, he felt genuinely disinterested.


    A few of the men shook their heads at the news and started to head for the gate.


    ¡°Are they going to investigate?¡± Niklas asked.


    ¡°Who, them?¡± Ivar asked, ¡°No, they¡¯re workmen headed for the mills.¡±


    ¡°Workmen? They¡¯re going to earn cesh?¡± Niklas asked, suddenly interested.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Ivar chuckled. ¡°Lill told me you ¡®had¡¯ to get 2000 cesh in two weeks.¡± He smiled as though that were the most amusing thing he had heard in his entire life.


    ¡°Yeah!¡± Niklas said eagerly. ¡°Should I go with them?¡±


    Ivar laughed out loud this time, ¡°You might miss your goal by three years, but the sawmill is the quickest way to earn some quick cesh. It¡¯s not fun work. I hear there''s a lot of turnaround, but only so many spots are available.¡±


    ¡°Where do I go?¡± Niklas asked frantically.


    ¡°Follow Robin,¡± Ivar instructed, ¡°He¡¯s the guy in the brown shirt with the lighter hair.¡±


    Bidding Ivar thanks, Niklas jogged after the man as instructed. To his relief, the jarring in his leg was gone. Perhaps the last of his med burned away fixing it. His back and head still ached.


    ¡°Robin?¡± Niklas asked.


    The Relrin man turned as Niklas called his name. He had an athletic build, impure Relrin hair, and blue eyes. Perhaps he was part Leoshawn or Freven.


    ¡°Robin?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± he spoke with a faint accent.


    ¡°I¡¯m looking for work,¡± Niklas explained. ¡°Ivar was telling me that you worked at some mill?¡±


    Robin looked Niklas up and down. ¡°I don¡¯t want to get your hopes up. Employment is competitive. Yesterday, close to twenty men were waiting in line for someone to quit so they could take his place.¡±


    ¡°Do you think there will be a spot for me?¡±


    Robin frowned slightly. ¡°It¡¯s possible but unlikely. They would only consider hiring a gray skin if they were desperate for hands, and you were the last option.¡± He spoke of Niklas¡¯ race with less spite than the Teaman had before and more as a point of fact, probably because of his potential foreign background. The deep-rooted animosity between Sharderins and Relrins didn¡¯t necessarily extend to Colgans or Leoshawns.


    Niklas clenched his jaw at the news, nonetheless. So his skin would condemn him at the mill as well?


    ¡°I¡¯m happy to take you,¡± Robin said. ¡°Just don¡¯t get your hopes up.¡±


    Niklas nodded in agreement. His headache grew fierce and would only continue if he didn¡¯t find something to do.


    They hiked about two miles to a gated cement facility beside the river. Niklas followed Robin past the wall and into an open workyard surrounded by roof-covered machines. Straight saws groaned as they cycled up and down, turned by large wheels in the water. Other machinery rattled and grunted. Niklas smelled freshly cut wood and sweat, making a distinct impression of a workstation back home.


    ¡°Wait here,¡± Robin instructed. ¡°I¡¯ll ask around, but my shift is starting soon. I¡¯ll get back to you at lunch.¡±


    He trotted off, leaving Niklas in the center of the yard. People were busily about, and Niklas sat against an empty wooden stall.


    Niklas was unimpressed with the production facility. Relrins still relied on hydropower. Sharderin mills yielded much more efficient results with the help of prylux generators.


    As Niklas waited, his mind grew idle, allowing room for his headache to reign.


    Time ticked on, and he grew restless; watching the laborers work at an agonizing pace made his Drone instincts twitch. As a Drone, manual labor was his life outside of training and sleeping, and it had been almost two weeks since he had done any real work.


    Two men walked past him, looking disappointed. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter that workers quit every day. There¡¯s always more looking than quitting. It¡¯ll be at least two weeks before we find a spot¡­ ¡± Niklas overheard one of them say.


    ¡°Let¡¯s try the fields,¡± the other suggested as they left the yard.


    Two weeks? Niklas thought despairingly.


    That wouldn¡¯t do at all. Niklas only had two weeks to raise 2000 cesh and didn¡¯t intend to spend two weeks sitting in a line.


    Niklas got off the stall and turned to search for different work. He could try the fields like the other two men.


    It was a shame. The Relrins in the yard worked painstakingly slowly. Too bad fifty other lazy men would get the chance at employment before a Sharderin Drone.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Niklas stopped as an idea dawned on him. He knew he was easily worth three of these Relrin Workers. He had been watching them for a while now. Why shouldn¡¯t they know that? Besides, he would go mad if he didn¡¯t do something to take his mind off the blasted headache.


    Niklas trotted into the eastern yard, where bored-looking men were stacking planks. One was trying to pull out a piece of timber that was too long and awkward for him to grab himself. Niklas slid over and caught the end. With two sets of hands, it was much easier to balance.


    The man glanced at Niklas in surprise. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Niklas couldn¡¯t blame him. He had never seen Niklas before. But then he shrugged; help was help. It was time to show them what it meant to be a Drone.


    Niklas leaned against a stack of freshly sawed timbers with his arms folded across his chest and a content smile on his face. Finally, he had a chance to be in his element and work.


    The scabs on his back oozed with puss. They had gotten infected. He doubted it would soak through the thick, sweat-drenched shirt so others could see it.


    The other men were caught up in lazy banter, and Niklas smiled. His coworkers lounged around the lumber yard while they told rude jokes and funny stories. The Relrin men lacked discipline; that much was clear. That didn¡¯t help their blatant hatred for work.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on here?¡± a foreman barked at the lumber team as he stormed into their section. He was a weaselly man with a large vein bulging on his forehead.


    Like roaches in the light, the workmen scattered, trying to look busy and useful. There wasn¡¯t any more work to do, so they fumbled awkwardly. One of them tripped over his own feet.


    ¡°Would anybody care to tell me what is happening here? Taking an extra lunch, are we?¡± the Foreman demanded.


    ¡°Well, er,¡± the crew leader stammered.


    ¡°What time is it?¡± the Foreman demanded as he jabbed a long, crooked finger at the clock hanging above the yard.


    ¡°Eh, two-fifteen, sir.¡±


    ¡°Then why?¡± The foreman shrieked, shaking his finger at the crew leader''s face. ¡°Do I come here at two-fifteen and find your whole crew sitting on their arses?¡±


    ¡°We uh...filled the quota, sir,¡± the petrified crew leader stammered.


    The foreman suddenly became aware of the neat stacks of wood that filled the yard. His face twisted with a confused look, and then he let out a bark of laughter. ¡°Of all the lumber crews, I never would have thought that you lot would finish a daily quota, not to mention this early.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t look at us,¡± one man stammered. ¡°It was the new guy.¡± He earned a bunch of scowls from his comrades.


    ¡°New guy?¡± the foreman asked. ¡°What new guy? Your crew doesn¡¯t have any¨C¡± He stopped short when he saw Niklas vigilantly watching the exchange.


    Niklas stood out with his long, matted hair pulled back in his Drones ponytail and comparatively gray skin.


    ¡°You,¡± he said. ¡°Who are you?¡±


    ¡°Drone Niklas Loga.¡± Niklas silently cursed himself. He said Drone out of habit, but it wasn¡¯t a rank they would recognize here. The Foreman either didn¡¯t notice or care.


    ¡°I don¡¯t care who you are. What are you doing here?¡±


    ¡°Working,¡± Niklas said dumbly. What kind of question was that?


    ¡°I can see that,¡± he snapped. ¡°Who sent you? I wasn¡¯t told we would have a transfer.¡±


    ¡°I came by myself,¡± Niklas shot back. ¡°I just need something to do.¡±


    ¡°You mean you don¡¯t even work here?¡± the foreman shrieked, his forehead vein pulsing dangerously.


    Niklas frowned. He could see it now. The foreman was the kind of man who never found fault with himself. He could find anything wrong at any given time and found his purpose in life by inflating it. Unfortunately, Niklas knew such people from before. He had worked with several Drones like that back home. Needless to say, they weren¡¯t well-liked by their comrades.


    ¡°Yes, that is what I mean!¡± Niklas snapped, growing impatient. He expected the familiar flicker of valor to come, but it didn¡¯t.


    ¡°Well, I hope you¡¯re not expecting to be paid.¡±


    ¡°I haven''t asked you for a single cesh, have I?¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t have any openings,¡± the foreman said. ¡°Apply like normal, and don¡¯t try to skip the line, corpse.¡±


    Niklas felt his flesh run hot. He had heard the name before. As kids, Edgar explained it to him. Corpse was a crude name Relrins gave Sharderins because of their gray skin, white hair, and dark eyes. Sharderins looked ghostly, or even dead, to Relrins.


    Niklas spat at the foreman''s boots, spun on his heel, and marched out. He cursed the foreman in Sharderic.


    These Relrins were no different from Sharderins. Being born as a half-caste had doomed Niklas in both worlds. If the foreman couldn¡¯t see the value Niklas added to his team, he didn¡¯t deserve him.


    Niklas got to the yard''s edge when he heard someone calling after him. A man ran close behind.


    ¡°Corpse!¡± the man called.


    His tone didn¡¯t suggest spite, but the word was rude, so Niklas ignored him.


    ¡°Hey, corpse!¡± the man panted as he caught up to Niklas.


    Niklas spun abruptly to face him. Yesterday, with the lingering warmth and valor, Niklas very well could have seized him and shaken him like a madman, but today he didn''t have that fire. He felt only cold, and the man saw it in his eyes. Not the savage heat of a Sharderin warrior but the cold, piercing eyes of someone who could almost spit icy venom into his face with just a glance.


    The man hesitated.


    ¡°Call me corpse one more time,¡± Niklas hissed. ¡°And I will run you through the saw.¡±


    By his face, Niklas could tell that the man was trying to decide how serious Niklas was being. Niklas towered over him. With Niklas¡¯ barreled chest and broad shoulders, the man chose not to find out.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± the man said, raising his palms in a gesture of peace.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± Niklas asked, still agitated by the foreman¡¯s squealing.


    ¡°I have a job for you,¡± he said.


    ¡°The positions are full,¡± Niklas said, somewhat depressed. ¡° Your boss made that clear.¡±


    ¡°Sigegar? He¡¯s not my boss. He is a fool. And my competition.¡±


    Competition? Niklas paused. It was a word he understood, one he lived and breathed his entire life.


    ¡°I am a foreman for the western yard,¡± he explained cautiously, probably still considering the statement about the saw. ¡°The name is Osred.¡± He offered his hand.


    Niklas recognized the offered hand and thought back to Wilbur Teaman, offering the same gesture. Maybe Niklas could look past Osred, calling him a corpse. Perhaps he didn¡¯t mean it.


    ¡°Niklas,¡± Niklas said, surprised to find himself accepting his hand. This was a Relrin, Niklas hated Relrin¡¯s...right?


    ¡°Niklas, I was watching you work,¡± Osred said. ¡°I need you on my crew.¡±


    ¡°That rat said you couldn¡¯t afford more hands,¡± Niklas said ruefully. Still, he felt a glimmer of hope.


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t afford hands?¡± Osred asked, baffled. ¡°I couldn¡¯t afford not to have your hands. You were working like an ox. Come join my crew. Sigegar is a fool and too stupid to see an opportunity.¡±


    Niklas snorted in agreement.


    ¡°Where policy says that you will start at the regular wage, I¡¯m afraid I will have to start you at half wage, as we are already overstaffed.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Niklas said in despair. He still had no clue how large the task of accumulating 2000 cesh would be, but Dr. Geoffrey had scoffed at him and his people and didn¡¯t believe it was possible. Niklas was going to show him. If not for himself for the valor of the Sharderin race. Niklas would prove him wrong, but half wages wouldn¡¯t work. It wasn¡¯t even a way to start. ¡°I can¡¯t do that.¡± Niklas shook his head sadly and turned to leave.


    ¡°But there is room for promotion!¡± Osred cried after him.


    ¡°Dismiss one of your other workers from duty. Make way for a full wage,¡± Niklas said hopefully. ¡°You need efficiency. I¡¯ll bring it.¡±


    ¡°You won¡¯t find this kind of work anywhere else. I am being quite generous, bending the rules for you!¡± Osred said desperately, not thrilled by Niklas¡¯ idea to lay someone off.


    ¡°Is Sharderin labor worth less to you?¡± Niklas asked, trying to figure out why Osred was so reluctant.


    ¡°That has nothing to do with it!¡± He sounded offended. ¡°I can¡¯t just fire people. They have families.¡±


    Niklas looked at Osred, trying to gauge him. Osred was probably a man who hated conflict. As crucial as his duty in the yard was, he also likely felt responsible for his workers.


    Niklas found that strange: Drone workers worked hard or were disciplined. Project progression was all that mattered back in Pit Forest.


    ¡°Keep up the hard work, and I will see what I can do to get you a full wage,¡± Osred tried.


    Niklas tensed, his jaw frustrated. He had his own goals, and that was all that mattered to him. Yet again, Niklas realized that this place wouldn¡¯t be easy, that there was a whole new world that he didn''t understand. He knew he was worth more than half a wage but couldn¡¯t help but believe the Foreman. Perhaps this was his best option. Maybe he should continue his work hunt...But what if Osred was right? What if this was his best option? Then would he waste precious time finding new work?


    Niklas bit his tongue. ¡°Very well,¡± he accepted, still dejected by his partial offer.


    ¡°Great, you start tomorrow.¡± Osred sounded relieved


    ¡°No,¡± Niklas countered, ¡°the day after.¡± He could feel his body¡¯s fatigue and his blasted headache. He had pushed himself as a demonstration. He was also still injured and wanted a chance to rest. He intended to perform as expected. Plus, it would give him some time to look around and see if there were any better options.


    Osred raised an eyebrow. ¡°Very well. Be in the western yard when the caravan arrives.¡±


    ¡°How much is a half wage?¡±


    ¡°Full wage is fourteen cesh and four raskers a week.¡±


    Niklas did some quick math in his head, and his heart fell. The others were right. He would be working until he was an old man. That set his mind running. He had to make this work.


    Niklas nodded and thanked Osred, who jogged back to his yard while Niklas waited for Robin.


    Niklas dozed for a while on an empty wood stall to drown his headache when Robin woke him up grinning.


    ¡°Foreman Osred told me that he offered you a job!¡± He sounded ecstatic.


    ¡°He has me on half-wage,¡± Niklas muttered.


    Robin shrugged. ¡°There were at least eighteen people on the waiting list. You skipped them all. That isn¡¯t so bad. Who knew working for nothing could get you places.¡±


    ¡°Hey, Robin.¡±


    ¡°Hmm?¡±


    ¡°Are you a debtbond?¡± Niklas understood the dynamic of debt and debtor much better after he had Ivar explain again in detail how debt and money worked in Relgar.


    His face fell, and he nodded.


    ¡°How much?¡±


    ¡°Eight hundred cesh, a few more years between my brother, sister, and I, and we¡¯ll be free.¡±


    ¡°How would you like to be free in a few weeks?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not possible.¡± He said cautiously.


    ¡°It won¡¯t be easy,¡± Niklas warned.


    He laughed. ¡°I¡¯ve worked my whole life to be rid of the debt my parents accumulated. It has never been easy.¡±


    ¡°All right,¡± Niklas said. ¡°You and I will outwork the rest of the yard, then we threaten to leave and make them buy us back.¡±


    He let out a bark of laughter. ¡°You think that will work?¡±


    ¡°It will be hard,¡± Niklas cautioned. ¡°You have to work harder than you have your whole life.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll bite,¡± he agreed. ¡°Half the time, the other guys just sit around anyways.¡±


    Niklas smiled, a cheap imitation of Edgar¡¯s wolfish grin. ¡°Let¡¯s show them what real men can do.¡±

 13 Our yard.

    The extra day proved to be much needed and was well received. Niklas¡¯ headache matured, and he spent the day in bed. He endured the day full of insufferable med cravings. Lill attended to him with great care, but she was beyond confused. His infected lash marks had been healing at a tremendous pace until his med burned out. Now, they were left to recover a bit more naturally. His face was more or less normal now. The deep scabs of his faceless mark were the only thing that stood out.


    By the next day, Niklas¡¯ headache had died down a bit, and he found a tiny familiar flicker of valor. Not the fierce fire of valor the med caused, but the candlelight sense of valor that he suspected all men carried naturally. It was an instinctive fire that drove men to act and fight.


    Better as he felt, he still had no cesh. So he was up early with Robin as they made their way to the lumberyard, sure to be the first to arrive.


    A short time later, Niklas ignored the sweat on his brow as he accepted another log from Robin. He ran it through the frame saw. The saw groaned as it spat wood chips in the air. Sore and satisfied, sawdust began to build in a pile at his feet.


    Niklas and Robin had found several ways to cut back on time. Not wasting motion or getting distracted, they made far more progress on their workload than everyone else in the yard. While focused on his work, Niklas avoided thinking about med.


    The bell sounded, signaling them it was time for the third break. Robin looked at Niklas hopefully, but Niklas shook his head.


    ¡°Niklas!¡± he gasped. ¡°We have already skipped our first two breaks. If I don¡¯t rest, I¡¯ll burn out before the end of the day.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Niklas said, noting Robin¡¯s obvious fatigue. He could tell Robin was trying his best to be stoic, but now he was reaching his breaking point. Robin had worked as hard as any Sharderin Drone Niklas knew, but it was taking its toll. ¡°Soon,¡± Niklas promised encouragingly.


    ¡°Niklas, the next break isn¡¯t for two hours,¡± he tried hopefully.


    ¡°Our next break will be soon,¡± Niklas insisted, though honestly, he was still struggling to figure out the next steps in the plan.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Robin asked, the panic of exhaustion dripping from his voice.


    ¡°Trust me,¡± Niklas said, nodding with respect. Robin¡¯s efforts today had far passed any Relrin Niklas had seen yet.


    Two men glared at them as they trudged back to the break hut. The spite was apparent in their eyes. Niklas could feel their dislike.


    ¡°What is their problem?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Robin shrugged. ¡°They may think we are shooting for position.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with that?¡± Niklas asked. ¡°We are.¡±


    ¡°That sort of thing is frowned upon here,¡± Robin cautioned. ¡°People can get jealous and start to feel insecure.¡±


    He looked after them troubled.


    ¡°Are you worried?¡± Niklas asked, ¡°Do you care about their judgment?¡±


    ¡°No! It¡¯s not that.¡±


    ¡°You fear them?¡± Niklas asked, still unsure of his comrade''s unrest.


    ¡°Look,¡± Robin started, ¡°if enough men in the yard hate us too much, they could drive us out. It¡¯s happened before.¡±


    ¡°Well then. I¡¯ll go talk to them,¡± Niklas offered as he set down a plank and started after them.


    ¡°No!¡± Robin cried. ¡°We just ought to be careful, that¡¯s all.¡±


    Niklas couldn¡¯t help but feel amused. He concluded that Robin feared not only conflict but the very idea of confrontation itself. It was very different from the Sharderin society Niklas grew up in. Competition was the lifeblood of his people. Rivalry was their friendship, contention, their play.


    ¡°Don¡¯t mind them,¡± Niklas said. ¡°If they dislike us for our competence, let¡¯s hope they hate us.¡±


    Robin nodded but still looked worried.


    The bell sounded, and the workers filed back into the yard.


    ¡°It¡¯s time,¡± Niklas said, dusting off his hands.


    ¡°For what?¡±


    ¡°Break.¡±


    ¡°No, Niklas, that bell was to signal the end of the break. We should have gone in with them.¡±


    ¡°Come on,¡± Niklas commanded as he started toward the break-hut. ¡°It¡¯s all part of the plan.¡±


    Robin flinched as he hesitated but left their workstation to follow.


    ¡°Hey, corpse!¡± a voice carried from behind.


    Niklas stopped, his eyes flashing dangerously. The flicker of valor inside was just enough to make him care.


    ¡°If you wanted a break, you should have taken one on the schedule.¡±


    Niklas turned to face the man. He was much smaller than Niklas. Was this man stupid? Did he not know math? Niklas was bigger than him in every way.


    Niklas approached the small man, drowning him in his shadow. Niklas stuck his nose inches from the man''s face, and the man shrunk from him, eyes widened.


    Niklas smiled. His assumptions were correct. The Relrins were weak. This was a man who was unaccustomed to confrontation or contention.


    Back in Pit, Niklas might have grabbed the small man and beat him down until he apologized, but the fire inside was so small that seeing him shrivel was enough.


    Niklas snorted, spun on his heel, and walked to the break hut.


    ¡°Niklas, what were you doing?¡± Robin demanded. ¡°Management will discharge you instantly if you fight in the yard.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t fight,¡± Niklas pointed out as he recalled what he had to do back home whenever he switched units. ¡°I proved myself.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what life was like in the haunted wood, but this behavior is unacceptable here.¡±


    Niklas¡¯ confidence wavered for a moment, and he stopped to ponder. Everyone had told him to blend in, first Lill and now Robin. They spoke with fear. Was he growing reckless? Or was their timid attitude what kept them down?


    Niklas was half-Relrin; the Drones back home ensured he didn¡¯t forget that. That didn¡¯t change the fact that he was raised a Sharderin. That¡¯s who he was, so that¡¯s who he would be, med or no med.


    Niklas saw Foreman Osred squinting inquisitively at a ledger, obviously struggling to determine what it said. He glanced at them as they approached.


    ¡°Is something wrong?¡± he asked.


    ¡°We¡¯re taking a break,¡± Niklas told him.


    ¡°You want to take a break?¡± Osred asked, shifting uncomfortably. ¡°The next break isn¡¯t for another two hours.¡± He fidgeted. ¡°Policy gives us four set breaks,¡± he explained, growing stiff.


    Niklas smiled as he watched the man squirm.


    Remarkable, every one of them. Could there be a more convenient culture in which a Sharderin could excel? They all hated conflict. Niklas could use this to his advantage.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°No,¡± Niklas interrupted, facing Osred head-on. ¡°Policy gives them four breaks,¡± he said as he gestured to the laboring men in the yard. ¡°We will break whenever we want.¡±


    Osred didn¡¯t respond, using whatever was written on the ledger as an excuse to not deal with the disobedient workers in front of him.


    Niklas sighed in irritation as he took the ledger from Osred¡¯s hands and looked at it. He quickly found his problem. Whoever made the order had jammed too much writing in one box.


    ¡°It says sixteen shelves of thirteen by eleven and a half and eight shelves of eight by five,¡± he said and handed it back.


    Osred looked at Niklas with a look of sheer panic and grabbed him by the wrist. Leaving the bewildered Robin behind, he towed Niklas away from the yard into the makeshift office.


    ¡°You can read?¡± Osred demanded.


    ¡°Sure,¡± Niklas said. ¡°Relric, Sharderic, and Colgan. I¡¯m not bad either.¡±


    ¡°You sound like you can barely speak Relric. How can you read it?¡±


    Niklas snorted. ¡°Reading your language is much easier than speaking it. I was proficient at writing Relric before I tested out in speaking.¡±


    Osred turned visibly pale.


    Why was it such a big deal? And why was he struggling to¡­ realization dawned on Niklas. ¡°You can¡¯t read, can you?¡±


    Osred looked at Niklas, worried. ¡°Mostly just numbers. In fact, it¡¯s only because I can understand numbers that I am in charge of this yard.¡±


    Niklas let out a bark of laughter. ¡°You mean none of the workers can read?¡± he asked, gesturing toward the yard.


    ¡°They wouldn¡¯t exactly be working here if they could,¡± Osred muttered.


    ¡°Then I am the most valuable Drone here!¡± Niklas realized.


    Osred nodded. ¡°See, that¡¯s why I asked you to come here. I need my job for my family. I need you not to tell anyone you can read,¡± he begged.


    ¡°Hmm,¡± Niklas mused. He owed this man nothing. If he had a chance to increase his earnings, he would. Osred wasn¡¯t a friend or even his boss anymore. He was competition. There was no reason to be merciful.


    Looking into Osred¡¯s alarmed face, Niklas felt a small bout of pity. Osred was utterly helpless before him. The feeling was new and strange.


    Niklas growled at himself. Was he actually feeling sympathy for a Relrin? He was disappointed in himself, but Osred looked like a puppy being put out of its house. Niklas sighed. Edgar would laugh if he saw him.


    ¡°Do you have any women in your charge?¡±


    Osred nodded. ¡°My wife and my two daughters.¡±


    That settled it. Niklas could have easily cut Osred out of the picture and taken his place, but it would be a grave sin if three mothers struggled for rations. Niklas felt a new feeling as alien as sympathy. It felt warm. Not hot like valor, but nice. Niklas cursed in his head. He knew that he was lying to justify himself. He wasn¡¯t going to let this go completely.


    ¡°Maybe we can protect each other''s interests,¡± Niklas said in surrender to himself.


    Osred nodded with a sigh of relief.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to need a raise,¡± Niklas said.


    Osred nodded again. ¡°I will arrange for a full wage.¡±


    ¡°I think you can do better,¡± Niklas cut in. ¡°I need extra wage for both Robin and me.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t just do that!¡± Osred cried in protest. ¡°There are rules!¡±


    Niklas shrugged. ¡°You will find a way or become a Drone again, and I will get your mark.¡± Niklas bit his tongue. He was constantly slipping back into Sharderin terminology. He should have said, worker and foreman.


    Osred slumped in despair, not showing any sign of catching Niklas¡¯ mistake. ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can do,¡± he choked.


    ¡°Also, as of now, the policy only applies to the others. Robin and I will take breaks as often as we want, whenever we want to. We make the rules for us.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re crazy,¡± Osred cried. ¡°You must be blind to not see that the others don¡¯t like you. This will make them mad. They may even come after me.¡±


    ¡°Let me deal with them. And whenever you need me to read, call me in. I will read and write for you.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose I have much of a choice, do I?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Very well then¡­ deal.¡± He extended his hand.


    It was the most miserable handshake Niklas had ever seen. ¡°Don¡¯t be upset.¡± Niklas was surprised to find himself trying to comfort Osred. ¡°This is good. You just learned how to read and write. You will still take care of your women.¡±


    ¡°Thank you for understanding,¡± Osred said, as tears of a frightening moment passing came to his eyes.


    It made Niklas instantly feel awkward. Crying was shameful. It was a sign of weakness, especially over something so trivial. ¡°Hey, hey! Don¡¯t do that.¡± Niklas said.


    Osred nodded and wiped his eyes. He looked sad, broken but also relieved.


    Was Niklas repaying Osred¡¯s choice to hire him poorly? ¡°Look, Osred,¡± Niklas started, ¡°you and I have a common goal.¡±


    ¡°What is that?¡±


    ¡°We both want Western Lumber Yard to be best. It lacks efficiency.¡±


    Osred nodded knowingly.


    ¡°Your men are undisciplined. They only care to fill hours, not make progress. They cheat the mill by sitting around when you¡¯re not watching.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± Osred confessed with downcast eyes. ¡°But nothing I do works.¡±


    ¡°We can change the yard. You and I, working together.¡±


    ¡°How?¡±


    ¡°You must discipline them, Especially if they try to fight Robin or me.¡±


    ¡°Discipline them? You mean punish them?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right. You need them to know that they are in your fist. You are the boss.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s dangerous. For me, I mean. Some of the men in the yard might try to hurt me if I discipline them in your defense.¡±


    Niklas laughed. ¡°Show authority, use a firm voice, don¡¯t shrink. They will respect authority. They¡¯re already more scared of you than you know. Well, not all of them. Some openly disobey, but we need to be rid of them anyways.¡±


    ¡°How?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s easy. Bark like a dog, stand by your word, take away what they want, and reward the diligent. Set expectations. The yard will clean itself out.¡±


    ¡°They are going to hate this,¡± Osred warned.


    ¡°The yard needs it.¡±


    ¡°They already hate you, especially Tim.¡±


    Niklas looked at him inquisitively. ¡°Who¡¯s Tim?¡±


    ¡°The short, sour bloke who has been giving you nasty looks all day.¡±


    ¡°Why does Tim hate me?¡± Niklas snorted. ¡°He¡¯s little; he should watch where he walks.¡±


    ¡°Well, you¡¯re the only Sharderin here. I guess having you around makes him feel small.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t mind him. He is weak. We can only have strong men in our yard. Leave them to me. As allies, we will move our yard forward.¡±


    Osred smiled. He didn¡¯t look so sad or hopeless anymore. In fact, the promise of a better yard seemed to cheer him up considerably.


    Good. Niklas felt momentarily guilty, pressuring Osred into giving them a raise. That type of thing was basically expected back in Pit Two. Osred was a simple man. He could perceive Niklas¡¯ overbearing approach as an attack. If Niklas was seen only as a threat, then Osred would be rid of him first chance he could find. Not only that, but Niklas needed Osred¡¯s backing if he wanted to stand up to those less favorable workers in the yard.


    Niklas smiled, suddenly feeling ambitious. ¡°Let¡¯s move our yard forward, Friend.¡±


    After Niklas dismissed himself, he met a distraught Robin who was working again.


    ¡°Hey!¡± Niklas laughed as he slapped Robin on the back. ¡°Break time.¡±


    ¡°Are you fired?¡± he lamented.


    ¡°Actually, you just got a raise.¡±


    Robin¡¯s jaw hit the dirt. ¡°No!¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±


    Now, he followed Niklas to the break hut to take a long, well-earned breather.


    ¡°We both get twenty-one and a half cesh a week,¡± Niklas said.


    Robin laughed out loud and pumped his fist in the air. ¡°What? Did you threaten him?¡±


    ¡°Not exactly.¡± Niklas said, ¡°But we need to work like we¡¯re worth a hundred, do you understand?¡±


    Robin nodded intently. ¡°Slaving away might actually be worth it.¡±


    Niklas sighed as he stretched his well-worked body. He hadn¡¯t run, rucked, or worked out in two weeks, and that was no state for a drone.


    As they rested in the cool shed, Niklas watched the workers. Tim gave him dirty looks, but Niklas just smiled back. That drove Tim red with fury.


    Niklas scoped out and evaluated all of the workers from a distance. Tim wasn¡¯t the only one to glare, but two of the best workers who kept glaring at each other caught his attention.


    ¡°What¡¯s their story?¡± Niklas asked.


    ¡°Wissian and Banning?¡± Robin said. ¡°Wissian allegedly joined one of the young Rowan paramounts in an attack on some of Paramount Ripley Alred¡¯s shipments. One of Banning¡¯s brothers was working for Paramount Ripley, and I guess he got hurt.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Niklas asked dumbly at the blast of news.


    ¡°Oh, right,¡± Robin sighed. ¡°Forest man, I forgot. The Rowan house rules Estvor, a smaller region immediately to our west. A couple of their younger paramounts have been seen here and are acting out against Prime Paramount Alred.¡±


    ¡°What about?¡± Niklas asked.


    Robin shrugged. ¡°Oppression, injustice, money? I honestly don¡¯t follow politics so well.¡±


    Niklas smiled. The Relrins must have had fierce political rivalries, just as the Sharderins did. The thought made their nation look more vulnerable in his eyes.


    Niklas looked at Wissian and Banning just in time to catch another dirty look between the two. He saw an opportunity, but not today; today, they would work. Niklas gave Robin plenty of time to rest but then roused him from relaxation. ¡°Back to it.¡±


    They labored in the yard until dark. All the other workers had left hours before, but Robin managed to get with the beat and soldier on. Finally, they left weary, tired, and satisfied. Niklas¡¯ headache had all but vanished.


    They returned to the compound to find the herdsmen and Sommerfeldts gathered around a cooking campfire, laughing and telling stories. At least twenty-five people were present, including men and mothers.


    ¡°Robin!¡± a young woman cried as she filed off from the circle and threw herself at Niklas¡¯ friend, wrapping her arms around him. She had the same tint of an accent Robin had.


    Niklas shied away from them in discomfort. It felt inappropriate in every way for a moth- ... a woman to hug a man.


    ¡°Robin, where were you? It¡¯s late.¡±


    She glanced at Niklas, and he caught a glance at her in the firelight. He took another step back. He was unarmed in the woods, easing away from a bear that caught sight of him. Niklas looked away. It was her, the one who used a spell on him earlier.


    It started again, the stirring inside.


    ¡°Oh, Niklas!¡± Robin turned to him. ¡°This is my sister, Esther.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± Niklas said as he looked at his feet, unsure what else to say.


    ¡°Where have you been keeping my brother so late?¡± Esther asked, punching Niklas playfully in the arm.


    Niklas cried out and jumped back defensively.


    ¡°Easy,¡± she said evenly. ¡°You¡¯re so serious.¡±


    Niklas looked around uncomfortably, looking for anything else to call his attention. That feeling was back burning fiercer than a fresh dose of med. What was she doing to him?


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Esther asked. ¡°It¡¯s not like I¡¯ll bite.¡±


    Beads of sweat formed on his brow. He didn¡¯t want to talk to another Mother.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± Esther asked, frowning slightly. ¡°You look...ill.¡±


    Niklas grunted, caught in a bout of confusion. He had no idea how to answer her, so he stomped past her, into the Sommerfeldt¡¯s apartment, and slammed the door behind him.

 14 Wilbur’s Interest.

    Edgar sat reclined in his chair, counting gold on the table in his little apartment on the third level of Pit Two. The pile of gold was huge, covering the table completely.


    ¡°Edgar?¡± Niklas muttered as he sat up in his bunk. ¡°You can¡¯t have that, it¡¯s illegal!¡±


    Lill pushed the door open, and Rasmus and Trygve ran past her laughing. She carried a plate of steaming food. ¡°Boys!¡± she hollered at the commotion, but they scampered away.


    ¡°Lill?¡± Niklas croaked, his tired mind not making the connection that the scenario was impossible.


    She set the plate down, and Edgar stood to hug her. Niklas grimaced in discomfort and got out of his bunk.


    ¡°Come here, Niklas,¡± Lill said with a smile as she walked up to him and hugged him. Niklas cried out, kicking and squirming, but her hug was bear-tight.


    She dropped him, leaving him gasping for breath. Then Esther, Robin¡¯s sister, walked in. She smiled at Niklas, her eyes twinkling. Her face was practically glowing, with big eyes, thick hair, and a subtly vulpine face.


    ¡°Why did you run away from me?¡± she asked, seeming offended, but still her eyes twinkled. The stirring started again. Niklas just wanted to look at her, but he knew he would be trapped if he did.


    Crying out in panic, he turned and ran.


    Niklas ran down the long decks of the third level. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the Zealots chasing him, all three of them. He cried out and ran faster. ¡°Don¡¯t break my face!¡± he shouted, clutching his Drone mask to his chest.


    Niklas ran right into the Master Zealot and fell back. Somehow, the Master Zealot appeared before him, towering over him, and looked down at him as if he were a bug on the ground.


    It was then that Niklas realized he wasn¡¯t alone on the deck. Relrin mothers completely surrounded him. They gawked at him in terror. ¡°What¡¯s he doing here?¡± one of them snapped.


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t he know Drones aren¡¯t allowed on the fifth level?¡±


    Niklas¡¯ head spun. The fifth level? The sanctuary of Mothers? ¡°No!¡±


    The Zealot took off his mask to reveal Esther¡¯s face. Her hazel eyes bore into Niklas. ¡°Yes, Niklas,¡± she said. ¡°You have no valor. You haven''t taken your med.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry!¡± Niklas cried, but the mothers murmured amongst themselves as they swarmed him.


    ¡°He¡¯s faceless!¡± one cried. ¡°Back to the under level!¡±


    ¡°No!¡± Niklas pleaded as they caught hold of him and towed him to the black pit that would drop down all five levels.


    ¡°Faceless!¡± they all cried as they threw him in.


    Niklas screamed as he dropped, but he didn¡¯t fall. Instead, he glided gracefully. To his surprise, he was wearing a red Zealot¡¯s coat. It caught the air and lowered him into the black until the mothers at the fifth level were a mere pinprick of light up above.


    Niklas landed in the darkness. Everything was completely black. He looked around in panic. ¡°Edgar!¡± he cried.


    ¡°No!¡± a rumbling voice cut the air like steel plates being scrapped together.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± Niklas asked, reaching out with his fingers like a blind man. A figure stepped out of the darkness before him, and Niklas scampered back several steps.


    Hunched and dark, it stood taller than him by at least a foot and wore black rags. Its skin was wrong; it looked like it might have been twisted black marble. It had pure black eyes, as though it were looking everywhere and nowhere at once. But its most sickening feature was its horrible beak. Twisted and dark, it curved down like a hook seeking prey to latch onto.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± Niklas cried as he scrambled away.


    ¡°Feed me,¡± it hissed.


    ¡°W-What are you?¡± Niklas demanded, choking on his words. ¡°Are you Stigki? Are you god or monster?¡±


    ¡°I...Nightbeast!¡± It said as though it were trying its words out for the first time. Its voice came out warped and heavy. ¡°Feed me!¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have any food!¡± Niklas cried.


    ¡°You...are.¡±


    ¡°I am what?¡± Niklas asked in a frantic panic.


    ¡°Food!¡± It hissed and lunged.


    Niklas screamed as he bolted up in his cot. Panting and drenched in a cold sweat, his heart raced as he desperately tried to get his bearings. Cot, window, sunlight. he was still at the Sommerfeld''s.


    ¡°Frag,¡± Niklas hissed.


    The nine-year-old Rasmus looked at Niklas cautiously from his own cot. Had Niklas woken him? The two boys moved back into their room after Lill decided Niklas was no longer a stranger, and the Sommerfeldts had somehow procured a new cot for Rasmus.


    ¡°Frag!¡± Rasmus echoed.


    Niklas exhaled sharply. ¡°Don¡¯t say that.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± The boy asked.


    ¡°Because your mother doesn¡¯t want you to swear, you should obey her.¡±


    ¡°Frag is a swear?¡± Rasmus asked.


    ¡°Also, if she finds out you learned it from me, she¡¯ll flog me.¡±


    ¡°Frag,¡± Rasmus tried the word with a smile.


    Niklas sneered at the boy and sat up.


    ¡°Bad dream?¡± Rasmus asked.


    Niklas nodded still panting.


    ¡°I have bad dreams sometimes,¡± he said as he rolled back over. ¡°What was it about?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Niklas said.


    Rasmus hummed lightly to himself. Why was Rasmus already up? Lill usually woke Niklas long before the boys woke up.


    Niklas pulled off his sweat-soaked shirt and dropped it with a splat. Sunlight peeked from behind the curtains on the window. Niklas bolted from his bed.


    ¡°What time is it?¡± he demanded.


    ¡°Late,¡± Rasmus yawned. Ma said you were burning up, so she¡¯s let you sleep.¡±


    ¡°Frag!¡± Niklas winced apologetically at the boy.


    He was late; why didn¡¯t Robin get him? There was no time for that. Niklas washed his face quickly, pulled on a fresh shirt, grabbed a sack of mill bread, cheese, and fruit, and headed for the door.


    Niklas rushed out the door and almost missed Esther as she sat weaving baskets in the shade of the compound. All the others must have left early.


    ¡°Hey you!¡± she called after him as he bolted for the gate.


    He froze in his tracks.


    ¡°What¡¯s your problem?¡± she demanded. ¡°I mean last night.¡±


    Niklas cursed himself inwardly. He was late already, and now he had offended another mother. He turned to her and bowed apologetically. ¡°Forgive me!¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ve just¡­ never seen women before. You scare me!¡±


    She looked at Niklas as though someone had thrown water in her eyes, and then she threw back her head and laughed. Her laugh differed significantly from how drones laughed when they got rowdy. ¡°You¡¯re afraid of women?¡± she gasped between free-flowing tears.


    Niklas blushed a horrible shade of red. Why did he care so much about what she thought of him?


    She let out a long sigh after she contained herself. ¡°So the stories are true?¡± she asked. ¡°You¡¯re from Pit Forest, raised by actual devils?¡±


    ¡°Ye-¡±


    The gate behind him squealed open, and two men filed in. They stomped past Niklas without any semblance of acknowledgment.


    ¡°Hey, Esther!¡± one of the men called. ¡°Are your brothers here?¡±


    Without a word, she regarded them coldly and returned to her weaving.


    ¡°No, then? Good, we actually came to see you,¡± one chuckled.


    ¡°Yeah, we and a couple of the boys could scrape enough money to pay off the money your family owes Alred.¡±This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    Niklas turned to leave, and Esther rolled her eyes at them, though a flicker of fear in them caused Niklas to stop.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± she demanded. ¡°You want me to believe that you¡¯re willing to help out of the goodness of your heart?¡±


    Both men laughed at her question as they continued closer. ¡°Smart girl,¡± one of them said. ¡°Of course, if we were to help you with your problems, we would need you to...see to some of our needs.¡± He smiled humorlessly as he fingered a lock of her hair.


    Niklas shut the metal gate with a grinding squeal. Neither man noticed. Niklas slid a metal bolt on the inside.


    He felt the heat rise in his body.


    He warned himself that men touching a mother¡¯s hair might be normal. He had already messed too many things up because he didn¡¯t understand Relrin culture.


    Niklas thought back to the hug she gave Robin.


    ¡°Stop it,¡± Esther snapped as she swatted at his hand. ¡°It¡¯s not my brothers you should be worried about. I¡¯ll whip you myself.¡± She hitched up her skirt, grabbed a handful of wispy reeds, and swished them threateningly.


    The men jumped away but laughed.


    ¡°Careful!¡± one grinned at his companion. ¡°She smashed a jar of honey on Stem¡¯s head.¡±


    Niklas felt a slight rumble in his head and a shiver down his spine.


    ¡°Get out!¡± she snapped at the men, to which they let out another bout of dry laughter.


    Niklas dropped his sack and snatched an idol bucket that rested against the wall.


    Esther saw the motion from behind the men, and her eyes widened in surprise.


    Niklas cocked his shoulder back and threw the bucket at the one closest to him. The bucket whistled as it flew through the air.


    With a loud crack, the bucket nailed the man in the back of the head and sent him face-first into a water tub with soaking reeds.


    His companion cried out in surprise and turned just as Niklas slammed into him. Niklas executed his rage-fueled throw with momentum and surprise on his side. The tramp¡¯s feet swung high into the air.


    Niklas bellowed as he slammed the man onto the concrete ground.


    The man screamed with wide eyes as Niklas locked his arm out, threatening to hyperextend his elbow.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think she likes you here!¡± Niklas snarled at the whimpering man. Then he jerked the elbow, and the arm snapped.


    The man screamed louder as Niklas dropped him to the ground.


    Valor continued to come, heating his whole body. This! This was war! This is why he was born!


    The man¡¯s companion came up sputtering and wet from the wash tub. He touched the back of his head in shock. His fingers came back with blood on it. ¡°You!¡± he cried at Niklas before drawing a short work knife.


    Niklas struck the sobbing man on the ground in the nose, and the back of his head rapped against the ground. Then he turned to face the second man.


    With a snap, Niklas held his reaper''s blade and settled into Hornet Four, a defensive knife-fighting stance.


    The man stopped when he saw Niklas and then eyed Niklas¡¯ weapon, his stance, and his build.


    It didn¡¯t take a soldier to tell that the man was untrained.


    The man walked around the tub, keeping his distance, considering Niklas with the same caution he would a venomous serpent.


    Niklas smiled. Oh, how they were right to fear him. ¡°Come on!¡± Niklas growled.


    The man walked over to his moaning friend, ignoring Niklas¡¯ invitation. He grabbed him and hoisted him up. ¡°You¡¯re a dead man, corpse,¡± he snapped. His friend¡¯s nose bled freely from both nostrils.


    Niklas hissed and started after them, but they fled, yelping dogs with their tails down. They struggled with the lock before disappearing.


    Niklas felt an overwhelming surge of satisfaction as his enemies fled. Valor was his! This was what it felt like to claim valor!


    Niklas breathed deeply, his heart pounding in his chest like a cannon. His vision blurred in carnal pleasure for a moment before he remembered Esther. Deactivating his knife, he turned to her, his valor vanishing almost instantly, being replaced with concern.


    She was on her feet, wide-eyed and shocked, her work dress wet from the reed tub.


    Niklas dropped to one knee, his head bowed. ¡°Mother, I splashed your garments! Forgive me!¡±


    ¡°Mother?...Splashed?...Niklas, what did you just do?¡± she cried.


    Someone pounded on the gate, and with a screech, it swung open.


    ¡°Esther, are you okay?¡± A younger man in a green and yellow suit entered, flanked by two men armed with naked swords.


    He stopped and gapped at Niklas in bewilderment.


    ¡°Teaman?¡± Niklas gasped in surprise. Sure enough, the merchant, his brute Arth, and his other guard stood before him. What were they doing here? Niklas recalled Wilbur saying he had a friend in the compound, but Niklas never would have thought it was Esther.


    ¡°I heard some of the Rowan boys had men here. Where are they?¡± he said slowly, not taking his eyes off Niklas.


    He looked from Esther to Niklas. He seemed to be processing things still. ¡°But it seems you have already been taken care of?¡± He sounded disappointed.


    ¡°Excuse me,¡± Esther gasped. ¡°You two know each other?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve had the privilege of meeting Mr. Loga in town,¡± Wilbur said with spite in his eyes. ¡°The meeting was...disappointing.¡±


    Niklas growled inwardly as he recalled Wilbur''s foolish sermon. The man fancied himself a wolf, and Niklas didn¡¯t trust wolves.


    Esther seemed to gather her wits, then bowed her head. ¡°Mister Teaman,¡± she said, ¡°I didn¡¯t know you were in town.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he said. ¡°My trading lines bring me through Soutfel yet again. I don¡¯t like it here; I find it dirty. Be that as it is, I had to see my favorite flower while I was here.¡± He smiled at her, causing her to flush pink.


    ¡°Uh...what?¡± Niklas said, thoroughly disturbed by the way Wilbur spoke to her.


    Wilbur rolled his eyes at Niklas. ¡°Do you mind?¡± he growled.


    ¡°Do I mind what?¡±


    ¡°Giving us some space?¡±


    ¡°Oh sure,¡± Niklas gasped apologetically and gently pushed Wilbur back several paces, widening the distance between him and Esther. His guards gaped at Niklas.


    Wilbur sputtered in outrage. ¡°What are you doing?¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡± Niklas feigned ignorance. ¡°I¡¯m giving you two a more appropriate amount of space.¡±


    ¡°No, I mean, could you get out of here?¡±


    Niklas scratched his chin in thought. ¡°I suppose I could. I mean, I do have legs.¡±


    ¡°So why don¡¯t you use them and leave?¡± Wilbur growled.


    ¡°Mostly because the last men in here with Esther alone tried to touch her,¡± Niklas said.


    ¡°Go back to the hole you crawled out of!¡± Wilbur snapped, dropping any politeness he had formerly employed.


    ¡°Actually, it was a pit!¡± Niklas corrected him.


    ¡°I don¡¯t care, just go!¡±


    ¡°Oh, trust me, I¡¯ve been trying!¡± Niklas assured him. ¡°The first chance I get, I¡¯m out of here.¡±


    ¡°Esther!¡± Wilbur turned to her, ¡°Please call off your dog. His breath stinks.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d rather be her dog than one of yours,¡± Niklas said, glancing at Wilbur¡¯s guards.


    ¡°Gentlemen, please!!¡± Esther cried. ¡°Niklas...thank you, but this is my friend. I¡¯ll be okay.¡±


    Niklas nodded at her request and stepped aside, lingeringly ensuring Wilbur didn¡¯t try anything.


    ¡°Esther,¡± Wilbur said as he approached her. ¡°Forgive me for being late. I want only to see to your best interest,¡± He held out his hand.


    She extended her hand with a smile, wrist up. Wilbur took it and pressed his lips against her wrist.


    Niklas almost threw up a little in his mouth.


    ¡°Have you considered my proposal?¡± Wilbur asked.


    Esther grew flustered. ¡°Your proposal is generous, and I¡¯m truly flattered. But it¡¯s all so soon. We need time to court, to get to know each other.¡±


    Niklas had no clue what they were talking about.


    Wilbur¡¯s eyes flashed darkly, only to be cleverly concealed with a smile. ¡°Of course, my dear,¡± he said with a bow. But I¡¯m sure you can understand how busy I am. I run my merchandise to all of the surrounding regions.¡±


    She blushed again. ¡°I know. I¡¯m honored by your enthusiasm. But¨C¡±


    ¡°But what?¡± Wilbur asked dryly.


    ¡°It¡¯s my brothers,¡± she confessed. ¡°I mean no disrespect. But¨C¡±


    ¡°But what?¡± he growled, his patience growing thin.


    ¡°I know you are a man of youth, but weren¡¯t you married three times already?¡±


    Wilbur stepped away, looking hurt. ¡°Esther...I expected a little more tact.¡±


    She bowed her head and started to plead for forgiveness.


    Niklas¡¯ hand touched his knife before he realized he was reaching for it. He didn¡¯t understand what was happening, but he didn¡¯t like it.


    Something else was bothering him. The timing of Wilbur¡¯s arrival would have been flawless if Niklas hadn¡¯t intervened. Something about the men he had driven out felt staged.


    ¡°Your brothers would be free. Your debt bond on all three of you would be paid, are they fools?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry!¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s just-¡±


    ¡°Just what? Are you insistent on listening to your uneducated brothers? When will you be free of them and make choices for yourself?¡±


    She closed her mouth tight, her lips pressed into a thin line. She looked as though tears might betray her if she spoke.


    Wilbur sighed apologetically.


    ¡°You, pink!¡± Niklas growled. Arth took a few lazy steps toward him and smiled encouragingly. Their last encounter had been humiliating for Niklas. No doubt Arth was confident a second round would turn out the same way.


    ¡°Esther, child,¡± Wilbur started, ignoring the insult, ¡°I only wish for you to become the woman you were meant to be. Your beauty won¡¯t last forever. Consider my offer. You could be mine.¡±


    ¡°Be yours?¡± Niklas asked aghast. ¡°If you think you will own a woman, then Stigki strike you dead!¡±


    ¡°Stigki?¡± Wilbur said, startled, ¡°Good Kel, this man is a pagan!¡± he laughed. He turned away from Esther and approached Niklas, drawing close so she couldn¡¯t hear.


    ¡°Niklas,¡± he sighed. ¡°She¡¯s mine. I don¡¯t care if you¡¯re a wolf. Get in my way, and I will cut you down.¡±


    Niklas took a deep breath to compose himself. He was deliberately thinking of Lill¡¯s warning to stay out of trouble.


    Arth drew near and put a heavy hand on his shoulder.


    Niklas tensed. He had seen this throughout his whole life: testing the new blood, just like when he changed units.


    But this was different.


    They outnumbered him, and these weren¡¯t the dirty buffoons he faced earlier. He couldn¡¯t surprise them now. These men were ready.


    ¡°Two things,¡± Niklas said. ¡°When it comes to taking care of mothers. I don¡¯t care about blending in. If you hurt her, I will be there.¡±


    Arth moved with unexpected speed, kneeing Niklas in the thigh, causing him to let out an involuntary bark at the pain. Arth grabbed Niklas firmly by the arms and held him down.


    ¡°Wilbur!¡± Esther cried.


    ¡°Stay back,¡± Wilbur held up a hand. Esther froze.


    ¡°What else?¡± Wilbur asked, leaning in so he could be face-to-face with Niklas.


    Arth held Niklas firmly. Niklas could possibly throw him off, but things would get unnecessarily messy.


    ¡°What else?¡± Wilbur asked again.


    ¡°Even if you are a wolf. Remember that you¡¯re in my lair.¡±


    Niklas flicked out his reaper¡¯s blade, stuck it in the fold of Wilbur¡¯s shirt, and swiped up.


    Wilbur cried out in surprise as his buttons all clattered to the ground, and his shirt opened, revealing his undergarments.


    Both guards roared as they lay into Niklas, pushing him down and kicking him. Niklas covered his head for protection and to hide his smile.


    It hurt but was easily worth it. Arth and his comrades didn¡¯t know torture, as the Zealots did. They were just boys venting emotion.


    Wilbur snapped at them as he tried to hold his shirt shut. It felt like only a few moments before he pulled one of their jackets around himself, barking at them about the cost of the suit and their salaries as he ran out.


    Niklas sat up, aching and bruised but also laughing.


    He quickly sobered as he noticed Esther trying to hide tears on the other side of the compound.


    ¡°Esther!¡± he cried as he ran over to her.


    ¡°Niklas!¡± she snapped as she tried to wipe her eyes, ¡±you idiot, what were you thinking? He¡¯s my friend!¡±


    Niklas paused. ¡±You¡¯re being deceived. Teaman is not your friend.¡±


    ¡°He shouldn¡¯t have hurt you!¡± she whispered. ¡°This is all wrong.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m fine!¡± Niklas said dismissively as he crouched by her. ¡±How are you?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re bleeding!¡± she cried, pointing to Niklas¡¯ head.


    He touched his forehead, and sure enough, his fingers came back with sticky blood. ¡°It¡¯s not bad. Head injuries just bleed a lot.¡±


    ¡°Oh Niklas, this is my fault!¡± she broke down again, threw her arms around him, and burrowed her head into his shoulder, wetting his shirt with her tears.


    It took everything not to scream, run, and drown himself in the nearest well, but once he was able to calm down, something instinctive guided him to wrap his arms around her and just hold her. And so he did.


    Vidder looked at the slow, winding Rulkite River. He stood at the wall of demons. The giant faces twisting and screaming in the gray smoke screen always looked silly to him. The fact that it actually kept the Relrins out was beyond him, but then again, he was beyond worldly things anyway.


    He sniffed the air here. Niklas¡¯ scent was all but gone. However, a faint trace did confirm his suspicions. Niklas was in Relgar. He put his mask back on. Today, he was wearing his drone mask, five marks, the same one he was wearing when Edgar had confronted him.


    He sighed as he looked at the two bloodied, motionless border Drones that lay slumped against the trees. He had warned them to let him pass. But how could they have known any better? He squinted down at the flowing river. Where are you, Niklas?

 15 The Fire Grows.

    ¡°Wilbur is a nasty and slimy man,¡± Robin frowned in disgust. Thanks for taking care of Esther. I knew those Rowan boys had brought bruisers into Soutfel, but why would they harass Esther?¡±


    ¡°If they were actually the Rowans¡¯ men,¡± Niklas interjected as they lay a board on the sixth stack. Despite being only on the third shift, they were making great progress.


    To Niklas¡¯ surprise, it wasn¡¯t just him and Robin pulling their weight. A handful of other workers began to step up their game and started to produce more. Osred decided to make incentives available, and some top performers were stretching. Perhaps what made the competition in the yard bloom was that under Niklas¡¯ counsel, Osred had let the lowest-performing workers go. He had hired new hands to take their place, and the yard was transforming.


    ¡°What¡¯s Wilbur¡¯s problem?¡± Niklas asked. ¡°He¡¯s so arrogant.¡±


    Robin sighed. ¡°Rumor is that Wilbur is self-made. A debtbond as a child. He didn¡¯t inherit his enterprise but built it from the ground up. As much as I hate the man, he¡¯s not lazy, and he¡¯s wicked clever.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s vain,¡± Niklas said, remembering their first encounter. ¡°He thinks he¡¯s better than just about everyone.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s a real predator,¡± Robin agreed. ¡°I know my sister is beautiful. But in this case, I wish he had never seen her.¡± Robin looked at Niklas. ¡°He¡¯s controlling and has the means to be so.¡±


    ¡°What does that mean?¡± Niklas asked.


    ¡°What?¡± Robin asked.


    ¡°You said your sister was beautiful. What¡¯s beautiful?¡±


    Robin stopped and eyed Niklas incredulously. ¡°You¡¯re serious?¡±


    Niklas furrowed his brow. ¡°Relric isn¡¯t my first language!¡± he complained.


    ¡°It means pretty or attractive.¡±


    Niklas splayed his hands and shook his head apologetically.


    ¡°You¡¯re a strange man, Niklas,¡± Robin concluded. Something pleasing to look at, something that draws your attention.¡±


    ¡°Oh!¡± Niklas exclaimed. ¡°The mother¡¯s enchantment!¡± He recalled his previous encounters with Esther and the strange stirrings. ¡°There¡¯s a word for it!¡±


    ¡°Strange man,¡± Robbin muttered under his breath as he returned to work.


    Someone spat at Niklas¡¯ feet as they walked past. The gesture wasn¡¯t unexpected. In fact, Niklas was surprised it took this long. Osred¡¯s warning was correct. Already, Niklas could feel the distance between him and the other workers, even the diligent ones. They wouldn¡¯t speak to him, but they would whisper behind his back.


    Niklas could tell that they hated that he was different and that he had additional privileges. They could sense that his purse was heavier than theirs and that Niklas was Osred¡¯s favorite.


    But it was all part of the plan. Eventually, someone would challenge Niklas, and it was up to him to keep his place. Niklas had walked through this scenario a dozen times in his head, and so he was ready as it came.


    ¡°Hey!¡± Niklas snapped, spinning to recognize Tim stomping past.


    At the call, Tim scurried away.


    Seriously? That didn¡¯t make any sense. Tim was a weasel, a small man. Niklas thought he might have to face off with one of the bigger guys.


    Tim scuttled behind two bigger men, smirking at Niklas as he approached.


    Of course, now that made sense. There was no way Tim would cross Niklas on his own, but now he had two brutes backing him up.


    Niklas hesitated momentarily at that but cursed himself immediately after. He couldn¡¯t afford to show reserve to these people.


    They glanced at Niklas in a strange mix of defiance and disgust as he approached.


    ¡°Is something wrong here?¡± Niklas demanded as he stomped up to them. His voice wavered, casting a shadow of his unease. They outnumbered him, and even if he was slightly bigger than the biggest one, there were three of them.


    ¡°Yeah, we have a problem with you. Osred and Robin too,¡± Tim sneered.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know having friends was a crime,¡± Niklas scowled. ¡°But maybe you wouldn¡¯t know what that¡¯s like. How much did you have to pay your boys here to back you up?¡±


    ¡°Who do you think you are?¡± Tim squealed in protest as one of his guys let out a low growl. ¡°You skipped the hiring line. You¡¯re obviously shooting to be crew leader or even foreman.¡±


    Niklas shrugged. ¡°I have my goals. What''s wrong with that?¡±


    ¡°You think you¡¯re better than us, corpse?¡±


    Niklas bit back a hiss. He really hated that name. ¡°It¡¯s no mystery that I am better than you. It¡¯s a wonder you haven''t been booted from the yard yet.¡±


    All three of them let out a cry of outrage. ¡°Corpse wants to get buried!¡±


    Niklas analyzed each of the three men quickly. The time had come to make a lasting impression. ¡°No, who do you think you are?¡± Niklas demanded, stepping closer to Tim. ¡°You think the yard owes you anything? You¡¯re privileged to work here. There is only room for assets in this yard. If you¡¯re going to drag us down, then go join the eastern yard!¡±


    ¡°I ain¡¯t afraid of you,¡± Tim cried as he stepped back and glanced at his comrades.


    ¡°Well, you should be,¡± Niklas said. A hand on his shoulder turned him.


    Robin shook his head at Niklas with a hand of restraint on his shoulder. ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± he warned.


    The two thugs stepped in and pushed Robin aside.


    Niklas had confronted them entirely without the fire of valor up to that point, but once they pushed Robin, Niklas felt the inner fire ignite. These men were peasants, not warriors. Only two. Oh, how Niklas wanted to throw a punch. He could probably beat one by surprise and face off with the other fair and square. No doubt Tim would run when he saw his friends drop. Only Robin¡¯s warning voice in Niklas¡¯ head held him back. ¡°Fighting in the yard will get you instantly discharged.¡± This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    Niklas couldn¡¯t fight. He wouldn¡¯t report them. That would make him look like the weaker man. His only other choice was to establish himself without touching them. To create an impression that they would never forget.


    Niklas growled and stepped forward, jabbing a finger at their faces.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on here?¡± Foreman Osred barked as he strode to the argument. He looked different. His clothes were clean, he had clipped his beard back, and he held his head high. He looked like a completely transformed version of the Osred Niklas had first met. Niklas couldn¡¯t help but feel a spark of pride at his progress.


    ¡°This corpse thinks he¡¯s special,¡± Tim snapped. ¡°Until you make him follow the schedule like the rest of us, we¡¯re going to take a break.¡±


    Niklas moved to interject, but Osred beat him to it.


    ¡°Back to work, Tim,¡± Osred said, furrowing his brow in annoyance.¡° Zach, Stephan, you too.¡±


    ¡°What about him?¡± Tim shrieked as he pointed at Niklas.


    ¡°He¡¯s okay, Robin, too. You need to get to work.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t until you make them do it too!¡±


    ¡°Get to work now,¡± Osred said sternly, ¡°or I¡¯m docking your pay one cesh.¡±


    The three men stood firm.


    Osred signed and marked his ledger. ¡°One cesh docked. To work now, or I¡¯ll make it three cesh.¡±


    The two he called Zach and Stephan paled and turned to their work, leaving Tim alone.


    ¡°No! Where are you going?¡± Tim screamed. ¡°He can¡¯t do it to all of us. He needs us as a whole!¡±


    ¡°Five cesh from your pay, Tim. To work, now, or you¡¯re out of my yard.¡± Osred threatened. ¡°And no. I don¡¯t need you. A whole queue of desperate workers would gladly take your place.


    Tim¡¯s face twisted in outrage, but he stomped off, murmuring.


    Osred shook his head as he watched the tantrum.


    The three of them watched him leave with grim satisfaction.


    ¡°You have no idea how long I¡¯ve wanted to do that,¡± Osred said suddenly, looking faint, like it had taken everything to keep his composure, and now it claimed its toll.


    ¡°You are doing much better, Osred.¡± Niklas grinned. ¡°I thought you were going to wet yourself the first time you confronted a worker.¡±


    ¡°But not anymore,¡± Osred said with a weak smile.


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Niklas said, giving Osred a hearty slap on the back.


    Osred glanced at his clipboard. ¡°What¡¯s the progress so far?¡±


    ¡°Six stacks,¡± Niklas reported. ¡°We are doing much better.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s true,¡± Osred affirmed with a smile. Our productivity has increased this week, and more people have started contributing. We are establishing a culture of diligence.¡±


    Sharderin culture, Niklas corrected inwardly.


    ¡°Keep up the good work, boys. Upper management is talking about increasing pay in our yard.¡± The foreman returned to his office with a hopeful air.


    ¡°He has changed,¡± Robin noted.


    ¡°No, he has simply found himself,¡± Niklas said. ¡°When you don¡¯t know how to face opposition or how to work, you are not yet a man.¡±


    ¡°Would you say I¡¯m a man?¡± Robin asked.


    Niklas nodded. ¡°You work harder than everyone else.¡±


    ¡°Not more than you.¡±


    ¡°Almost.¡±


    ¡°True. I don¡¯t know where I would be if you didn¡¯t come around.¡±


    Niklas smiled. He liked Robin. Like Niklas, Robin wasn¡¯t a full Relrin. He wasn¡¯t as rough and competitive as the other Sharderins Niklas trained with. But to Niklas¡¯ surprise, he found that he preferred it that way. In the end, despite those who undoubtedly hated him, he also had friends, which was a first.


    A subtle motion caught Niklas¡¯ eye. He would have missed it if he hadn¡¯t been watching. Banning, broad and bald, roughly brushed into the shaggy-bearded Wissian. Wissian scowled after Banning but didn¡¯t move to confront him.


    Niklas excused himself from Robin and jogged after Banning.


    ¡°Hey!¡± Niklas hailed him, causing him to turn in surprise.


    He didn¡¯t look at Niklas with the hatred Tim did or even with the general disgust of other Relrins. To him, Niklas was simply Alien. Banning looked at Niklas with a look of mixed confusion and worry. ¡°What?¡± he asked, growing tense.


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t help but notice you and Wissian aren¡¯t friends.¡±


    ¡°So what?¡± Banning growled. ¡°You going to go report us to Osred? It doesn¡¯t get in the way of my work.¡±


    Niklas waved a dismissive hand. ¡°It¡¯s not that at all. I was just wondering what you were going to do about it?¡±


    He looked at Niklas, confused. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Well.¡± Niklas started as sympathetically as he could. ¡°The Rowan boys come into town, and Wissian joins them and thinks he can push whoever he wants around. Now, surely we can¡¯t let that happen,¡± Niklas honestly didn¡¯t know anything about the politics around the situation; all he saw was a grudge to be paid, and there was only one way that Drones back home solved problems.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± he asked suspiciously.


    ¡°I want to see who the bigger man is,¡± Niklas tempted.


    ¡°And?¡±


    ¡°Challenge Wissian to fight you,¡± Niklas said. ¡°Let¡¯s settle this like men.¡±


    ¡°Fight?¡± Banning asked, bewildered. ¡°What will that solve?¡±


    ¡°Absolutely nothing, aside from sending a clear message that you and your kin are not to be toyed with, that you¡¯re people are strong, and people shouldn¡¯t throw their weight around without second thought¡­or am I wrong? Are your people easy to push over?¡±


    He scratched his chin thoughtfully. He was a Relrin, but he was still a man. His pride was on the line.


    For a moment, Niklas started to worry that he might be losing him. ¡°Do you think you¡¯ll lose?¡±


    ¡°Pit, no.¡± He snorted. ¡°Wissian is a child. But he¡¯ll never accept.¡±


    ¡°He will...if there is cesh on the line.¡±


    Banning¡¯s eyebrows arched. ¡°I knew there was a catch.¡±


    ¡°Five cesh from each of you. The winner gets eight and their pride.¡±


    ¡°I ain''t dumb. You forgot the last two cesh.¡±


    ¡°Consideration for my troubles. A man¡¯s gotta eat.¡± Niklas smiled, his tongue wet with greed. He needed to be making much more money than he was. He hadn''t received his first wage yet.


    ¡°I don¡¯t need you!¡± Banning snapped. ¡°I could arrange this on my own.¡±


    ¡°And you think he¡¯ll pay?¡± Niklas asked. ¡°Or maybe you¡¯re afraid you¡¯ll lose?¡±


    He barked with laughter at that. ¡°I think you¡¯re a cheat. Who trusts a Sharderin anyway?¡±


    Niklas stiffened. ¡°An ironic accusation from a mother killer.¡±


    ¡°Whoa,¡± Banning held up warding hands. ¡°I had nothing to do with that.¡±


    Niklas flustered for a moment, almost ready to abandon his plan completely. But desperation spurred him on. ¡°I get two for putting it all together. I will give the eight to the winner. I have a place where officers won¡¯t interrupt.¡±


    ¡°Where?¡± Banning asked in surprise.


    ¡°Here,¡± Niklas said, ¡°after hours. I have been working late, and Osred leaves me here alone.¡±


    Banning¡¯s suspicious face finally melted. ¡°Well, I¡¯ll be daft.¡± He chuckled. ¡°I thought you were just a rule-bound goodie. But there¡¯s nothing honest about you, is there?¡±


    Niklas shrugged. ¡°Just another guy looking out for himself.¡±


    He laughed. He could understand that. ¡°All right!¡± he agreed. ¡°Go and tell Wissian. I bet the coward doesn¡¯t have stones enough to meet me.¡±


    ¡°Get the word out,¡± Niklas said. ¡°Your friends can watch and bet, but we keep it clean. If anyone cheats, they¡¯ll answer to me.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah.¡± Banning waved a dismissive hand. ¡°Fair and square. I''d deny my own point if that weren¡¯t the case.¡±


    Niklas nodded. Good, he understood. ¡°Great. I¡¯ll talk to Wissian.¡±


    Niklas dismissed himself and headed to Wissian, who worked the logging crane. The wood structure used counterweights to move logs from the channel to the cutting area.


    ¡°Hey, Wissian,¡± Niklas called. ¡°A word.¡±


    Wissian dropped the weight, allowing the crane to splash into the water. ¡°I saw you talking to Banning,¡± he said without looking. ¡°I don¡¯t care what he says. I didn¡¯t hurt his brother.¡±


    ¡°Is that so?¡± Niklas asked. ¡°He doesn¡¯t seem to care. He challenges you to my pit fight.¡±


    Wissian seemed intent on not making conversation, but that caught his attention. ¡°Your what?¡±


    ¡°My pit fight,¡± Niklas said absently. ¡°You mean you¡¯ve never heard of it?¡±


    He shook his head. ¡°Look, I don¡¯t want any trouble.¡±


    Niklas looked down sadly. ¡°That¡¯s too bad. I would have thought you to be one to jump at an opportunity.¡°


    ¡°What opportunity?¡±


    ¡°Oh, not much, really,¡± Niklas sighed. ¡°Winner gets eight cesh. On top of that, you would teach him to spread rumors and accuse your good name. You¡¯re not scared of him, are you?¡±


    Wissian flinched. ¡°Scared? No. I could put that old daft down ten times out of ten.¡± Wissian absently puffed his chest as he spoke.


    ¡°It costs five cesh,¡± Niklas said, and the shift in Wissian¡¯s face instantly made him regret not telling him that sooner. ¡°That¡¯s only three cesh for winning!¡± he cried, causing heads to turn.


    ¡°Shh!¡± Niklas hissed, looking around in worry. ¡°This isn¡¯t the type of thing we can just go around shouting to the world.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± he said in apology. ¡°The stakes are high, and the reward is small. I don¡¯t know if this is in my best interest.¡±


    ¡°There are more opportunities!¡± Niklas tried desperately to reel him back in.


    ¡°I¡¯m listening.¡±


    ¡°Do you have any friends who would want to fight?¡± Niklas asked.


    ¡°I don''t know. I can ask around.¡±


    ¡°If they have cesh, they can fight. Same cost.¡±


    ¡°And that helps me how?¡± Wissian wondered.


    ¡°Put your money on the right people,¡± Niklas said. ¡°And in no time, you could have two weeks'' wages overnight.¡±


    He smiled at that.


    ¡°But only tell people who can keep a secret. ¡°The last thing we need is officers crawling over my event.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I think I can find the guys you¡¯re looking for.¡±

 16 Fire Light.

    Niklas sat around the fire in the courtyard of the cattle compound. This gathering would mark the first time he actually joined the daily unwind, which seemed to be a tradition for the cattle crew. The Sommerfeldts were present as usual and regarded as equals. They had invited him on more than one occasion, but Niklas felt more comfortable hiding in the Sommerfeldts¡¯ Apartment.


    When Robin invited Niklas himself, Niklas finally caved.


    Niklas sat between Robin and Ivar. The herdsmen and their families relaxed over cups of steaming tea.


    A herdsman was telling a story. Something about a hired hand who couldn¡¯t count past eleven: it was a strange story. There was no mention or example of valor. Those listening laughed when the hired hand did something foolish. Niklas wasn¡¯t listening well enough to understand the punch line.


    Niklas looked across the fire at Esther. She was looking at him. He met her eyes. This time, she was the first to look away quickly.


    Niklas, unsure what to make it, forced himself to stare down at his boots.


    ¡°Move, Robin,¡± a gangly girl in her late teens aggressively asserted herself between Robin and Niklas.


    ¡°Daisy!¡± Robin protested but yielded, knowing it was a futile battle.


    Niklas looked at her in surprise, being so startled by her intrusion.


    ¡°Are you strong?¡± the girl asked. ¡°You look strong.¡±


    ¡°Uh, I guess so,¡± Niklas said.


    ¡°You¡¯re cute.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡± Niklas hadn¡¯t ever heard the word before. He glanced at Esther as if for some clue on how to respond. He saw only rage in her eyes.


    ¡°Where did you come from? Did Lill really fish you out of the river?¡± Daisy leaned in, cocking her head to examine Niklas at a near sideways angle.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Niklas said, shrinking before the barrage of questions.


    ¡°Esther says you licked some of the Rowan thugs. Are you a boxer?¡±


    ¡°I guess so,¡± Niklas muttered.


    ¡°So where¡¯d you learn to box? Are you from Pit Forest or Colgar? Are you single? Is it true you have tattoos?¡±


    Niklas helplessly looked at Robin for backup. Robin wisely pretended not to see.


    ¡°All right, Daisy. Leave the man alone.¡± Somehow, Esther circled the fire and stood above the girl, her hands planted on her hips.


    Daisy looked up at Esther, then leaned in and sniffed Niklas. ¡°You smell like sweat.¡±


    ¡°Daisy! Now!¡± Esther leaned in threateningly.


    ¡°Come on, Esther,¡± Daisy whined. ¡°Of course, I¡¯m going to vet him if he¡¯s going to stay in the compound.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s quite enough.¡±


    Daisy looked up at Esther, her lower lip extended in a near-childish pout.


    Esther¡¯s eyes flashed as an unspoken rebuke passed between them.


    Daisy looked from Esther to Niklas and back again, and then her face broke into a victorious grin.


    ¡°I see, you like hi¨C Ow!¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s go for a walk, young lady!¡± Esther cut in, encouraging Daisy to her feet with a handful of dark hair.


    ¡°Esther! Hey! Stop! Let me go!¡±


    Esther towed Daisy away.


    Niklas looked to Ivar for answers.


    Ivar simply shrugged.


    Niklas looked back at Esther, who was exchanging hushed but sharp words with the other girl.


    Niklas looked into the flames. He had never even heard of mothers fighting, even over small things.


    The man speaking finished his story, which was met by a bout of fresh laughter.


    Niklas continued to stare into the fire. Things weren¡¯t so bad here. The Sommerfeldts, Osred, and Robin were his friends. He hadn¡¯t had many of those in Pit. Back in Pit, all he had was Edgar.


    Edgar.


    Niklas wondered where Edgar was and what he was doing now that he would surely know Niklas was faceless.


    A log popped in the fire, sending a shower of sparks weaving through the air.


    Niklas was already gone for far too long. Edgar would be worried. He thought about the fight that was coming up. If he was right, the working Relrins couldn¡¯t show or practice valor. It would be bottled up inside of them, yearning to come out. They might pay his way to Doctor Geoffrey''s if he could help them see what they were missing.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Esther sat between Niklas and her brother, and Niklas stiffened.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry about Daisy,¡± she apologized. ¡°She can be a bit eccentric.¡±


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s not a problem,¡± Niklas glanced at her sidelong. She was beautiful. He had a word for it. Still looking at her felt wrong, so he looked back at the fire.


    ¡°I¡¯m also sorry about earlier,¡± Esther said more softly. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to put you between Wilbur.¡±


    Niklas looked back. ¡°It¡¯s okay. I won¡¯t be here for long anyway.¡±


    ¡°You won¡¯t?¡± she asked, sounding disappointed.


    ¡°I need to go home soon¡­ if things work out.¡±


    Esther was silent for a moment. ¡°I hope things work out,¡± she muttered.


    Niklas looked at her again, then back to the fire.


    ¡°Thanks for helping Robin,¡± Esther said as she touched Niklas¡¯ wrist.


    Niklas inhaled and jerked his hand away.


    Esther looked down. ¡°Sorry.¡±


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t apologize. Your will is law.¡±


    Esther smiled kindly. ¡°You were in those woods for a long time, weren¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°You have no idea.¡±


    Esther looked at Niklas thoughtfully for a moment. ¡°Did you get some tea?¡±


    Niklas wrinkled his nose. ¡°I hate that stuff.¡±


    ¡°Seriously?¡± Esther asked aghast.


    ¡°Yeah. Lill made me try some. It¡¯s too sweet.¡±


    ¡°Well, use less honey.¡±


    Niklas shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m not one for grass water.¡±


    Esther laughed. ¡°You¡¯re missing out.¡±


    ¡°You should try joagh,¡± Niklas said. ¡°Now, that¡¯s how to start a night winter patrol.¡±


    ¡°Are you a soldier?¡± Esther asked in surprise.


    Niklas paused. ¡°I was.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± Esther said, tactfully deciding not to pursue the matter. ¡°So, when are you leaving?¡±


    ¡°As soon as I can,¡± Niklas said. ¡°I seem to make enemies every day.¡±


    Tim glanced at the bottom of his glass in frustration. Because of his pay cut, he couldn¡¯t even afford to get himself properly drunk. Curse that corpse. Who did he think he was, walking around like he owned the yard? Osred was in on it. They were working together, stealing company funds or something.


    It didn¡¯t matter. Tim had heard the rumor; there was supposed to be a fight tomorrow, but he planned to be there to report Niklas. The thought caused him to smile. Management would fire Niklas, and Tim¡¯s problems would drift away.


    He tipped the glass back and licked the inside, just trying to get a taste of the cheap spirits he relied on to get from day to day. Zach and Stephan accompanied him, each already a drink ahead of him.


    ¡°Zach, spot me a drink,¡± Tim pleaded.


    ¡°Your pay wasn¡¯t the only one that got docked,¡± Zach complained.


    ¡°Because you girls were too cowardly to stand with me,¡± Tim accused.


    ¡°He would¡¯ve done us all, guarantee it.¡±


    ¡°Come on, we all know Osred isn¡¯t that bold, even with the corpse around.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. He¡¯s changed over the past couple of weeks,¡± Zach doubted.


    ¡°Ever since that cursed corpse came,¡± Tim corrected. ¡°He¡¯s ruining everything for all of us.¡±


    ¡°He works like a devil, Robin too,¡± Zach complained. ¡°Course, they will be favorites.¡±


    The man sitting at the table behind them choked on his drink, and with a spray of beer, he started to cough.


    ¡°You okay there, mate?¡± Stephan asked.


    The man turned to them, wide-eyed. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I don¡¯t mean to eavesdrop, but did you say corpse, as in Sharderin, working alongside a man called Robin?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s it to you?¡± Tim snapped, lamenting the man¡¯s wasted drink.


    ¡°Was he a half-skin with wildman¡¯s hair?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the one,¡± Stephan said. ¡°What¡¯s it to you?¡±


    The man smiled. Based on his clothes he was a martial man, a member of the freelance fighter class. ¡°If it¡¯s who I think it is, he¡¯s recently been insulting my employer, embarrassing him in front of his lady. What was his name?¡±


    ¡°Niklas.¡±


    ¡°So it seems he¡¯s making trouble for everyone,¡± the man said in a satisfied tone.


    Tim snorted in agreement. ¡°That¡¯s not all. Word is that he¡¯s hosting some fight pit, and everyone wants to go. Of course, I¡¯m gonna report him to management the second he does it. But he¡¯s charging money for anyone who wants to watch the fights. He doesn¡¯t even own the place.¡±


    The man looked startled. ¡°A gambling pit? I¡¯ll be¡­ come with me!¡± He pulled at Tim¡¯s sleeve.


    ¡°What''s going on here?¡± Tim demanded.


    ¡°I need you guys to come to meet my boss.¡±


    ¡°Where? Why? Who are you?¡±


    ¡°Just back to the booth,¡± he said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder toward the back of the bar where the private booths were aligned.


    ¡°Whose booth?¡±


    ¡°Wilbur Teaman.¡±


    ¡°The tea merchant?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the one.¡±


    Tim looked at the other two, who shrugged. ¡°All right.¡±


    The three of them got up to follow the man who led them to a booth in the back. The man rapped on the door.


    ¡°Who is it?¡± a voice demanded from the inside.


    ¡°Arth,¡± the man said.


    ¡°What do you want?¡±


    ¡°I have got some men who have something you are going to want to hear,¡± Arth said.


    ¡°Come in.¡±


    Arth opened the door and ushered them in.


    They entered to find a dark-haired young man, maybe in his late twenties, sitting at the booth table with a striking young bar escort sitting on his lap. The woman pulled the shoulder straps of her blouse on as the men entered.


    Wilbur didn¡¯t look very happy being disturbed. Tim recognized him as one of the major tea merchants in the area and a known indulger in all pleasures.


    ¡°This had better be good,¡± Wilbur growled in annoyance.


    ¡°Oh yes,¡± Arth said. ¡°Very good.¡±


    ¡°Who are they?¡±


    ¡°Workmen. Someone we know is working with them at the mill.¡±


    ¡°Eh?¡± Wilbur asked, glancing at the trio. ¡°Speak up then, and make it quick.¡±


    ¡°Well, we, eh, don¡¯t know anything. Unless you want to make it worth our time,¡± Tim cut in, sensing a business opportunity.


    ¡°You¡¯re wasting my time. Get out,¡± the tea merchant commanded as he turned to caress the woman.


    ¡°Niklas Loga,¡± Tim said.


    Wilbur stopped.


    ¡°If you have an interest in Niklas Loga, then you have an interest in what we have to say,¡± Tim said, quickly vying for control of the conversation.


    Wilbur sighed. ¡°Leave us, dear.¡±


    With a disappointed sigh, the woman slid off Teaman¡¯s lap and scampered past the sawmen and out of the booth.


    ¡°Have a seat.¡±


    The four men entered, squeezing into the benches built into the booth.


    ¡°Talk.¡±


    Tim looked sadly at his empty mug, which he still clutched.


    Wilbur noticed his gaze and took the cue. ¡°Arth, pour my guests a drink.¡±


    With a full glass, Tim was more than eager to speak to his new friend.


    ¡°Yeah, the corpse works in my yard.¡±


    ¡°So you work with him...why should I care?¡±


    Tim snorted. ¡°He thinks he¡¯s better than us all. He chums up to the foreman, and I am almost sure he gets paid more than the rest of us.¡±


    ¡±That would be because he¡¯s a wolf,¡± Wilbur muttered.


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing you would understand.¡±


    Tim shrugged it off. ¡±Word is that you have problems with the man.¡±


    Wilbur shot a chastening glance at Arth.


    ¡°He¡¯s got a gambling ring they¡¯ll be fighting tomorrow. I aim to get him booted from the yard and report that Daft first thing in the morning.¡± Tim grinned, showing off a row of decaying teeth.


    Wilbur¡¯s face twisted in disgust as he looked at the smile.


    Tim¡¯s face fell. ¡°What? I¡¯ll be doing both of us a favor. You should pay me for doing the work if he is your enemy.¡±


    ¡°Cattle,¡± Wilbur muttered.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I said you¡¯re an idiot.¡±


    ¡°Now you just liste¨C¡±


    ¡°I think I¡¯ve done just about enough of that,¡± Wilbur cut in. ¡°You can¡¯t even recognize an opportunity.¡±


    ¡°Why you¨C¡±


    Wilbur dismissed his blunderings and motioned Arth over. ¡°Go get Sorn.¡±


    ¡°Oi! I¡¯m talking to you!¡± Tim snapped.


    Wilbur leaned in. ¡°Listen, Saw Man, I¡¯ve got a much better plan. One that I think you¡¯ll like.¡±

 17 Fight Pit.

    ¡°Why did I hear about this from Chelvin, of all people?¡± Robin demanded, almost red in the face.


    ¡°What did you hear from Chelvin?¡± Niklas asked dumbly.


    ¡°Don¡¯t play stupid. You¡¯re staging a gambling brawl tonight!¡± Robin hissed.


    ¡°It¡¯s not something I haven''t done before. And besides, I didn¡¯t tell you because I guessed you might react like this.¡±


    ¡°Niklas, this is illegal! You could go to prison if you¡¯re caught!¡±


    His words were familiar. Words Niklas had spoken countless times to Edgar!


    Niklas smiled at his frantic friend, ¡°If I¡¯m caught.¡± It was the same smile and the same answer Niklas had always gotten from Edgar. Niklas felt more and more like Edgar with each passing day.


    ¡°Niklas, I can¡¯t do this with you! Please! Don¡¯t!¡± Robin pleaded.


    Robin¡¯s pleading reached Niklas, making him reconsider for a moment. Robin¡¯s earnestness was so sincere. Maybe he was right. Niklas shook it off. Edgar was always sure of himself. He had to be as well. ¡°Robin. I didn¡¯t ask you to do this.¡±


    Robin looked at him through hurt eyes. ¡°Nik,¡± he pleaded.


    Niklas shook his head. ¡°The shift is over. Go home. I¡¯ll take care of this.¡±


    Robin shook his head sadly and backed up a few steps before turning and leaving Niklas.


    Niklas smiled as confidently as he could, watching his friend leave stung. He hadn¡¯t planned for Robin to know about the fight pit. Any number of things could go wrong tonight. He had to keep the yard under control even in the rowdiest circumstances.


    Niklas continued to work late as he had every night that week. Workmen filed past him and out of the yard, many tired and ready to go home. But most of them shot Niklas eager and excited glances. They would be back in a short while, with full pockets and with all of their teeth. Many of them would leave without so much.


    ¡°Niklas!¡± Osred called as he left his little wooden office.


    Niklas waved him over with a nervous smile.


    Osred approached him with a respectful nod. That made Niklas relax a little. So, Osred still didn¡¯t know about his after-hours plan. ¡°Take a look!¡± Osred said as he handed Niklas a sheet clipped to a board.


    Niklas accepted the board and reviewed the figures. ¡°It all looks good. We¡¯re up by over fourteen shelves.¡±


    Osred smiled. ¡°The mill manager has been pleased with our progress. He got approval to cut out yard bonuses. He¡¯s also said that he might make me Mill Foreman. If that happens, the western yard will need a new foreman¡­ ¡±


    Niklas nodded. ¡°Sounds good.¡±


    Osred pulled out a purse and counted out coins.


    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± Niklas asked.


    ¡°Payday.¡± He smiled.


    That was right. How could Niklas have forgotten? He was so engrossed in his plans that he had lost track of time. Osred handed him a neat handful of coins with a satisfying chink.


    ¡°A little extra for your help,¡± he smiled.


    ¡°Thanks, Os,¡± Niklas said.


    ¡°You staying?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be working late again,¡± Niklas lied.


    ¡°Keep it up, Niklas. I¡¯ll leave the gate unlocked.¡± He started for the exit, but Niklas stopped him.


    ¡°Hey, Osred.¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°Can I borrow a paper and your pen?¡± he asked.


    ¡°What for?¡±


    ¡°Personal use, I won¡¯t use too much ink,¡± Niklas promised.


    ¡°Sure.¡± He went to the office to retrieve the articles.


    While he was out, Niklas counted his cesh, twenty-three cesh in total. He held a miniature fortune. He had never owned anything before¡ªwell, except for his reaper knife, which was practically stealing. Here, he had real money for the first time. It was incredible pay for a week as a workman but not nearly enough for his distant goal of two thousand in two weeks. He was counting on tonight going well.


    Osred returned with a paper as well as a wooden pen and inkwell.


    ¡°I¡¯ll leave them by your door,¡± Niklas promised.


    Osred waved goodbye and left.


    Niklas let himself slump to the ground. With nobody watching, he could be honest with himself. He was exhausted. His headache never left; it lingered like distant drums in the background. Without the burning of his med, his work became dull and boring. Med wasn¡¯t there to urge him to push himself as much, and he didn¡¯t feel the valor of serving the Clan. The idea of a fight pit, which otherwise would have had him on his toes with excitement, seemed difficult and even dangerous. But it was too late to turn back now. He needed the money, and word was that almost everyone in all three of the yards planned to come. Niklas couldn¡¯t blame their excitement. They were men living a life of work but no war. These Relrin¡¯s were incomplete. Surely, they felt the warm tickle of valor, even without med.


    Niklas forced himself onto his feet to get ready. He gathered ten wood barriers, usually used to stop stacks of logs from rolling out. Pushing them into a neat circle with four openings, he created a ring about the size of a fight pit back home. Niklas used a stick to complete the circle by scratching a line across the four openings. He dusted his hands off, satisfied with his arena.


    Having finished that, Niklas pulled out a bundle under his workstation. It was his Drone jacket. It was designed to fit his body as part of a Sharderin uniform. Lill had scrubbed the blood out of it, but he hadn¡¯t brought himself to put it on until now.


    He felt a little bit more like himself. He was a Sharderin Drone, but that aside, the jacket would make him stand out. It marked him as the host of tonight''s events.


    Two burly men Niklas recognized from the southern yard poked their heads into the yard cautiously. They were early. Niklas smiled nervously. He had no real authority, so he had to make sure he had set an undisputable presence for himself.


    ¡°Perfect!¡± Niklas cried when he saw them. ¡°You guys are just what I¡¯m looking for.¡± He reached into his pocket and produced ten cesh. ¡°How would you boys like to make two days'' wages tonight?¡± Niklas asked as he divided the amount in two, holding five cesh in each hand and extending it toward them.


    They eyed him like he was crazy. He might have been. He worked hard for those wages but couldn¡¯t do this alone.


    ¡°What¡¯s the catch?¡± one asked.


    ¡°I need you to be collectors,¡± Niklas explained. ¡°Strong men like you would be perfect for the job.¡±


    They smiled, swelling ever so slightly, and extended their hands for the money.


    Niklas pulled it away. ¡°Two now. Three when we¡¯re done,¡± he said, counting two cesh into each open palm.


    ¡°And you¡¯ll need these.¡± Niklas pulled out two shreds of fabric with the Sharderin rune Loga sloppily painted onto it. ¡°Tie them around your arm. No one comes in without paying two cesh to go into the money box, you understand?¡±


    They looked at each other bewildered. ¡°Never thought I¡¯d be working for a Sharderin, but you have the money, boss man.¡± One of them grinned as he pocketed the coins.


    ¡°When people start to enter, welcome them to Loga¡¯s Fight Pit,¡± Niklas said.


    The brawny guards puffed their chests and waited at the gates. Niklas smiled, inwardly satisfied. The bouncers would significantly help him set precedence for himself.


    Niklas found an old wood box and set up a makeshift lid. Then he dumped his remaining money inside, hoping it would encourage others to contribute to the pot.


    Not long after, Banning showed up with five others. A gentle prod from Niklas¡¯ guys had the entry fees from them.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got to say, Niklas,¡± Banning said skeptically, ¡°I didn¡¯t know this was the type of thing you have done before.¡±


    ¡°Please,¡± Niklas said as he counted their payment and marked it on his paper. ¡°I grew up doing this.¡±


    ¡°You can write?¡± he asked in shock.


    ¡°I write Sharderic,¡± Niklas corrected him. After all, he still had to protect Osred¡¯s interest. ¡°No one can change the figures; only I can account for the prize money.¡±


    He seemed to relax at that. ¡°You know, I came here half expecting to be scammed.¡±


    Niklas tsked his tongue in reply. ¡°I don¡¯t tolerate foul play. My boys will discipline anyone who tries to cheat here.¡±


    Banning smiled again. ¡°Where is that coward Wissian?¡±


    Muttering at the gate announced the arrival of Wissian. He came with seven men.


    ¡°Just on time,¡± Niklas called to them. ¡°Come check in, and we can begin with today''s games.¡±


    Niklas couldn¡¯t believe it. His plan was working. The fight pit was precisely what Edgar might do. Niklas¡¯ box gained a little weight as he let Wissian¡¯s people in, and others started to arriv. With the sound of coins clinking into the box and the pen scratching on paper, the event became increasingly official, even if few people fought. Niklas would be making at least two weeks'' profit! That wasn¡¯t fast enough to make 2000, but it would be a considerable chunk overnight.


    Niklas waited as, to his shock, the yard began to fill. Maybe he was wrong. They didn¡¯t want a fight. They needed a fight!


    He watched until the others started growing impatient. With newcomers still filing in, at least thirty men were there already.


    Niklas swung on top of a cart at the lip of the ring. ¡°Come all!¡± he cried as he threw his hands in the air, drawing the whole yard''s attention. ¡°I am Niklas Loga, your host! Two strong and valorous fighters will contend for victory in the main event tonight! Coming from this very yard, we have strong and mighty Banning!¡±


    Men all around whooped, clapped and cheered. Once Banning realized they were cheering for him. He raised a fist and beat his chest with a grin.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ¡°And his glorious opponent! Sharp as a whip, also from this homeyard, the cunning Wissian!¡±


    Wissian¡¯s friends thumped him and tried to outcheer their rivals.


    ¡°This match will take place in five minutes, so it¡¯s your last chance to place your bets by the pit¡¯s coffers!¡±


    Niklas jumped down and was swarmed by men as they pushed money into his face. ¡°Slow down, not so fast!¡± Niklas barked as he noted every cesh that went into the box. Ivar had shown him how to calculate and document wagers. Niklas¡¯ heart started to pound as the box grew heavy. It was working. Seriously well. Too well, in fact. Niklas called two more men and hired them to maintain order at the table. He didn¡¯t have armbands for them, but their imposing presence would hopefully be enough. Niklas charged three Rashkers to make a bet, but despite the fee, everyone seemed all too eager.


    Making his final mark, Niklas made his way to the ring and called in his fighters.


    ¡°Shirts off, boys,¡± he started, but they already had taken them off. Banning swung his arms around in big circles to warm them up, and Wissian bounced up and down, ready for the action.


    Niklas motioned them in and stood between them. ¡°No outside help,¡± He started. ¡°No weapons, only your body. If you surrender, you lose. If you get knocked out, you lose. Step out of the circle, and you lose. Any violation of these rules, you forfeit to your opponent, and I¡¯ll throw you out. No breaks or quarter until we have a victor. Do you understand?¡±


    They both nodded in agreement.


    ¡°All right, go back and touch the border, and then we start!¡±


    The audience called out and jeered as the fighters went back and tapped the wooden border.


    The noise kindled Niklas'' valor. He had always heard the noise, only now in a different language. No. It was the same language¡ªthe tongue of the fight, the speech of brothers praising each other for their strength, the noise of idle moments at his home.


    The fighters circled each other, and Niklas leaned in. They held up their bobbing fists. Being a soldier, Niklas instantly became critical of their stance. They leaned back and threw off their center. He could have thrown them by simply nudging them at the right moment.


    Both fighters played defensively, throwing quick jabs but not committing to staying within reach for more than a split moment. Valor burned in their eyes, but there was also fear. These men had not seen war. They had not experienced actual violence. Like children learning to walk, they moved carefully.


    Finally, Banning landed a hit on Wissian¡¯s nose, drawing blood. Wissian sputtered, enraged at the blow, and charged Banning. Wissian pushed Banning up against the wooden barrier. The fighters were almost among the spectators now. Wissian held Banning''s head back as he tried to tip him out of the ring.


    A well-placed hook from Banning stopped Wisian and sent him sprawling. Banning leaped after his prone opponent, but Wissian kicked at Banning¡¯s shins, buying time to scramble back onto his feet.


    Both fighters panted, their faces wet with perspiration. Niklas nodded through the cheers. It didn¡¯t take much to wind, even a trained soldier.


    Banning bellowed and rushed Wissian, hitting him with a barrage of blows. Wissian cried out and tried his best to cover his head, but a few landed, making even Niklas groan with each hit.


    Wissian struck out mindlessly, and by some miracle, it connected with Banning¡¯s jaw. As Banning¡¯s eyes rolled into the back of his head, Niklas knew it was over. He was in the ring to catch him before he hit the ground.


    Niklas slapped Banning twice, but he didn¡¯t stir. He was done. Niklas looked up at Wissian and nodded.


    ¡°We have a winner!¡± Niklas cried, and the crowd erupted. Men shouted, praised, and muttered curses to signify who they had put their money on. Niklas had two of his guys drag Banning away, where his friends attended to him, though not too gently, probably because of the money they lost.


    ¡°You can gather your winnings now or keep it in credit to use in the next fight,¡± Niklas announced. ¡°Speaking of which, do we have any challengers? For a small fee, you can fight and have a chance at more winnings!¡±


    ¡°I have a challenge!¡± a weaselly man cried.


    To Niklas¡¯ surprise, he recognized Tim from the yard. He hadn''t been there before the fight started.


    ¡°You want to fight?¡± Niklas asked in surprise. I don¡¯t know that we have any runt-sized fighters to compete with. It wouldn¡¯t be fair.¡±


    That earned several chuckles from his ever-growing audience.


    ¡°I...you!...that-¡± Tim flustered. ¡°I said I had a challenge. Not that I wanted to fight!¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± Niklas asked. ¡°And what is this challenge?¡±


    ¡°I challenge you, corpse...to fight my friend Sorn!¡±


    Niklas rolled his eyes. ¡°You don¡¯t have friends, Tim. Who¡¯s Sor¨C¡± Niklas saw him.


    Towering behind Tim, Zach, and Stephan, a giant man grinned with his arms folded. He had more than one knife wound scar across his face, and he had the spark of valor in his eyes. His arms and fists were wrapped. This man had seen violence. He was a fighter who would prey on the weak and strong alike for a price, And he had to outweigh Niklas by at least a hundred pounds.


    Another man studied Niklas from Sorn¡¯s side. He wore a vest and a hat and held a ledger under his arm.


    ¡°Now, that¡¯s hardly fai¨C¡±


    ¡°This gray skin has been taking your hard-earned money from you!¡± Tim cried. ¡°And for what? So he can profit off of your sweat and blood?!¡±


    The crowd started to mutter, especially those who had lost money in the first fight.


    ¡°Why should he be in charge? This isn¡¯t even his yard!¡±


    Niklas felt his authority slipping. He quickly looked at two of his thugs. He could have Tim thrown out. But there were five of them, including this imposing newcomer. That aside, Niklas could not tell what the crowd might do. Several of them looked at the makeshift coffers'' chest with hungry eyes. Niklas felt himself growing sick. He hadn¡¯t been planning on fighting himself. But he came prepared to do so if he couldn¡¯t find enough fighters. This challenge wasn¡¯t a fight. It was a trap. Niklas cursed himself and everything under Stigki¡¯s name.


    ¡°I¡¯ll do it.¡±


    Everyone cheered even louder than they had for Banning and Wessian¡¯s fight. They were going to watch a Relrin bear maul a Sharderin dog.


    Tim looked slightly disappointed at Niklas¡¯ acceptance but pleased that he had taken the bait.


    ¡°We challenge you to a week''s wage!¡± Tim continued using the momentum of his received attention with a grin. ¡°Fiveteen cesh!¡±


    The men howled in delight as Tim raised the stakes, and Niklas started to feel nauseous. What was wrong with him? He would have jumped at the privilege to fight Sorn a short while ago. Had a few weeks in Relgar stripped him of his valor, leaving him with nothing but the crumbs? All he felt was fear. Sorn pulled off his shirt. His thick body rippled with power as he proudly displayed himself.


    ¡°Sorn, Sorn, Sorn!¡± Tim, Zach, and Stephan started, and the others joined the chant. Each mention of the name pressed against Niklas like the lash of a Zealot¡¯s whip.


    ¡°Bets at the book,¡± Niklas muttered, and almost everyone charged to put money into the box.


    To Niklas¡¯ dismay, almost everyone bet against him. Only two bets were in his favor, and more than twenty were against him. He might not have enough money to support a loss. Niklas made the hasty notes. Was he seriously documenting his execution? Gyva had a sick sense of humor.


    ¡°Sorry, boss,¡± one of his thugs grinned. ¡°Tough luck, eh?¡±


    Niklas scowled and jogged to the ring. Several of the men he passed thumped him on the back, the scabs on his back blazed on contact.


    Niklas hopped in, and everyone cheered. Sorn flexed and posed, displaying the goods to his sponsors.


    With a sigh, Niklas handed his jacket to one of his guys and pulled off his shirt. The crowd instantly died down as all eyes turned to him.


    Niklas was lean compared to the freak giant Sorn, but there was nothing small or flimsy about him. But what seemed to draw the most looks were the scars. All across his body, he bore the memory of at least six knife wounds, many lashes from a whip, and even a few bullet wounds from a training accident. To top it off, his rank and name rune tattoos seemed to catch their attention. For a fleeting moment, Niklas saw doubt in a few eyes ¨C doubt that they had chosen the wrong fighter. From that doubt was born a seed of hope.


    Niklas smiled weakly, with only a tiny flicker of valor to back it up. It took everything to stop his hands from shaking. ¡°Let¡¯s do this. Touch the wood and fight.¡±


    Everyone roared in delight as Niklas tapped the wood on the boundary and Sorn circled in the ring. Sorn bobbed tight on his feet, his weight properly dispersed and his hands up, knuckles out, palms in, in a Relrin pugilist stance. Sorn wasn¡¯t simply big and violent. He was trained.


    Niklas settled back with most of his weight on his back leg in Roach form two, arms up and still. Waiting.


    Sorn frowned slightly. ¡°They want a show,¡± he growled. ¡°Move!¡±


    ¡°Move me!¡± Niklas challenged as he scanned his opponent for any weaknesses or openings. There weren¡¯t many. Sorn, slightly turned to the side, covered every obvious vulnerability. One blow from him, and he would end the fight.


    ¡°Move, corpse!¡± he growled again.


    ¡°I won¡¯t, you Mother-killing pink!¡± Niklas snapped as his mind clouded over in fear.


    Sorn shrugged. ¡°Then you will fly!¡±


    Sorn roared as he charged.


    Niklas ducked and weaved, lashing out a jab and a cross to the side that didn¡¯t penetrate Sorn¡¯s compact form.


    Sorn spun, swinging his full fist on his pendulum-like arms.


    Niklas gasped as he staggered away from his enemy, but Sorn was fast.


    A fist brushed Niklas¡¯ forehead, and he leaped away.


    The crowd roared with each blow.


    Niklas stumbled back, routed by his larger opponent. He couldn¡¯t get his feet under him to reestablish a fighting stance without allowing Sorn to crush him. His back hit the border wall, and Sorn followed.


    Niklas spun, lashing out with a spinning back kick that caught Sorn in the gut and stopped his momentum completely.


    Sorn grunted, and the crowd groaned.


    Niklas¡¯ hope leaped momentarily but was immediately extinguished as powerful hands grabbed his leg.


    Niklas wasn¡¯t sure what happened next until he slammed into the wood barrier on the other side of the ring. Sorn had thrown him all the way across the arena.


    Niklas ignored the heat that flashed in his shoulder and the slick blood oozing through his newly opened lash wounds as he climbed to his feet.


    Sorn was on him in the moment, striking him with hammerlike blows.


    Niklas tried his best to cover up, but each strike rocked and threw him like a flag in the wind.


    Sorn grabbed Niklas by the arms and shoved him against another barrier.


    Niklas gasped for breath, only to inhale the stink of alcohol that blasted him from Sorn¡¯s grin.


    Niklas thrashed, but Sorn''s grip was true.


    Niklas cried out as he kicked at Sorn, but Sorn was too close for him to build the necessary momentum to make a difference.


    ¡°No!¡± Niklas panicked.


    ¡°Come on, Niklas! Kick his ass!¡±


    Robin¡¯s voice seemed to cut over the crowd.


    ¡°I thought you said you were a soldier!¡±


    Niklas scanned the crowd to see Robin leaning over a wooden barrier. He looked more panicked than Niklas as he watched his friend get handled by the beast.


    Niklas grunted in frustration. As all Pit Sharderins did, he had trained for this since he was ten. Robin was right. Niklas was a soldier. He wasn¡¯t thinking. He was panicking and blindly lashing out.


    Sorn stuck Niklas twice. Each hit jarring and shaking his whole body.


    Edgar would have been so disappointed.


    Sorn reared back, and Niklas growled.


    Sorn struck, and Niklas caught the back of Sorn¡¯s hand with his elbow.


    Sorn cried out and shook his hand. He still held Niklas by the arm with his other hand.


    Niklas dug into the back of the hand, holding him with his foreknuckles, rubbing and digging into the nerves.


    Sorn bellowed in surprise and jerked his hand away.


    Niklas ducked, slamming two fists into Sorn¡¯s armpit. Through his years of training, Niklas learned that the armpit was usually a vulnerable target if the enemy had a large mass.


    Sorn snarled and spun on Niklas, swinging a wide haymaker. His body didn¡¯t telegraph the strike. Niklas barely weaved around it.


    Sorn fell back a few steps and growled.


    Niklas gasped for breath as he recalled his training. He was a professional fighter and wouldn¡¯t throw it all out the window because he was scared. Slick with sweat, Niklas realized he couldn¡¯t maintain an extended fight. Sorn could go another ten rounds after he crushed Niklas. He needed a new plan.


    ¡°I can¡¯t do this!¡± Niklas cried as he turned and ran for the edge of the arena.


    Sorn roared in refusal. The ground almost seemed to shake as the giant thundered behind Niklas.


    The crowd booed and jeered as Niklas fled from the center of the ring. Somewhere, Niklas heard Tim cackle victoriously.


    Niklas lunged at the wood barrier and kicked into it as hard as he could. The railing shifted and started tipping. Niklas¡¯ knee popped again, and venom spiked through the nerves. His forward momentum redirected back and up. The barrier corrected itself and launched Niklas. Niklas screamed in pain and in desperation as he twisted and turned on the charging giant.


    Sorn¡¯s surprised face met Niklas¡¯ wild airborne haymaker with a snap. Niklas felt two of his knuckles break, and a jarring shock traveled up his arm.


    Sorn dropped.


    Everyone stopped cheering.


    Niklas threw back his head. ¡°For our mothers, you deck pink!¡± He screamed in Sharderic.


    Sorn didn¡¯t move.


    The yard was silent.


    Niklas put weight on his right leg and almost collapsed. He growled through clenched teeth as he felt his valor return. He had no med, so he knew this valor was pure and natural.


    ¡°Loga!¡± Robin cried ¡°Loga, Loga, Loga!¡± The others joined the chant even though most had just lost money.


    Niklas pumped his fist and roared, ¡°Who Challenges my authority in my own pit?¡± He shouted at the astonished crowd.


    Tim, Zach, and Stephan inched away from the assembly.


    Niklas awkwardly leaped on the wood stop and jabbed a finger at them. ¡°Stop them!¡±


    At least ten people pounced, grabbing and dragging them, kicking and cursing into the ring. Niklas held up a hand, calling everyone to silence. The crowd had at least doubled since the first fight.


    ¡°I challenge each of you!¡± Niklas cried, drunk with victory and valor. ¡°A week''s wages each!¡±


    ¡°No!¡± they cried in horror, but the goading push of the crowd denied them exit.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry!¡± Niklas grinned and cracked his neck. ¡°I¡¯ll let you all fight me at the same time!¡±


    ¡°Loga! Loga! Loga!¡±


    Tim screamed as Niklas threw him onto the pile that was made up of Zach and Stephan¡¯s now motionless supine figures. Blood flowed freely from Tim¡¯s nose, and one of his eyes was swollen shut. ¡°Stop!¡± he screamed, holding up a hand. ¡°I give up!¡±


    ¡°You challenged me!¡± Niklas barked. ¡°You tried to trick me!¡±


    He paled. ¡°I swear I won¡¯t ever cross you again, Mr. Loga, just let me leave!¡±


    Niklas grabbed the small man and hoisted him into the air. ¡°Very well,¡± he growled. ¡°He forfeits!¡± Niklas hurled the man over the wood stop and into the crowd. They jumped away from the small flying man, and he smashed into a wood shelf, causing it to shatter.


    ¡°Loga! Loga! Loga!¡± the crowd raved as they cheered Niklas on.


    ¡°Get them out of here!¡± Niklas snapped. Leaving the men to drag the unconscious two out of the yard, he returned to the coffers box to find it guarded by not two but eight thugs, arms crossed over their chests.


    ¡°A chair, boss?¡± One ran a wooden chair to Niklas with a towel draped across the back, and another handed him his jacket with a grin.


    ¡°You showed them, boss,¡± another said. ¡°Do you need a bandage for your knuckles?¡±


    Niklas looked down at his knuckles, which had been unwrapped and were now bleeding and swollen.


    ¡°No,¡± he said like a king surrounded by his personal guard. ¡°Let them be a testament that this is my yard.¡±

 18 Consequences.

    Niklas pushed his way into the yard, bleary-eyed and exhausted. As he entered, several workmen grinned at him, and he heard several of them whisper his name in hushed conversation. He noted that many people were absent, and some tried to hide bruises. On top of that, the yard was a wreck. Several things had broken the previous night, including the shelf he had put Tim through. Several liquor bottles and wax paper for meat slabs lay on the ground, abandoned by the spectators of the pit.


    Niklas failed to fight a massive yawn and stretched his sore body. He tried to hide his limp, but there was something majorly wrong with his knee.


    ¡°Niklas!¡± Osred cried as he ran up to him frantically.


    ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± Niklas asked dumbly, only slightly anxious that someone may have told him what happened.


    ¡°What happened here?¡± Osred asked worriedly. ¡°I think we had vandals in the yard last night. I should have left you the key to lock up when you were done.¡±


    ¡°Vandals?¡± Niklas asked. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    Osred waved his arms around frantically. ¡°Look around. This place is a wreck. Someone broke a shelf and a wood stop. It looks like a stampede came through here last night.¡±


    Niklas furrowed his brow. ¡°Okay, Os,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ll confess. It¡¯s my fault.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Osred asked in surprise. ¡°Niklas, what are you talking about?¡±


    ¡°I should have cleaned up after work. I remember thinking it looked horrible when you left, but I was tired.¡±


    ¡°Niklas!¡± he said urgently. ¡°It didn¡¯t look like this when I left!¡±


    Niklas feigned confusion. ¡°Yes, it did. I remember noting the yard needed some work. Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll clean it up.¡±


    ¡°Niklas!¡± Osred said earnestly, pulling him close. I think one of the other yards is working against us¡ªprobably Sigegar. I want you to be careful. I think he¡¯s jealous that I have you in my yard, and I think...¡± He looked around to ensure no one was listening, then whispered, ¡°I think he might be hurting my workers. I saw Stephan; he was beaten pretty badly! Tim and Zach haven¡¯t come in.¡±


    ¡°Were they?¡± Niklas chuckled nervously as he rubbed his swollen and torn knuckles. They itched and ached under his leather work gloves. ¡°Did Stephan tell you what happened¡±


    He shook his head. ¡°He was petrified. I sent him home to recover, but I want you to watch your back. If Sigegar does anything suspicious, tell me immediately.¡±


    Niklas nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll let you know if I hear anything.¡±


    Osred nodded, looking worried. ¡°Be careful, my friend.¡±


    Niklas felt a ping of guilt but more relief. If no one had said anything by now, they probably never would.


    Niklas found Robin, who looked at him with dark eyes.


    ¡°What?¡± Niklas asked.


    ¡°You look like dung,¡± Robin muttered. ¡°And so does the yard¡­ I still think what you did was wrong.¡±


    ¡°You were there too,¡± Niklas pointed out.


    ¡°Because I¡¯m an idiot, and so are you.¡±


    Niklas couldn¡¯t hide his grin. It crept onto his face like an unwanted sneeze, making him look like a fool. ¡°You won¡¯t say that when you hear how much I made.¡±


    Robin¡¯s face shifted in surprise. ¡°How much?¡±


    ¡°Four hundred and thirty-seven cesh!¡± Niklas said.


    Robin¡¯s jaw dropped as he failed to find words.


    ¡°I walked home with 437 cesh last night!¡± Niklas repeated to drive the point home. My plan actually worked,¡± he marveled. ¡°Like a dream.¡± Niklas felt more and more like Edgar the longer he was in Soutfel. Only he wore a dumb grin instead of Edgar¡¯s calculated smirk.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be!¡± Robin looked dizzy. ¡°You also got to throw hands with Tim and his guys, and I doubt anyone from here to town will cross you.¡±


    Niklas nodded in agreement. ¡°Hopefully, I¡¯ll finally get some respect around here.¡±


    In Pit, reputation was both helpful and dangerous. Here, Relrins were less competitive and more easily intimidated.


    Robin looked down at Niklas¡¯ gloves. ¡°How are your hands?¡±


    Niklas scanned the yard to make sure Osred couldn¡¯t see him. Then he took his gloves off to show Robin his swollen knuckles.


    Robin¡¯s face shifted again, but this time to a look of almost reverence. ¡°I don¡¯t believe it. That shouldn¡¯t have worked,¡± he muttered. ¡°It was stupid!¡±


    ¡°Robin, to progress in life, you must think your own thoughts and act. Risk is the forerunner to both defeat and victory. Complacency favored no man.¡±


    He nodded.


    Niklas wished he could take credit for those words, but he only repeated what Edgar had told him countless times.


    Someone made their way across the yard who caught Niklas¡¯ attention.


    He didn¡¯t wear the commonplace dusty workman''s clothes like the others. He wore a white shirt, a dark-trimmed vest, and a hat. Scanning his memory, Niklas realized the man looked familiar.


    ¡°Who¡¯s he?¡± Niklas asked Robin.


    Robin looked and frowned. ¡°He works for Teaman. I think he works accounting at Wilbur¡¯s teashop in town.¡±


    Niklas furrowed his brow in contemplation. He had seen Wilbur¡¯s thug Arth speaking to that man behind the counter when he first met Wilbur, but he had also seen him more recently.


    It dawned on him like a sentry dog catching a scent. The man was at the fight last night. He had taken care of Sorn after he went down. Why would Wilbur have a man at Niklas¡¯ fight?


    Niklas blinked in realization.


    Sorn wasn¡¯t Tim¡¯s friend. He was Wilbur¡¯s. Somehow, Wilbur and Tim knew each other.


    ¡°Where is he going?¡± Niklas asked, though he had a growing idea of what was in store for him.


    ¡°That¡¯s the factory manager''s office.¡± Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    The man made eye contact with Niklas across the yard and smiled before entering.


    ¡°Frag!¡± Niklas grabbed a post to lean against as he felt everything he had built melting away. No one else who went would report him, or they would get in trouble themselves. Unless, of course, they weren¡¯t a yard employee.


    What would Edgar do? What would Edgar do?


    Niklas panicked as he started to breathe quickly. Edgar had a gang and a reputation; he would have ruined Wilbur by now and would probably have total control of the yard.


    ¡°Niklas?¡± Robin said. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±


    ¡°I need to go,¡± Niklas said.


    Robin looked back from the manager''s office to Niklas, and understanding dawned on him. ¡°Niklas, running will make you look guilty.¡±


    Niklas nodded and desperately looked around for some work to do. Maybe he could bluff his way out of this.


    Niklas got to work hauling logs with a whole new intensity. He couldn¡¯t make it look natural with his damaged knee. A tiny, futile part of him thought that if the yard manager saw how hard he worked, it would justify his use of the yard last night.


    ¡°Niklas Loga!¡± someone barked from behind him.


    Niklas found the speaker to be a man wearing a clean suit and a tall hat. He was flanked by a pair of yellow-mained Leomen and accompanied by Wilbur¡¯s man and a pair of peacekeeping officers.


    Niklas felt the dumb numbness of guilt take hold. ¡°Yes?¡± he croaked weakly.


    One of the officers took the lead. ¡°You¡¯re under arrest for trespassing and illegally using the yard''s facility to host an illegal gambling pit.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Niklas stammered. ¡°It¡¯s not true!¡±


    ¡°Bring him to my office for an interview, Officer Yelsing,¡± the manager said.


    Niklas looked helplessly at Robin, who shrunk, his face flushed pale.


    The two officers grabbed Niklas roughly and applied a cold set of shackles to his wrist.


    Niklas didn¡¯t resist but grew stiff, earning a sharp prod from the officers.


    Niklas glanced around earnestly. He had no idea how severe the Relrin disciplinary system was. If these officers were anything like the Zealots, he had no intention of going without a fight.


    The officers hadn¡¯t searched him for weapons. Niklas still had his reaper''s blade concealed in his pocket.


    The officers escorted Niklas to the manager''s office. Niklas struggled with his bad leg, and they must have assumed he was faking the injury because they led him more aggressively when he struggled to keep up.


    The manager waited with Wilbur¡¯s man in a plain but considerably roomy office.


    ¡°I know you,¡± Niklas said to the latter. ¡°You work for Teaman.¡±


    He smiled, shrugging and splaying his hands in a guilty gesture.


    ¡°So,¡± the manager cut in. ¡°Word is that you have manipulated my foreman and positioned yourself over my other workers.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Niklas denied. ¡°It¡¯s not true. Who told you?¡±


    ¡°This gentleman tells me he¡¯s been in contact with some of the workers in my yard.¡± The manager indicated the tea clerk. ¡°Workers, I am told, who can hardly stand from injuries they won¡¯t talk about.¡±


    ¡°What proof does he have? He doesn¡¯t even work here!¡±


    A sharp blow to Niklas¡¯ side dropped him with a gasp. His back stung and smarted, and the officer in charge leaned over him.


    ¡°You corpse!¡± the officer snapped. ¡°I¡¯d take half a testimony over a legion of Sharderin witnesses.¡±


    Niklas found his voice and cried out in delay.


    ¡°Officer Yelsing!¡± the manager cut in. ¡°Let¡¯s focus, please.¡±


    The officer nodded but tapped Niklas roughly on the shoulder with a thin, whip-like cudgel that he had formerly worn on his belt. ¡°You could go away for a long time,¡± he growled. You could get charged with a fine. You could become an incarcerated debtbond.¡±


    ¡°Listen,¡± Niklas grunted. ¡°You don¡¯t want to do that. I¡¯m just a guy trying to help the yard out!¡±


    Officer Yelsing frowned, unimpressed. ¡°How does beating workers help with the yard? No, I think you¡¯ll be locked away for quite a while¡­ unless you give us a good reason not to.¡±


    They all looked at Niklas expectantly.


    Niklas looked around frantically as though somewhere in the confines of the office would lay escape, but he found nothing.


    ¡°I have benefitted this yard,¡± Niklas said. ¡°Everything I have done has spurred the yard forward. I have made the strong efficient and weeded out the weak¡­ you need me.¡±


    They all looked at Niklas in annoyance. They didn¡¯t care. Not even the manager cared. Wilbur''s man ¨C the tea clerk ¨C helped Niklas realize what they really wanted with the twinkle of greed in his eyes.


    ¡°You want me to buy you!¡± Niklas said. ¡°You want a bribe!¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s not as dumb as he looks,¡± the manager chuckled. ¡°Word is that you won, and you won big! We want your coffers.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Niklas shook his head. ¡°I need those coffers to get home!¡±


    ¡°Home?¡± the manager asked. ¡°That¡¯s funny. Do you know what people are calling you? They¡¯re calling you the Pit Boy. Is it true you¡¯re from Hell¡¯s Woods, Pit Forest?¡±


    Niklas bit back his reply as he looked at Officer Yelsing¡¯s stick.


    ¡°No matter. You will give us your coffers, or Officer Yelsing will take you away. It¡¯s hard to say if they¡¯ll put you into state servitude, bond you, or just lock you up.¡±


    ¡°Please!¡± Niklas stammered. ¡°There must be something else.¡±


    The manager scowled darkly. ¡°Officer, this is a waste of time. Take him away!¡±


    Officer Yelsing grabbed Niklas roughly.


    ¡°No! I¡¯ll give it to you!¡± Niklas cried.


    Yelsing pushed Niklas back down.


    Niklas looked up at the Manager and recognized the trickery in his eyes. ¡°I want a written pardon signed by all present,¡± Niklas demanded.


    ¡°You are in no position to-¡±


    ¡°I know you think I¡¯m an idiot, but I didn¡¯t make things easy for you!¡± Niklas snapped. ¡°I hid my coffer so no one could find it but me. I will have a written pardon that you will not pursue the matter forward, or I go with the officer, and you don¡¯t see a single cesh!¡±


    Officer Yelsing sighed. ¡°We¡¯re not putting anything on paper, you fool. Those winnings are the only proof we have. If you don¡¯t have them, there¡¯s nothing linking you to the crime.¡±


    Niklas scowled at the officer, ¡°That¡¯s a weak argument.¡±


    ¡°Well, it goes against our interest to have someone investigating you, now, doesn¡¯t it?¡±


    Niklas clenched his teeth. ¡°Fine.¡± With a final sigh of surrender, Niklas held his shackled hands for Yelsing to unlock.


    ¡°Not so fast,¡± he said. ¡°Money first.¡±


    The other four men marched Niklas out of the yard in restraints. Almost everyone watched, some with surprised looks, others with grave concern. Most of them had participated in the pit, and someone had sold Niklas out. What stopped the snitch from reporting all the others, too?


    Niklas knew they wouldn¡¯t hear about this again. It was only Niklas they wanted: him and his financial reserve.


    As they passed Osred, the foreman cried out in surprise. Once he registered what was happening, he seemed to put the pieces together, and his face fell.


    Niklas¡¯ gut lurched. Osred had been his friend, and now he couldn¡¯t look him in the eye.


    Niklas noticed Robin watching him but didn¡¯t even look up. Everyone watched him marched out. Niklas limp-hopped to keep up with his accusers. Everything Niklas worked so hard for, sweated, bled, and hurt for was all slipping away. Returning to Prime Paramount Alred¡¯s cattle compound was a two-mile-long trip. To Niklas¡¯ horror, when the officers pushed the gate open, he saw Esher and Wilbur sitting together in the courtyard.


    Wilbur smiled at Niklas. Escorted by guards and in shackles, his smile was a cruel confession¡ªa confession that, as Niklas had humiliated and embarrassed him, he would do the same in turn.


    Esther gasped as she jumped to her feet. Her hand went to her lips in shock. There was no strange stirring or mesmerizing trace as Niklas saw her¡ªonly a raw and hot embarrassment. Niklas couldn¡¯t look at her. He looked away with shame-ridden eyes.


    Yelsing prodded Niklas with his stick, and he walked to the Sommerfeld''s house. Never leaving Niklas¡¯ side, he stamped in after him.


    ¡°Are you home so early, Ni-¡± Lill froze as she saw Niklas wasn¡¯t alone. The officer¡¯s uniform and the shackles on Niklas¡¯ wrist told the whole story.


    Niklas pushed into the boys'' room and reached under his cot.


    ¡°Under your bed? Seriously?¡± Yelsing sneered. ¡°What was all that talk about how impossibly hidden it was?¡±


    ¡°A bluff,¡± Niklas sniffed. He pulled out his jacket. With the sleeves and corners tied, it made a makeshift bundle, a heavy bundle containing every last one of his four hundred and thirty-seven cesh made up of a mixture of cesh raskers and odifs.


    ¡°I need my jacket,¡± Niklas muttered.


    ¡°You need to shut up,¡± Yelsing snapped as he snatched it away. He threw it over his shoulder and walked out into the courtyard.


    ¡°Wait!¡± Niklas cried as he ran after him. ¡°That jacket is mine!¡±


    Yelsing ignored Niklas¡¯ plea and signaled his companion, who released the shackles.


    ¡°Let¡¯s not meet again,¡± he grunted.


    ¡°Oh, by the way, Mr. Loga,¡± the manager said.


    Niklas¡¯ looked at him crestfallen.


    ¡°You¡¯re fired.¡±


    Niklas looked down numbly. He had figured as much, but the words were the salt packed into the wound.


    A handful of coins dropped from the jacket bundle, and Yelsing cursed.


    Niklas heard a light gasp and turned to see Esther still watching wide-eyed. And now she knew what was in the bag. A small fortune for sure, especially in the eyes of a debt-bonded. Niklas didn¡¯t understand why, but Esther¡¯s presence was the blow that ached the most.


    ¡°Well!¡± Wilbur laughed as he sat by her. ¡°Looks like someone has dirty secrets.¡±


    Niklas looked at him, his fists and jaw clenched tightly.


    A lump formed in his throat, but he forced it away.


    He felt like a child caught stealing rations from the barracks but with a mother watching the whole thing.


    Wilbur shrugged unapologetically.


    Niklas wanted to attack the unguarded tea merchant, but his eyes itched and grew hot.


    Not daring to let Esther see more than she already had, Niklas abandoned all valor and returned to the house. He was only glad she hadn¡¯t seen his eyes as they blurred.

 19 Resolutions.

    Heavy rain drummed against the compound''s roof. Niklas sat alone at the kitchen table, his arms crossed over the back of one of the few undamaged chairs.


    His head continued to throb, but he didn¡¯t pay it any mind. After consistent aching, he learned how to bar the migraine from focus. He pushed it into the background, dismissing it without thinking about it, like the patterning rain.


    One of the three bedroom doors opened, and Ivar jumped as his lamp illuminated Niklas in the dark room.


    ¡°That¡¯s not creepy at all,¡± Ivar muttered as he composed himself.


    Niklas stared back into empty space without response.


    ¡°Do you always sit in the dark by yourself?¡± Ivar asked.


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t sleep,¡± Niklas muttered.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been up all night?¡±


    ¡°Is it morning already? I guess so.¡±


    Ivar hesitated. ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    Niklas nodded slowly.


    Ivar breathed a sigh of relief. ¡°Thank goodness, talking about feelings and stuff is the last thing I want to do.¡±


    The door next to Ivar¡¯s opened, and Lill walked out. She yawned heavily, stretching her arms over her head before she saw the two men. ¡°Oh?¡± she said in surprise. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you two are up to make breakfast for me, are you?¡±


    Niklas instinctually sat up. ¡°As you command.¡± He stood and headed over to the dishes.


    ¡°Niklas,¡± Lill interrupted decidedly. ¡°I was joking.¡±


    He stopped. ¡°So you don¡¯t want me to make something?¡±


    ¡°Do you even know how to cook?¡±


    Niklas thought about it. He had worked shifts in the cafeteria with his detachment by assignment, but he rarely cooked for fewer than 500 people at a time, and the food he made was basic and plain¡ªless satisfactory than the food the Sommerfeldts were used to. ¡°Probably not,¡± he answered.


    ¡°I thought as much,¡± Lill said. ¡°Besides, I feel like I¡¯m taking advantage of you, knowing you¡¯ll do anything I ask.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Ivar cut in, ¡°why don¡¯t you jump up to do my work for me?¡±


    Because you¡¯re not a Mother and are perfectly capable of doing your own work. Niklas thought. ¡°I¡¯ll do it if you pay me 2000 cesh.¡±


    Ivar and Lill looked at each other, and a subtle nod passed between them.


    Lill spoke up. ¡°Niklas, about that, what happened yesterday with the investigator? Are you in trouble?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Niklas shook his head. ¡°Not anymore.¡±


    ¡°What happened?¡± Lill asked.


    Niklas let out a sigh. ¡°I hosted a fight pit in the lumber yard. Somehow, Wilbur Teaman found out and reported me. I had to pay Officer Yelsing and the yard manager my winnings.


    Both siblings looked at Niklas in pointed shock.


    ¡°You what?¡± Lill demanded as she took a seat beside Niklas.


    ¡°That¡¯s incredible!¡± Ivar laughed, joining them at the table. ¡°Did you fight?¡±


    Niklas nodded and held up his thrashed hands. In the dim light, he saw the swelling was worse than the day before and the scabs darker and dry.


    ¡°You are a fighter!¡± Ivar grinned.


    Niklas blushed slightly and shrugged. ¡°You don¡¯t survive in Pit forest without knowing how to care for yourself.¡±


    ¡°Niklas!¡± Lill sounded appalled. ¡°That¡¯s a right nasty thing to do. People probably got hurt. Gambling destroys families, and it¡¯s illegal!!¡±


    Niklas looked at Lill with guilty eyes. Mother May seemed to share the same opinion, and a Mother¡¯s words were law. Niklas was getting tired of the lie about the demons in Pit. The more he supported it, the weaker it felt. He wanted to tell them the truth that the Sharderin clan still existed in self-exile and were preparing for the great war. The Sommerfeldts were Sharderins and deserved to know. They looked at him like some unanswerable question; if he could explain, they might understand him better. Niklas imagined the Sommerfeldts on the wrong end of Edgar¡¯s blade and felt sick. If they knew the truth about the clan and it spread, or if Sharderin intelligence caught the scent of him exposing clan secrets in any way, it would only be a matter of time before Sharderin reapers silenced them.


    ¡°The only thing wrong with that is getting caught,¡± Ivar disagreed.


    Lill shot Ivar a scowl. ¡°You know there¡¯s nothing honest about such things.¡±


    Ivar yawned. ¡°If he earned money by fighting fair and square, how is that dishonest?¡±


    Niklas sat up a little straighter and nodded at Ivar. ¡°I was just trying to help.¡±


    Lill shook her head to both men. ¡°How, under Kel, is a gambling pit supposed to help anyone?¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Niklas started, ¡°I just wanted to weed out the weak and see the yard flourish. It¡¯s not like I forced anyone to fight...¡± He remembered Tim, Stephan, and Zach trying to run. ¡°Well, I didn¡¯t force anyone who didn¡¯t deserve it.¡±


    Lill¡¯s gray face flushed even paler. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°You are a total thug!¡± Ivar¡¯s eyes glistened with excitement. ¡°A proper gangster! It¡¯s great that a Sharderin will finally get the respect he deserves.¡±


    Lill huffed in frustration. ¡°Niklas, do you want to be a man whose only respect comes from fear and brute force?¡±


    Niklas thought of Edgar for a moment. Edgar had a crew of compatriots with whom he bent the rules and earned reverence from his colleagues. Everyone who knew Edgar personally gave him the respect he deserved.


    ¡°That¡¯s exactly what I want to be known for,¡± Niklas said.


    Lill gasped, and Ivar fell silent.


    Niklas furrowed his brow. ¡°That¡¯s what we sons of Stigki are supposed to be. Destroyers and killers; that¡¯s what I was born and trained for. What else would I want?¡±


    ¡°What about love?¡± Lill asked.


    ¡°About what?¡± Niklas asked, feeling slightly attacked.


    ¡°Love?¡±


    ¡°You mean...really enjoying things?¡± Niklas asked.


    ¡°Niklas¡­ you know what love is, right?¡± Lill asked in a worried voice.


    ¡°Of course. It¡¯s the next step after liking something.¡±Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    ¡°Right¡­ but also kindness, selflessness, and care.¡±


    ¡°Why should I care about those things?¡± Niklas asked, now more frustrated at his confusion than anything else. Lill was saying those things as if he should know better.


    ¡°Niklas¡­ do you care about anyone?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Niklas said. ¡°I¡¯m grateful to you for helping me. In fact, I was planning on paying you back with a generous portion of my winnings.¡±


    Lill shook her head. ¡°Do not make our friendship about money. That is not why I pulled you out of that river.¡±


    ¡°Then why did you pull me out of that river? You had no reason to do so.¡±


    ¡°Niklas!¡± Lill¡¯s words grew passionate. ¡°I pulled you out of the river because it was the right thing to do. I cared about the half-drowned body because I think everyone deserves love to some degree.¡±


    Niklas stopped. ¡°I see¡­you¡¯re a Mother, and you¡¯re a daughter of Gyva. Your methods and thoughts are higher than mine. You understand greater things than I do. I apologize for provoking you.¡± Niklas bowed his head.


    Thwaack!


    Lill produced a thick wooden spoon seemingly out of nowhere and beamed Niklas¡¯ downturned exposed head.


    ¡°Enough of that shit!¡± she snapped. ¡°You have a pretty twisted view of the world, and it¡¯s wrong. Stop treating me like a holy object.¡±


    Niklas fell back, rubbing his smarting head. His thick, twisted ponytail had absorbed most of the blow, but Lill had struck with no reserve.


    ¡°Now think hard!¡± she continued. ¡°Are you seriously going to tell me there''s no one you love in your life? Is there no one who goes out of their way to make you happy? Is there no one you think the world of?¡±


    Niklas looked back at Lill wide-eyed again. There was some form of fierceness to a determined mother that even a berserker would never capture.


    ¡°Is there?¡± she demanded again, threateningly jabbing the spoon at him.


    Niklas thought of Edgar again, only this time he thought of how happy he was to see his brother. Niklas was never on edge or scared around Edgar. All Niklas ever wanted in life was to make Edgar proud, and he knew he could always count on Edgar to be there for him.


    ¡°My brother,¡± Niklas said. ¡°I would die for him.¡±


    ¡°You have a brother?¡± Ivar asked.


    ¡°That¡¯s a start,¡± Lill cut in. ¡°But who would you live for, Mr. Loga?¡±


    That was a question Niklas had never considered before. ¡°I...I don¡¯t know,¡± he muttered.


    ¡°Well, you had better find out,¡± Lill insisted.


    Niklas nodded.


    ¡°I want you to promise me that you¡¯ll live honestly from now on. You may not care about the consequences, but we do.¡±


    Even Ivar nodded slowly. ¡°She¡¯s right...as usual. We would hate it if anything happened to you.¡±


    Niklas looked at the two of them and suddenly realized he would do anything for them, much like he would for Edgar. He nodded and ignored the new lump in his throat.


    He needed to return to Edgar, but he didn¡¯t need to get back now. He now knew there was no honest way to get 2000 cesh in a week. But there would be other esthetic operators outside of Soutfel. Operators who no doubt would do the procedure for much cheaper than the angry doctor he assaulted.


    ¡°I promise,¡± he finally nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll earn my way properly.¡±


    Lill¡¯s fierce stare softened into a smile of approval.


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t all for selfish reasons,¡± Niklas continued. ¡°I needed the money but also wanted to help Robin.¡±


    ¡°And you have,¡± Lill said. ¡°That man thinks the word of you.¡±


    ¡°So- does- his- sister!¡± Ivar weaved the words through a fit of coughs.


    Niklas nodded. ¡°I also did it because the Relrin workers were reserved and restless. It was clear they kept valor bottled inside. I just wanted to help them let it out.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure valor means what you think it means,¡± Lill said.


    ¡°Really?¡± Niklas said in surprise. ¡°Valor, as in¡­¡± He thought about it momentarily. ¡°...faith and violence?¡±


    Ivar snorted. ¡°That doesn¡¯t make any sense. Not even to me. Those words really don¡¯t go together.¡±


    Niklas was taken aback. How could they not understand valor? ¡°Faith, favor, honor, fire, and...ferocity?¡±


    Ivar shook his head. ¡°I think it means bravery.¡±


    Niklas frowned. ¡°Bravery hardly covers its full meaning. Haven''t you guys read Gyva¡¯s Vers?¡±


    ¡°I have,¡± Frode said from the doorway. ¡°Though it has been a long time.¡±


    The three of them looked at the old man who had been listening to the conversation unobserved.


    ¡°Do you have a copy?¡± Niklas asked.


    Ivar and Lill both shook their heads. ¡°We don¡¯t follow Gyva. We practice the teachings of Kel.¡±


    Niklas looked from one to the other, then cried out. He had heard the mention of Kel several times, but it didn¡¯t occur to him until now that Kel was the man-god of the Freven.


    ¡°You¡¯ve abandoned the faith?¡± Niklas cried in a sinking sense of concern for the wellbeing of his friends.


    ¡°Things are different now,¡± Frode said. ¡°Don¡¯t go condemning my children. Gyva worship has fallen out of favor.¡±


    Niklas could feel the valor bubble up inside of him. ¡°And you succumbed?¡±


    ¡°My children were raised on Kel worship.¡± Frode walked into the room, cane in hand. ¡°That is my doing. I converted to Kelarianism in Chimgar.¡±


    ¡°You willingly worship a man-god?¡± Niklas looked from one Sommerfeldt to the next, trust, gratitude, and respect overshadowed by a tearing sense of betrayal. ¡°You all need to repent now. Renounce Kell so Stigki won¡¯t take you to the pit.¡±


    ¡°Niklas,¡± Frode sighed. I converted because I believe Kellarianism to be true. As for this valor you¡¯re talking about, I don¡¯t know what it is. I¡¯ve read Gyva¡¯s Vers several times in my life before I converted.¡±


    ¡°How can you say that?¡± Niklas asked, appalled. ¡°Valor is the primary doctrine of Stigki.¡±


    Frode thought for a moment. ¡°I¡¯ll show you.¡± He disappeared into the room he shared with Ivar.


    After a few silent moments, Frode returned with a small, dusty booklet. Gyva¡¯s Verse was a small volume, but it contained all the scripture the Sharderins had.


    ¡°You kept it?¡± Lill cried.


    Frode nodded. ¡°Even if it¡¯s not my faith, it¡¯s part of my history.¡±


    Niklas stood as the holy book entered the room.


    ¡°I¡¯m fairly sure it doesn¡¯t speak of valor in the way you¡¯ve defined it.¡± Frode started.


    Niklas pulled the Gyva¡¯s Vers from Frode¡¯s hands. ¡°I¡¯ve read this book over twenty times. I¡¯ve studied it throughout my whole life. I can show you what valor means.¡±


    ¡°Niklas¨C¡±


    Niklas flipped through the Sharderic pages excitedly. ¡°You¡¯ll see, Gyva created the world. Stigki destroys it. Gyva makes it new again. Wars, fires, and death come from Stigki. Life, growth, and birth come from Gyva. All men are sons of Stigki. All Mothers- I mean, Women- are daughters of Gyva.


    Niklas opened to a passage and froze.


    What was supposed to read, And His valor given to sons who follow his path prepares them for the halls read Through posts and support, lend them unto their own.


    Niklas checked the passage. It was the right one.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with your copy?¡± Niklas frowned and flipped to a new passage. The book was familiar but alien. Most of the scriptures were the same, but many of them were wrong.


    ¡°What is this?¡± Niklas demanded. ¡°Who¡¯s changed your book?¡±


    ¡°Niklas,¡± Frode said slowly. ¡°Stgki is the god of words and poetry.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re wrong.¡± Niklas insisted. ¡°I know my faith. What¡¯s wrong with your copy?¡±


    ¡°My copy was my father''s. It¡¯s over eighty years old.¡±


    ¡°Well, the ones printed in Pit¨C¡± Niklas caught himself. He didn¡¯t want to reveal more about Pit than he had to.


    Another thought occurred to Niklas. Less than twenty years had passed since the Pit Sharderins evacuated into Pit Forest. Regarding authenticity, he should now be holding the genuine article.


    ¡°No,¡± he denied. ¡°There¡¯s some factor I don¡¯t see. Something¡¯s wrong with your book. This must be a publication from an apostate sect.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you hold onto that book,¡± Frode said. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you have been reading. But I know you don¡¯t have a copy now.¡±


    Niklas looked at the book with new concern. ¡°Thank you,¡± he said, but he was still unsure of what to think. He would investigate and figure out how Frode¡¯s book was wrong.


    Niklas tucked the book into a pocket and nodded his thanks to Frode again.


    Outside, the rainfall subsided, and whatever light could penetrate, the clouds began to filter through the windows.


    The boys'' room opened, and little Trygve looked at the small gathering. The five-year-old no longer hid from Niklas whenever he was in the same room.


    ¡°Oh, daft.¡± Lill cursed as she saw her son. ¡°I had forgotten about breakfast.¡± She got up and got to work.


    Someone ponded on the door, and Ivar rolled his eyes as he went to answer it.


    Gyva, Niklas silently prayed as he tried to process the meaning of what he had just learned. I am not shaken, but I need to know what is true.


    ¡°Niklas,¡± Ivar said. ¡°It¡¯s for you.¡±


    Niklas looked at the door in surprise. He recognized the investigator¡¯s uniform but didn¡¯t recognize the man.


    ¡°Niklas Loga?¡± The officer said from the doorway. He had freshly cut dark hair and a clean-shaven face. His uniform was much neater and orderly than Officer Yelsings''s.


    Niklas scrambled to his feet. ¡°Yes?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I have a few questions for you.¡±


    All of the Sommerfeldts who were awake looked at the officer with wide eyes.


    Niklas got up and stepped outside, closing the door behind him. ¡°Is there a problem?¡± he asked.


    ¡°My name is Inspector Graham. Do you know Timothy Cooper, Zach Smith, or Stephan Jackson?¡±


    Niklas cursed inwardly. They must have found the courage to report him to a different officer. Only this time, he had no money to buy another officer off.


    ¡°Yes, I used to work with them.¡±


    ¡°Where were you last night?¡± the officer asked.


    ¡°I was here,¡± Niklas said, now curious about what that had to do with anything.


    ¡°Is there anyone who can confirm that?¡±


    ¡°Yeah¡­ what¡¯s the point of this, officer?¡±


    ¡°Inspector,¡± Graham corrected him. ¡°Are you aware that Timothy, Zach, and Stephan were found murdered in the lumber yard last night?¡±


    Niklas flinched. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°They were torn to pieces. We thought an animal might have done it, but one was put to the saw. Do you know any animals that can run a table saw, Mr. Loga?¡±


    ¡°What? Of course not.¡± Niklas said.


    ¡°Neither do I,¡± Inspector Graham said. ¡°So I¡¯ve been asking around. It seems that you and they have a bad history.¡±


    ¡°Wait, am I a suspect?¡± Niklas asked in disbelief.


    Inspector Graham frowned. ¡°Not yet. We don¡¯t have enough to make a case, but I¡¯ll be watching you, Mr. Loga.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s fine by me,¡± Niklas said. ¡°You don¡¯t think anyone else in the yard is in danger, do you?¡±


    Inspector Graham studied Niklas¡¯ face closely, apparently unsatisfied with what he saw. ¡°Have a good day, Mr. Loga.¡± He left the compound.


    Niklas stared after him with a barrage of thoughts peppering him.


    Murder, love, false scripture. It seemed the longer he stayed here, the more complicated things got.

 20 Roadside.

    ¡°You have to teach me how to box!¡± little Rasmus declared as he jogged alongside Niklas. ¡°I can¡¯t believe it, you beat those saw men! Kefling said he saw you, said you beat six men at once!¡± Rasmus threw a jab and a hook in the air. ¡°When you teach me, I won¡¯t worry about Delbin anymore! I¡¯d teach him a lesson if he tries to push Trygve again!¡±


    Niklas walked down the muddy road, only catching every other word. Rasmus¡¯ enthusiasm would have been flattering if it had been any other time. But as Niklas walked, he felt nothing but stress. Between losing his winnings, a murder in the yard, and the Sommerfeldts abandoning their Sharderin faith, he felt justified in calling it a bad day.


    The key to control is planning and preparation. Edgar had always said. If you don¡¯t plan for everything, you aren¡¯t prepared.


    Niklas shook his head. Who was he kidding? Niklas wasn¡¯t Edgar. If Edgar were here, he¡¯d have split up his winnings and sent Yelsing and the manager with only a fraction. Niklas had been naive. Besides, how did one prepare for everything to fall apart?


    ¡°Do demons in Pit box?¡± Rasmus continued. ¡°That¡¯s where you learned, isn¡¯t it? I don¡¯t think there could be anything cooler than learning boxing from demons¨C¡±


    ¡°Look!¡± Niklas stopped him with an upraised hand. ¡°I don¡¯t want to talk right now. I¡¯ll teach you later.¡±


    Rasmus stopped with a look of innocent guilt in his eyes.


    Niklas sighed. ¡°It¡¯s not you, Rasmus. I just have a lot to think about.¡±


    Rasmus nodded once, then sulked off, trying to hide his offended expression.


    Great. Niklas had done it again. He would apologize later, but now he was in no mood to talk. Rasmus¡¯ constant chatter was setting Niklas¡¯ nerves on edge. His headache had finally disappeared, allowing him to focus on the pain from his other injuries, except for his knee. Niklas felt no pain in his knee, which he knew was wrong. He wondered what irreversible nerve damage may have happened to it.


    He had to make a plan, and his rising questions made him feel further from home than ever.


    He still was unsure of what to do next. He wanted to try another fight pit, but his promise to the Sommerfeldts stopped that.


    He knew he couldn¡¯t get the money needed for his current timeline. He may have to stay in Soutfel longer than expected.


    The Prospect of honest work made him feel like he lacked control. Like anything could come over and quickly knock him down.


    Taking shortcuts to remove the scar hadn¡¯t proven reliable, so he consigned to the slower approach.


    Several herdsmen and other workers were hired to do some repairs where the road had been washed out, so Niklas signed on. Even if he wasn¡¯t making full wages, he was determined to at least alleviate the financial burden his presence had put on the Sommerfeldts.


    He saw a group of men working in the mud ahead. The sun had broken through the clouds, and the humidity rose from the wet ground.


    ¡°Pit boy!¡± A pair of men waited for Niklas on the side of the road. Niklas perked up. Only men who watched his fight called him by that name.


    They wore white shirts, dusty suits, and battered hats. The clothes marked them as higher-low or middle-class workmen.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, boys,¡± Niklas said. ¡°No more fights coming up.¡±


    The younger of the two laughed; he must have been around Niklas¡¯ age, possibly even younger. ¡°I just wanted to say you handled yourself well in the ring. We made a bit of money on you.¡±


    That caught Niklas by surprise. ¡°What? Hardly anyone put money on me, only like¨C¡±


    ¡°Two,¡± the older agreed. He wore his suit well. Very broad and heavy, this man could have been a Sharderin Drone. ¡°My cousin and I were the only ones to bet on you.¡±


    ¡°Well, thanks for your confidence,¡± Niklas said. ¡°But I lost in the end.¡±


    The older of the two frowned. ¡°Got caught, did you? Ah well. We came to offer you a job.¡±


    Niklas let out a bark of laughter. ¡°What use would workmen need for a Sharderin freeman?¡±


    They looked at each other with no small amount of amusement in their faces. ¡°Then we ought to introduce ourselves.¡±


    The older man, in his mid-thirties, swept off his hat. ¡°I am Paramount Godwin Rowan.¡±


    ¡°And I am Paramount Klause Rowan!¡± the other said.


    Niklas looked from one to the other in a stupor before snorting. ¡°And I¡¯m the Arbiter. What is this?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re serious,¡± the older man said. ¡°We need your help.¡±


    Niklas cocked an eyebrow. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°We are planning something big. Prime Paramount Alred has something we need. We can¡¯t give details here for obvious reasons, but we¡¯re looking for fighters.¡±


    Niklas felt the tickle of valor. They needed fighting men, but a Sharderin fighting for Relrins went against everything he believed.


    ¡°No,¡± Niklas said plainly. ¡°Throwing fists in a ring is one thing. Fighting for you is another.


    Klause frowned. ¡°Why not? The Alreds hold thousands of debt bonds. They force the management of their region on the disorganized bureau and live off of the profits without contributing to Soutfel¡¯s supervision. They think they¡¯re better than you. Aren¡¯t you a fighter?¡±


    ¡°Look,¡± Niklas started. ¡°I¡¯m trying to stay out of trouble. Besides, I¡¯m not going to be a pawn in Relrin rivalries. I don¡¯t care about your politics or crusades. I only want to go home.¡±


    ¡°I thought you were a fighter.¡± the young Klause said. ¡°That¡¯s what I saw in the ring. You¡¯re content to let those you care about live in a system designed to keep them impoverished?¡±


    ¡°The only system I know is from the Relrin people as a whole. When you murdered my mother in front of me, it was military and peasant alike who purged us. A pink skin is a pink skin, and I won¡¯t fight for you.¡±


    Klause was about to retort, but Godwin stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry about what happened to your women, Loga,¡± Godwin said with almost convincing sorrow. ¡°We are trying to expose the sins of our fathers, not justify them.¡±


    Niklas shook his head. ¡°I tried working in the dark, and I was humiliated. I need to work honestly.¡±


    Godwin nodded. ¡°If you need an ally or change your mind, you can find us or one of our guys at the Waleston Pub.¡± He nodded politely. ¡°Thank you for your time, Mr. Loga.¡±Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    They turned and left Niklas with no further prodding or prying. He appreciated that, but it did little to calm his mind.


    He marched to the roadside, which had washed out. A dozen men, including Ivar, were digging a new ditch and stacking sandbags. There was also a handful of women, including Esther, helping out.


    Niklas shot her only a brief glance as he scooped a pickaxe out of the pile.


    After receiving instruction, Niklas swung his pickaxe into the earth, and it bit deep. He strained every muscle, pulling out a generous load of wet dirt and rocks. His shoulder protested, and a spiderweb of stinging scabs ensured he couldn¡¯t forget them. After cutting wood for so long, changing the routine felt great.


    Niklas felt that he had gotten weaker with his time at the sawmill. The mundane work of moving lumber was nowhere as rigorous as the intensive Drone training programs he was accustomed to.


    He swung the pick again and again. It felt good, and he could almost feel valor¡¯s smile. It was work, and he was a Drone, so he continued the drone''s work. Mind-numbing, pointless labor was what he was familiar with; it was what he was comfortable doing.


    The sun claimed the day, and Niklas sweated profusely. Eventually, all the workmen started to remove their shirts.


    This sparked Niklas¡¯ interest. The workers at the sawmill always kept their shirts on. He had always wondered if it was cultural or because the dust would stick to them. He now concluded that it was the latter.


    Sharderin Drones often worked shirtless, so Niklas discarded his stiff and wet Relrin shirt with a sigh of relief.


    The sun began to beat down on his shoulders as he lost himself in the endless repetitious rhythm of breaking up the dirt with the pick, simplifying the job for the diggers.


    He tried thinking of a plan as he worked. With his body busy, his mind was free to explore options.


    He was back at the start. He wouldn¡¯t seek after Dr. Geoffrey again. In fact, if Dr. Geoffrey saw him again, he threatened to have Niklas arrested. Niklas would just have to be sure to avoid the Doctor. He would have to commit more time to his earnings and find a different Esthetic Operator. He could go to another town.


    Niklas swung his pick again. It distracted him from his agitated nerves. He had never been so consistently unsettled in his life. Just breathing at times took a substantial amount of effort. Sometimes, he found his hands shaking. He had almost lost his footing in multiple cases because he was lightheaded.


    He knew sometimes he worked himself to fatigue, but it seemed all he could do to keep himself focused. He had worked harder than he had ever worked before.


    And what do you have to show for it? Nothing.


    Niklas threw his weight into his work, trying to distract himself from the thought, but a single name came to his mind.


    Wilbur Teaman.


    Teaman had set Niklas up. No one would have reported him if Wilbur wasn¡¯t involved.


    Niklas gripped his pick tighter, making his knuckles turn white as he continued his attack on the roadside.


    Niklas started to imagine Wilbur''s face on the ground under the blows of his pick. The pick seemed lighter with this fantasy.


    Niklas swung his pick down, sinking it deep into the ground. Panting, he arched his back to stretch.


    He suddenly became aware that he was far ahead of the rest of the workers.


    Hot and sweaty, Niklas left his station and went to the water bucket. He took the ladle in a long drought of water and sighed with satisfaction. He filled the dipper again and poured it over his head. The cold water was satisfyingly refreshing as it ran down his head and over his shoulders.


    Niklas opened his eyes to see an elderly workwoman eyeing him oddly. He suddenly felt horribly exposed. The Sharderin Drones worked shirtless but never in the presence of a mother.


    The mother shook her head disapprovingly as she passed a ladle to another workman.


    It wasn¡¯t only her. Most of the mothers looked at him in strange and even hostile ways. In fact, Niklas would also catch the men stealing glances at him.


    He felt very self-conscious of himself. What was the problem? All of the Relrin Men work without shirts as well.


    Niklas quickly found Ivar, who was on the digging crew.


    ¡°Ivar, what¡¯s wrong? Why is everyone looking at me?¡± he demanded.


    Ivar chuckled and leaned against his shovel. ¡°It¡¯s your ink, man. They think you might be a pirate.¡±


    ¡°Why do they care?¡± Niklas asked, suddenly wanting to cover up. The Drone rune was on the left side of his chest. His name and birth year were also printed on his shoulder in Sharderin runes, and everyone eyed them like they might be an infectious disease. Niklas hadn¡¯t noticed until now that not a one of the Relrins had even a tiny tattoo. He had never seen an unmarked Sharderin. Everyone was marked with their name, rank, and other badges of honor.


    ¡°It¡¯s a taboo,¡± Ivar explained. ¡°Sinful, in fact. It¡¯s against the Kelarian commandments. If I remember correctly, Gyvans used to believe the same.¡±


    That would be a change as well. Some Sharderins never marked their skin, and others labeled their children as they became soldiers.


    Niklas stuck out his chin defensively. ¡°It¡¯s not like I got these to be contrarian. They were given to me when I turned ten.¡± It was a rite of passage given to all Sharderins to reach manhood.


    ¡°Not only that, lad,¡± a scruffy voice cut in from the side.


    Niklas turned to see a bald man with a short white beard.


    ¡°I used to be a soldier, and after seeing the heat of battle on many an occasion, not even I, or most of my fellow warriors, are marked with as many scars as you carry, so it makes one wonder. Where did you come from?¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter,¡± Niklas said. He knew what the Relrins thought of mere mention of the forest. So he decided to stop telling them even a portion of the truth.


    The man nodded and stuck out his hand. ¡°Jeff,¡± he said.


    Niklas took the hand, to his own surprise. It was uncommon to be treated equally, even by the peasants. ¡°Niklas Loga.¡±


    ¡°Bear your marks proudly, boy. They tell your story. Don¡¯t let others'' judgmental opinions pull you down. All things considered, there is a special place in Frez reserved for us because of the horrors we did. We have no right to judge your upbringing; we are the ones who stole it.¡± He had a tone of remorse, and a depth of sadness clung to his eyes.


    He was there. This man killed our Mothers.


    Niklas pulled his hand away and scowled at the former soldier.


    The old man''s face showed only regret for his past.


    Not giving the Mother killer another glance, Niklas turned to go back to his work but found Esther looking at him wide-eyed with concern.


    Niklas wasn¡¯t sure if it was the lump of edgy anxiety forming in his chest or the way she looked at him through big eyes that made his head spin. Maybe it was the memory of Wilbur sitting by her as he was humiliated.


    ¡°Esther?¡± he asked confused. Something unknown entity seemed to spin in his gut and mind.


    She stepped up to him, examining his body. Her eyes flickered from each scar. Each knife wound, each burn, the teeth marks of the dog bite, and each lash. His body told his story, and she was reading it.


    ¡°What happened to you?¡± she asked, her voice low.


    It was a new tone to him, but he had learned what it was. Pity. The confused stirring sensation melted away, replaced with a flare of resentment.


    Was she not impressed? His badges of valor were not to be pitied. A Sharderin wore his scars with pride. Sharderins were strong, and the scars were their proof. Pity was for the weak, for the faceless.


    Niklas¡¯ eyes grew wide.


    Faceless.


    At that moment, he could feel the Zealot''s brand sear just under his eye, the whip''s lash, his shattered mask, the countless blows taken to prove that he was able, but worst of all, the rejection because he was impure.


    Niklas set his jaw and clenched his fist. Pity. He hated pity. There was no place in a Sharderin soldier for pity.


    The next thing he knew. Esther had a hand on his face, on his faceless mark. She was studying the mark with curious, sad eyes.


    In confusion and with a snarl, Niklas snatched her by the wrist and jerked her away. His clutch was much tighter than he intended, and she let out a cry as she stumbled onto the ground.


    She regarded him from the ground with a look of guilt coupled with surprise. Her large eyes twinkled as they looked at him apologetically. ¡°Niklas,¡± she whispered. ¡°I¡¯m ¨C I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°Oi.¡±


    ¡°Git away from her.¡±


    ¡°Stand down, lad!¡±


    Workers quickly gathered in a circle all around them. They brandished their tools like weapons protectively.


    Niklas looked at the many workers, and the animal melted from his face. ¡°I, I didn¡¯t mean it,¡± he muttered. He looked down at the mother on the muddy ground, the mother he had put there.


    If a mother wanted to touch him, she had the full God-given right to do so, and he had no right to do anything about it. That was the way that Gyva made things.


    Niklas felt his gut churn inside him. He wished Stigki would call fire from the earth to consume him and send him right to Pit.


    ¡°I...I¡­¡± He choked on his words. He spun on his heel and pushed past a couple of workmen.


    He wasn¡¯t thinking. He had just gotten so angry. He wanted to serve mothers, not be pitied by them.


    He grabbed his pick and made his way up a mound away from Esther. He couldn¡¯t look back at her. What was happening to him? He had no valor. He looked at and spoke to mothers freely. He lived and worked for the mother killers. How had he fallen so far?


    Coming to the top of the mound, Niklas swung his pick. He tried controlling his breathing but couldn¡¯t calm down. There was a buzz inside that grew continually worse.


    He swung faster and faster. Had he lost his reverence for Mothers? Relrins didn¡¯t hold their mothers as holy. Was he adopting their sins?


    He felt something tear in his hands. He cursed in Sharderic and dropped his pick. Looking at his hands, he saw that he had ripped a sizable chunk of skin off of his palm.


    With a growl, he snatched his pick and attacked the ground more ferociously.

 21 Stanfleda.

    Demi Paramountess Stanfleda had mixed feelings about returning to her grandfather''s Soutfel estate.


    On the one hand, Stanfleda was ready for a break from her studies after the past months at the university. She wanted to see her mother and father again, and she hadn¡¯t seen her friends in almost half a year. Paramountess Stanfleda missed the quiet of the country and the occasional gatherings where she would see her cousins and friends from the surrounding regions.


    On the other hand, leaving her new friends was hard. Stanfleda knew she would see most of them again in a few months but wished to bring them all with her. That was implausible, of course. No doubt, most of them felt the same way about going home.


    The most significant factor lingering on her mind was that Erik would be at the estate. She knew she could expect his continual, relentless, dull efforts to win her attention. She knew her twin brother would love for her to marry his best friend and such a renowned duelist, but she didn¡¯t like that Erik treated her like some game he had already won.


    Paramountess Stanfledda briefly looked across the carriage at her three travel companions. Her cousin and best friend, Demi Paramountess Akelda, reclined in the pillows of her upholstered seat with her eyes closed. Based on her breathing, Stanfleda assumed she wasn¡¯t sleeping. Paramountess Akelda¡¯s handmaid, Ellen, stared stoically out her window. Stanfleda¡¯s handmaid, Sara, giggled to herself with her nose in a book. The distinction as to which attendant was assigned to which Paramountess was immaterial as both companions served both paramountesses almost interchangeably. Despite their station differences, all four women were bosom sisters and dearest friends.


    The carriage dipped suddenly, causing a spike of vertigo in Stanfleda¡¯s stomach. The carriage was one of the new artifact air carriages that hovered several feet above the road. It was supposed to maintain a near perfect level while in motion.


    ¡°Good Kel, what was that?¡± Sarah cried.


    ¡°Do you have to shout, Sarah?¡± Demi Paramountess Akelda, Stanfleda¡¯s cousin and best friend, chastened through closed eyes. ¡°You¡¯re loud. I could sleep through a highwayman attack better than through your noise.¡±


    ¡°I am sorry, Paramountess,¡± Sarah apologized. As a handmaid, the apology was expected, but as a lifelong friend, she could have gotten away without it. ¡°I figured that we might actually be under attack. I thought these carriages weren¡¯t supposed to ride so roughly.¡±


    Akelda snorted, but somehow still in a ladylike way. ¡°And who would have the audacity to ambush a guarded convoy so close to my grandfather''s home?¡±


    ¡°The Rowan¡¯s,¡± Stanfleda muttered.


    Akelda looked at Stanfleda evenly. ¡°They wouldn¡¯t dare!¡±


    ¡°You know that¡¯s not true, cousin,¡± Stanfleda said. ¡°They¡¯ve attacked the manor once already. I hear known Roof Runners have been spotted in Soutfel to make another attack.¡±


    Sarah¡¯s eyes glistened in excitement at the idea. ¡°That would be so exciting, don¡¯t you think? Guards and bandits fighting, those two dreamy Rowan boys smitten by our beauty and in love¡­¡±


    Lady Standfleda had learned to filter out Sarah¡¯s silly fantasies. The two Rowan boys were the Alreds¡¯ enemies. The girl read too many romance books in a perfect waste of the free university tuition that came with being a paramountess¡¯ handmaid.


    The carriage shuddered again.


    ¡°Kel, maybe we are under attack!¡± Sarah cried.


    To ease her mind, Stanfleda looked out the window. Several workmen were digging and stacking sandbags to restore part of the road that the storm the previous night had washed out.


    ¡°Relax, Sarah,¡± Stanfleda said. ¡°It¡¯s just flood damage on the road; workmen are repairing it.¡±


    Sarah frowned in disappointment.


    Breaking from the conversation and for lack of anything better to do, Stanfleda casually glanced out the window.


    ¡°Hello,¡± she said mostly to herself when she saw him. Drawing the shades open, she practically stuck her head out the window to get a better look.


    A man stood apart from the other workers on a hill. He had the light gray skin of a Sharderin, though not as dark as usual. He had long, peppered, and wild matted hair, which he wore pulled back into a thick ponytail. He even had tattoos on his chest and side, but she couldn¡¯t tell what they were. He was a wildman, and he worked like it. His sculpted body was tense and glistened in sweat.


    ¡°What is it, cousin?¡± Paramontess Akelda asked.


    He attacked the ground like a savage. Or perhaps like a man in the desert digging for water.


    ¡°I think I found the son of the Frezvac himself,¡± Stanfleda chuckled.


    ¡°What? No, you lie. Let me see,¡± Paramontess Akelda demanded, dropping her usual feminine poise.


    She was sitting on the other side of the carriage, so she climbed past Ellen and Sarah, rousing many objections from the handmaids as she did.


    The man threw his tool away and dropped to his knees, heaving in deep breaths. His hands shook as if in pain. He looked down at his trembling hands, disgusted.


    ¡°Woah,¡± Stanfleda expressed at his outburst, happy Sarah couldn¡¯t see. If she saw the display, it would have reduced her to gleeful squealing.


    ¡°Make way, Stanfleda,¡± Akelda whined. ¡°I want to see.¡±


    They passed right in front of him when he looked at Stanfleda. His teeth bared in a bestial growl, his brow furrowed. Stanfleda recoiled slightly, half expecting him to charge the carriage.


    When he saw her looking right at him, his eyes widened, and his jaw dropped, revealing abruptly boyish features behind his feral mask.


    Stanfleda couldn¡¯t believe it, nor could she help it. She blushed, and she pulled away from the window. She felt her face heat up. The workman¡¯s face clung to her mind stubbornly.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Sarah asked. ¡°I want to see.¡±


    Akelda, who had taken her look, pulled away with a laugh. ¡°You were not joking, were you, cousin?¡±


    Stanfleda wasn¡¯t listening. The man looked dangerous.


    Sarah pushed past, forced her way to the window, and squealed with delight, her head still out.


    ¡°Sarah!¡± all three cried as they pulled her back into the carriage.


    ¡°He is perfectly gorgeous! In a most dark and mysterious sort of way.¡±


    Akelda smiled subtly as if to agree.


    ¡°That is to say, at the house, we have men, but that, that was a man! I don¡¯t think I have ever seen a body so beautiful.¡±


    ¡°Sarah!¡± they all cried again.


    ¡°How perfectly shallow,¡± Akelda chastened.


    ¡°Do you wish to start a scandal?¡± Ellen demanded. As always, Ellen didn¡¯t want anything to do with such immature frivolities, which made her and Sarah unlikely friends.


    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me that you were not thinking the same thing, you liars!¡± Sarah insisted.


    Akelda smirked by way of confession as Sarah began to fan herself.


    Ellen stiffened in her seat. Always proper and mature, Stanfleda could tell she regretted not seeing the workman who unknowingly found himself the center of their attention.


    ¡°Did you want to see, Ellen?¡± Stanfleda asked slyly.


    The handmaid stiffened despite herself.


    ¡°Don¡¯t deny it,¡± she prodded.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Ellen remained silent, and Stanfleda took that as the answer. ¡°That, dear Ellen, can be arranged.¡± She smiled mischievously. ¡°Coachman!¡± she called, almost loud enough for the coachman to hear.


    All three of their giddy faces turned to dread, ¡°NO!¡± they all cried.


    ¡°What?¡± Stanfleda protested, ¡°You don¡¯t want to take him home? Perhaps keep him as a personal house servant?¡±


    They all broke out into a fit of laughter, genuinely enjoying the moment.


    Their laughter quickly died, but the workman''s dark eyes clung to Stanfleda¡¯s mind. They masked rage and pain.


    Quickly, she stuck her head out of the window again and looked back after him. The figure, now distant, was still on his knees, still looking her way, looking at her.


    Quickly, she pulled herself back in.


    She shook her head. She was being ridiculous. He was just a corpse workman.


    What did Niklas just see? It looked like the face of God herself. The first Mother to look at him through the artifact-powered horse-drawn air carriage. She was young, but something about her drew his eye, causing him to look after the air carriage long after it passed.


    Niklas shook his head. He shouldn¡¯t spare the random Mother another thought, especially a Relrin Mother he would probably never see again.


    Lill had said only the elite of the Relrins used air carriages. He knew no high-class Relrins beyond Wilbur or the two men who claimed to be the Rowans.


    Niklas growled, banishing the carriage of mothers from his mind. He didn¡¯t deserve a distraction; he curled his hands into fists, and the stinging intensified. He had torn them in more than a dozen places.


    Why did he pull Esther? She was not just a Mother. She was his friend. At least, he thought she was. He tried to push her face out of his mind, but he kept seeing how she looked at him from the ground.


    Niklas doubled over, still on his knees. He curled his fingers into his matted drone hair and grabbed it in a tight fist. Niklas rocked back and forth as though he could somehow soothe his self-hatred.


    What¡¯s happening to me? He thought bitterly. This isn¡¯t like me. Everything changes with every day I stay here.


    In Pit Two, Niklas had always seen himself as equal to his fellow Sharderins. As a child, The priests and elders taught him that Sharderins were better and worth more than the Relrins.


    And now that he was here, he carried the belief with him, the way he had treated the workmen at the mill, the way he handled Esther.


    Esther. I¡¯m so sorry.


    He groaned again. He was far ahead enough that no one would hear him.


    Niklas took everything from the Relrins as though he somehow deserved it. Like he was something special, he had changed in Soutfel. The drone was prone to anger, pride, and unpleasantness. He wondered if these changes were the real him or if they were just the manifestation of med withdrawal.


    Niklas could barely remember his mother, his actual mother, the one who gave birth to him. But he wondered what she would think if she could see him now.


    What about Gyva? He had offended yet another one of her daughters. Were Relrin women daughters of Gyva?


    He looked up at the bright blue sky as though he had expected to see Gyva¡¯s disapproving face frowning down at him. Maybe the Sharderins were wrong. Perhaps he didn¡¯t know Gyva. He couldn¡¯t be sure what to believe when he knew there was at least another version of his religion. Maybe both tribes were people created by the same gods. Perhaps he needed to stop worrying about caste and creed.


    Niklas was nothing special; life was meant for everyone, not just him.


    He couldn¡¯t continue to live the way Pit had programmed him. He had to change, adapt, or continue to feel like everything was working against him.


    What am I living for? Who am I living for?


    To work and fight like a Drone.


    I am a Drone. The words possessed Niklas'' mind like a familiar but unwelcome guest. My mind and body belong to the clan; my sweat, blood, and dreams are only for the clan. I work, fight, and die for the clan. I think not for myself but to execute the directives given to me by the clan. I long for death in battle so Valor can be on me and the clan.


    Was that why he was in Soutfel? He had not executed any clan directives, had not given the clan much thought, or even expressed any concern for it, and somehow, he was okay with that.


    His only concern had been for Edgar.


    Edgar. My family.


    The thought of the word family broke through his mind. Edgar was his family, and the zealots had driven him away.


    Why did the single-word family feel more real than the combined concept and glory of the clan and valor?


    Lill, Tord, Frode Ivar, young Rasmus, and little Trygve. They understood. They were the only real family Niklas had seen, and he wanted that. All Niklas had done was disappoint and lie to them. They had welcomed him and asked nothing in return.


    Niklas had a family now; he was going to live for them. He was not an animal, and for the first time in his life, Niklas decided he wasn¡¯t a Drone. He was a man, and it was about time he started living like it.


    Niklas was the last workman to come in. He must have remained on that road for hours after the final workers stacked their tools and went home. He found the will to get up and return to the compound when the sun started to go down.


    Worried that he might run into Esther or Robin, he ran past the common ground to the Sommerfeldt¡¯s. He didn¡¯t know what to say to Esther had he run into her.


    He opened the door to see the whole family gathered. Six pairs of eyes turned to him as he stepped into the light. They looked at him in silence, waiting for an explanation. No doubt Ivar had told them about Esther.


    ¡°I uh¡­¡± Niklas started.


    ¡°You what?¡± Lill demanded. She didn¡¯t sound happy.


    ¡°I messed up.¡±


    Lill snorted as she got to her feet, planting her hands on her hips with a huff. ¡°You messed up? Niklas, I¡¯ll tell you right now. I know you may be a pagan. But here, we don¡¯t push women.¡±


    Niklas bowed his head in shame. ¡°That¡¯s not how we treat women where I¡¯m from either,¡± he said.


    ¡°Good. I wouldn¡¯t think so. I¡¯ll be honest. I expected¨C¡±


    ¡°Wait!¡± Frode cut in. ¡°What did you just say? I mean, about women, where you come from?¡±


    ¡°Look,¡± Niklas started. ¡°I don¡¯t know why I did the things I did. Things are not the way I expected them to be. I have no valor and so many new feelings. I¡¯m learning how to live.¡±


    ¡°Niklas, what women are there where you come from?¡± the old man asked, refusing to drop the subject.


    ¡°I want to talk,¡± Niklas said in a low voice, ¡°but I don¡¯t always know how.¡±


    No one moved, but Frode nodded in apology. ¡°Just try.¡±


    Niklas nodded. ¡±I¡¯ll tell you everything. I¡¯ve done nothing but lie and use you. But I need your word that you will not tell another living soul.¡±


    They regarded him curiously.


    ¡°If rumors spread, they¡¯ll send someone to dispose of me and anyone who knows. This information is dangerous. If you want to know who I am, swear on your god, Kel, that you¡¯ll keep what I have to say secret.¡±


    One by one, they nodded.


    Niklas took a deep breath. ¡°Pit forest isn¡¯t haunted.¡±


    ¡°Hah,¡± Ivar barked victoriously.


    ¡°What do you mean it isn¡¯t haunted?¡± Lill demanded. ¡°You should know firsthand the place is crawling with demons who kill all who enter. You¡¯ve seen them.¡±


    Niklas shook his head. ¡°There are no demons. The Sharderin people live.¡±


    ¡°Well, of course, we live. We¡¯ve been scattered throughout  Relgar. We all know that the plague only killed the women.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Niklas said. ¡°The Sharderin society exists as a whole. They all live deep in Pit Forrest. We¡¯re the reason some call it the forest of death.¡±


    ¡°You mean it¡¯s not because of the bandits and demons which haunt it?¡± Frode asked. ¡°What about the wall of demons?¡±


    ¡°We exterminated the bandits two decades ago. We are the demons; we use illusions, wear masks, and are all trained killers. We don¡¯t let anything that gets into Pit live.¡±


    The table fell silent.


    ¡°When you say society, how many are you talking about?¡± Frode asked, his eyes hopeful.


    ¡°Thousands. I¡¯ve never seen us all together. We have three cities in the trees.¡±


    ¡°And the women?¡±


    Niklas shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t know. They keep their numbers secret. It could be as few as twenty to as many as hundreds. I have only ever seen two.¡±


    ¡°They live,¡± the old man said in wonder, his eyes growing moist. ¡°Then surely we must join them.¡±


    ¡°Listen, Frode,¡± Niklas objected, ¡°the Sharderin tribe you knew is not the same clan that exists today. The second you step foot there, they will steal your sons for war and your daughter for worship. If you went to Pit, they would take your family.¡±


    Frode was taken aback. ¡°It¡¯s not the way I remember things.¡±


    ¡°Things have changed,¡± Niklas said, pulling out his reaper''s blade and flicking the switch. The Sommerfeldts cried out in surprise as the trinket transformed into a weapon.


    ¡°What is this devilry?¡±


    ¡°The last twenty years, we have been preparing for war, developing new weapons, and programming soldiers.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± Tord asked uneasily.


    ¡°War, it¡¯s in our blood.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Frode insisted, ¡°Sharderins were artists, not fighters; why do you think the genocide worked so effectively?¡±


    ¡°It didn¡¯t,¡± Niklas countered, ¡°and after a lifetime of preparation, we changed.¡±


    ¡°Preparing for what?¡± Ivar asked.


    Niklas looked at him. ¡°Retaliation.¡±


    They all grew pale.


    ¡°I know you enjoy peace now, but it will not always be that way. One day, the shadows will pour out of the forest of death and establish a new era. It¡¯s written in our scripture. The version of our scripture that I know.¡±


    ¡°Boys, go to bed,¡± Lill insisted.


    ¡°Ma!¡± Rasmus whined.


    She shot him a fairy glare, and the two boys submitted, skulking to their room.


    ¡°I am a Drone,¡± Niklas explained. ¡°Like a worker and a basic fighter.¡±


    ¡°So that¡¯s how you whipped those sawmen and staged a gambling pit?¡± Ivar said. ¡°You¡¯re a soldier.¡±


    ¡°We are all soldiers,¡± Niklas said. ¡°I was banished for committing the worst of sins.¡±


    ¡°Niklas,¡± Lill¡¯s voice grew concerned, no doubt, as she recalled his current crimes. ¡°What did you do?¡±


    ¡°I looked a woman in the eyes.¡±


    ¡°What does that mean?¡± Lill asked, confused.


    Niklas looked her in the eyes. Of late, he was able to do so without shame or reserve. ¡°As I sit here looking at you, I did to one of our Mothers.¡±


    ¡°You were banished for looking a woman in the eye?¡± Frode asked, surprised. ¡°That¡¯s a little harsh, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    Niklas shrugged. ¡°Gyva worship says it¡¯s just. Our women are sacred.¡±


    ¡°So that¡¯s why you were so scared when you first saw me?¡± Lill realized.


    Niklas nodded.


    ¡°So you won¡¯t go back?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I will,¡± Niklas said. ¡°All I want is to go back to my brother. I need a place to stay until I can remove this scar.¡± Niklas pointed to the mark on his face. ¡°It¡¯s the mark of banishment.¡±


    ¡°Hence your need for 2000 cesh?¡± Ivar said.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have anywhere to go,¡± Niklas said, ¡°And you have been so kind to me. No doubt you feel like you are living with a stranger. I have betrayed your trust and expectation in more than one case. I have never had a family, not a full one like this. It has always been my brother and me, but I¡¯m begging you. Please let me join the Sommerfeldts, at least until I can go back.¡±


    The Sommerfeldts looked at each other in silence.


    Niklas felt a momentary spike of panic as he waited.


    Finally, Lill spoke up, ¡°Why, of course you can stay!¡± she huffed. ¡°Not like me to put out those in need.


    ¡°He can?¡± Ivar asked half sarcastically.


    With lightning speed, Lill smacked Ivar on the head with a wooden spoon. She hadn¡¯t been holding it a moment before. Niklas made a mental note to find out where she kept it.


    ¡°I mean, of course, you can,¡± Ivar whined, rubbing his head and looking at Lill with a sour look.


    ¡°One condition,¡± Lill said, growing stern.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°You make things right with Esther. The poor girl is going through so much already, and now she thinks she lost a friend.¡±


    Niklas nodded. ¡°I will.¡±

 22 Summer Festival.

    A dull pain started in Niklas¡¯ chest, and his left arm grew numb. An uncontrollable fit of coughs seized him. He hacked and wheezed. His chest felt like it had had a sizable stone lodged in it.


    Gagging, he fell onto the floor of his room and started to pant in panic. The cough was anything but ordinary.


    The cramp in his chest intensified. Clenching a fist, he pounded himself in the chest repeatedly. ¡°Have mercy, Gyva,¡± he gasped and slammed his fist into his chest.


    Suddenly, his airway opened up, and he gasped for air. The pain in his chest subsided as quickly as it came.


    He rolled onto his back, enjoying the air he had always taken for granted.


    Gyva, what¡¯s wrong with me?


    ¡°Niklas!¡± Rasmus cried as he ran up to him. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±


    Niklas groaned as he climbed to his feet. ¡°Nothing.¡± Then he tasted the blood. Grunting, Niklas rushed to the window.


    Rasmus watched him, eyes full of worry as he spit a mouthful of blood outside. ¡°I¡¯m telling Ma!¡±


    ¡°Rasmus!¡± Niklas hissed at the nine-year-old. ¡°I¡¯m fine!¡± There was no need to concern Lill. She eagerly prepared for the festival, and he didn¡¯t want to spoil the celebration.


    ¡°Niklas!¡± Rasmus pleaded.


    ¡°You tell Lill, and I¡¯m never teaching you how to fight!¡±


    The threat carried weight. Rasmus had been begging Niklas to teach him how to box for a while now.


    He looked worried but reluctantly agreed.


    ¡°Boys!¡± Lill called. ¡°It¡¯s time to go!¡±


    ¡°Coming!¡± Rasmus called back. ¡°Aren''t you going to get dressed?¡± He turned to Niklas with a curious eye.


    ¡°Why does my shirt have to be so...colorful?¡± Niklas fumbled in embarrassment. True enough, the traditional shirt was bright pink and yellow with bright patterns. Rasmus¡¯ was green and blue, and unfortunately, it was child-sized.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s symbolic of...flowers or something.¡±


    ¡°Great,¡± Niklas complained. ¡°Look at me, proud soldier...dressed as a flower.¡±


    ¡°Boys!¡±


    Trygve ran in. ¡°Ma says if you don¡¯t come now, she¡¯ll beat you with a spoon!¡±


    ¡°Looks like we had better go,¡± Niklas said reluctantly as he donned his flower shirt. The boys ran out of the apartment, and Niklas swooped Trygve off the ground and slung his short legs over his shoulders. The child laughed in glee at the sudden surprise.


    Tord and Ivar carried a great pot that Lill would make joagh in. Niklas had roasted and ground some blackthorn beans and made them a pot of Sharderin Joagh; apparently, a new development as the Sommerfeldts had never even heard of it before. The bitter drink had been a sweet memory, but to Niklas¡¯ horror, they spit it out in disgust the first time they tried it. After defiling the drink with cream and sugar, they finally agreed that Lill had fixed it. It was horrible.


    Niklas followed them into a large plot of land just outside town. It was usually vacant but converted into a celebratory carnival for the day¡¯s festival.


    Niklas had never seen such an unorganized crowd. There were music, games, and food everywhere. Relrin Music relied heavily upon string instruments and flutes. They had drums but didn¡¯t know how to use them.


    In Pit, the clan used only horns, drums, and voice. They chanted and played music intended to instill terror in their enemies.


    The Relrin music, in stark contrast, was upbeat and peppy. It initially intrigued Niklas, but he quickly grew annoyed by its screeching nature.


    Niklas continued to help Lill as she cried out to passers to try her brand new foreign drink. Unfortunately, only a few people seemed interested in giving it a try. Niklas was a little help as she was working in her element, but he used the time to continually scan the crowd for Esther. As an hour passed, he started to lose hope. He would have to ask one of the guys to help him find her.


    His thoughts returned to that mother who passed him in the carriage for no reason. She must have been a few years younger than he was. Her face was Relrin Pink and flawless. Her hair was so black a raven might lose in a contest of color, but the thing that stuck with him was the look she had given him. At the time, she seemed startled but had no reason to be.


    Niklas shook his head as he tried to find Esther in the crowd.


    That Relrin girl was beautiful. All mothers were beautiful; it felt like a doctrinal fact, but she was special. Niklas struggled to focus on the tasks at hand. He thumped the table with his fingers in a familiar drum rhythm. The more he thought of that mother, the faster his rhythm intensified.


    ¡°Enough of that,¡± Lill cried.


    Niklas blinked and looked at her.


    ¡°You have less patience than Rasmus. Off with you then, I can tell when a lad wants to be elsewhere. I am perfectly capable of managing on my own.¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m here to help,¡± Niklas muttered in a clumsy rebound.


    ¡°You¡¯re getting in my way now. Off with you, go enjoy your first festival. Maybe a pretty lass will catch your eye.¡±


    Niklas had no clue where to start or where to go.


    ¡°Go, shoo!¡± She waved him into the crowd.


    Niklas stumbled around, looking at all of the people and activities. He didn¡¯t know where to start, so he didn¡¯t. He just sort of watched everyone. Most everyone moved around with friends and family. Niklas had neither, so he wandered aimlessly until he saw the strangest thing he had ever seen: men and women dancing together. In Pit, they only had line dances. Men didn¡¯t dance together in pairs. Somehow, the Renrin dancing felt inappropriate.


    He watched, unsure if he should be amazed or disgusted, as they skipped, clapped, and spun together.


    He could have never imagined such a strange activity. They all moved to the beat, very different from Sharderin war dances. They all had smiles, and many of them were laughing.


    His thoughts were interrupted by the motion next to him.


    ¡°Word on the street is that you wanted to talk to me, Wildman.¡±


    Niklas turned to find himself face to face with Esther, her arms folded and stern.


    With a gasp, Niklas nearly dropped to his face but caught himself and settled on a bowed head instead.


    ¡°I offer my deepest apology for my savage behavior, Esther. You may punish me in whatever way you see fit.¡±


    ¡°Punish?¡± Esther stammered in confusion. ¡°What¡¯s wrong with you?¡±


    ¡°Probably a lot,¡± Niklas admitted. ¡°I, er- is there anything I can do to make it up to you?¡±


    ¡°No, no, forget it. Just stop acting like a fool.¡±


    Niklas eyed her inquisitively, noting to himself that, for the first time, eye contact with her didn¡¯t feel dirty. ¡°I am sorry. We don¡¯t have many women where I am from. I am still learning how to conduct myself.¡± The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    She looked at him with a new light. Confused and intrigued. ¡°When you said you were scared of women before, you were being serious, weren¡¯t you?¡±


    Niklas smiles sheepishly. ¡°Like you said, I¡¯m a wildman.¡±


    She contemplated that for a moment, and Niklas thought back to the humiliation of being marched past her in chains.


    Niklas tried to break the silence. ¡°Am I forgiven?¡±


    She frowned sternly, but it quickly melted into a chuckle. ¡°Fine, wildman, I forgive you, but only on one condition.¡±


    ¡°Anything,¡± he said eagerly. The prospect of atoning for his sins was the greatest stroke of mercy he had received in a long while.


    ¡°You have to dance with me.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± he cried and stepped back instinctually. ¡°Anything except for that!¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the matter, wildman? You look like you have never been asked to dance before,¡± She snapped playfully.


    ¡°I have never seen anyone dance before!¡±


    ¡°What kind of man doesn¡¯t know how to dance?¡± she teased. ¡°You owe me, and it¡¯s too late to turn back now.¡± She grabbed him by the hand and towed him into the dread mass of merriment. Niklas was so stunned by the fact that a Mother was touching him that he was unable to brace himself for anything that might happen in the bloody skirmish.


    Dancing couples instantly barraged him on all sides as they moved in intricate patterns.


    Esther grabbed him by the hands. ¡°Relax. Just follow the best you can.¡± With that, she pulled him into the current of dancers. ¡°Left, right, left, right, one, two,¡± she counted as she skipped perfectly with the music. ¡°Your other left!¡±


    Niklas let out a cry of alarm as he tripped over his own ankles. He was an expert in movement and combative maneuvers, trained practically since birth to move over, under, around, or through any obstacle that blocked his path with tactical precision. All those years of training did nothing to prepare him for this.


    Esther pulled him back up and looked at him sternly. ¡°Niklas, stop thinking and just follow.¡±


    Niklas nodded desperately. Again, they joined the most disorienting battle of his life, but it started to make sense. He stumbled a little less and began to move on beat.


    Niklas laughed. Unbelievably, he was actually doing it. Undoubtedly, he was the worst dancer at the festival; he was off-beat and stumbled regularly, but he started to understand the steps.


    Esther beamed at him encouragingly. ¡°See, it¡¯s easy!¡±


    Suddenly, the fiddlers started to speed up.


    ¡°Here it comes,¡± she warned.


    ¡°Here, what comes?¡± Niklas cried back, a sense of confusion creeping over him. He was already fighting for his life, and he wasn¡¯t ready for a change.


    ¡°The finale! Now we do it all again while spinning!¡±


    Everyone, as if on cue, started spinning faster and faster. Esther pulled Niklas into the pattern, and the others blurred as they began spinning. The music sped up and got louder, the crescendo building up to the piece''s finale.


    ¡°Esther!¡± Niklas cried as he felt his grip start to slip. Too late, he tripped and was flung backward at another dancing pair. The airborne drone tried to throw his weight and twist to avoid the couple, but he overcorrected and stumbled. Niklas tripped on his own feet and ended up diving, hard, face-first into a mud patch.


    The last note was struck, and everyone started to cheer and clap.


    ¡°Niklas!¡± Esther cried as she ran into the mud and knelt by his side. ¡°Niklas, are you okay?¡±


    With a groan, Niklas rolled over.


    She looked at his mud-covered face and covered her mouth with both hands to stifle a giggle.


    Niklas glared back. Was she mocking him?


    She stood straight, planted her feet, and put her hands on her hips. ¡°I guess this makes us even.¡±


    Niklas looked at himself lying in the mud and her standing over him triumphantly. She was right. Niklas let out his own chuckle.


    ¡°I knew you could smile,¡± she huffed victoriously. ¡°Come on.¡± She offered him her hand.


    Niklas looked at her offered hand for a moment. The Drone inside twisted uncomfortably. Both touching a Mother and burdening one was a sin.


    Niklas stuffed the Drone away and accepted her hand.


    She slipped as they made their way out of the mud pit and grabbed his arm for stability. She continued to hold him until they reached dry ground. Niklas turned red, but he also swelled with pride that she trusted his footing to use him for support.


    Niklas looked down at their muddy shoes. ¡°Esther,¡± he cried!


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Your dress,¡± Niklas said, pointing to the mud around the hem and the mud patches caked on her knees. ¡°Why did you come in after me?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it,¡± she waved a dismissive hand. It¡¯s a cheap dress¡ªnothing that won¡¯t wash out.¡±


    Niklas had been in Relgar long enough to recognize the low quality of the dress, but Esther was a debtbond. He also knew how much they looked forward to the festival. It was undoubtedly her best one.


    Still, he felt terrible.


    ¡°Esther,¡± he said more seriously.


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°I really am sorry.¡±


    She waved a dismissive hand. ¡°It¡¯s my fault, really. I had no business touching you and asking about your personal life. Honestly, I¡¯ve been more worried than offended.¡±


    ¡°Worried about what?¡± Niklas asked.


    ¡°Worried that I may have ruined our friendship.¡± She bit her lip nervously as though she weren''t entirely sure that wasn¡¯t the case.


    ¡°You still want to be my friend?¡± Niklas asked. ¡°You want to be friends with a stranger from Pit who shows up in shackles, gets caught with black money, fights at night, and whatever else your tea friend may have told you about me. Is that really the kind of person you want to be friends with?¡±


    She smiled shyly. ¡°If you weren''t such a Wildman, those things wouldn¡¯t be as acceptable.¡± She stepped in closer. ¡°But it looks like It¡¯s up to me to teach you how to be decent.¡±


    ¡°Esther,¡± someone called, ¡°what did you do?¡± A tall man approached and looked at them with their fresh mud coating. Niklas recognized him as the head herdsman.


    ¡°Dancing, obviously.¡± She rolled her eyes. ¡°Niklas, this is my brother, John.¡±


    That¡¯s right, Niklas remembered that Esther had two brothers. John¡¯s hair was black like a Relrin¡¯s. His foreign blood wasn¡¯t as evident as in Robin or Esther, but his faint accent was the same.


    He scowled at Niklas and began to roll up his sleeves. ¡°Listen, pal. You don¡¯t get to push my sister and not have to face up to me for it.


    ¡°Stop it,¡± Esther stepped in. ¡°Just because Father is gone doesn¡¯t mean I need you to puff your chest at any man who comes near me. It was a misunderstanding, that¡¯s all.¡±


    ¡°Esther¨C¡±


    ¡°I mean it, John!¡± She pushed his arm down. ¡°Let ¨C it ¨C go.¡±


    He glared at Niklas again and nodded. ¡°I don¡¯t want to exchange blows with you, but if you hurt her again, I swear I will, even if she tells me not to. I don¡¯t care if you whipped several men at the lumber yard.¡±


    Niklas bowed slightly in acknowledgment. ¡°I¡¯ll give you no reason to fight me. I am sorry.¡±


    He sniffed. ¡°It¡¯s concerning to think those men you beat are all dead.¡±


    Niklas felt a chill as he recalled Inspector Graham showing up at his door. ¡°Have you heard anything else about that?¡± Niklas asked, still worried about Robin.


    John shook his head. ¡°Everything I¡¯ve heard I heard from Robin. He says they were ripped, sawed, and chopped to pieces with only the testimony of a petrified foreman and a bloody hieroglyph on the wall. They say it was a demon. If you believe such things.


    ¡°Was the foreman who saw it, Osred?¡± Niklas asked.


    John nodded.


    ¡°He wasn¡¯t hurt, was he?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think so. But the yard has been shut down while investigations are underway.¡±


    ¡°Niklas?¡± Robin cried as he ran to them, hand in hand with a young Relrin woman. ¡°I see you met John. Has he already tried to fight you?¡±


    Niklas chuckled. ¡°We¡¯ve managed to bypass the event.¡±


    Robin smiled. ¡°Good thing, too, I can¡¯t afford to take him to a physician. Then he turned to Esther. ¡°I¡¯m not supposed to fight Niklas, am I? Isn¡¯t that in the Big Brother code somewhere?¡± His lady friend giggled at that.


    ¡°Please.¡± Esther rolled her eyes. ¡°We all know you wouldn¡¯t hurt a fly.¡±


    ¡°Ah, but that¡¯s not true,¡± Robin said, holding a corrective finger. ¡°In fact, this morning alone, I swatted three flies!¡±


    His Mother companion giggled again, and John smiled, obviously pleased with himself.


    ¡°Well, Niklas, where to from here?¡± she said.


    ¡°I really don¡¯t know. I am here alone, and I¡¯ve never done this before.¡±


    ¡°Not anymore,¡± Esther insisted. ¡°We¡¯ll show you how to really enjoy a festival. You¡¯re coming with us.¡±


    Niklas looked at them, grateful for their direction. He wouldn¡¯t feel so out of place now that he had friends.


    They lost themselves in the festival, wandering, trying the food, playing games, and meeting new people. Niklas enjoyed field exercises in Pit and took pleasure in doing war simulations, but the festival was a new, lighthearted, yet impactful kind of fun.


    As the day grew, he grew more tired than a day full of work. Robin eventually found an excuse to sneak off with Cindelsa, his female friend, and John had to go back to the herd. They left Esther and Niklas alone. It grew late, and Niklas realized that the Sommerfeldts would probably be wondering where he was. He was conditioned to return and report.


    ¡°Esther,¡± he said.


    ¡°Yes, Niklas?¡±


    ¡°I need to go. My family will be wondering where I am.¡±


    ¡°Oh? Are you not your own man?¡± she asked, slightly disappointed.


    Niklas felt slightly embarrassed but insisted. ¡°They are expecting me.¡±


    She nodded in understanding. ¡°Here,¡± she said, removing a small paper-wrapped cake from a pocket in her dress.


    He eyed her inquisitively.


    ¡°What, friends don¡¯t give gifts where you are from?¡±


    Friends. Niklas smiled. That¡¯s right, they were friends. He accepted it graciously. He didn¡¯t mention that he hated Relrin cakes; they were far too sweet for his taste.


    Niklas reached into his pocket, looking for anything to give in return. They were the pants he had worn when he first came to Relgar. He felt his reaper knife, but he couldn¡¯t give that away.


    ¡°I, eh, don¡¯t have anything,¡± he muttered as his hand felt something in a side pocket. He reached in and pulled out an empty bullet casing, forgotten enough to make it through several washes. It must have been there when he got the pants from the supply depot.


    He handed it to her, blushing slightly.


    She took it curiously. ¡°Interesting,¡± she said, ¡°Is this what you give friends where you come from?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he lied.


    She smiled. ¡°Well then, I love it.¡±


    ¡°When will I see you again?¡± Niklas asked.


    ¡°Visit me tomorrow before I¡¯m summoned to prepare for the Alred¡¯s gathering banquet.


    ¡°I will,¡± Niklas promised.


    She stepped in and gave him a hug. He just managed to keep in a yelp of surprise. She squeezed him tight. ¡°Goodness, man, you are so tense. Do you ever relax?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Well then, we shall have to teach you. Goodbye, Niklas.¡±


    ¡°Farewell, Esther,¡± Niklas said. He didn¡¯t want to go but felt he was stealing her time.


    As he went his way, Niklas couldn¡¯t hide his smile. He had a friend, and she was a Mother! Relrins were strange people. Niklas¡¯ smile widened; he must have looked ridiculous, but he was okay with that.

 23 The Birds Feathers.

    ¡°Just go over,¡± Lill prompted Niklas.


    ¡°No,¡± he said, nearly petrified.


    ¡°Courage, man. She did invite you.¡±


    Niklas stiffened. Half a month ago, he would have delighted to throw himself into a firefight for valor and glory. But visiting Esther two apartments down proved to be a battle he wasn¡¯t prepared for.


    ¡°I should send you with Rasmus, though. As a chaperone and such.¡± Lill smirked at Niklas with an amused twinkle in her eye. ¡°Not that you would even know enough to need one.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°Rasmus!¡± she hollered. Moments later, the boy came in looking annoyed at the chores he anticipated she would assign him.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Go with Niklas to Esther¡¯s.¡±


    His face shifted to a grin at the unusual request. It would probably be much better than chores, and maybe he thought Niklas might finally make good on his promise to teach him how to fight.


    ¡°Now you have no excuse,¡± Lill said. ¡°I¡¯m sending you with reinforcements. Rasmus will protect you from her if she tries to bite!¡±


    Lill and Rasmus laughed at the joke, but Niklas didn¡¯t understand it.


    ¡°Well, go now!¡±


    Niklas felt faint. He tried to blame it on his recently returned headache but knew he wasn''t honest with himself.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m off to see Esther!¡± Rasmus declared as he headed for the door. ¡°Either you come with me, or you stay.¡±


    ¡°Wait!¡± Niklas said as he ran after the child, but not before he noticed Lill fail to conceal a discrete wink to her son.


    ¡°Well, let¡¯s go then!¡± Rasmus huffed as he marched out to Esther¡¯s apartment. Rasmus pounded on their door not too gently.


    In only moments, it was pulled open by a startled-looking John.


    ¡°The honorable Mr. Loga has come to call upon Lady Esther of your establishment!¡± Rasmus almost bellowed, taking whatever role he was playing very seriously.


    ¡°And you¡¯re the chaperone, eh?¡± John asked, taken aback by the child''s enthusiasm. ¡°A bit young, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not too young to work a team of horses. What do you want? A degree from an Eduvor university?¡±


    John held up his hands defensively at the boy''s emphatic mouth. ¡°Easy now. Can you enforce decency here?¡±


    ¡°I assure you, on behalf of the honorable Mr. Loga, no such enforcement will be necessary!¡± He practically shouted.


    ¡°Right.¡± John doubted. ¡°The pit boy¨C¡±


    ¡°Will be honorable and respectable with your sister. There is no man in all Soutfel she¡¯d be safer with!¡±


    Niklas watched the exchange blank-faced and entirely confused.


    ¡°John!¡± Esther said as she came to the door. ¡°You¡¯re going to let him in, right?¡±


    John scratched his head. ¡°It seems you came with an oddly competent spokesman and particularly ambitious chaperone. I guess you can come in if the boy stays with you.¡±


    Niklas nodded in gratitude, but feeling on a roll, Rasmus saw fit to do all of Niklas¡¯ talking for him.


    ¡°Mr. Loga extends his most sincere gratitude, Herd Master!¡±


    John shook his head and swore. ¡°You¡¯re a handful, kid!¡±


    Rasmus beamed like an idiot, and John pushed past them as he threw his jacket over his shoulders.


    Esther ushered them in, shaking her head, embarrassed. ¡°Forgive him. He doesn¡¯t mean to be rude. It¡¯s just that I get a lot of unlikely men calling after me, and both of my brothers are very protective.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not surprised,¡± Niklas said. ¡°You are very beautiful.¡±


    ¡°I, er...¡± she stammered as she flushed red. ¡°Um...¡±


    Niklas instantly regretted saying it. He was an idiot. He''d already offended her in less than ten seconds as her guest.


    Rasmus, however, solemnly nodded approval like a proud father.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Niklas said quickly. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to embarrass you. I don¡¯t know what is acceptable to say to a Relrin Moth¨C a Relrin Woman.¡±


    ¡°No!¡± she said. ¡°Don¡¯t worry at all, that was just unexpected.¡±


    ¡°Please, tell me if I say something unacceptable.¡±


    ¡°So is that how all Sharderin men speak to women? Your people must be very bold.¡±


    Niklas shrugged. ¡°I wasn''t raised around people.¡±


    ¡°Sometimes I still struggle to believe you actually come from Pit.¡± Esther nodded. ¡°And then sometimes it makes perfect sense.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, my brother and I went to Pit after the genocide. I grew up there.¡±


    ¡°Oh...yes...the genocide.¡± She would have been a few years old at the time of the genocide. ¡°That was something awful that happened to your people.¡±


    Niklas shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t remember it very well. I barely remember my mother and my sister.¡±


    ¡°You had a sister?¡± Esther asked too eagerly, then grimaced as she considered the context of the conversation.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Niklas said unperturbed. ¡°Hanna.¡± I don¡¯t remember what they looked like. I vaguely remember two shapes in the shadows and blood on the street.¡± Niklas noticed that Esther had gone pale. My brother is alive!¡± he redirected. ¡°Maybe you can meet him one day.¡±


    ¡°I would like that,¡± Esther politely responded. ¡°Are you hungry? I wouldn¡¯t be a proper host if I didn¡¯t care for my guests.¡±


    ¡°Yes, please,¡± Rasmus said, patting his belly.


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t trouble yourself!¡± Niklas said, ashamed at his companion''s forwardness.


    She flashed a grin at Rasmus. ¡°Do you think he means to insult me by refusing food as a guest in my own house?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Rasmus sighed, ¡°he¡¯s just really stupid.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Niklas regarded them, confused. Had he messed up again?


    ¡°I do try to compensate for what he lacks, but it isn¡¯t easy,¡± Rasmus lamented.


    ¡°Oh, give yourself credit,¡± she said, ¡°I doubt he would have made it past John at the door if not for you.¡±


    ¡°Dear, he wouldn¡¯t have made it to the door without me.¡±


    ¡°So sad. How will he ever learn?¡± Esther wondered.


    ¡°You¡¯ll have to teach him.¡± Rasmus snickered. ¡°I doubt I would have much luck if I tried.¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    ¡°Oh, you are so cute!¡±


    She finally turned back to Niklas. ¡°See that! That¡¯s what I¡¯m talking about! Why are you so stiff? We¡¯re only joking!¡±


    ¡°You are?¡± Niklas questioned hopefully.


    ¡°Yes, but you must never refuse a woman''s food if she offered it to you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry!¡± Niklas said soberly.


    ¡°I¡¯ll give you a pass. But you will eat.¡±


    Niklas felt his stomach churn¡ªnot in hunger but in discomfort at the idea of his mother working to feed him. It was something Mother Lill did every day, but this felt different somehow. ¡°If that¡¯s what you want¡­¡±


    ¡°It is.¡±


    She turned to prepare something, and Niklas got his first good look at the apartment. It was not as cluttered as the Sommerfeldts; otherwise, it was identical. The apartment was still unfit as living conditions for a mother. There was a long unupholstered bench in the main room, a small kitchen in the back, and three rooms adjacent to the side.


    ¡°It¡¯s nice,¡± Niklas said hopefully. ¡°Your home.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a mess. My brothers don¡¯t know how to keep after themselves.¡± She stopped, looked embarrassed, and stooped down and pick up dirty laundry.


    ¡°Stop!¡± Niklas cried.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Let me,¡± he insisted as he scooped down to continue the job.


    ¡°No, you don¡¯t,¡± Esther growled as she grabbed him by the collar of his rough shirt and shoved him with surprising force. ¡°You are a guest in my house. And as such, you will not clean up after my brothers!¡±


    Niklas regarded her for a moment before raising his hands. ¡°Okay. I yield. I¡¯ll comply with your directive.¡±


    Esther¡¯s face softened into the sweetest of smiles. ¡°Good.¡±


    Moments later, the apartment transformed as she whisked back and forth, arranging articles of clothing and stacking tools. Niklas could only marvel at her work as she left it much more open and clean when she finished.


    ¡°Come,¡± she commanded as she grabbed him by the hand. Niklas was startled and confused by the gesture. She didn''t have to lead him about like that. But she seemed to enjoy it. So did he.


    Rasmus cleared his throat loudly, folded his arms over his chest, and glared at them. ¡°None of that now.¡±


    ¡°It seems you have not only the most adorable but the most vigilant chaperone!¡±


    ¡°What can I say? I do take pride in my work.¡± Rasmus sighed.


    She let Niklas go and pulled an apron from a hook on the wall. She looked nervous as she tied it on. She took a deep breath.


    Niklas found that amusing. She was cooking, not using a sniper rifle on a critical high-profile target. What was she so nervous about?


    ¡°What would you like?¡± she said.


    ¡°Honestly, I¡¯m famished,¡± Niklas confessed. ¡°I would eat the grubs off a rotting log if I had to.¡±


    She laughed and then got to work.


    Niklas watched her work, amazed. He had never seen so much care and effort go into a meal. Honestly, he felt she was over-complicating things. It was just a meal. There was no need to treat it like a war.


    Something caught Niklas¡¯ eye.


    A small shelf was mounted to the back wall with a handful of small books neatly stacked.


    ¡°Can you read?¡± he asked. He hadn¡¯t seen any books since he lost Edgar¡¯s books back in Pit Two.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she lamented, ¡°they belonged to my mother before she died. She was learning.¡±


    ¡°May I?¡± Niklas asked, and with her nod of approval, he approached the shelves to examine the content.


    He smiled as he recognized the first volume. It was written by Julian Ostlund, a famous Sharderin poet from several generations ago.


    Niklas flipped through the pages. He recognized most of them and even had a few of the poems memorized. Whoever had translated familiar words into Relric had done a poor job.


    He noted one that was highlighted with a folded corner.


    Go, my little bird, and see all the feathers,


    Each is different, and each has a purpose.


    Covet, not my little bird, another fowl¡¯s feathers


    For yours and mine, we shall share.


    Niklas read out loud.


    Esther turned to Niklas with her jaw hanging wide.


    ¡°It flows better and rhymes in Sharderic,¡± Niklas promised as he became aware of how flat it was in Relric.


    ¡°Niklas! You can read!¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a trick!¡±


    ¡°I can read, Esther,¡± Niklas explained, somewhat amused by how people seemed to react to that. There wasn¡¯t a Drone back home who couldn¡¯t read and write Sharderic and Relric. Many were fluent in Colgan as well.


    ¡°What, how?¡± she cried. ¡°How did you afford to go to school?¡±


    ¡°Where I am from, school is mandatory,¡± Niklas said. ¡°Also, your language is easy.¡±


    ¡°You come from the woods!¡±


    ¡°There aren''t books in your woods?¡± Niklas teased. ¡°Why do so few people read here?¡±


    ¡°Education is expensive. I would hardly be here if I could read. Niklas, you could move into the city and get a real job! What are you doing here?¡±


    ¡°I just need to resolve some issues here to go home,¡± Niklas explained.


    Her face fell at that. ¡°Oh yes, you¡¯re leaving.¡±


    ¡°First chance I get.¡±


    A sharp kick to the shins made Niklas yelp in surprise. He found Rasmus shaking his head at him in disappointment. Rasmus¡¯ face told him that he had answered wrong.


    ¡°I mean¡­¡± Niklas tried to correct himself. ¡°When I¡¯m ready?¡±


    Rasmus threw his hands in the air in exasperation. ¡°I try! I don¡¯t get paid enough to do this.¡±


    ¡°If you can¡¯t read, how did you recognize the verse? Niklas asked quickly, trying to recover from his blunder.


    She shook her head sadly. My mother used to read it every night. She was learning, but she never got far. In fact, I¡¯m almost convinced she memorized it and pretended to read it.¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± Niklas grunted, looking over the other books.


    ¡°Niklas,¡± she said solemnly.


    Niklas looked back at her.


    She took the book from him with near reverence. ¡°Will you teach me?¡±


    ¡°Would you like that?¡± Niklas asked.


    ¡°Oh, ever so much!¡± she cried. ¡°Then I could secure a good job and pay off the debt. Oh! Then I could take care of my brothers better and have nice things!¡± She stopped as she realized she was getting ahead of herself. ¡°Niklas, what will it take? I don¡¯t have much. I would bake you cake every day!¡±


    Niklas grimaced at the thought. He hated Relrin cake; the sugar bomb made him feel sick, but he didn¡¯t have the heart to tell her. ¡°That¡¯s not necessary. In my religion, if a woman gives a directive to a man, the man must comply. If I denied your offer, it would be offensive to my god. It would be a sacrilege if I asked for anything in return.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± she asked in disbelief. ¡°What kind of pagan are you?!¡±


    Niklas snorted. ¡°You¡¯re the pagan. Have you heard anything as ridiculous as a man-god? Man destroys, women create. How could the creator be a man?¡±


    ¡°Niklas, that¡¯s blasphemy!¡±


    ¡°Kel is blasphemy. But I suppose you don¡¯t want to learn from a pagan, so I¡¯ll just go now.¡±


    ¡°No, wait!¡±


    ¡°Esther, see, that¡¯s what I¡¯m talking about. Why are you so stiff? I¡¯m only joking.¡± He smiled as he used her own words against her.


    She breathed a sigh of relief, and Rasmus winced. ¡°I¡¯ll give you that one, Niklas,¡± he said.


    Niklas nodded at him.


    ¡°Can we start now?¡± she asked eagerly.


    ¡°If you wish.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I insist. No. First, you eat.¡±


    Esther was buzzed with enthusiasm as she put the meal together. The potatoes and beef stew smelled amazing, but to Niklas¡¯ dismay, she also placed a steaming Relrin cake before him.


    ¡°Gyva¡¯s gift,¡± Niklas prayed and dished up the food. He started shoveling the food, but Rasmus kicked him in the shins.


    ¡°You look like a pig,¡± the child hissed. ¡°Slow down.¡±


    Niklas looked at Esther, who studied him curiously.


    ¡°Are you going to eat?¡± He asked.


    ¡°In a minute,¡± she assured him. ¡°Rasmus, help yourself.¡±


    The boy dished himself up, and Niklas tried his best to mimic how the boy ate.


    Esther watched them eat, which Niklas found curious. She glanced at the cake periodically with her face drawn in concentration.


    Out of courtesy, Niklas sliced the corner and took a bite.


    ¡°We don¡¯t have much sugar,¡± she apologized, looking at him worriedly.


    ¡°No,¡± he said in surprise. ¡°It¡¯s actually the best cake I¡¯ve had.¡± It wasn¡¯t overbearingly sweet as the others he had tasted.


    She clapped her hands in delight. ¡°Great. Now teach me how to read, Wildman!¡±


    Niklas spent the next several hours with Esther, scratching figures in charcoal onto the courtyard floor and explaining the sound they made. Rasmus also watched intently but periodically reminded Niklas that he had promised to teach him how to fight first.


    After almost making it through the whole alphabet, the grind of the gate on cement announced the presence of a newcomer.


    Niklas looked up to see Wilbur enter with his two mercenaries, or martial men, as he had learned their technical title.


    Wilbur frowned as he saw Niklas sitting by Esther. His frown deepened as he looked at the ground and realized what Niklas was doing. ¡°So,¡± he said, ¡°you¡¯re literate.¡±


    ¡°Probably in more languages than you,¡± Niklas scowled back.


    ¡°Esther,¡± Wilbur said. ¡°I came to call upon you. Dismiss the street grey.¡±


    ¡°Hey!¡± she cried in protest but looked around rigid and stiff. ¡°Don¡¯t make me do that.¡±


    ¡°He can¡¯t,¡± Niklas said. ¡°Tell him to be a deck pink elsewhere.¡±


    ¡°Niklas!¡± she cried. ¡°I can¡¯t do that!¡±


    ¡°Sure you can,¡± Niklas said. ¡°He doesn¡¯t own you!¡±


    ¡°Esther...¡± Wilbur said sternly.


    Rasmus stepped in front of them. ¡°The honorable Mr. Loga has come to call upon Esther. You must wait your turn, sir.¡±


    Wilbur looked at Rasmus in abhorrence. ¡°Shut up, kid. I don¡¯t have time for a daft corpse child.¡±


    ¡°Wilbur!¡± Esther shrieked.


    ¡°Well, at least I¡¯m not a fragging mother-killing pink!¡± Rasmus looked at Niklas to confirm that he had used the curses right.


    ¡°Esther, you will send them off!¡± Wilbur looked down on her with dominating eyes.


    She shrunk from his glare but stopped when Niklas put his hand on hers.


    She looked at Niklas and he smiled at her reassuringly. ¡°He can¡¯t do anything.¡±


    ¡°My brothers were right,¡± she muttered, still looking Niklas in the eyes.


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Wilbur demanded.


    ¡°They were right about you!¡± She faced the tea mechant. ¡°I don¡¯t want you to call upon me anymore.¡±


    He laughed. ¡°Don¡¯t be so ridiculous. Now hurry up an¨C¡±


    ¡°No!¡± she said with resolve. ¡°You go!¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t be serious!¡± he gasped in disbelief. ¡°You¡¯re dismissing me? For him?¡±


    ¡°He was here first.¡±


    ¡°And now I¡¯m here!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the thing!¡± she turned to him, finding her confidence. ¡°The moment you enter, I don¡¯t feel safe!¡±


    ¡°And what about him?¡± Wilbur demanded. ¡°A pagan criminal over a respectable merchant?¡±


    ¡°Stop calling upon me, Wilbur,¡± Esther pleaded. ¡°My answer is no.¡±


    ¡°I see how it is," Wilbur frowned. "You were using me until he came along. Now that you know he can read, you¡¯ll use him instead.¡± Wilbur scowled at her but then stopped and started laughing instead.


    Niklas didn¡¯t like the shift in Wilbur¡¯s mood.


    ¡°I guess this is what I get for pursuing a cow instead of a wolf.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡± she demanded.


    ¡°You have no idea what I¡¯ve done for you. We¡¯ll just see how safe he can keep you.¡± Wilbur signaled his martial men, and they dismissed themselves with flair.


    Niklas turned to Esther to find her visibly shaken. ¡°Hey!¡± he said reassuringly. ¡°It¡¯s okay. You did well. He has no right to push you around. That¡¯s one thing that I will always hate about Relrins.¡±


    She looked at Niklas, worried. ¡°But Wilbur is a dangerous man.¡±

 24 The Paramountess’ Garden.

    Vidder stepped into the lamp-lit night of Soutvor. He had lost Niklas¡¯ scent and had to search the surrounding areas by night. Here, the familiar smell of Niklas had returned.


    His hands trembled, and he anxiously grabbed his armor to steady them. He should have brought more med.


    ¡°Hey, you!¡± someone cried from behind him in Relric. ¡°Show yourself!¡±


    He turned to see two uniformed night watch officers with rifles slung over their shoulders. They cried out when they saw him.


    ¡°Demon!¡± one cried as he fumbled for the rifle.


    ¡°The one that killed the sawmen!¡± the other cried as he did the same.


    Vidder cursed himself as he realized he had forgotten to take off his drone mask.


    Despite his lack of med, these men could be the boost of valor that he needed.


    ¡°Put your hands where we can see them!¡± one of the men cried.


    ¡°It¡¯s a demon!¡± his companion shrieked. ¡°Just shoot it!¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have silver bullets!¡±


    ¡°Well, thank the old gods for that,¡± Vidder said in Relric, rolling his eyes. When his voice was filtered through his mask, it took on a metallic edge. He reached back and drew his duel Drone blades from his shoulder harness.


    ¡°Kill it!¡± one screamed as he pulled the trigger. His rifle bucked, but his shot went wide.


    Vidder frowned as he looked to the side where the bullet had absently kicked up dirt a few feet away. He snorted. ¡°Nice.¡±


    The guard frantically pulled out a ramrod and fished for another bullet. His partner fired, and it took Vidder square in the chest.


    Vidder staggered back a few steps with a gasp and glanced down at his chest piece.


    The bullet had blasted a small star-shaped scar in the paint and a shallow divot in the metal before disintegrating into spall. What had the Relrins even done with their stolen Remnants to still use such primitive weapons?


    The terrified guards screamed when they realized the bullet had been useless. Vidder charged them, and in a few speed-packed strides paired with a few well-placed strikes, their bodies dropped at his feet.


    He let out a sigh of satisfaction as the valor inside burned hot. He regarded his Drone¡¯s blades, now wet with blood, the crimson drops reflecting in the lamplight.


    A muttering to his side roused him from his trance. A homeless man tried to edge away, never taking his eye off Vidder. How had Vidder missed him?


    ¡°Please!¡± the man whimpered. ¡°I didn¡¯t see anything.¡±


    Vidder frowned again. He saw now that this man was a Sharderin. One who had stayed in Relgar. ¡°Why do you shrink from your savior?¡± Vidder asked in Sharderic.


    The man gasped in surprise. ¡°That tongue. You¡¯re¨C¡±


    ¡°A new Sharderin.¡± Vidder cut in. ¡°You have no valor.¡± The man wasn¡¯t worth the effort, so Vidder rammed one of his blades into one of the corpses on the ground and drew his prylux pistol.


    Striiike. The yellow flair struck the man, threw him several meters, and slammed him against a building. The streetbound Sharderin collapsed to the ground in a motionless heap.


    Vidder holstered his weapon, ripped his blade from the body at his feet, and trotted off. The noise had probably woken the immediate populace, and as much as he would like to lay waste to this town. He was here for Niklas.


    ¡°So Niklas... I hear you¡¯ve been calling on Esther,¡± Ivar said, the mischief twinkling in his eyes.


    ¡°Yeah, I was with her pretty much all day yesterday,¡± Niklas said, unsure why Ivar was talking to him in such a diminutive tone.


    Ivar laughed and let out a whoop. ¡°Ah! So you like her?¡± he teased.


    Niklas nodded. ¡°Of course. She¡¯s my friend. I like my friends, I like you.¡±


    ¡°Right, Niklas, but you¡­ like her?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°As in, you want to be more than friends?¡±


    ¡°What more could I be than friends?¡± Niklas grew annoyed at Ivar¡¯s vague hints.


    ¡°Come on, Mr. lived-in-the-woods. Surely even you know.¡±


    ¡°I know what?¡± Niklas demanded. ¡°Speak sense, man!¡±


    ¡°Do you want to heat the hay with her?¡±


    ¡°Do I want to what?¡± Niklas asked ignorantly.


    ¡°Come on. Admit it. You¡¯ve developed a bit of a crush, haven''t you?¡±


    ¡°Look, I don¡¯t know what that means! I don¡¯t know what any of what you are saying means!¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s be real. Don¡¯t pretend you weren¡¯t thinking about it.¡±


    ¡°Ivar...thinking about what?¡±


    ¡°You know...love marriage¡­¡± Then he winked. ¡°Little Niklas babies.¡±


    Niklas shook his head in a stupor. Was Ivar drunk again? He couldn¡¯t seem to put his words together.


    ¡°Come on, Niklas.¡± He grinned. ¡°I know you¡¯re dumb, but you are also a man.¡±


    Niklas sighed in annoyance and turned away from him.


    Ivar slapped his knee with a laugh. ¡°I think he actually doesn¡¯t know anything about women.¡±


    ¡°I could have told you that,¡± Niklas muttered. ¡°I am a Drone. The only thing that I know about women is that they are sacred. I was banished for speaking to a woman, remember?¡±


    Ivar rubbed his hands together in excitement. ¡°Tord and Lill are married. It means they¡¯re together. One unit. They also have kids. You see, when a man and a woman love each¨C¡±


    ¡°That¡¯ll be enough from you!¡± Lill bellowed from across the room. ¡°The poor boy is finally talking to women. No need to make him too scared to look us in the eye again!¡±


    ¡°Come on, why even young Rasmus know¨C¡±


    ¡°Thanks to you, you shameless man! What a stubborn uncle you are!¡±


    Niklas watched the siblings shout at each other blank-faced and entirely lost.


    Lill frowned. ¡°Give him time. I do see what you mean, though, Ivar. Esther is a wonderful, hard-working woman, a domestic goddess, and lovely. She would make a wonderful wife.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Ivar agreed, and he tipped his chair back and began to examine his fingernails with a smug smirk. ¡°I¡¯d go after her myself if she was in my league.¡±


    ¡°Your league!¡± Lill shrieked in horror. ¡°The harlots at Beth¡¯s Brothel are too good for the likes of you, you slimy man!¡±


    Niklas shook his head. Watching them fight about everything was a common occurrence. All he wanted to do was continue Esther¡¯s reading lessons, so he excused himself from the alien debate.


    Seeing his movement, Ivar turned to him. ¡°Going to see Esther?¡± Ivar dragged out her name mockingly.


    ¡°Go to pit,¡± Niklas grunted, and the man snickered again.


    Niklas left with Rasmus and walked to Esther¡¯s apartment, where Robin was getting ready for work.


    ¡°Esther¡¯s not in today,¡± Robin said as he shouldered his pack.


    ¡°Not in?¡± Niklas asked, startled. ¡°Where is she?


    ¡°She left early, before John even. The Alred Manor staff needed help, so they called her in. I guess the Alreds are hosting a gathering and need hands getting ready.


    ¡°Oh,¡± Niklas said, looking down disappointed. ¡°When will she be back?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Robin admitted. ¡°Evening, probably.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll see you later.¡± Robin smiled apologetically. ¡°I¡¯m headed for the fields. The yard isn¡¯t open yet. Apparently, the lumberyard murderer killed again in town.¡±


    ¡°Hopefully, the investigators find him quickly,¡± Niklas said. ¡°The lawmen suspect me; I don¡¯t need that pressure right now.¡±


    ¡°Was it you,¡± Rasmus demanded, his eyes squinted in suspicion?¡±Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    ¡°What?¡± Niklas stammered at the boy.


    ¡°Probably not,¡± Rasmus sighed sadly. ¡°You¡¯ve been with us for the last few days.¡±


    ¡°You disappointed?¡± Robin snorted.


    ¡°I¡¯m hoping to get some reward money,¡± Rasmus explained.


    Robin shook his head, flabbergasted at the boy. ¡°You¡¯re way too bright for your age, kid. Way too crazy, too.


    Niklas couldn¡¯t help but nod in agreement.


    ¡°Stay out of trouble, Niklas,¡± Robin cautioned. ¡°They¡¯ll get him soon enough.¡±


    Robin left, and Niklas looked around at the empty compound. A sinking pit formed in his stomach. The compound was lifeless, like he was a prisoner with Rasmus as his warden.


    ¡°So...with Esther gone, you know what that means.¡± Rasmus stepped beside Niklas and threw some air jabs as an obvious hint.


    ¡°Maybe later.¡± Niklas waved him away. He wasn¡¯t in the mood. He would get around to training Rasmus, but not now.


    Esther was gone. Niklas passed the compound courtyard in unease.


    Minutes ticked by, and he felt a strange sense of longing mixed with panic. He wouldn¡¯t see Esther today; he shouldn¡¯t have been so distraught, but he was.


    He was being stupid. He could try to find work.


    Coy. It was like he was freshly off med, but different. Like he desperately needed something that he couldn¡¯t have. He shook his head. Stupid.


    ¡°Oh, knock that off, Niklas!¡± Lill called from the doorway. ¡°If you¡¯re so bored, you might as well do something useful with your time.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t feel well,¡± Niklas said as he turned to her. Lill always seemed to care when he was unwell. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ restless.


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Niklas said. Then, looking at her pleadingly, he grunted in frustration. ¡°Am I sick?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Lill said, instantly shifting from annoyance to concern. ¡°Come here.¡±


    Niklas went over to her, and she placed a hand on his forehead.


    ¡°You seem fine,¡± she said. ¡°How do you feel?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Tense. Disturbed.¡±


    ¡°Hmm. Wait, why aren''t you with Esther? I thought you said you were going to visit her.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s gone.¡± Niklas lamented. ¡°Working at a Manor.¡±


    ¡°I know what this is,¡± Lill laughed.


    ¡°What?¡± Niklas asked.


    ¡°You are sick.¡±


    Niklas paled. He hated being sick. ¡°With what? I¡¯m not sick in a way I¡¯ve been before.¡±


    Lill let out a new laugh and grabbed him by the shoulder. ¡°You¡¯re lovesick!¡±


    ¡°Ooooh, Niklas is in looooove!¡± Rasmus chortled.


    ¡°What?¡± Niklas cried. ¡°I don¡¯t love Esther! She¡¯s just my friend. Even if I did, you told me love was important, not that it can make me sick! Is it fatal?¡±


    ¡°In a way, yes!¡±


    ¡°Why are you laughing?¡± Niklas demanded. ¡°You think this is funny?¡±


    Lill wheezed with laughter, holding her sides. ¡°Yes, very. You miss Esther, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°How did you know?¡± Niklas asked, startled by her insight.


    ¡°That¡¯s how love sickness works. You want to see Esther, and she¡¯s not here. So you can¡¯t sit still.¡±


    ¡°How do I make it go away?¡± Niklas asked. ¡°It¡¯s ridiculous and useless.¡±


    ¡°I suppose you will have to wait until she comes back. Only she can make it go away.¡±


    ¡°Coy!¡± Niklas cursed. ¡°You mean I¡¯ll be like this all day?¡±


    ¡°Afraid so, dear,¡± she said. ¡°You¡¯re here, and she¡¯s away. Just be patient.¡±


    This was bad. Stupid on every level. Why should Niklas care so much? It was illogical, but it was real. He paused. ¡°She¡¯s at the manor,¡± he said to himself.


    Lill froze. ¡°I don¡¯t like how you said that, Niklas. What are you planning?¡±


    Niklas shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m just going to pop in and say hi.¡±


    ¡°Not looking like that, you¡¯re not,¡± Lill said as she looked his clothes up and down. They would kick you out before you got within a mile of the gate.¡±


    Niklas shrugged, ¡°Maybe. There is only one way to find out.¡±


    She shook her head admirably. ¡°Crazy is what you are. Don¡¯t do it. Just wait, dear. You can¡¯t get in.¡±


    ¡°Leave that to me.¡± Niklas smiled. ¡°How do I get to the manor?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re serious? You are mad!¡±


    ¡°Are you going to tell me?¡± Niklas ignored her outburst. ¡°Or do I have to pass by the tea shop and ask Wilbur?¡±


    ¡°Soutfel estate. It¡¯s on the southern outskirts of town. It¡¯s where this town gets its name. You can¡¯t miss it.¡±


    Niklas nodded.


    ¡°Don¡¯t get into trouble, please, Niklas.¡±


    ¡°When have I ever gotten into trouble?¡±


    Lill glared at him in response. He turned to go, but Lill pulled him back. ¡°Niklas, if you¡¯re going to go, wait for her on the manor outskirts. They don¡¯t take well to trespassers.¡±


    Niklas nodded.


    ¡°And you won¡¯t get anywhere near the outskirts without a bath and clean clothes.¡±


    Begrudgingly, Niklas agreed, and a short while later, was dressed in Ivar¡¯s best clothes. They didn¡¯t fit well, but they would have to do.


    ¡°Now, about your hair.¡±


    The hair on the back of Niklas¡¯ neck stood straight. ¡°I know what you¡¯re saying, and the answer is no!¡± he said a little more aggressively than he intended.


    ¡°Niklas, no one respectable has hair that long. And you¡¯ve been shaving. Relrin men like to have shallow beards and stubble.¡±


    Niklas stroked his smooth face. ¡°Not much I can do about that now. Looks like I had better go.¡±


    ¡°Daft,¡± she chuckled. ¡°Be so careful. Men don¡¯t think very well when trying to impress a girl.¡±


    Niklas grinned back at her. ¡°It¡¯s a matter of health. I need to go so that I can feel better.¡±


    Waving goodbye, Niklas stole away from the compound and headed toward town. Rasmus pleaded to go with him, but Lill dragged him back to the apartment.


    He made his way to town uninterrupted. Periodically, men would nod to him or whisper, ¡°Pit boy.¡± His flicker of fame from the fight pit hadn¡¯t died yet.


    Niklas crossed the market and made his way to the southern outskirts of town. He saw the grounds long before he saw the actual estate.


    The outer iron gate circled the property for several acres on all sides. It was undoubtedly designed as an empty space to deny intruders any concealment. Past that, the inner gate walled most of the manor from his view.


    Climbing a large willow tree, Niklas received a better view of the estate grounds and shade from the sun. Occasional laborers and field servants made their way to the gate. Armed brown uniformed guards checked them before allowing them access.


    Niklas searched the servants for Esther but instinctively started to evaluate the security. The guards briefly questioned the servants, and each guard inspected the faces of each servant as they entered. Niklas concluded that they were probably looking for specific people.


    Niklas waited a moment in silence. They wouldn¡¯t be looking for him. Maybe he could pop in for a visit.


    He thought about what Lill might say, and Robin¡¯s admonition to stay out of trouble rang fresh in his head.


    Niklas watched people enter and exit, and he thought about Esther. The security protocols were fair but not extreme. He could probably get in, and he could surprise Esther. He sat, watching the road and the gate, and almost started for the gate six different times before conjuring the boldness to swing out of the tree.


    Niklas smiled to himself and started down the road. He felt like Edgar, venturing where he shouldn¡¯t. It sparked a ghost flicker of valor. Niklas had to force his posture to be confident, but he felt himself sweating profusely.


    Niklas approached the outer gates and fell in line with a group of servants, trying his best to blend in. His matted dreadlocks, secured by the ring in the back, made him worry that he might stand out. He couldn¡¯t have cut it. He had grown it out for most of his life.


    Niklas hadn¡¯t been trained in social infiltration like Edgar, but Edgar had always given him tips that he seldom found a reason to use.


    Look confident or look bored. Remember, you¡¯re just a guy trying to do his job.


    Niklas let out a forced yawn as he approached a guard.


    ¡°Name?¡± a guard asked Niklas as he stared into his face.


    ¡°Edgar Loga.¡± He used his brother¡¯s name, fully aware he was trespassing.


    ¡°Job,¡± the gatekeeper asked, rubbing a finger on Niklas¡¯ face and examining his finger.


    He¡¯s looking for makeup, Niklas realized as he shied away from the uninvited contact.


    ¡°Florist,¡± Niklas said.


    He eyed Niklas suspiciously, ¡°Where are your flowers?¡±


    Niklas frowned. ¡°I specialize in exotic design. Do I have to carry flowers to be a consultant on the succulent Colgarian buds or the Shelven roses? Or perhaps what to do with the Tivvian vine bloom?¡±


    It was all made up. Niklas was hoping the Relrin illiteracy also extended to the geography of Momalgar.


    ¡°Hmm,¡± he grunted as he looked at Niklas suspiciously. He was a Sharderin with really long hair. But perhaps it sold his outlandish claims. He did have an accent.


    The guard grabbed Niklas by the hair and gave it a firm yank.


    ¡°Oi man!¡± Niklas barked as he batted the man¡¯s arm away. ¡°What are you doing?¡±


    ¡°We are checking for spies,¡± the guard apologized, as his hunch awkwardly turned out to be false. ¡°Roof Runners are masters of disguise.¡±


    Niklas looked at him, confused.


    ¡°Never mind. In with you.¡±


    Niklas breathed a sigh of relief as he passed through the first gate. He had accessed the external lawns, where many gardeners worked on weeding and trimming the grass.


    Only a little investigation revealed that Esther was not in the outer yard.


    The inner gate''s security was much stricter. Everyone going in or out required a written permit for access. Niklas couldn¡¯t blame the system. If he were a commander in fear of attack, he would keep his security tightest closest to home.


    Niklas wandered outside, trying to look busy until he found his way in. There was a point on the wall where a short protruding tower seemed unmanned. Niklas looked at it thoughtfully. What was the purpose of a tower without a guard? Style? It didn¡¯t matter. It was his ticket into the inner garden.


    Niklas waited for an opportune moment when he was unobserved and then charged the wall. As he jumped, he kicked off the wall and then off the tower, stealing a few extra inches. Niklas caught hold of the lip of the wall with the tips of his fingers. Grunting in exertion, he was about to heft himself up, but voices stopped him.


    He heard the speaker growing nearer as two gardeners rounded the corner. Niklas froze and held onto the edge of the wall, his fingers strained by their poor hold.


    He held his breath as he waited for them to pass. Miraculously, they didn¡¯t look at the wall. As they moved on, Niklas exhaled a breath he hadn¡¯t realized he was holding and pulled himself onto the wall.


    The inner garden was much more shaded and provided plenty of concealment. Niklas dropped into its dark foliage. He made his way around the outside of the wall.


    He marveled at the manor as it drew near. It was indeed built for luxury. It was ornate, esthetically pleasing, and a tactical nightmare.


    Being on the inside made the Manor look even more grand. He couldn¡¯t help but marvel at it, momentarily forgetting why he was there.


    The large manor had several wings, was at least five stories high, and boasted hundreds of tall windows. Not the best for security.


    Breaking his focus from the manner, Niklas scanned the bushes for Esther.


    He felt his unrest washed away by excitement as he saw her clipping bushes with thick garden shears. He couldn¡¯t hold back a grin.


    He stalked closer, as quietly as he could, until he was on the other side of the bush Esther was trimming.


    She continued to clip the bush, unaware of his presence. He was close enough to touch her. A light lock of hair hung in front of her face. Her brow slightly furrowed as she focused on the task at hand.


    ¡°Pst,¡± Niklas hissed.


    She looked through the bush in surprise. ¡°Niklas?¡± she gasped, thoroughly taken aback. ¡°What...how...what are you doing here?¡±


    ¡°When my student misses her class, I have to check in to make sure she¡¯s okay,¡± Niklas responded.


    She shook her head with disapproval, but a wide smile split across her face. ¡°How did you get in here?¡±


    ¡°Over the wall.¡±


    She looked at Niklas, suddenly terrified. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t be here. If they catch you, they can arrest you.¡±


    ¡°That risk was easily worth it,¡± Niklas said but realized how cocky he sounded as it came out.


    ¡°Niklas, you really have to go,¡± she insisted.


    ¡°You left this morning without saying goodbye,¡± Niklas said. ¡°I...I just wanted to see you.¡±


    ¡°That is...really flattering.¡± She blushed. ¡°But this is a prime paramount¡¯s home. They are not like the other Relrins you know. They are far more dangerous and unforgiving.¡±


    Niklas felt a heavy presence behind him, and every ounce of smug confidence melted.


    ¡°Hey, you,¡± a rough voice barked. ¡°Who are you?¡±


    Niklas spun to see a guard wearing a uniform different from the brown ones he had seen at the gate. This uniform blended more relrin fashion elements and had ivory and gold accents. This guard was possibly an officer in the garrison. Niklas must have caught the guard¡¯s attention as he poked around the bushes.


    ¡°No!¡± Esther gasped as she looked from Niklas to the guards.


    ¡°Easy, this isn¡¯t what it looks like,¡± Niklas said, but he knew it was probably exactly what it looked like. He had been too distracted to keep a good eye out for the guards. Lill and Esther were both right. Though the trip was fun, it was also foolish.


    ¡°Maybe you would care to explain yourself?¡± the guard demanded as he approached with his hand on the hilt of his sword.


    Niklas raised his hands, palms open, in a gesture of peace. ¡°I was sent to collect some samples of some sick flowers.¡±


    ¡°I highly doubt that,¡± the guard growled, ¡°Let¡¯s see your papers?¡±


    ¡°Umm...¡± Niklas patted his pockets, and his eyes instinctually glanced at the wall he had climbed over.


    The guard saw the movement. ¡°Come with me,¡± he ordered and grabbed Niklas¡¯ arm.


    ¡°Hey!¡± Niklas barked, ripping his arm out of the guard¡¯s grasp. He dropped into a deep stance and hooked the guard''s leg without thinking. Niklas got a hand on the guard¡¯s face and shoved him back, sending him reeling into a thorn bush.


    ¡°Intruder!¡± the guard bellowed.


    Niklas ran.

 25 The Trespasser.

    Stanfleda felt his eyes on her, and she ground her teeth in unrefined furry. Upon her return from the university, Erik, to her dismay, had renewed his resolve to become her considerate.


    Sarah walked by Stanfleda¡¯s side, perfectly comfortable amid the drama.


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand your distaste for him,¡± she complained. ¡°I mean, he¡¯s quite handsome and a wonderful dancer.¡±


    Stanfleda clenched her jaw, ¡°Could a man be more desperate or obsessed? No doubt he will one day make a very charming husband for some woman, but that woman is not me.¡± She turned a corner. Stanfleda had had enough of his games, and she finally had the nerve to say no. No doubt her brother, Paramount Sledda, would have stern words for her about her refusal.


    ¡°You¡¯re being unreasonable, and yes, he might be a little pushy, but if you just give him a little time, you can reform him.¡±


    ¡°Hah!¡± Stanfleda barked.


    Stanfleda started down the stairs into the main garden but afforded a hasty glance to the balcony on the eastern wing. A shiver ran down her spine. Erik stood with both hands clutching the rail, still looking down at her.


    ¡°Ugh,¡± she shuddered in disgust. ¡°I am tired of that man looking at me like that. He¡¯s not a cat, and I¡¯m certainly no mouse.¡±


    Sarah stopped trying. She was a romantic and would speak on behalf of any man, so long as he had a handsome face. To Stanfleda¡¯s surprise, Sarah seemed to pick up on the fact that Stanfleda was serious.


    ¡°What must I do to make him go away finally?¡± Stanfleda asked, mostly to herself.


    ¡°You could run away to a faraway land, or elope with the stable boy, or drink poison to truly test his love and see if he will follow you to the gates of death!¡± Sarah answered dramatically.


    ¡°That¡¯s childish,¡± Stanfleda said. ¡°You need to focus more on your studies and avoid novels .¡±


    ¡°Nonsense!¡± Sarah cried as though the accusation was personal and uncalled for. ¡°I don¡¯t read enough novels!¡±


    Stanfleda smiled involuntarily. As ridiculous as the girl could be, her light-hearted humor put Stanfleda at ease.


    ¡°It¡¯s too bad he is as good as he is at dueling,¡± Stanfleda said. ¡°It keeps most of the other men away.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll bet some young prince is training his days away, waiting to strike Erik down to win your hand.¡± Sarah took a few mock stabs and slashes in the air.


    ¡°If only,¡± Stanfleda muttered.


    ¡°Intruder!¡± the alarm went out, and the guards and martial men poured out of the Manor and the longhouse.


    Stanfleda scanned the garden. What could this be? Were the Rowans raiding at daylight? Did they have the nerve? Why were they so insistent on tearing her family down?


    Sarah flashed pale. ¡°Quickly paramountess,¡± she cried. ¡°Get inside where it is safe.¡±


    A Sharderin half-caste rounded the corner, grappling with and trying to throw three guards off of him. The man fought and thrashed like a lone tiger. This wasn¡¯t a raid. It was a gang beating. Stanfleda felt her face flush with anger. She had seen it before. Board guards and martial men from her garrison would find a local debtbond or street grey and put their weight into him just for fun.


    Stanfleda wasn¡¯t actually in command of these guards. They were her grandfather¡¯s, Prime Paramount Alred himself. But the guards would respect her authority, and she had forbidden them from bullying debtbonds, street greys, or Leomen in the past.


    Captain Awiergan appeared, tackled the Sharderin from behind, and growled as he produced a gleaming dagger.


    That was too far! ¡°Stop!¡± Stanfleda screamed as she ran down the stairs.


    The guards jumped to attention, and the snarling Sharderin¡¯s jaw dropped when he saw her.


    ¡°What is the meaning of this?¡± Stanfleda stormed at the panting guards.


    ¡°We caught the spy infiltrating the perimeter, m¡¯lady,¡± Captain Awiergan shouted as he held the Sharderin under his dagger. ¡°We think he is one of Godric¡¯s.¡±


    ¡°Spy?¡± she said. ¡°And you were planning on stabbing him?¡±


    ¡°M¡¯lady. He scuffed up two of my men pretty badly. Please go inside. We¡¯ll deal with him.¡±


    She looked at the men in disbelief. Such excuses were farfetched, especially directed toward a Sharderin. A second glance caused her to doubt herself. A guard was panting as he covered a black eye, and one had a bloody nose. Their injuries aside, the Sharderin was huge, not precisely the target any sane bully would pick. Oddly, something about him seemed familiar.


    Stanfleda gasped. She recognized him. He was the worker from the road the other day, and his stunned look suggested he knew her.


    Stanfleda stammered clumsily in shock for a moment before gaining control of herself. ¡°Well, I¡¯ll have you know that this ¡®spy¡¯ that you intended to stick with your knife just so happens to be my colleague from the university. I asked him to meet me in the garden.¡± She lied bluntly.


    ¡°You did?¡± The Sharderin asked, confused.


    She shut him up with a death glare.


    ¡°I mean, that¡¯s right,¡± The intruder said as he caught up. ¡°I was admiring the flowers waiting for¡­ you when your guards attacked me,¡± he said, failing miserably to fabricate a smooth lie.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take him from here,¡± Stanfleda said, eager to get the poor man away from her grandfather''s dogs.


    ¡°M¡¯lady,¡± Captain Awiergan said as he looked at her. He knew she was lying. ¡°This is neither wise nor safe.¡±


    ¡°You seemed to have mistaken my order as a request. Leave us.¡±


    They glared at the man and then much more subtly at Stanfelda. She put them in a tricky situation. They were charged with her safety, and now she was isolating herself with a potential enemy. Kel, now that she thought about it, was likely putting herself in a bind. Was she foolish? Was the Sharderin a spy? Was he dangerous? It didn¡¯t matter? Spy or not, she had just saved his life.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Stanfleda cleared her throat loudly, and the guards withdrew from earshot. Some whispered threats to the young Sharderin, but all kept a vigilant eye on him. She could also see more guards entering the scene, sticking to the shadows, watching. They were worried.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Sarah hissed.


    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you have changed your mind, Sarah?¡± Stanfleda said as confidently as she could. ¡°You seemed quite fond of him the first time you saw him.¡±


    ¡°The first time?¡± Sarah asked. She studied his face for a moment and then let out a cry of surprise. ¡°I don¡¯t believe it, the roadman!¡±


    Stanfleda nodded.


    ¡°I remember you,¡± the trespasser said with a nod of appreciation. ¡°You passed me in your Remnant carriage.¡± His voice was very accented, smooth, and thick. The words came from deep within his barreled chest.


    She flushed pink despite her efforts to remain composed, so he was looking at her the other day. She was stupid; a spy would have reason to be watching their rival¡¯s daughter.


    ¡°So,¡± Stanfleda started, ¡°are you a spy?¡±


    He let out a deep chuckle, and she was instantly convinced that he found the idea ridiculous. ¡°No, I came to see the garden, that¡¯s all.¡±


    He was not telling the truth, but not in a two-faced way; it was almost as if he was scared of her.


    ¡°Now is not the time for games, Roadman. I have a pack of dogs, and only my command keeps them on the leash,¡± she said, gesturing to the guards.


    Stanfleda felt her heart drop as she saw Erik talking to the captain and watching. So, the commotion had got him to come down from his perch. His eye met hers, and he held eye contact.


    She scoffed to herself. Erik had no right to look at her like that. She didn¡¯t belong to him. Acting primarily angrily to the dueler¡¯s predatory eyes, Stanfleda stood up straight and used her most proper voice. ¡°What is your name, sir?¡± The term sir was far too formal in this case, especially considering he was a Sharderin, but she hoped Erik was watching. She intended to sell that her ¡°guest¡± was a scholar to her audience and not some peasant. She had time for any lowly Sharderin before she would willingly give time to Erik.


    ¡°Niklas Loga,¡± he said with an awkward, unpracticed, sweeping bow. His clumsy attempt at etiquette made her think of a toddler getting used to walking for the first time.


    ¡°Well, Sir Loga,¡± she said, ¡°if it¡¯s my garden that you have come to see, then see it you shall. Walk with me.¡±


    They turned to leave, but she still felt Erik''s eyes on her. She had had enough of this. If he wanted to watch, she would give him something to watch.


    ¡°Sarah,¡± she said. ¡°I wish to speak with Sir Loga alone. Give us a little privacy.¡±


    Sarah nodded and fell into step a few paces behind them.


    Perfect. The intimate gesture would sting Erik more than a sword wound.


    ¡°My name is Demi Paramountes Stanfleda.¡±


    She looked back and saw Erik still looking. She smiled smugly to herself. Her self-isolation with the stranger would send him a clear message.


    Hoping to drive the point further, she took Niklas by the arm as they walked. The workman stifled in surprise; it was both a formal yet intimate gesture, observed mainly by higher society.


    Niklas walked stiff and uncomfortable to her touch, ¡°Mr. Loga,¡± she warned, ¡°I recommend you relax while you walk with me. You are making my guards nervous.¡±


    ¡°Forgive me, moth- my lady,¡± he said, allowing his shoulders to slump slightly. They entered the hedged gardens, and he looked around with little interest. ¡°Your garden is unlike any that I have seen before.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to lie.¡± She said.


    He shrugged. ¡°We don¡¯t have gardens where I come from. There¡¯s no food here. What¡¯s the point?¡±


    ¡°There are several reasons for a garden. Esthetic, recreation¨C¡±


    ¡°Infiltration,¡± he added. ¡°Your enemies probably appreciate the cover.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re kind of terse, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    He smiled apologetically. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. This is your home.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Stanfleda stopped him. ¡°Not many people will tell me what they truly think.¡± She looked around. ¡°Honestly, this is only my home a few months out of the year, and it hardly feels like it, considering how many people I share it with.¡± She glanced back at Erik.


    Niklas looked to the wall, and Stanfleda became aware he was sweating heavily. At least he was clean.


    ¡°So you obviously didn¡¯t come here to see my garden. Why are you really here?¡±


    He looked away.


    Stanfleda felt herself panic. Was he an assassin? Was she making his job way too easy?


    ¡°I was lovesick,¡± he muttered.


    She instantly felt her cheeks heat up. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I have a friend who came to work here. I wanted to visit her.¡±


    ¡°A...friend?¡± Stanfleda asked, feeling foolish for overreacting but relieved that he wasn¡¯t talking about her. ¡°Is she here?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s over there,¡± Niklas said, pointing to a girl who was watching them, worried in the distance. She was a field worker, perhaps a few years older than Stanfleda. She had a healthy athletic build, mixed blonde, and black hair, and was surprisingly beautiful for a work woman who wouldn¡¯t have access to an esthetic operator. Stanfleda momentarily thought of jealousy at the girl¡¯s natural beauty but quickly banished it, ashamed of herself.


    Stanfleda had used esthetic operators from time to time. Her flawless features were a testament to that, but it sometimes made her feel fake.


    ¡°She¡¯s quite lovely,¡± Stanfleda said.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Niklas agreed.


    ¡°You coming here to see her was¨C¡±


    ¡°Stupid,¡± he said.


    ¡°Cute.¡± Stanfleda finished. ¡°But yes, also stupid. You can¡¯t just do that here. Trespassing against my grandfather is a serious crime.¡±


    He nodded. ¡°I didn¡¯t know,¡± he thought for a moment, ¡°but I should have figured.¡±


    ¡°Where do you come from that you don¡¯t know that?¡± Stanfleda asked.


    He looked at her. ¡°I come from Pit.¡±


    Stanfleda stopped. Did he hear her accuse him of being the Frezvac¡¯s son?


    ¡°I didn¡¯t grow up in a civilized area. I¡¯m not from the haunted woods themselves.¡±


    ¡°I would hardly believe it if you said you were,¡± she said, surprised. ¡°So you grew up in the surrounding woods?¡±


    He nodded. ¡°I grew up closer to Colgar.¡±


    ¡°And your family?¡±


    Niklas nodded. ¡°I have lived with some cattle herdsmen since I came to Relgar. They are my family now. I would probably be going home soon if I wasn''t robbed.¡±


    ¡°You were robbed? Did you tell the law enforcers?¡±


    ¡°Well, technically, it was the law that robbed me.¡± His eyes were very dark, yet they carried a degree of ignorance.


    ¡°I hate that. I can¡¯t stand the corruption here. You have just as much right to your stuff as anyone else. Were you hurt?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± He shook his head. ¡°Not physically.¡±


    ¡°What are your plans now, Mr. Loga?¡±


    He shrugged. ¡°Who knows?¡± he muttered, only this time in Sharderic.


    ¡°You don¡¯t?¡± she asked, also in Sharderic.


    Her sharderic was horribly broken, but he cried in surprise. ¡°You speak my tongue? How? It''s a dying language. Where did¨C¡±


    ¡°Please slow down,¡± she said, returning to Relric. ¡°I only know a little bit from my studies.¡±


    He looked at her with a ghost of a smile. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. It¡¯s been so long, and I miss Sharderic.¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s a beautiful language. I am quite fond of some of your poetry. Sharderins traditionally had such a way with words that can only properly be captured in its original script, free of translation. That¡¯s why I started to learn it, but unfortunately, I give the remainder of my time studying government and law in light of coming events.¡±


    He looked at her, apparently ignorant of the current events.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t mean to drown you in words.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t apologize, Mother,¡± he said. ¡°If you want me to listen, I shall.¡±


    She was puzzled. Did he mean to call her mother? He seemed not to notice; it must have been a slip of the tongue. After all, Relric wasn¡¯t his native language. She dismissed it politely.


    In the distance, Stanfleda saw Erik weaving between the hedges, approaching them uninvited. ¡°He has no sense of tact. How completely distasteful,¡± she fumed.


    Niklas followed her eyes and saw Erik.


    ¡°Has he offended you?¡± Niklas seemed to growl, his whole personage shifting from a pleasant and youthful man to a beast who had a chance to turn on its master after too many beatings. ¡°Should I execute him for you?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± she asked at the drastic escalation of the matter.


    Two man-servants escorted Erik, each carrying a sheathed Shrye blade.


    ¡°Oh no,¡± Stanfleda panicked, ¡°he wants to duel you. You need to go.¡±


    She heard a snap, and out of nowhere, Niklas held the most peculiar knife she had ever seen. He stood in front of her defensively. ¡°Does he mean you harm?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Goodness, no, only in killing you!¡± She grabbed him by the arm, ¡°Please, you must leave.¡±


    There was a snap from his hand, and the knife seemed to disappear.


    ¡°Trespasser!¡± Erik cried. ¡°I challenge you to a contest of swords.¡±


    Niklas turned red at the slander, clenched his teeth, and cursed in Sharderic, saying something about blood. Stanfleda didn¡¯t like the look in Niklas¡¯ eyes.

 26 The Duel.

    Niklas studied the approaching man. Erik¡¯s attire was expensive and tight. He slipped off a well-fitted suit jacket, leaving only a blue vest and black shirt. He was lean but well-muscled and smaller than Niklas by a few inches.


    ¡°He wants to fight?¡± Niklas asked Stanfleda, making sure he understood what Erik was saying.


    ¡°Yes!¡± Stanfleda said, her face growing pale. ¡°He¡¯s a dueler.¡±


    Niklas nodded once. A contest of swords. Niklas had been trained in knife play and usually ranked well when graded. ¡°Is he any good?¡±


    Stanfleda nodded once. Her lips pressed tightly together. ¡°Niklas, don¡¯t fight him.¡±


    ¡°Is that a directive?¡± Niklas asked. ¡°It looks like you don¡¯t like him. I will fight him if you want me to.¡± As he said it, the notion of a fight caused the valorous flame of excitement to stir within him. Here stood a trained Relrin fighter, not one of the working bums he beat in a gambling pit. Still, his victory at the yard left him feeling confident.


    ¡°Don¡¯t fight him,¡± she said again. ¡°I didn¡¯t save your life so that you could add yourself to his score.¡±


    ¡°Score?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Erik has twelve wins to his name.¡±


    ¡°How many losses?¡± Niklas asked.


    ¡°Losses? Niklas, a dueler with a loss, is a dead dueler!¡± The worry was evident in her voice.


    ¡°Well?¡± Erik demanded, stepping closer.


    Niklas shook his head. ¡°I can¡¯t fight you. Stanfleda won¡¯t let me.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s your excuse? You¡¯re letting a woman decide what you do?¡± Erik demanded.


    ¡°Do I know you?¡± Niklas asked in frustration. ¡°Why are you so angry?¡±


    ¡°You trespass under pretenses, insult me by taking advantage of Paramountess Stanfleda, and refuse my duel!¡±


    Niklas clenched his fist. ¡°I¡¯m going to guess that not many people like you.¡±


    ¡°Niklas is here as my guest!¡± Stanfleda cried as she stepped between the men, but Erik waved her off.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what he told you, but he was lying!¡± The dueler insisted.


    Niklas turned to Stanfleda, hoping she might rescind her directive, but she shook her head.


    ¡°I won¡¯t fight you,¡± Niklas said.


    ¡°Have you no pride?¡± he barked. ¡°No honor?¡±


    ¡°I have no valor,¡± Niklas agreed. ¡°It was taken from me.¡±


    ¡°You see Stanfleda!¡± Erik turned to her. ¡°You won¡¯t keep the company of real men.¡±


    Niklas winced at the insult and bit his tongue.


    ¡°I see now that you have no honorable taste. You have silly ideas that will leave you old and lonely.¡±


    Everything froze. Erik directed his final words not at Niklas but at Stanfleda, the slender girl with no defender, noble or not. The fire blazed. Valor, Niklas¡¯ dangerous friend, was always faithful in showing up in time to get Niklas in trouble.


    ¡°I suggest you use a tone of respect when addressing a woman,¡± Niklas growled as it spread across his chest and into his arms, causing them to quiver slightly.


    ¡°You can¡¯t talk to me, coward.¡± Erik snapped. ¡°You¡¯ve refused me and forfeited your right to speak of respect.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll fight you,¡± Niklas said, ¡°unless you stop antagonizing this woman.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m courting her,¡± Erik said.


    ¡°Both of you, stop it now!¡± Standfleda shouted, growing red in the face.


    Niklas looked at her, yearning for her to step aside and let him humble the man.


    She turned to Erik, and her face softened. ¡°Erik,¡± she said with a much lower voice, ¡°please. This man¡¯s life isn¡¯t worth it; he¡¯s not a noble or a dueler. His death won¡¯t help your score or impress anyone. He¡¯s not even worth your time. I only stepped in to save his life. Please let him go.¡± She gently put her hand on Erik¡¯s wrist. ¡°For me.¡±


    Niklas felt the sting of her words but watched in astonishment as Erik¡¯s face softened.


    It¡¯s the mother''s spell, Niklas realized. She¡¯s intentionally charming him.


    Erik nodded and grabbed her by the hand. Niklas noticed Stanfleda tense momentarily, but she seemed to force herself to relax.


    ¡°I promise I won¡¯t kill him,¡± Erik said.


    ¡°Thank you.¡± Stanfleda looked up at him.


    Erik turned to his two man-servants. ¡°Take the Sharderin to the reformatory.¡±


    ¡°Erik, you promised!¡± Stanfleda cried.


    ¡°I promised I wouldn¡¯t kill him,¡± Erik said. ¡°And if you think you can ignore me whenever you want and then bat your eyelashes at me whenever you need something, then you need to get your head out of the clouds because that¡¯s not how it works.¡±


    ¡°Erik! Please!¡± Stanfleda cried.


    ¡°I¡¯ll send this Sharderin very far away. Maybe then you¡¯ll remember that I exist. Get him.¡±


    Niklas took a step back as the two man-servants rushed forward. One tried to grab him, and he shoved the man away. The other pushed Niklas, and Niklas managed to get a hand on the man¡¯s blade as he fell back.


    The sword let out a satisfying hiss as it left the metal and wood scabbard, and Niklas held the longest and thinnest blade he had ever wielded. It wasn¡¯t exceptionally light, but with its length, the balance was strange to him. Drone blades were never longer than two feet and curved, ideal for slashing. This blade was almost three feet long and was straight, with a wicked needlepoint.


    Niklas experimentally slashed the weapon, the blade making a big swish as it cut the air. Both servants hesitated, and he leveled the weapon at them.


    ¡°Stay away from me,¡± he growled.


    The guards who had stayed back by Stanfleda¡¯s orders had doubled, and they all rushed in as they saw the commotion.


    ¡°Stay back!¡± Erik ordered them as he drew his sword.


    ¡°Erik!¡± Stanfleda shrieked.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry; I won¡¯t kill him.¡± He smirked and fell into his stance, his weight on his back foot. He pointed the tip of his blade right at Niklas, and he held his left arm gracefully up behind him.


    Niklas snorted in amusement. Did Erik seriously consider his dancing poise a stance? This was going to be easier than he thought.


    Niklas took a more balanced stance, crossing his arms and holding the blade to his shoulder.


    ¡°Just let me go,¡± Niklas said. ¡°No one needs to get hurt.¡±


    Erik¡¯s smile widened. In a flash, the dueler lunged and, with three flicks of his wrist, sent Niklas staggering back, clutching his chest, at the three new shallow holes in his right pectoral.


    Niklas looked at his hand, and it had blood on it. Erik¡¯s jabs hadn¡¯t been lethal stabs, though they easily could have been.


    Niklas looked at Erik. He was smiling like a cat playing with a baby bird. He was intentionally holding back, poking Niklas rather than running him through. With the pointed sword, it was enough to draw blood. Niklas hadn¡¯t even had a chance to try and parry.


    Finally, the pain of the jabs began to sting, and Niklas gasped in shock.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Erik smiled at Niklas, amused. ¡°You seemed so confident a second ago.¡±


    Niklas shook his head. He hadn¡¯t been ready, that was all.


    Renewed in his attack, Niklas feigned a slash at Erik¡¯s face, then quickly redirected the blade at his knee.


    Erik easily deflected the first strike by simply angling his sword, and then, with a flick of his wrist, he opened Niklas¡¯ forearm before he had even gotten halfway to the second strike.


    With a yelp, Niklas dropped the sword and looked at Erik in surprise. The dueler was so fast, and it seemed he used no energy to make quick work of Niklas.


    Erik smiled and stepped back, allowing Niklas to retrieve his sword. Whether it was some code of conduct or mockery, Niklas couldn¡¯t tell.


    ¡°Gray skin, you go from determination to desperation so quickly. If you lick my boot, I¡¯ll send you to the reformatory without any more improvements.¡±


    Niklas looked behind Erik. Eight guards and his two man-servants stood ready to step in when Erik was done with him. Niklas couldn¡¯t fight them. He looked over at the wall, too alarmed to feel the bite of the offer. He had to get away, probably over the wall, but the guards would be on him in a moment if he just started running.


    ¡°Well?¡± Erik asked, sticking his boot forward.


    Niklas¡¯ training surged at the sight of the opportunity. Erik¡¯s stance was compromised. If Niklas could just get his hands on him, maybe he could leverage his release.


    Without answering, Niklas charged, sweeping the tip of Erik¡¯s blade away, and rushed in, hoping to get past the deadly point of Erik¡¯s sword.


    Out of nowhere, with a flick of his wrist, the point of Erik¡¯s sword reappeared in front of Niklas, and he ran right into it. It wasn¡¯t a poke. This one was a stab. Niklas fell back, clutching his abdomen. He felt dizzy, and his various wounds felt hot and wet. Then, nausea struck him. The annoying slender blades were ridiculously effective. Niklas never would have guessed.


    ¡°Tsk, tsk.¡± Erik clicked his tongue. ¡°Where is the tough guy talk?¡±


    Niklas couldn¡¯t fight the way he had been trained. His weapon was alien to him, and he didn¡¯t know the technique to wield the Relrin sword effectively.


    He lunged, frantically stabbing at Erik, trying to mimic the dueler¡¯s technique.


    Erik parried each strike, laughing like it was the most natural thing he had ever done.


    With a yell of growing desperation, Niklas pressed his attack, and Erik spun around, whipping Niklas in the butt with the flat of his blade.


    Niklas glanced over at paramountess Stanfleda, embarrassed. She regarded them with a wildfire in her eyes.


    Why should I care so much about what she thinks? Niklas dismissed the thought as he tried to focus on his opponent.


    Erik smiled, making small circles with his sword.


    Niklas lowered the tip of his blade. It killed him to admit it, but he was outmatched here. Perhaps Erik would show mercy? Maybe Erik would let him go without making him lick his boot? If worse came to worst, would he just do it?


    ¡°Hey, look,¡± Niklas started. ¡°I didn¡¯t realize¨C¡±


    Something hissed, and Erik cursed, swatting at his neck. It must have been a bee. Niklas saw his chance. Forgetting surrender, he charged.


    Erik¡¯s eyes rolled into his head as he doubled over and threw up.


    Niklas slammed into the dueler, confused and getting vomit on his clothes, but he didn''t have time to be disgusted. Niklas threw him down. ¡°You¡¯re mine,¡± he cried.


    ¡°Dishonorable conduct,¡± one of the man servants cried, and the guards started forward.


    Erik¡¯s eyelids fluttered, and his skin was cold and clammy. Then Niklas noticed something familiar.


    His blood ran chill. A short Sharderic dart protruded from Erik¡¯s neck. No, how could it be? Niklas looked around in search of the person who shot the poisoned needle. He couldn¡¯t see anyone; it could have come from anywhere in the heavily obscuring garden.


    Quickly, Niklas pulled the dart out and got off of Erik.


    His pulse raced. This could only mean one thing. There was a Clan Sharderin nearby. The notion of a New Sharderin nearby was more disturbing than the guards that rushed him.


    The guards slammed into Niklas from all sides. A couple of men without uniforms but with badges expertly forced him down and applied shackles to his wrists and ankles.


    ¡°Let him go!¡± Stanfleda cried. ¡°I think he¡¯s had enough.¡±


    ¡°Sorry, my lady,¡± one of them grunted. ¡°Captain Awiergan¡¯s orders.¡±


    One of the guards pulled the dart from Niklas¡¯ hands, and one of them cried out.


    ¡°Ah ha! You see, my lady, he was an assassin!¡±


    Stanfleda looked at Niklas, suddenly pale.


    ¡°No!¡± Niklas croaked from under the dog pile of heavy men, but a blow to the head turned everything black.


    Niklas shook his pulsing head and willed his fluttering eyes open.


    ¡°What?¡± he sputtered as he came to. He was sitting in a dimly lit cell. His hands were still shackled, and there was a series of small cells running along the wall, with only bars separating each one. Niklas was within reach of a snoring bum who reeked of alcohol on his right.


    Niklas sat up with a groan, and a young officer sitting across the cell block on a wooden stool perked up when he saw him. Niklas didn¡¯t recognize him; he was hardly more than a youth and looked bored but jumped with the enthusiasm of a new recruit when he saw that Niklas was awake.


    The young peacekeeper got up and ran to the cellblock door, fumbling for keys to put into the thick lock. Niklas looked along the wall of cells. Besides him and his drunk companion, only one on the far end was also occupied by a sleeping man.


    The door opened, and the young man entered with Officer Yelsing and Inspector Graham. The former was wearing Niklas¡¯ Drone jacket!


    ¡°Niklas Loga.¡± Inspector Graham sighed. ¡°Also known as ¡®Pit boy.¡¯ Aren¡¯t you in a world of trouble?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Niklas asked, still disoriented. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡±


    ¡°You were caught trespassing on Paramount Alred¡¯s property, attempting assassination on his granddaughter, hosting a gambling pit, threatening a merchant, and now another account of attacking the artificer Doctor Geoffrey.¡±


    Niklas cursed; it had been well over two weeks. The doctor must have made good on his threat and reported him.


    ¡°The charges just stack up. Honestly, I¡¯m disappointed. I had you as my chief suspect on my lumber yard case, but that killer was precise, an expert. You¡¯re clumsy and immature. You¡¯ll probably hang after this Rowan drama blows over.¡±


    ¡°Hang?¡± Niklas cried as he grabbed the bars. ¡°No, there must be some mistake! I wasn¡¯t trying to harm Paramountess Stanfleda!¡±


    ¡°You were caught in possession of a toxic dart, which you used on the dueler Erik,¡± Inspector Graham continued. ¡°You¡¯re right, that¡¯s hardly damning evidence.¡±


    ¡°I found the dart!¡± Niklas cried desperately. ¡°If you¡¯re really so smart, how did I use it? Did I throw it?¡±


    Inspector Graham shrugged. ¡°You can rest easy tonight. A mob of Estvorian thugs have crossed town, and they¡¯ll probably attack Paramount Alred¡¯s manor. So he¡¯ll see to you after this is all done.¡±


    ¡°Please!¡± Niklas begged. ¡°You¡¯re wrong! I have to get home! Back to my brother!¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be so confident.¡± Inspector Graham shook his head. ¡°Honestly, this was a disappointment to me. I thought I had my sawmill killer.¡±


    They turned to leave.


    ¡°Wait!¡±


    ¡°We need to go,¡± Inspector Graham huffed. ¡°All officers that can be spared are taking to the streets tonight. This is going to be quite the riot.¡±


    ¡°Wait!¡± Niklas cried again, but they shut the door behind them.


    With a moan of desperation, Niklas hit a bar with his fist, causing it to rattle in its mounts.


    He slunk back to the ground alone. He had gotten nowhere since coming to Relgar! He still had his blasted faceless mark, and now he was on death row. Who shot that dart? Which other Sharderin was here?


    Niklas looked from his drunk companion to the huddled figure across the hall. This place wasn¡¯t meant for him. He was a good person. Or at least, he tried to be.


    The charges leveled against Niklas caused him to reconsider. Fighting, threatening, lying...maybe he wasn¡¯t as good a person as he thought. Perhaps he was a criminal deserving the judgment that was before him.


    Niklas sank back as the reality of his condemnation settled. The Drone in him told him to hold his head high. He had infiltrated the enemy. He had given them hell. He had done his duty and tried to get home. He hadn¡¯t done as well as Edgar would have in his place. But if Edgar saw him, he knew Edgar would only have cause to be proud.


    But the man in Niklas silenced the Drone and bombarded him with an empty sense of disappointment. What would Lill and Ivar say? What would Esther think? Niklas had his own people, and he let them down.


    Niklas cried out in frustration as he kicked a wooden bucket, splashing murky water across the hallway.


    How had he been so careless? Is this what valor would get him. Locked up with Relrin drunks and criminals? What was the point of it all? Lill was right. Niklas shouldn¡¯t have gone after Esther. These new feelings and friends were spurring him into so much misfortune.


    ¡°You¡¯re not a bad man,¡± a voice assured him from across the cell block.


    Niklas looked up in surprise to find the man across the hall had stirred as the water from the bucket crept into his own cell.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Niklas muttered, motioning to the water.


    ¡°I meant it,¡± he said. ¡°You¡¯re not a bad man.¡±


    ¡°Do I know you?¡± Niklas asked as he looked him over. He wasn¡¯t familiar. The man was shorter than Niklas, which wasn¡¯t saying much as most people were. He looked like a Relrin, with signature pink skin and dark hair, but in place of the normal Relrin brown eyes, his were greener than any Niklas had ever seen. The fact that Niklas could even see them in the low light testified to that.


    ¡°Not yet,¡± he said. ¡°But I spend too much time here and see every kind of man, like Ritchlin there.¡± He motioned to the snoring man in the cell next to Niklas. ¡°Most people dismiss him. He drinks too much, they say. He¡¯s irresponsible, doesn¡¯t take care of himself.¡±


    Niklas looked at the man, surprised to realize the same thoughts were passing his mind.


    ¡°But Ritchlin is a tender and caring man. He wouldn¡¯t hurt a fly and goes out of his way to protect animals from cruelty. But no one really sees that. They see a broke drunk.¡±


    Niklas sniffed and settled back. He had to find a way out somehow. It might as well be while he listened to this stranger¡¯s rambling.


    ¡°But when they look at you, they may see an arrogant and proud fighter, one who is bent on control and power, who holds little regard for others and only cares for the valor he was trained to worship.¡±


    Niklas winced and sat up. As far as he knew, valor, in the context of his understanding, was exclusively a Sharderin principle. ¡°What am I really then?¡± Niklas asked suspiciously.


    The man smiled sadly. ¡°Someone who has been forced to experience life in a short time. A man who was told he was a Drone has now learned that that isn¡¯t who he is.¡±


    ¡°All right!¡± Niklas snapped. ¡°Who are you?¡±


    ¡°My name is Alden. Some of the locals consider me to be something of a seer.¡±


    ¡°A seer of Kel?¡± Niklas snorted.


    He smiled sadly again with a nod.


    ¡°Well, seer,¡± Niklas started, subtle spite creeping into his words. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose your man-god has a way for you to get us out of here?¡±


    Alden laughed and shot Niklas a grin. ¡°Not us and not today. But maybe you.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    He settled back down and looked up at the barred window over Niklas¡¯ head. ¡°A lot of people are going to die today.¡±


    ¡°Is that what you see?¡± Niklas asked.


    He nodded.


    ¡°That sounds like a prophecy from Stigki,¡± Niklas said.


    ¡°The Sharderin man-god of destruction.¡± He nodded again. ¡°You would think that.¡±


    ¡°You know my theology?¡± Niklas asked in surprise.


    ¡°I know many things. Or rather, I see many things.¡±


    Niklas smiled, hoping to tease the pagan. ¡°Will I be executed soon?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    Niklas started in surprise. ¡°Will I see Edgar again?¡±


    He looked at Niklas directly, his green eyes almost seeming to glimmer in the dark. ¡°The door behind you isn¡¯t closed yet. But do you really want to forfeit the door ahead?¡±


    Outside, shouts of a mob started, and dogs barked, rousing Niklas to his feet. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°The Rowans,¡± Alden said. ¡°They have started.¡±

 27 The Rowans.

    Under the concealment of the night, a meeting was in session at Wilbur¡¯s Soutfel day house. The house wasn¡¯t overly large. Not as big as his manor house at Estvor. The cottage would have to do, even if it was cramped.


    Wilbur looked at his guests in the yellow lamplight across the room. Paramount Godric and his young cousin Paramount Klause stood stoically, dressed in the garb of the middle class as always.


    Wilbur didn¡¯t understand why they did that. They had power, money, and station. Why didn¡¯t they show it? The only thing that marked them as noble was the metal ring on Godwin¡¯s forearm. The circlet was a Fusillade Remnant. Wilbur had no clue what it did, but he knew it was priceless.


    Their choice of attire did make some sense. Most of the Estvorians and Roof Runners who crossed over into Soutvor with them were of the lower class. It sent a message of camaraderie, but still. It didn¡¯t merit much authority, which is what Wilbur would have done in their place.


    Also present were a few leaders from a local gang, The Frez Seconds, and Duke Roe, a man stripped of his title and artifacts but by no means stripped of power. Wilbur was still determining how much he liked hosting these others. He tolerated it anyway because a wolf was always well acquainted.


    ¡°They¡¯re not budging,¡± Paramount Klause said grimly. ¡°We hit his wagons at the shipping yard, but Alred didn¡¯t send any men to back them up.¡±


    ¡°We hit the docks,¡± one of The Frez Seconds leaders reported. ¡°Burned two of his ships and were only met by a few local law enforcement. They were easy to deal with.¡± They chuckled, and Paramount Godric narrowed his eyes at them. Godric wasn¡¯t a wasteful man. He didn¡¯t delight in casualties, especially officers just doing their job. But he didn¡¯t rebuke them as he still needed their support.


    ¡°Roe?¡± Godric asked as he turned to the former duke.


    ¡°We stole some field artifacts,¡± the sharply dressed man said. ¡°Quite a few of them, too. Alred will be ruined if he doesn¡¯t deploy his garrison.¡±


    ¡°Well, he¡¯s not moving,¡± Klause said. ¡°And it¡¯s only a matter of time before his sons show up with their garrisons and guns to drive us from Soutfel. We can¡¯t afford those casualties.¡±


    Godwin shook his head. ¡°We¡¯ll abort our plan if the Kalbfel and Stemfel garrisons appear. We just need to strike him hard! What can¡¯t he afford to lose?¡±


    ¡°His cattle compound,¡± Wilbur cut in, surprising himself with his answer. He had spoken before his thoughts had formed.


    ¡°Not a bad idea,¡± the stocky Paramount Godwin nodded. ¡°Scatter the cows.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Wilbur said. ¡°The herdsmen.¡±


    This time, Godwin protested, ¡°There is no need to hurt bystanders.¡± He shot a warning glance at the boys from the Frez Seconds.


    ¡°Innocent,¡± Wilbur scoffed. ¡°Hardly.¡±


    All eyes turned to him for an explanation.


    ¡°I¡¯ve had my spies watching the compound,¡± he lied. ¡°It has come to my attention that the herdsmen and their families are martial men and spies, undercover, of course.¡±


    ¡°Are you serious?¡± Klause asked in shock.


    ¡°Quite. Think about it. A small elite force already on the outskirts of town is in a dangerous position to counterattack. We should meet them before they hit us from behind.¡±


    That caused a stirring among those present. Even Paramount Godric stroked his chin thoughtfully. ¡°I hadn¡¯t planned for this. Maybe Alred was ready for us more than I thought. Hiding a force of martial men and waiting for his sons could leave us trapped on all sides.¡± He glanced at Klause with a worried frown. ¡°I¡¯ll take care of the cattle compound personally. I want you ready to lead the attack on the manor if you get the chance.¡±


    The youth paled. ¡°But Godwin¨C¡± he started in protest.


    Godwin Rowan put his hand on Klause¡¯s shoulder. ¡°You¡¯re ready. Can I trust you?¡±


    Klause paused before nodding at his cousin. ¡°I¡¯ll do it.¡±


    ¡°Perfect. Give them Frez, everyone, and remember. Abandon the attack if the younger Alreds arrive, and don''t harm innocents,¡± he said sternly. With a wave, he dismissed them.


    Wilbur beckoned Arth over.


    ¡°Yes, boss?¡±


    ¡°Lead Master Godwin to the cattle compound,¡± the tea merchant instructed. ¡°I want him to raise that place.¡±


    Arth flinched. ¡°But Esther¨C¡±


    ¡°Has refused me,¡± Wilbur said. ¡°There are consequences for being foolish, and that Sharderin corpse will learn what it means to cross me. Convince Godwin that they are martial men.¡±


    Arth smiled at the order and, as always, nodded in obedience. ¡°The compound will be gone by morning, boss.¡±


    Niklas saw a ceiling board with a splintered hole from a twisted knot on one side. Niklas cocked his head to the side thoughtfully. The noise outside raged and died, only to pick up again hours later as it darkened outside. Niklas was determined not to spend another minute in the cell.


    The plank was high, but Niklas was tall and had a good high jump. He looked at his callused hands, desperately wishing he had his gloves.


    The key was that the nails drove the planks up into the ceiling beams. Having recently worked in a lumber yard, Niklas had a hunch he could force them out.


    Niklas grunted before springing up. He speared his fingers into the hole and hooked them around the back. He felt splinters and cracks dig into his fingers, and he bit his tongue at the discomfort.


    The manor guards or the lawmen had bandaged his forearm half-heartedly while he was asleep, but his arm started to sting as he held himself up.


    Hanging from the ceiling with one hand, Niklas looked at Alden across the hall.


    The older man nodded at Niklas but made no move to call for guards. His green eyes glistened momentarily before he turned away from Niklas, allowing him to work in private.


    Almost as if, by his consent, Niklas managed to cram three fingers from his other hand into the hole. It felt like he was holding himself up on a knife¡¯s edge. Niklas grunted, swung his feet up, and planted them on either side of the blackened plank. Tense in his inverted squat, he strained his body as he pushed away from the ceiling with his legs. The wood bit his fingers as he pitted the strength of his legs against his fingers.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    The plank groaned as its nails started to slip.


    Niklas gasped and dropped back to the ground. Shaking his raw hands, he looked back up at the plank. He had managed to pull it down an inch on one end. There was a fresh new gap for him to grab, hopefully, less splintered.


    Niklas jumped up and jerked the plank, letting his weight pull it loose. It swung down. Several nails stuck through it, and two bent as they anchored it. Twisting the board, Niklas ripped it free and dropped it to the ground.


    He waited a moment to be sure the noise hadn¡¯t drawn any attention from the front room. Satisfied that it hadn¡¯t, hope leaped in his fluttering chest, causing him to smile. But he wasn¡¯t out of this yet.


    He grinned at a new six-inch gap in the ceiling where the plank used to be. Repeating the trick, he managed to loosen the two on either side, but they were nailed in better, and he couldn¡¯t get them free. Panting from the bat-like squat session, Niklas jumped up and wormed his way into the slot in the ceiling.


    Niklas grunted and kicked his legs as the planks scraped his arms and chest. He sucked his gut in, but his deep chest made squeezing through painful. The long slit on his forearm split, and Niklas felt warm blood soak the hasty bandage. With a grunt and almost a full minute of thrashing and pulling, he found his way onto the rafters above the ceiling.


    Feeling triumphant in the dark, he made his way from rafter to rafter, feeling his way like a blind man. At the edge of the building, a circular vent formed out of slanted slats. The noise outside had rekindled; Niklas silently prayed that he wouldn¡¯t arouse any suspicion and kicked the vent into splinters.


    Peeking out the new window, Niklas saw several dark figures moving around below. Several had painted their faces, and others covered them with handkerchiefs. They must have been the Rowan¡¯s men moving to position for an attack.


    Niklas dropped to the ground, causing several of them to yelp as they looked at him in surprise. Niklas grunted as he grabbed his gut where Erik¡¯s blade had penetrated the deepest. His wounds didn¡¯t like the shock of the drop. Ignoring the thugs, Niklas turned to circle the small prison building. He had some business to see to.


    Niklas banged on the reformatory''s door, and Officer Yelsing opened it, his look of annoyance shifting to surprise. ¡°Yo¨C!¡±


    Niklas slugged him across the jaw hard, collapsing him in one blow.


    ¡°That¡¯s my jacket!¡± Niklas growled as he pulled it off the unconscious man and threw it over his shoulders. It felt like a brotherly embrace at a ten-year reunion. The familiar shape and weight were precisely as they were supposed to be.


    Niklas looked around, but no other officers were in the small office. Rummaging through drawers and bins, he quickly located his reaper''s blade. Finally re-equipped with his only earthly positions, Niklas turned to leave but stopped at the figure blocking the doorway.


    ¡°Niklas Loga,¡± he said in Sharderic. ¡°I¡¯ve come to bring you home.¡±


    Niklas gasped and fell back. The man wore black Drone armor with articulating plates covering everything but his head. Under his arm was his Drone mask, its eyes staring at Niklas like a god of the past. In his other hand was another Drone mask.


    ¡°Are you here to kill me?¡± Niklas asked, growing numb with fear.


    ¡°No, brother,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m taking you home.¡±


    ¡°Who are you?¡± Niklas asked, his thumb finding the switch on his reaper blade.


    ¡°Don¡¯t fear me,¡± he said. ¡°You and I are comrades, not enemies.¡±


    ¡°It was you? Who hit the Dueler with that dart?¡±


    He nodded. ¡°You weren¡¯t doing so well. You were unprepared.¡±


    ¡°I left Pit forest,¡± Niklas whispered as he finally noticed the Prylux pistol on his hip. The weapon had lines of pulsing yellow light. ¡°You¡¯ve come to silence me?¡±


    ¡°Niklas Loga, if I wanted you dead, that dart would have been for you instead of the Relrin.¡±


    ¡°Unless you wanted the valor for yourself.¡±


    He shook his head. ¡°Things have changed back home.¡± He extended the second Drones mask. ¡°You can get your face back.¡±


    Niklas looked at the mask in bewilderment. ¡°No...no, that¡¯s not possible. I¡¯m faceless. I have no valor!¡± He pointed at the scar on his face to prove his point.


    The Drone shook his head, his white ponytail swaying with his head. ¡°You were unjustly condemned. The Zealots have been punished, and you will receive a second chance. Don¡¯t you understand, Niklas? You can go home.¡±


    Niklas took the mask with trembling hands, and it finally hit him. Home? Was it possible? Could he go back to Edgar? Work hard and become a Raider? Was it all a test? Had Gyva taken it all to teach him a lesson? Was she giving it back because he passed?


    He felt Valor¡¯s gentle burn return as he stared at the drone mask¡¯s eyes. Could it be?


    Niklas laughed out loud. All this work, his failed plans, setbacks, and his road home came to him!


    Niklas stopped as the voice of reason took hold. This was far too good to be true.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± Niklas asked, setting the mask on a desk like a thermal charge.


    ¡°My name is Vidder,¡± he said, his eyes following the motion. He was athletic and powerful, though not as tall as Niklas. ¡°You have been very hard to find.¡±


    ¡°Why have you been looking for me?¡± Niklas asked, realizing that there had to be a catch. Stuff like this didn¡¯t just happen.


    ¡°I have been sent by somebody who cares deeply about you.¡±


    ¡°Edgar?¡± Niklas asked, and his wounds screamed at his enthusiasm as he unintentionally tightened. Now that he could believe.


    Vidder chuckled and shook his head. Someone much greater.


    ¡°What? Who?¡± Niklas demanded. ¡°I am just a Drone. Not even that anymore. I don¡¯t have any friends back at Pit. Who would care other than Edgar?¡±


    ¡°The Arbiter.¡±


    Niklas laughed helplessly. The laugh of realism ripping away hope. ¡°The Arbiter? The Father of Pit? Now I know I¡¯m mad.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you mock father,¡± Vidder growled.


    ¡°So you¡¯re his son.¡±


    ¡°As are you.¡±


    ¡°I find that unlikely,¡± Niklas snorted. ¡°Considering my father was a Relrin.¡±


    ¡°But the Arbiter has accepted you as his own. You should be honored.¡±


    ¡°But why would the great Arbiter have any interest in me?¡±


    ¡°Because you are special, Niklas,¡± Vidder said emphatically.


    ¡°Right.¡± Niklas rolled his eyes. ¡°Me. Special. Drone Niklas Loga.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t believe me¡­ you have been away for almost a month without med. Tell me, how do you feel?¡±


    ¡°It was horrible at first,¡± Niklas said. ¡°I couldn¡¯t even function properly. But it comes and goes in waves.¡±


    Vidder shook his head, and Niklas noticed his hands trembling for the first time. ¡°You should be bedridden. You shouldn¡¯t have built up resistance yet.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re off med, too,¡° Niklas realized.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been looking for you for almost three weeks!¡± he growled. ¡°I¡¯ve been out for a week and can barely stand. I promise you answers, Niklas. But you need to come with me!¡±


    ¡°Where?¡±


    ¡°Home. To Edgar. To your people. To the Arbiter. You are not one of them, Niklas. Stop pretending to be. They locked you up like a criminal. They¡¯ve slandered, beaten, and rejected you. What do you owe them?¡± He pointed to the bandage on Niklas¡¯ forearm, which still seeped through.


    Niklas felt the weight of his words. Vidder wasn¡¯t lying. Niklas was a parasite to them. Wilbur, Erik, and Geoffrey generally hated him, and rightfully so. But What about the Sommerfeldts? What about Esther?


    ¡°Let¡¯s go!¡± Vidder groaned. He was in pain, and Niklas could see it. ¡°I need to get you back, and I need med. The door that goes home isn¡¯t closed, brother.¡±


    The door behind you isn¡¯t closed yet. But do you really want to forfeit the door ahead?


    The man who sat in a cell just behind the door at the back of the office had said something like that, and he claimed to be some sort of seer. Could it mean...¡°I really can go home,¡± Niklas gasped, and his eyes threatened to blur. This nightmare could go away, but what about his people?


    Niklas looked longingly out the window.


    ¡°You have friends here?¡± Vidder sniffed the air. ¡°I can smell them on you. Are you afraid that you¡¯ll miss them? Those few who have accepted you? Trust me, it will be better for both them and you for you to leave. Your presence will only hurt them.¡±


    Niklas nodded in agreement, but that harsh truth stabbed his heart like a hot knife. He had offended Esther and made an enemy of Wilbur on her behalf. Niklas had been a burden to Lill. Rasmus was still waiting on a promise he never seemed to find time for, and if not for him, the Sommerfeldts wouldn¡¯t have to sacrifice what little they had to keep him fed. ¡°Are there no other options?¡± he asked. ¡°Can I bring them?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Vidder said. ¡°Come home. That is the only option where everyone can be happy.¡±


    Niklas saw the two doors. One led back to Pit Forest, Edgar, and his home, the other to his new family, to misery. They would continue to be persecuted and rejected because of him. Their lives would be difficult and painful with a Drone in their midst. They would smile and tell him it wasn¡¯t his fault. But deep down, they would know that it was. Though Niklas had good intentions, he had cursed their house.


    ¡°Do you care about them, Niklas?¡± Vidder asked.


    Niklas nodded, a knot welling in his throat.


    ¡°Then leave. If they truly mean anything to you, fix their lives by leaving them. We are different people. We cannot coexist with them- not without destroying each other. But you know that, don¡¯t you?¡±


    Niklas looked at the drone mask on the desk before him and thought of the last three weeks- the pain, the joy, the beautiful moments, and the sour. Lill¡¯s scolding, Ivar¡¯s sarcasm, Rasmus¡¯ respect for him, Trygve¡¯s loyalty. Niklas loved those boys, Esther¡­


    Niklas nodded and sniffled. ¡°I choose the door behind.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll go with you. For their sakes.¡±

 28 Farewell.

    ¡°This is a waste of time,¡± Vidder said, with disapproval clear on his face.


    ¡°I won¡¯t be long,¡± Niklas said. ¡°I just need a moment.¡±


    Vidder looked eastward toward Pit Forest. ¡°Make it fast.¡±


    Niklas nodded as he turned to the gate of the cattle compound. He walked quickly, noticing Vidder¡¯s clenched fist. The drone looked like he was pushing through the same constant headache that had berated Nikas over the past weeks.


    Niklas stepped past the iron gate, which was partially ajar, and hurried to the Sommerfeldts compound.


    He pushed the door open and slipped in without knocking. All of the Sommerfeldts sat at the table, awake and idle. They looked at Niklas in surprise before the table burst into an uproar. Trygve bolted from the table to hug Niklas with his short arms.


    Lill blinked rapidly to be sure she was seeing correctly. ¡°Niklas, thank heavens! Esther said that you were captured by Alred¡¯s guards!¡±


    ¡°How¡¯d you get away?¡± Ivar asked, looking both surprised and impressed.


    ¡°Glad you¡¯re okay,¡± Frode said. ¡°Thought for sure you were gone.¡±


    Trygve¡¯s embrace tightened.


    ¡°No,¡± Niklas muttered. ¡°I¡¯m okay.¡±


    ¡°Praise Kel,¡± Lill beamed. ¡°You have the frez¡¯s own luck.¡±


    Niklas tried to smile, but knowing this reunion would be their last, he couldn¡¯t manage it.


    ¡°Niklas, what¡¯s wrong?¡± Lill asked.


    Trygve looked up at Niklas with worry in his young eyes.


    Niklas tried to swallow his emotions as he hugged the boy back. ¡°I¡¯m leaving.¡±


    The smiles vanished from the Sommerfeldts simultaneously.


    ¡°No!¡± Rasmus snapped. ¡°Niklas, you¡¯re my friend, you can¡¯t go! You still have to teach me how to box!¡±


    Niklas held up a hand to silence their protests. ¡°I think it¡¯s in everyone¡¯s best interest for me to go. I have caused nothing but trouble and been a burden to this family.¡±


    Lill bolted to her feet. ¡°Don¡¯t be selfish, Niklas! You haven''t even asked what we want.¡±


    Niklas recoiled in surprise. ¡°No. I guess I haven''t.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, Niklas. I think your coming here has been the best thing that has ever happened to us,¡± Ivar said.


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± Niklas demanded. ¡°I haven''t done anything but make your lives a living Pit.¡±


    ¡°Niklas, you have become one of my sons,¡± Frode said. ¡°Watching you turn your back on us would break this old heart.¡±


    ¡°You guys are not making this easy for me!¡± Niklas frowned in his fury of confused feelings. ¡°A Drone from my people is here. He told me that they need me back home.¡±


    ¡°One of you?¡± Ivar asked. ¡°A New Sharderin? Niklas, do you really want to go back there? It sounds awful.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going!¡± Niklas snapped, and Trygve stepped away wide-eyed. ¡°Now stop trying to change my mind! There is so much you don¡¯t understand!¡±


    The Sommerfeldts looked at Niklas with pain in their eyes.


    The young Rasmus broke the silence. ¡°Niklas, we love you.¡±


    Niklas flinched. ¡°Rasmus,¡± he pleaded, ¡°if I taught you how to box, you would get yourself in trouble, like me. You don¡¯t want to be like me, Rasmus. If I stay, I¡¯ll hang.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not your fault,¡± Rasmus said. ¡°You don¡¯t know any better.¡±


    Ivar shrugged. ¡°Honestly, I¡¯m surprised you¡¯ve gotten so far without hanging already.¡±


    Lill looked around frantically for her spoon.


    ¡°But you¡¯ll come back?¡± Rasmus said.


    Niklas shook his head. ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Niklas,¡± Lill said, ¡°we can¡¯t make your choice for you. But please, make sure this is what you want.¡±


    ¡°I have to. I¡¯ve messed up too much.¡± Niklas nodded in resolution. ¡°Goodbye, Lill, Ivar, Tord, Frode, Rasmus.¡± He glanced down at little Trygve. ¡°Trygve,¡± he smiled, ¡°I¡¯ll always remember you.¡±


    Tord, generally silent and in the background, got to his feet and crossed over to Niklas. He smiled sadly, and he caught Niklas in a brotherly embrace. Niklas hugged his friend back. The remaining Sommerfeldts abandoned their table and mobbed Niklas in a family group hug.


    ¡°Thank you for sharing your time here with us,¡± Tord sniffled. ¡°We will cherish them forever.¡±


    Niklas closed his eyes and savored the moment. He felt warm inside, not valor, something infinitely better. Niklas would miss it. He wished that the moment could last. It felt so right. How could something so sweet also be so bitter?


    Niklas¡¯ ears seemed to twitch, and he looked up abruptly.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Lill asked as they broke away.


    ¡°It¡¯s Esther; she¡¯s crying.¡±


    ¡°Well, she was earlier. She thought you were possibly dead.¡±


    ¡°She is crying now.¡±


    ¡°How do you know? She left. Did she sneak back in?¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t you hear her?¡± Niklas asked


    They sat silently for a moment before the sound of the metal gate scraping the ground broke the quiet, and Esther''s crying could be heard clearly.


    ¡°I can hear her now,¡± Ivar said. ¡°Get out there, Niklas. She thinks you might be in prison.¡±


    Niklas didn¡¯t need any more urging. He spun and shot out of the door.


    He flew into the courtyard and into Esther, who looked at him as equally startled as she was distraught.


    She cried when she saw him and flew into his arms. There was no hesitation or shame in the embrace this time. ¡°Niklas!¡± she sobbed freely. ¡°I thought...I thought¨C¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± Niklas assured her.


    ¡°You¡¯re bleeding!¡± she cried as she touched the bloodied bandage on his forearm.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine. I hope you¡¯re okay?¡±


    Her face twisted as if in pain, and she broke into a fresh bought of tears. ¡°I saw them drag you away! I thought you were imprisoned, and the Rowans are rioting! Oh, Niklas, I was so worried! I thought you were gone!¡±


    Niklas¡¯ joy at seeing her melted into sickly realization as he remembered that this was goodbye, ¡°Esther.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Niklas?¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡± Niklas stopped.


    She looked at him. Why did she have to look at him like that? Now, of all times, it made his insides scream; it made him want to fight and to die. Why did he have to meet her? To grow so fond of her? He now understood why Drones and mothers weren¡¯t meant to mix. This gut-wrenching misery was different from any wound he had sustained before...more potent than all of the fear and abuse of his childhood...more tangible than the rejection and alienations of his youth.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he muttered sincerely. Glancing at the gate, there was no sign of Vidder. Of course, he would remain unseen. Behind Niklas, Lill peaked through the door of their apartment.


    Esther smiled through her tears. ¡°Niklas I¡­¡± She put her hand on his chest and looked up at him with big eyes. Her tear-drenched face grew soft. She seemed to glow. ¡°I¡­¡± She closed her eyes and leaned in. She tilted her head, and her face came only inches from Niklas¡¯. He could feel her breath on his face, making the hair on his neck stand.


    What¡¯s wrong with her? Niklas thought as he stepped away. ¡°Hey,¡± he cried, shaking her a little. ¡°Are you okay?¡±This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    She broke out of her starry-eyed stupor, confused. ¡°What?¡± she asked, looking embarrassed and disappointed.


    ¡°Sit down.¡± Niklas insisted. ¡°Lill, I think Esther needs help.¡±


    Lill smacked her own forehead with her palm. ¡°You ignorant boy,¡± she muttered, but she hurried over to Esther.


    Niklas wanted to say goodbye, but it was the last thing he wanted to do. He couldn¡¯t do it. He nodded once and turned away, pushing the compound doors open as he ran.


    He bit his tongue to hold back the bitter taste. He didn¡¯t see Vidder anywhere, so he just pressed on going anywhere away from the compound. The bright moonlight threw his shadow in front of him, reminding him that he was once again alone. Gyva had been cruel, and now he had no choice but to move wherever she seemed to want him.


    He could already hear Edgar¡¯s chastening voice telling him to think his own thoughts and make his own choices. But Edgar was wrong. In the end, things weren¡¯t in his control. He was just a pawn that the gods seemed to enjoy playing with. What was the point in even trying?


    ¡°Niklas!¡±


    Niklas turned to see Esther running after him. The light reflected the apparent concern on her face.


    ¡°Niklas¡­ where are you going?¡±


    A lump formed in his throat, and he nodded, not trusting himself to use words.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± she asked. ¡°It¡¯s late. The Rowans are out. It¡¯s dangerous.¡±


    ¡°Home,¡± he rasped.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going home, Esther.¡±


    She recoiled as though his words burned her. ¡°Niklas...this is your home. Here with us. With me.¡±


    Why did she have to follow? This was already hard enough as it was.


    ¡°No, Esther. I¡¯m not one of you.¡± Niklas said, ¡°I never will be. The only thing I seem to do is destroy everything you build.¡±


    ¡°No!¡± she cried as she ran up to him. ¡°Niklas. That¡¯s nonsense, and you know it.¡±


    Niklas shook his head. ¡°I need to go.¡±


    ¡°Were you even going to say goodbye?¡± she gasped as fresh tears started to run down her face. ¡°Do we really mean so little to you?¡±


    ¡°No, of course not.¡± Niklas groaned. ¡°You mean everything to me. It just hurts so bad.¡±


    ¡°And how do you think it would make us feel if you just vanished without saying goodbye? Did you even think about that? Or are you really so selfish?¡±


    ¡°I told you I was going. You knew I couldn¡¯t stay from the start, so why are you so surprised now that it¡¯s my time?¡±


    Her shoulders slumped. ¡°I knew you had to go...I had just hoped.¡±


    ¡°Esther, I care for you and your family. I truly do! That¡¯s why I need to go. That¡¯s why you must let me go.¡±


    ¡°You really think you are better off with the demons and monsters of Pit? I saw the marks on your body. They hurt you. I won¡¯t let you go back to that!¡±


    ¡°Esther, this is exactly what I¡¯m talking about!¡± Niklas said, growing stern. ¡°Demons and monsters? You people are so primitive and superstitious.¡±


    ¡°Why are you saying this? Niklas, I need you!¡±


    ¡°You need me?¡± he echoed in disbelief. ¡°Stop lying to yourself. I really have no place with you. I am a Sharderin Drone, and you are a Relrin Mother. If you really think that you and I can actually be friends, then maybe Wilbur was right about you!¡±


    Esther gasped and looked at Niklas in disbelief.


    No man or animal made a noise. Just her heavy and laden breath.


    The twisted guilt that had haunted Niklas before returned. His wounds throbbed, and his stomach churned. What had he done? He now understood why Gyva was toying with him so cruelly.


    He could see the hurt on Esther¡¯s face. She had forgiven him, and he had gone and hurt her again.


    ¡°Esther...I, I didn¡¯t mean that.¡±


    ¡°I think I understood you clearly,¡± she choked. ¡°You are a cruel man, Niklas.¡±


    Her words punched through him like bullets. ¡°No, I¡­¡± but he stopped himself as it sunk in. He bowed his head in quiet acceptance. ¡°You¡¯re right. This is why I¡¯m going. My people are the wolves of this world. How could I hope to be with you? I was a fool. Forgive me for ever coming here.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± she sniffed. ¡°Why come and live with us, laugh with us, eat with us, and protect us just to now run away?¡±


    ¡°Because I am the fool.¡± Niklas stepped closer to her, but she shied away as though he were a snake. He winced. That cut deep. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s a daft horrible reason to leave us all. How do you think the Sommerfeldts will feel?¡±


    ¡°They know.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± she gasped. ¡°Am I the only one who didn¡¯t know?¡±


    Niklas nodded.


    ¡°Niklas?¡± She started crying again. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°I am so sorry. I thought this was what I wanted, what I needed, but now I see this is what I can¡¯t have.¡±


    ¡°Gah, men!¡± Esther cried. ¡°I thought you were different. I thought you were special. You¡¯re the worst of them. And to think I was ready to follow you!¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Niklas demanded in confusion. ¡°Why would you follow me? I come from Pit.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not what I mean!¡±


    Niklas shook his head. ¡°Most of the time, I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about anyway.¡±


    ¡°You are such an ignorant fool!¡±


    Niklas nodded. ¡°That may be true. But I can see that our friendship will only lead to disappointment.¡±


    ¡°Friendship? Is that all I was to you? A friend?¡±


    He looked at her blankly. ¡°What else?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a monster, Niklas. Why would you make me believe that you were interested?¡±


    ¡°Interested in what?¡± Niklas demanded as he grew more confused. ¡°I am a Drone. I fight, work, and die, and that is all.¡±


    ¡°What about life? Happiness? Don¡¯t you want a family?¡±


    ¡°I had a family, Esther. Your people slaughtered them.¡±


    She groaned to herself and glared at him through teary eyes. ¡°There is nothing but bitterness in you, is there?¡±


    Niklas hung his head and turned away. How could he explain? She would never understand. They were different beings. He knew only pain and discipline. He was raised in pit and rejected by his father''s people.


    She was a Mother, beautiful and sweet. She was cared for by a family that loved her. They couldn¡¯t coexist safely in the same land.


    ¡°Niklas?¡± she begged a final time. Her voice was so sincere it caused a surge in his chest to stir, triggering the med cramp.


    ¡°Everything I touch burns. Goodbye.¡±


    He started to walk away, leaving the trembling Relrin Mother behind.


    ¡°Niklas!¡±


    He set his jaw and doubled his pace, unable to bring himself to look back.


    ¡°Niklas!¡±


    He walked, leaving everything behind, hoping and praying he would be able to forget it like a bad dream. He walked, abandoning the piece of himself that would always remain with these people.


    He had seen his father''s people, and he had had enough. He never wanted to set foot on this land again, Not even on the day of retribution. It was not what he had expected. It was different, and it wasn¡¯t for him.


    He left the village not as the broken faceless he had entered but as the Drone he was programmed to be.


    Vidder melted from the shadows and jogged over to him.


    Niklas¡¯ eyes were dry but itchy and puffy. Vidder looked relieved to see him. ¡°What took so long? You ready, soldier?¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± Niklas said. ¡°I¡¯m done with this place.¡±


    Esther sunk down onto the dirt as she watched Niklas walk away. Was this really happening? The feelings of loneliness gripped hold of her again. Ever faithful and diligent, it filled the space that Niklas had warmly claimed over the past weeks, leaving her empty and cold. She watched him until he rounded the corner and disappeared. He was actually going, and he didn¡¯t even look back.


    She watched the slight hill he disappeared over, knowing fully that her prayer that he would turn around and return would go unheeded.


    She was agitated and couldn¡¯t hold still, but she didn¡¯t have the will to fidget or move. Niklas had come and changed everything; he had been charming and respectful, but it was all an act. He had convinced her that there were still good men in the world, that she would be able to be happy, and that she didn¡¯t have to subject herself to one of her dirty and wretched admirers to start a family.


    But now he was gone. And so was her hope of companionship. But why? A hot, twisted pulse of realization churned inside her. She had hoped that he could accept her. That they could be happy together. He seemed so sincere, which only made his betrayal hurt even worse.


    The pain.


    She doubled over and gasped as she covered her mouth. She wouldn¡¯t cry. Not again.


    She was alone again. Her shoulders trembled and shook as she tried to hold it in.


    It was all a lie. Niklas¡¯ smile, eagerness to help her learn how to read, and breaking into a paramount¡¯s yard just to see her was all just a stupid lie.


    She was overcome, and she began to sob in the dirt by herself. She cried for the hurt of disappointment, for the ache inside, for having been used yet again, and it wasn¡¯t fair.


    She cried alone under the bright blue moon as she was abandoned by the man she had foolishly started to feel hopeful for. They hadn¡¯t known each other long, but he was an alien among them. Ignorant, dangerous, and so hopeful.


    She lost track of time as she cried. Her tears were her only company. They seemed to console her in her grief. They helped ease her pain, but they didn¡¯t wash it away. She cried until she had no more tears.


    She sat in silence. She had to be strong for her brothers. She had always been strong for them.


    She tried to swallow her grief as she gathered the strength to pick herself up and walk back to the compound. She shook as she wiped her eyes, but with determination, she headed back to the compound.


    As she approached the steel gate of her home, something was off. The heavy, rusted gate that usually welcomed her home stood dark and imposing. Despite it being the middle of the night, it was abnormally quiet. She felt like she wasn¡¯t alone.


    Her pain began to melt as it was replaced with unease. ¡°Hello?¡± she called as she looked around.


    She looked back at the gate. It seemed to want to warn her to run. She couldn¡¯t see anyone, but she could feel something. The hair on her neck stood straight.


    She remembered the warnings that she had heard from Robin about the murderer who had killed men in the yard. Her heartbeat picked up as she ran to the dark gate. She threw her weight into it, and it groaned as it swung open. She quickly slipped in and closed the gate behind her.


    She turned to find Lill and Frode waiting in the courtyard illuminated by dim lantern light. They looked at her, worried as she entered.


    ¡°Did you catch him?¡± Lill asked.


    ¡°Why are you still up?¡± Esther asked in surprise.


    ¡°We wanted to make sure you were okay,¡± Lill said. ¡°I was hoping you could convince him to stay.¡±


    ¡°We need to go inside now.¡± Esther interrupted. ¡°Something is wrong.¡±


    ¡°What? With Niklas?¡±


    ¡°No, something else.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    Esther was interrupted by the sound of footsteps outside. She peeked between the gap in the gate to see dozens of figures nearing the entrance.


    ¡°Get inside!¡± Esther cried as she pushed the gate closed and slid the bolt. ¡°John, Robin!¡± She cried as she rushed away.


    A bright light flashed from the outside, and the massive gates warped with a hum for a moment before they bucked and were ripped from their hinges.


    They flew into the courtyard, narrowly missing Esther as they slammed into the ground. Sparks spat in all directions as the gate screamed, grinding against the stone courtyard floor.


    Esther screamed, and dark, gun-wielding men flooded into the courtyard. Several gunshots sounded, and Esther dropped to the ground and covered her head.


    ¡°This is the place!¡± someone barked. ¡°Burn it down!¡±


    ¡°Everyone, wake up!¡± Lill screamed as she dropped to the ground.


    Frode struggled to follow but seemed to fight against his old joints. A man with a rifle rushed up to him and struck him with the butt of his rifle. Frode collapsed and didn¡¯t stir.


    ¡°No!¡± Lill screamed. ¡°That¡¯s my father, you bastards!¡±


    Confused people began to stumble out of the apartments of the compound. A few herdsmen in their underwear came out with pistols, but seeing themselves hopelessly outnumbered, most of them dropped their weapons and threw their hands in the air.


    Esther looked to see the large man shouting orders. A large metal ring with glowing golden runes was wrapped around his forearm.


    ¡°No!¡± she gasped in recognition of the artifact. A Paramount. Attacking a cattle compound? But why?


    A man stood over Esther and pointed his pistol at her.


    ¡°No!¡± the Paramount barked. ¡°She¡¯s a civilian!¡±


    ¡°She may look it, but she¡¯s no civilian.¡±


    She recognized Wilbur¡¯s man Arth standing by the Paramount.


    ¡°She¡¯s a witch,¡± Arth said as he crossed over to her. He drew his own pistol and crouched down next to her.


    Esther tried to scream as she felt Arth place the barrel of his pistol to her temple, but no noise came out.


    ¡°Don¡¯t let looks deceive you. She needs to die.¡±


    ¡°Wait,¡± the Paramount commanded.


    Esther found her voice. But not rational thought. She thought of the one thing that had made her feel safe.


    ¡°Niklas!¡± she screamed.

 29 The Door Ahead.

    The two Drones marched away from the compound. Their journey would last at least fifteen miles before reaching the Relgar-Pit border. As they trekked towards the barren outskirts of Soutfel, Vidder regularly cleared his throat loudly, occasionally spitting blood and mucus on the dirt. In the distance, Niklas could see the first of the hills that stood between them and Pit Forest.


    Despite his churning gut, he felt relieved that this was over. He would become a Drone again. He would finally have answers to some of his questions. Why was he being given a second chance? Why was the Arbiter interested in him, a random half-caste Drone? He would be with Edgar again. With these answers, new opportunities would come. Maybe he could join the Raiders. Maybe, as a Raider, he would be sent as reconnaissance back into Relgar. Perhaps he could visit the compound?


    No. Niklas shook his head. That line of thinking was dangerous. He could never return to Soutfel.


    ¡°The door behind you isn¡¯t closed yet. But do you really want to forfeit the door ahead?¡±


    Why did that man¡¯s words haunt him?


    Niklas trudged along, ignoring the words of the pagan seer until he almost ran right into an actual door. He yelped in surprise as he jumped away. A door with no walls stood before him. Standing alone in the field, it barred his way. With large oak posts bordering the thick wood door, it stood open.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Vidder asked.


    ¡°Do you see it?¡±


    ¡°See what?¡±


    ¡°The door!¡±


    Vidder looked at Niklas for a moment before realization seemed to dawn on him. ¡°Niklas, we have been gone for too long. You haven¡¯t stabilized on med in over a month.¡±


    ¡°So? I¡¯ve been feeling better lately.¡±


    ¡°If a Drone goes without med, he becomes weak again. If we don¡¯t take it, we get sick, and our bodies start to shut down.¡±


    ¡°Is that what¡¯s been happening to me?¡±


    He nodded. ¡°I took my last dose last week, and I feel my insides ripping themselves apart. I¡¯m amazed you can even stand going empty for almost a month.¡±


    The post of the door in front of Niklas began glowing yellow with unknown runes.


    ¡°What about the door?¡±


    ¡°Hallucinations are a side effect of running on empty,¡± Vidder explained. ¡°There is no door.¡±


    Niklas nodded and stepped forward.


    A gentle and intelligent gust of wind hit him in the face, catching him off guard, and he stepped back. He looked behind and back at Soutfel and saw another door behind him at the edge of the field. That one was much smaller with a black polished wooden frame.


    ¡°The door behind you isn¡¯t closed yet. But do you really want to forfeit the door ahead?¡±


    Why would Niklas be having med withdrawals, which made him see precisely what a Kel seer prophet said? Maybe his mind was putting things together from memory?


    The same runes that glowed on Pit Forest''s doorway burned on the door back to Soutfel, but they shined with a gentle green-white hue.


    Should he put any merit in a seer of Kel? Would he confuse the scientific effects of chemicals with omens of faith?


    What was he thinking? He had already made his choice.


    ¡°But do you really want to forfeit the door ahead?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Niklas said.


    ¡°What?¡± Vidder asked.


    ¡°I said no,¡± Niklas repeated.


    ¡°Make sense, soldier.¡±


    ¡°What am I doing? There is nothing for me in Pit. I had something new here, something good, and I¡¯m not willing to put it behind me just because I can go back.¡±


    ¡°Niklas,¡± Vidder growled as he rubbed his chest again. ¡°Don¡¯t be stupid.¡±


    ¡°Exactly!¡± Niklas cried. ¡°I am done being stupid. I have a family here. I won''t leave that behind for anything.¡±


    ¡°Niklas!¡± Vidder barked, but he was interrupted by a fit of coughing. He doubled over, wheezing and hacking.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± Niklas asked, recalling the same thing happening to him several times.


    Vidder spat out a mouthful of blood. ¡°Frag no. Niklas, we need to go. We need to get back. I¡¯m dying here. We need med.¡±


    ¡°I feel all right,¡± Niklas said, ¡°It¡¯s worse at times, but I¡¯m okay now.¡±


    ¡°But I need to go now.¡±


    ¡°Then go!¡± Niklas said, growing more confident. I¡¯ve made my choice. I¡¯m staying. I¡¯m taking the door ahead.¡±


    ¡°Niklas,¡± Vidder snarled, ¡°I thought you said you were condemned to hang. You can''t live here. You¡¯re a criminal!¡±


    ¡°Maybe here!¡± Niklas said. ¡°Soutfel is a tiny town on the edge of Relgar! I have plenty of opportunities, and I can visit my people if I''m careful!


    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose I¡¯m strong enough to take you by force,¡± Vidder muttered, but Niklas was half sure he was talking to himself.


    Niklas turned around. That was right. Niklas was staying. There was no reason for him to go back.


    Edgar.


    Niklas paused. There was Edgar. Edgar was probably looking for Niklas right now. But if Niklas established himself, he could find a way to bring Edgar to Relgar. Yes, he could do that!


    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± Vidder tried again.


    ¡°No,¡± Niklas said. ¡°I¡¯m staying.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t defect!¡±


    ¡°I was banished!¡± Niklas snapped back. ¡°And a good thing, too. Without it, I wouldn¡¯t have found any of the good things in life.¡±


    ¡°Where is your valor?¡± Vidder snarled.


    ¡°I¡¯m faceless! I have none!¡±


    In the distance, like an echo in a dream, Niklas heard Esther¡¯s voice screaming his name. He spun, looking back. She was in trouble. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    ¡°Hey, focus, Niklas!¡±


    ¡°Esther¡¯s in trouble.¡±


    ¡°What? How do you know?¡±


    ¡°I heard her.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be ridiculous. They¡¯re over a mile away.¡±


    ¡°I have to go,¡± Niklas insisted.


    ¡°Stop it!¡±


    Niklas heard gunshots in the distance. From the direction of the compound. What was happening? Was it Wilbur? Taking advantage of the Rowan¡¯s riot? ¡°They are in trouble!¡± Niklas cried.


    ¡°Help me, Vidder, we need to go help them!¡±


    ¡°I can''t fight like this,¡± he snapped. ¡°And neither can you.¡±


    ¡°I have to.¡±


    ¡°We need med.¡± Vidder hunched over with his hands on his knees. He took several deep breaths, trying to stay on his feet.


    ¡°Then go home and get some,¡± Niklas suggested. ¡°And bring some back for me.¡±


    Vidder glared at him. ¡°Leave them.¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    He growled but was interrupted by another mouthful of blood, which he had to spit out.


    He watched Niklas for a moment before letting out a sigh of surrender. ¡°Don¡¯t die,¡± he muttered, dropping his pack and unbuckling his weapon belt. There was a holstered prylux pistol and several power packs that glowed a gentle yellow.


    Niklas felt his heart leap as Vidder handed it over to him- the tools of his trade. The craft of his hands united at last.


    Vidder pulled off the Drone blades he had harnessed to his back and handed them over. Then he unfastened the clasp points on his armor and pulled it over his shoulders.


    The interlocking synthetic plates slid off smoothly as they articulated around his body.


    ¡°This is my size, not yours,¡± he said. ¡°It won¡¯t be comfortable, but it should do the trick.¡±


    Niklas accepted Vidder¡¯s body armor with gratitude. He had to shed his stiff Relrin shirt, but a few moments later, he was in full body armor and armed with light Sharderin weaponry. He bundled and fastened his Drone jacket to his belt next to the two drone blades that Vidder had worn on a harness. Niklas wore full drone gear except for the face.


    The armor was tight; Vidder was shorter than him. Niklas wore it directly on his skin without an insulating layer, but Niklas gladly sacrificed comfort for the protection it offered. It was light and secure. It was a shell, and it held him snugly.


    Vidder shouldered his back and glared at Niklas. He now wore only a thin, loose Sharderin shirt and knee-length breeches.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Niklas said.


    ¡°Don¡¯t die,¡± he growled again. ¡°Father will be angry with me if you did.¡±


    Niklas nodded.


    Vidder gasped in pain and clutched his chest. ¡°Keep the Drone mask.¡± He handed it over, but Niklas shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m not a drone anymore.¡±


    Vidder growled, not happy with how things turned out. You will come with me when I get back.¡±


    ¡°Go Vidder,¡± Niklas responded.


    Vidder turned and ran into the oaken door, passing through it as if it weren¡¯t there. Maybe he was right. It didn¡¯t seem to be there.


    Niklas turned and charged to the dark door on the other side of the field.


    His body tensed in protest. His wounds ached, but he charged the black door, its runes glowing a gentle green, growing brighter the closer he got. He ducked his head and braced for contact. He didn¡¯t feel anything as he passed, but the illusory door shattered into pieces behind him, the shards chiming like broken glass.


    It was a mile to the compound, and Niklas ran as fast as he could. His people were in trouble. He heard the crack of gunfire, and he pushed on. In the distance, he could see occasional muzzle flashes crack through the night.


    ¡°No!¡± Niklas grunted as he imagined who was firing and who was being shot and ran without reserve. The Sommerfeldts and Esther needed his help, and he was equipped to provide it.


    Four hundred meters. As Niklas lunged each step, he felt his feet pound the hard ground under them.


    Three hundred meters. Niklas saw ten or so dark figures at the gate, illuminated by flickering firelight, struggling to take hold of the compound. The large unoiled gate that had become his familiar front door was gone as if blasted from its hinges by heavy artillery fire. Each figure was holding a long-barreled Relrin rifle. Niklas didn¡¯t know who they were, but it didn¡¯t matter. They were between him and his home. The gunfire died down.


    ¡°NO!¡±


    Two hundred meters. Niklas charged. The men in the front saw him, and a few leveled their rifles.


    ¡°There¡¯s only one,¡± one called.


    ¡°Stop!¡± another commanded.


    One hundred meters.


    War.


    Time slowed as Niklas¡¯ hand closed around the familiar handle of the pistol. The motion came as naturally as breathing. Niklas¡¯ other hand whipped out a power pack, and it flowed smoothly into the bottom of the power well. The weapon began to hum, and it grew warm in his hand as it came to life. The rivets in the gun glowed yellow. His weapon was charged, and so was he. He racked the slide and flicked the dial to concussive strike. Designed to impact the soft tissue and liquefy organs, it was a deadly weapon.


    ¡°Fire!¡± one of the men hollered as he recognized Niklas¡¯ intent. He beat them to it.


    Striiike!


    His pistol dragged back in his hands as a yellow bolt streaked at one of the men whose weapon was at the ready.


    It slammed into the man¡¯s shoulder and threw him back, lifting him off his feet and flipping him completely around before he collapsed onto his face without a noise.


    Time seemed to pause completely as all eyes turned to their fallen comrade, their faces twisted in horror.


    Yes. Fear was the appropriate response. Welcome to pit, little rabbits.


    Striiike! Striiike! Striiike! Niklas¡¯ shots threw burnt, screaming, and sizzling men back, and they crashed into crates and slammed into the wall.


    The men began to gather themselves as they brought their weapons up to bear. Niklas dove and rolled sideways, an evasive maneuver all Drones learned and mastered when they were young. Their Relrin Gunfire boomed much louder than his Sharderin Pistol and bucked with fire. Patches of dirt leaped around him as he came up to one knee.


    Niklas looked to his left. He had three of them lined up. Perfect. He flicked the dial, changing the setting from concussive strike to penetration strike.


    Striiike! The light streaked from the Prylux pistol, and the penetrative strike, designed to punch through cover, pierced through all three. They collapsed as if their bodies had simply stopped working.


    Niklas snapped the dial back to concussive and turned on the others.


    Striiike! Striiike! Bang!


    A bullet bit into a crate next to Niklas. He kept firing and throwing men to the right and the left.


    His pistol buzzed, warning him of low power.


    He ejected the current power pack in one motion and, drawing another, slid it into place. It heated again.


    Something slammed into Niklas¡¯ chest. He felt his ribs crack as he was thrown onto his back.


    He collapsed onto the ground in a heap and tried to suck in air, but it wouldn¡¯t come.


    How many were left? Four? Seven? His armor held. It would have hurt much less if the armor was his size.


    ¡°What the frez was that?¡± one of the men screamed. ¡°An assassin?¡±


    ¡°Is that a Remnant?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s happening out there?¡±


    ¡°Is he dead?¡±


    Niklas gasped as he found his lungs, and he skipped off his shoulders and onto his feet like a wound spring.


    Striiike! Striiike! Striiike! His gunfire continued to throw men in all directions, and they screamed like hens to a fox.


    ¡°It won¡¯t die!¡±


    One man frantically pulled out a stick and rammed it down the barrel of his rifle. Was he cleaning his weapon? Now, of all times?


    The man screamed and abandoned his task as he grabbed the barrel of his rifle and swung it at Niklas like a club. Quickly, Niklas switched the dial to thermal strike and shot the rifle.


    Striiike! The bolt knocked the man¡¯s weapon out of his hands as it exploded in flames according to its setting.


    Niklas flicked the dial to concussive strike and shot him down.


    Three more men rushed Niklas, brandishing their weapons like clubs. They must have come out from the compound while Niklas was down.


    Are they serious? Niklas wondered. Why didn¡¯t they just shoot at me again?


    Then it dawned on him. Relrin Rifles could only fire once before needing reloading. Niklas threw back his head and laughed. Suddenly, they seemed much less dangerous.


    Niklas quickly shot down the remaining three.


    He ejected his exhausted power pack and loaded his final one.


    He winced at his aching ribs as he rubbed his chest. He assessed a cracked rib and discovered that the stab wounds he had gotten from Erik earlier that day had opened up again.


    Panting, he scanned the battlefield. Sweat rolled down his temple, and his whole body ached. Flaming shattered crates cast light onto the outside wall, and unstirring men left him satisfied that his work here was done.


    Niklas looked into the dark courtyard. The fire which had started to take the house had gone out, and the mangled hinges of the gate lay twisted in the posts. Shadow hung between the post like a black veil. Nothing stirred inside; it was too quiet. Niklas stood, imagining what he would find inside. Was his family massacred for the second time? He wiped the sweat from his brow, unsure of whether it was from anxiety or exhaustion. Probably both. He had heard voices from inside. Did a trap awaiting him in the courtyard? He tensed, his whole body going ridged, and his heartbeat picked up.


    But then he recalled his training. The familiar instincts programmed into his very mind.


    Acting calmly under immense pressure was an under-credited art. The discipline of slowing an anxious heartbeat was a skill that came from instruction and practice, not one¡¯s nature. Niklas sucked in a deep breath of air slowly. He didn¡¯t have much time, but he couldn¡¯t afford to listen to his instincts, which cried at him to act quickly.


    Niklas¡¯ sweat-drenched body ached. His hands were still unsteady. That wouldn¡¯t do.


    Niklas¡¯ lungs emptied as the last whiff of air escaped. The drone held his breath for four full seconds. That was the secret. Somehow, holding his breath for a moment between breaths did more to slow his heart than the intake of oxygen itself. Niklas sucked in another slow deep breath. Unable to wait any longer, he let out his last breath. His hands steadied as he emptied his lungs and strode past the gate posts.

 30 Godric Rowan.

    Niklas walked into the dark courtyard, surrounded by silent figures who melted away from him, pistols and swords at the ready.


    As Niklas¡¯ eyes adjusted, he counted ten more men, including a towering figure who looked vaguely familiar.


    After hearing their comrades'' screams outside and seeing the flashes of the strange weapon, they stood tense, glancing from Niklas to their apparent and large leader.


    The built man at the back of the compound looked at Niklas, with droplets of sweat illuminated by the moonlight beading at his temple.


    He had something that glowed amber wrapping around one of his arms. As Niklas focused, he saw the light shining from familiar runes engraved in a metal circlet.


    Niklas had never seen one before, but he knew what it was the moment he saw it. It was a


    Remnant.


    His mouth went dry at the sight of it. The man who bore it gapped at him through startled eyes. Then Niklas recognized him. It was one of the men who had approached him, claiming to be a paramount. Paramount Godric.


    Niklas¡¯ heart panicked when he saw the figures on the ground. Everyone was there, herdsmen and their families. Many of them cowering on the ground, but several of them slumped motionless in their blood, pistols in hand.


    The scene told the story. Some herdsmen were foolish enough to resist. Niklas held a fleeting sigh of relief as he recognized the Sommerfeldts huddled around Lill. But then, to his alarm, he recognized the old figure of Frode face down, unstirring.


    Not willing to take his eyes off the artifact on Paramount Godric¡¯s arm for too long, Niklas searched for Esther among the subdued civilians.


    The silence grew thick enough to see, taste, and feel. A heavy blanket thrown over the moment. No one seemed to be able to find their voice or the will to act. Everyone stared at Niklas in his desperation.


    But then, someone found her voice.


    ¡°Niklas, run!¡± Esther cried, and Niklas whirled to find her straining on the ground against Wilbur¡¯s man, Arth, who held her head up by her hair with a pistol to her head.


    ¡°What?¡± Arth choked, confused, as he stepped away from Esther. ¡°You?¡±


    ¡°You were right!¡± Paramount Godric, who stood beside him, said evenly. ¡°They are housing weapons. Artifact weapons. Paramount Alred will hang for this.¡±


    ¡°They are?¡± Arth stammered confusedly. ¡°I mean, I told you so!¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know you, Godric,¡± Niklas snapped. ¡°Why are you attacking my people?¡±


    ¡°I see now!¡± Godric realized, looking at Niklas. ¡°You refused me because you are already an Alred agent!¡± Then, with eyes flickering to Niklas¡¯ pistol, he nodded. ¡°And you bear an illegal weapon!¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t work for¨C¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s their leader!¡± Arth cut in. ¡°He is the head enforcer of Alred¡¯s artifact research operation.¡±


    Godric hissed as he recoiled, ¡°Kill them!¡±


    Niklas froze, momentarily paralyzed in dread as the men turned their rifles to the remaining herdsmen and as Arth jabbed Esther in the temple with his pistol.


    She screamed with tears streaming down her eyes, and valor blazed within Niklas.


    It was a valor like nothing he had ever experienced. Like a primal rage and fire that would melt even the hardest metals, he was moved by something beyond his control.


    ¡°Why don''t you start with me?¡± Niklas roared as he leveled his pistol at Arth, who saw the movement and faltered.


    Niklas¡¯ weapon hummed with delight at the promise of blood.


    Paramount Godric quickly stepped in front of Arth protectively and raised his palm, his armband flashing with light.


    Niklas¡¯ rage was instantly felled by the movement, replaced by the chill and realization that he knew little about the Remnants. He knew many of them were stolen from the Sharderins during the genocide, and he knew that most of the New Sharderin weaponry was based on Remnant technology. But these were pale shadows of what the Remnants themselves were capable of.


    Niklas screamed as he fired at Godric, hoping to finish the paramount before Godric chose to end him. The yellow bolt of Niklas¡¯ pistol streaked toward him, but it stopped short as if slamming into an invisible wall two feet in front of his outstretched hand. Yellow runes rippled across the air, outlining the barrier. Godric¡¯s armband pulsed with light before dimming down again.


    ¡°No,¡± Niklas gasped as his weapon proved powerless.


    ¡°Where is he making these weapons?¡± Godric demanded. Then, reeling back, he flashed his palm at Niklas again.


    A bolt of light much larger than the ones Niklas¡¯ pistol fires crackled from Godric¡¯s hand and streaked toward Niklas with awesome furry.


    Niklas threw up his hands to shield his face, and it slammed into him, picking him off his feet and throwing him into the wall on the far side of the compound.


    Niklas cried out as his armor slammed into the cement and his head rapped against the wall. His vision flashed as he dropped to the ground. Yellow light pulsed through the creases and crevices of his armor as it buzzed with power.


    Niklas looked down in surprise to find his body intact. Remarkably, not only did his armor stop bullets, but it also somehow absorbed the Remnant''s energy.


    ¡°Impossible,¡± Godric cried. ¡°It should have ripped you apart!¡±


    The glowing on the Paramount¡¯s band dimmed, leaving its glow to flicker dully.


    With a groan, Niklas leveled his pistol again. Stopping short, he saw a glowing yellow crack running down the barrel.


    The weapon emitted a high whine as a luminous fire began to crack dangerously, trying to escape.


    With a yelp, Niklas flung the prylux pistol into the air and dropped, covering his head.


    The pistol shattered as liquid fire and kinetic force ruptured from the weapon, scattering onto the rooftop and causing it to instantly flare up into hot, bright flames.


    Everyone cried out as the fire streaked across the roof and down the walls. A dollop of liquid fire splashed off the roof and fell onto Niklas¡¯ arm, causing it to ignite.


    Yelling in panic, Niklas quickly undid the latches, pulled the platted shirt over his shoulders, and threw it aside.


    The hot air licked his shoulders, and the wound in his gut left his stomach slick and wet.


    ¡°Everyone run!¡± Niklas bellowed at the herdsmen and then turned to face Godric''s men. Someone struck Niklas on the head with a club, and he collapsed. Several men pounced on him, pinning his arms and wrenching him to his feet.


    ¡°Get him!¡±


    ¡°Hold him fast.¡±


    Niklas snarled, snapped, and fought the restraint, but his trembling and battered body couldn¡¯t find the strength to resist. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    The men dragged him over to Paramount Godric and pulled his head back by his hair, forcing him to face the paramount.


    Godric looked at the flaming compound with no small concern in his eyes but pulled out a long dagger and stuck its tip to Niklas¡¯ throat.


    The flames grew brighter around them as they feasted greedily on Niklas¡¯ home.


    ¡°You will tell me who you really are and where you got your Remnants, Sharderin,¡± Godric said coolly as he seemed to ignore the peasant civilians who darted away from the fire and out of the compound. Niklas prayed that Esther and the Sommerfeldts made it, but he didn¡¯t take his eyes off the impressive Paramount.


    ¡°Go to pit,¡± Niklas snapped as he bucked and kicked.


    One of his men struck Niklas in the face, and he cried out as he slumped in their grip.


    ¡°Who is he, Arth?¡± Godric turned to Wilbur¡¯s contractor.


    ¡°He...eh...He is a dangerous martial man that Alred had employed from abroad,¡± Arth fabricated the story from the air.


    ¡°Liar!¡± Niklas spat. ¡°This is a cowherd compound. These people are innocent!¡±


    Godwin groaned in frustration. ¡°You see, I almost believed that. I was about to let them go until you showed up wielding artifacts and killing my friends. No, Arth is right. You must die.¡±


    ¡°No!¡± Niklas hollered.


    ¡°Let my children go!¡± Lill begged as she covered them on the ground protectively.


    So she didn¡¯t make it out.


    ¡°Let the women and children go,¡± Godwin commanded his men. ¡°Kill the herdsmen.¡±


    ¡°That woman is a witch!¡± Arth shouted, pointing to Esther.


    ¡°Is that so?¡± Godwin asked. ¡°Bring the witch.¡±


    Esther cried out as Arth grabbed her by the hair and dragged her over to Godwin.


    Arth leveled his pistol at the sobbing woman.


    ¡°You pink! I¡¯ll kill you all! You will kill one of your own mothers?¡± Niklas snapped, unintentionally reverting back to Sharderic.


    ¡°Did the witch give you the remnants?¡± Godwin asked.


    ¡°No!¡± Niklas cried. ¡°Let her go! I don¡¯t know who you think we are, but it¡¯s a lie. Tell him, Arth!¡±


    ¡°They are exactly who Wilbur said they were,¡± Arth sneered. ¡°Kill them all.¡±


    Godric glared at Niklas and then glanced at Arth, studying his face.


    ¡°Niklas, I¡¯m sorry!¡± Esther sobbed.


    Niklas strained and tensed, pouring every bit of his strength into the men who restrained him.


    The fire grew dangerously hot on all sides. Niklas growled as he felt exhaustion overcome his body and crowd his mind, threatening to make him black out. He struggled for breath. Between the smoke, two men holding him in a bear hug, his exertion, and a cramp in his chest, Niklas couldn¡¯t breathe. He slowly slumped in his enemies¡¯ arms.


    Edgar cradled Niklas¡¯ head. ¡°Niklas, Niklas, can you hear me?¡± he cried.


    Niklas opened his weak eyes. The teenagers lay dead around them. Most of their bodies still smoldering with fire.


    ¡°Edgar?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s okay, brother. I have you. I protected you.¡±


    ¡°How?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re Logas, brother. That makes us family. And nobody hurts our family.¡±


    ¡°Where are they?¡± Niklas asked, confused.


    ¡°Dead. They are all dead.¡±


    He was only thirteen. But he was always there for Niklas. ¡°No one hurts my family.¡±


    Niklas opened his eyes, and the edges of his vision misted black. Fire flared brightly like the compound around him. Nothing else mattered. His family was in the beast''s maw, and only he was there to protect them.


    ¡°You¡¯re lying to me, Arth,¡± Godwin decided as he turned to the man.


    ¡°GET AWAY FROM THEM!¡± Niklas roared and seized upon an unknown strength to throw all five men off him. His hands slid back, and he grabbed the hilts of his Drone blades, which fastened to the back of his belt. They sang their sweet song as two feet of Drone steel slipped from their sheaths.


    Niklas spun on his attackers and cut them down one by one.


    The attackers cried as they drew pistols, daggers, and long, slender Relrin swords.


    Niklas danced through them, cutting and chopping.


    ¡°Stop!¡±


    Niklas wouldn¡¯t stop. They tried to counter, and a few blades slashed at his exposed skin, but he didn¡¯t feel it. He scored inside a hamstring, spun and cut a tendon, then parried and ran another man through the chest.


    ¡°STOP!¡±


    Men dropped at Niklas¡¯ feet. Niklas spun and saw Arth point his pistol at Esther. ¡°Esther!¡± he roared as he charged.


    Crack! Arth¡¯s pistol fired as Niklas slammed into him and carried him across the compound over to the crackling flames on the walls.


    Arth screamed as Niklas threw him into the flaming open doorway of the Sommerfeldt apartment. Arth¡¯s screams were drowned by the roar of flames as Niklas dropped a blade, slammed the door shut, and ripped the handle off, distorting and twisting the internal latch beyond functionality. It hissed as it burned his hand, and he felt that.


    Niklas threw the handle aside as he turned to find the remaining men running out of the compound.


    No survivors, he decided and lunged after them. He choked on smoke, and his vision grew dark despite the bright flames.


    ¡°I said stop!¡± Godwin bellowed. Niklas looked just as Godric plowed into him from the side. Niklas went down and almost lost hold of his final blade.


    Godric was quickly on his feet and drew his Shrye blade and shortsword. His stance was similar to Erik''s, but Niklas didn¡¯t see it as flimsy this time. He had learned his lesson. The Relrin fighting style was deadly quick. Godric didn¡¯t look like a thug. He was a warrior among his people.


    Niklas noticed the light of Godric¡¯s armband bleeding into his skin, causing his eyes to flash with golden light.


    Niklas settled into roach form two and snarled at paramount with primal rage.


    The fire within began to die, and exhaustion ate at his focus. Both men were enraged, beasts of their own pack, and they couldn¡¯t let the other cut down their family.


    Relrins favored quick stabs; Niklas preferred slashing and deep thrusts. Last time, he had been humiliated, but this time, he held a blade he was trained with.


    Godric¡¯s eyes flashed, and he lunged with inhuman speed.


    Niklas barely managed to deflect his strike, which was much easier with the shorter Drone blade. Niklas ran in, and Godric¡¯s short sword came out of nowhere and up toward Niklas¡¯ side. Godric struck with much more force than his men.


    Niklas grabbed Godric¡¯s wrist with his burned hand, but not fast enough. Niklas let out a sharp inhale of pain as it licked his naked torso, biting in an inch. Niklas grunted against his incredible strength as Godric slowly pushed it in deeper.


    ¡°See!¡± Godric sneered. ¡°You are only a man.¡±


    Niklas reared back and smashed his forehead across the bridge of Godric¡¯s nose. Godric let go of his dagger and fell back, cursing.


    ¡°So are you,¡± Niklas snapped.


    Godric¡¯s dagger was still sticking in Niklas¡¯ flesh, a line of blood running down the groove cut down the middle.


    Niklas gasped as he pulled it out and let it clatter to the ground.


    Regaining composure, Godric turned to Niklas. His nose snapped back to place on its own, and the blood stopped flowing. To Niklas¡¯ horror, he realized that Godric had somehow healed himself.


    With a snarl, Godric charged Niklas, his eyes flashing as he sped. Niklas tossed his drone blade up and caught it, bringing it up and pointing down just in time to parry Godric¡¯s strike with Mantis eight. Niklas ran in, and the blades made a high screech and spat sparks as Niklas ran the length of his sword. Niklas grabbed Godric¡¯s sword hand at the pommel of his sword and gave him two quick jabs in the shoulder.


    Godric didn¡¯t even react to his wounds as they began to weave together, instantly mending themselves.


    Godric dropped the sword and stepped around Niklas. Grabbing him by the waist in a bear hug, Godric pitched Niklas over his shoulder like a sack of wheat and threw him back on his head.


    Niklas saw flashing stars when his head hit the ground. He struggled to his feet, but his vision was blurry.


    Godric tried to tackle him again, but Niklas, trusting his training, kicked in and spun, tripping Godric and sending him onto one of his motionless men.


    Niklas¡¯ vision pitched and wheeled as the pain in his chest spiked and started to cramp.


    Not now.


    Niklas fell back. He was far too dizzy to stand.


    Godric was on top of him in an instant.


    ¡°You¡¯re one of them, Pit boy!¡± he cried as he wrestled the Drone blade from Niklas¡¯ hands.


    ¡°You killed my friends!¡± Godric clutched the drone blade with one hand and reared up with his other hand clamping around Niklas¡¯ throat in an iron-tight vice.


    Niklas gagged but had no recourse.


    ¡°And now you die!¡± Godric struck down.


    ¡°Let him go,¡± Esther screamed, as out of nowhere, she threw herself at paramount, raking his face with her nails. In the blazing hot light, Niklas saw that Esther had dark, glossy blood on her shoulder. So she was alive. What was she still doing here?


    ¡°No!¡± Niklas choked at her.


    Godric snarled and slashed at her with Niklas¡¯ Drone blade. She shrieked and fell away.


    ¡°Mother killer!¡± Rasmus yelled as he jumped on him, sinking his teeth into Godric¡¯s blade hand.


    Godric bellowed and shoved the boy off of him.


    A wooden bucket flew at Godric and struck him in the face. Lill let out a slew of curses as she found other projectiles to throw.


    Niklas tried to push him off, but Godric was too heavy. His remnant-powered steel fingers dug into Niklas¡¯ throat. His weight crushed down on Niklas¡¯ wounds.


    A ring of black circled Niklas¡¯ vision and shrunk to a pinprick.


    Robin and Ivar rushed back into the burning compound, grabbed discarded rifles, and brandishing them like staffs, rushed him.


    Godric snarled. He ignored them, quickly reared up, and brought the Drone blade down.


    Reflexively, Niklas threw up his hand, stopping the blade two inches from his face. To his horror, he saw that the blade had gone through the center of his gloved hand. He couldn¡¯t feel it but could feel his body relaxing. His entire vision misted black.


    Niklas gurgled in an attempted scream as he pulled out his reaper knife, and with a snap, he thrust the blade under Godric¡¯s jaw and up into his throat.


    Godric gagged and regarded Niklas with wide eyes. ¡°No,¡± he choked and then slumped.


    Niklas felt something warm and sticky drip onto his eye. Blood dripped freely from Godric¡¯s mouth and onto Niklas¡¯ face.


    Ivar pulled Godric off of Niklas, and Robin rushed to Esther.


    Niklas tried to pull himself up but collapsed with a groan. He tried to suck in air but choked on smoke instead.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go!¡± Robin gagged over the roar of flames. Niklas couldn¡¯t stand.


    Ivar began to hoist him up, but Niklas threw up. ¡°The armband,¡± Niklas croaked. ¡°Get it off him!¡±


    Burning compound or not, it wouldn¡¯t do for Godric to stand up again and come after Niklas¡¯ people.


    Robin nodded, turned, and slid the armband off of Godric. The writings on the metal no longer shone with light.


    The two men dragged Niklas back out of the flaming structure by the arms, and Lill led Rasmus and Eshter out.


    Through blurry eyes, Niklas watched the compound burn.


    Niklas threw up, and everything went black.

 31 Invited This Time.

    ¡°Prime Paramount, it¡¯s a miracle that he¡¯s alive. He suffered numerous lacerations and, it seems, some sort of seizure. His body seems to be responding negatively to most of my medicines. It''s like nothing I¡¯ve seen before.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Doctor. Sledda, are we sure he did all of that alone?¡±


    ¡°We didn¡¯t recover anyone else at the scene, and the herdsmen and debtbonds at your cattle compound all say he did it on his own.¡±


    ¡°Where did he come from?¡±


    ¡°We looked into that, and the townspeople all seemed to agree that he was a devil from Pit.¡±


    ¡°From Pit? You don''t think...?¡±


    ¡°I suspect. That¡¯s why I had him brought here, Grandfather.¡±


    ¡°Hey. He¡¯s moving. Maybe we can finally get some answers.¡±


    ¡°Valor!¡± Niklas moaned, as he stirred. His whole body ached and contracted in protest. He looked around wearily, trying to gather himself.


    Sunlight spilled in through massive windows, lighting the spacious, ornate room. Several Relrin men in well-fitted uniforms and a few others were present.


    ¡°Easy,¡± someone coaxed as he stepped up to him. Niklas deduced from the man¡¯s white gown that he was some kind of medic.


    ¡°Where am I? What happened? Why am I here? Where are my pants?¡± Niklas looked down to find he was in some strange medical gown.


    ¡°You fought. You were hurt. My team and I have been tending to your wounds.¡±


    ¡°That will be all, Doctor,¡± an old man said with a dismissive wave.


    The doctor bowed before retreating to the back of the room.


    ¡°My name is Prime Paramount Alred,¡± the old man said with a slight bow. ¡°And these are my grandsons, Paramount Sledda Alred and Paramount Fareman. Two younger men bowed as he said their names. The first wore a simple black shirt and vest. The second had an impressive red and gold suit and a matching cloak.


    ¡°Why am I here? What happened?¡± Niklas asked again.


    ¡°I owe you a debt of gratitude. You defended my herds, protected my people, and killed my enemies, and so I have invited you to my estate and had my personal medical team see to your wounds. How¡¯s your hand?¡±


    Niklas looked at the bandaged hand. ¡°It¡¯s very sore.¡± Then he touched it. It was a big mistake; a spike of fire shot up his arm. He hissed in pain, and the young Paramount Sledda handed him a flask.


    ¡°Drink this,¡± he said. ¡°It will help with the pain.


    Niklas shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t take anything that helps with pain.¡± This was a Sharderin regulation that primarily applied to lower enlisted personnel.


    He looked at Niklas and shrugged. ¡±Your loss.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡± Niklas insisted.


    ¡°You were lucky,¡± the doctor piped in from behind. ¡°No severed tendons or arteries in your hand. You may have some permanent nerve damage, though; try not to use it while it heals.¡±


    Niklas nodded and withdrew his hand.


    ¡°What¡¯s your name, lad?¡± Paramount Alred asked. With his gray hair combed back and his neat beard well-trimmed. He was the embodiment of the power that comes with experience.


    ¡°Niklas Loga.¡±


    ¡°Of what place?¡±


    ¡°Of no place, sir.¡±


    Alred nodded. ¡°You saved several of my servants and herdsmen, Niklas.¡±


    ¡°The Sommerfeldts, Esther?¡± Niklas cried.


    ¡°Your people are okay. In fact, they¡¯re here.¡±


    ¡°Can I see them?¡±


    ¡°All in good time,¡± Paramount Alred said. ¡°First, I need some answers. Do you know who you killed?¡±


    ¡°I killed a lot of people.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Alred chuckled. ¡°Your display of competence was quite compelling. I think you¡¯ll find that even my grandsons are impressed.¡±Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°Indeed,¡± Fareman agreed. ¡°Nice work. Killing twenty men is no small feat for anyone.¡±


    ¡°Twenty!¡± Niklas cried. ¡°I knew it was more than a few, but twenty?¡±


    ¡°In fact.¡±


    ¡°The man you killed was Paramount Godric Rowan,¡± Paramount Alred continued. ¡°Paramount Godric has been a dangerous rival for as long as I can remember. He had been pestering me with undercover raids for years, trying to lure me out of my home and destroy me. He has more manpower than me, so I couldn¡¯t afford to be baited from my home. He stole my property and has been chipping at my assets and harming my people. I owe you a great debt. Soutfel owes you a debt.¡±


    Niklas grunted in amusement. ¡°I didn¡¯t do it for Soutfel. I did it for my family,¡± he said, as he recalled Wilbur, Dr. Geoffrey, the mill manager, and several law officers he wasn¡¯t particularly fond of.


    Alred nodded. ¡°That''s why I do what I do, too. Regardless, the blood you lost for your family also helped my family.¡±


    Niklas nodded but winced as his body ached in consistent throbs.


    Paramount Alred motioned for a bag and produced the metal ring Paramount Godric had worn around his arm.


    ¡°Do you know what this is?¡± he asked.


    Niklas shook his head. ¡°Some sort of Remnant.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right. It is called a Paramount Ring. There are eighty-four of them in Relgar. They possess great power. Tell me how you defeated a Remnant user and twenty men single-handedly?¡±


    ¡°I fought with valor,¡± Niklas said. ¡°That¡¯s all.¡±


    Alred accepted the answer with what seemed to be a subtle hint of disappointment. Niklas eyed the ring inquisitively. There was something familiar about it. The yellow glow that used to line the runes made him think of the power in Pit. Sharderin weapons, lights, and vehicles all had a similar feel.


    ¡°Are you a martial man?¡± Alred asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m a man who¡¯s trained martially,¡± Niklas said, taken aback by the question.


    ¡°But you¡¯re not a licensed martial man?¡±


    Niklas shook his head.


    ¡°Would you like to be?¡±


    Niklas looked at him in interest. ¡°What exactly is a martial man?¡±


    ¡°A martial man is a warrior, an agent, a fighter working by contract. You can make great money, and I think my staff could use a man with your skills. Would you work for me?¡±


    Niklas flushed with excitement as he imagined the prospect. He could be a soldier again and follow his programming but in Relgar.


    Niklas shook his head. ¡°I need to stay with my family.¡±


    ¡°I understand and respect that, Niklas, but contracting is profitable if you do it well. You could take care of them.¡±


    ¡°I could take care of my people?¡±


    ¡°And I could protect them. Your people would be my people.¡±


    Niklas thought about it for a moment.


    ¡°I also understand you have several charges laid against you at our reformatory. Including trespassing against me. You should hang for that.¡±


    Niklas froze.


    ¡°Of course, if you worked for me, I could make it all disappear. It can¡¯t be trespassing if you were invited.¡± The Prime Paramount smiled, the implications clear.


    ¡°If I work for you, I can stay?¡± Niklas asked.


    Alred nodded. ¡°You can stay and take care of your people. You can have money, status, and authority. Working for me, of course.¡±


    Niklas nodded. ¡±Then I¡¯m in.¡±


    ¡°Excellent,¡± Prime Paramount Alred smiled. ¡°We¡¯ll go over the details later. We¡¯ll leave you alone now. I think you have some guests waiting for you outside.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m in,¡± Niklas said. ¡°But I¡¯m afraid I¡¯ll be of little help to you now. I can hardly move.¡±


    The three paramounts smirked, and Alred pulled out another arm ring with identical glowing, radiant symbols.


    ¡°This one is mine,¡± Alred said. ¡°Unfortunately, I have to return Osred¡¯s to the Paramount Pres¨¬dent so he can bestow it onto the next Rowan successor.¡±


    Niklas flinched as Alred stepped up to him and raised his hand. ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± Alred said. ¡°You are a friend to the Alred house.¡± He placed his hand on Niklas¡¯ head, and the lights on the ring flared. An intense wave of warmth flushed from his hand and rippled through Niklas¡¯ body. The pain and fatigue started to melt away, and Niklas yelped in surprise.


    The light dimmed subtly as Alred pulled his hand away.


    Niklas¡¯ agonized body felt sore but much relieved.


    ¡°What was that?¡± he asked.


    ¡°A gift. Hopefully, it will help you along your healing process.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Niklas said.


    ¡°Let¡¯s leave Niklas. I¡¯m sure he wants to speak to his friends,¡± Alred said to his grandsons and guards.


    The men withdrew and left Niklas to himself for a minute. Lill¡¯s bubbling voice announced her presence before the doors flew open, and the Sommerfeldts and Robin filed into the room. They looked out of place with their plain clothes in the spacious, immaculate room.


    Niklas looked for Esther but didn¡¯t see her or Frode.


    ¡°Niklas!¡± they cried as they hurried over to him.


    ¡°Is everyone okay?¡± Niklas asked concerned.


    ¡°Yes, Niklas. By Kel¡¯s grace, everyone is okay.¡±


    ¡°I saw Frode on the ground,¡± Niklas started.


    ¡°Shaken up but okay,¡± Lill said. ¡°Ivar pulled him out once the fire started.¡±


    ¡°The compound?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s gone,¡± Ivar said. ¡°Paramount Alred is going to have to build a new one. Man, you look messed up.¡±


    Niklas couldn¡¯t help but smile, a movement that would have been much more painful than it was before Paramount Alred used the artifact to jumpstart the healing process.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad,¡± Niklas said. ¡°Thanks for everything.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Lill said. ¡°You¡¯re one of us.¡±


    The Sommerfeldts each beamed at him, cheering and thanking him. Robin simply nodded at him with a slight smile.


    Niklas¡¯ smile faltered. ¡°Where¡¯s Esther?¡±


    They fell silent, and all looked at the doorway. Esther had drifted in behind and waited at the door. She had a long, thin bandage on her cheek, and her shoulder was in a sling. She looked at Niklas with her big eyes, hesitating and unsure, possibly even ashamed.


    ¡°Esther,¡± Niklas said.


    ¡°We¡¯ll give you a moment,¡± Lill said, and the others excused themselves, pushing past Esther and leaving her in the doorway.


    ¡°Quite the place, huh?¡± she asked, looking at the white walls and the rows of floor-to-vaulted ceiling-high windows. She looked uncomfortable as if she were afraid of getting it dirty.


    ¡°This place is a tactical nightmare.¡± Niklas disagreed. ¡°Absolutely vulnerable.¡±


    She laughed lightly, but it was forced.


    ¡°Esther,¡± Niklas said, growing serious. ¡°Please, come closer.¡±


    She hesitated but crossed the medical ward over to him.


    Niklas grunted as he sat up in the bed. ¡°Esther, I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    She shrugged, avoiding looking him in the eye. ¡°It¡¯s your life. You can do what you want.¡±


    Niklas looked at her, ashamed that she wouldn¡¯t meet his eyes. ¡°You¡¯re right. It is my life, and I will do what I must.¡±


    She nodded slowly. ¡°Well, at least say goodbye this time.¡±


    ¡°Goodbye? What about our next reading lesson?¡±


    She looked at him, her big hazel eyes hopeful. ¡°You came back, why?¡±


    Niklas looked at her. ¡°I made a choice and aim to stand by it.¡±