Meanwhile, during the archive raid.

The winding Dargas streets were crowded, noisy, and rancid more often than Amos would like.

Not much had changed.

This side of the wall was a maze of ill-kept pathways, nestled between buildings of mortar, wood, and stone. They were shoddy at best of course. Crude wooden doors and window panes latched to patchwork home design. Some sloped awkwardly with the natural incline of the mountain; while others were built beside boulders, boxing whole walls in.

Amos sighed.

The Council never could find the budget to fix the, “long-standing infrastructure issues in the lower district.” At least everyone knows that’s bullshit, he thought to himself. No one who actually cared called it “the lower district.”

This was the Basin.

Overhead, stone archways connected every few buildings or so, like ramparts suddenly jutting out from the sides or roofs of homes. Amos glided through the crowd as it flowed through the urban channels, dressed in a cloak and weathered clothes. He couldn’t carry the sword without bringing unwanted attention to himself, but the hatchet was small and hid well under his cloak. It’s not like it was hard to blend here. All types drained into the Basin after all, and today was no exception.

Upper district types were easy to spot. They had the nicest clothes and held their coin purses the tightest. They sifted awkwardly through the dozens in plain linens and worn cloaks. Mainstays of the culture here. The glints of bronze speckled throughout the crowd were easy reminders of the other.

Amos brushed past a stranger with dreads and dark skin, and felt their metal bracelets brush against his hand. Seeing so many other Amarians felt... well he wasn’t really sure.

Why should you feel anything? You’re not one of them. It was the warden, though thankfully only his voice. He hadn’t reappeared since Amos had broken out and robbed the wagon with Gad’s plain’s flower.

That was two days ago.

Since then, Amos had kept a low profile. He’d traded the horse for new clothes, a place to hide out, and silence from the man he’d stayed with.

Horses had always been scarce, but after the Council began renting them out, private ownership became a privilege mostly afforded to the elite. Putting someone up for a couple nights was well worth the coin, even with all his wounds.

You’re not one of them. The words echoed in Amos’s head. He wanted to deny it, wanted to believe that she wouldn't—

—but you can’t, can you? the warden’s voice cut in. Face it, if she or any of her loyalists really cared about you, they would’ve come back. They would’ve at least tried. But they didn’t. They left you with me... to have all my fun... the warden started to laugh. And it was good fun—

That’s enough! Amos snapped in his thoughts. You don’t know me, you’re not real, and you can’t stop me.

The warden laughed again. Stop you? He said. I don’t want to stop you! I just want you to be the real you! To stop pretending for other people and let the beast out of its cage. The warden’s tone quickly turned dark. I want you to remember the monster that you are. Now and forever. Just like everyone else.

Amos sucked his teeth. Why hadn’t they shown up? Anyone at all? Where was Malachi? Where was Dekar? He scowled as his chest started to ache. Where was Saadya? No where. They hadn’t come. No matter what they said.

No one came for him.

Didn’t need them anyway, Amos thought to himself. It just proved what he already knew. Everyone was out for themselves. That was the rule of the game, and you were either a player or you got played. Amos was done getting played.

He stopped as he spotted the main road up ahead, one of only two that connected the Inner and Outer Walls. Idling in that larger crowd passing in front of him, was a boy. No one he’d seen before. Just a dark-haired kid staring off into the pedestrian tide. Soon he waved and called out to someone further down the path, before dipping out of sight.

Ahh, the warden said. That’s right. The boy. The one you spared. Amos continued to stare. Do you think that changed you somehow? It didn’t. You still know what’s required of you. That’s why you can’t let the mistake go.

Amos groaned at that. “That’s just… what I’ve always had to do,” he muttered to himself. “It doesn’t mean that’s who I am.”

Maybe, but that never mattered to you did it? As long as it’s what he would’ve wanted, you’d do it right next time, wouldn’t you?

Amos said nothing.

Good, the warden said. Now go on and run to him. I’ll watch you fail from here.

Amos scowled before dipping around the corner to his left, leaving the scene behind.

Fewer people were passing by as the path quickly became an alley. It meandered and narrowed, until it came out onto another street just before the Inner Wall. A row of buildings was set only a few dozen yards from the stone.

It should still be around here, Amos thought to himself. Hopefully whoever’s there is feeling polite, or goes down quick. He cut across the path and the lingering crowd toward one of the buildings. He quietly dipped into another alley, then continued on until he was in a small space between the building and the wall.

There were a few crates here, stacked up against the stone and covered by tarps, but not much else. The crates are here, Amos thought, but no look out? He was halfway expecting a fight. Saadya must be up to something big if she left it unguarded like this. He shook his head. Forget her, he thought to himself. I’m here for Gad and only Gad. No more distractions. He strode over to the crates, moved a few out of the way, then smiled. Not much has changed.

Hidden behind all the clutter was a sizable hole in the wall. It was nearly as wide as his wingspan, and went from the ground to about as high as his waist. Crawling was a bit of a bitch, but there weren’t too many ways to get around the Gates, and the rest were a lot harder to come by than this.

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Amos cracked his neck and groaned. Let’s do this then. He got down on all fours and crawled through the tight space, until he was crouching in a thicket of tall grass.

All around him Founder’s Field encompassed the garrison. He was close to the three barracks complex near the far end of the village. Patrols were supposed to, but no one ever came out this far from the village proper. If he stayed low and used the tall grass as cover, he could make it to the lodges without much of a fuss. Once he got in he just had to get to the archives, start a fire, take out a few guards, then leave before the rest showed up. Turning his precious ledger to ash should be more than enough to send Gad a message. Plus with the guards scared half to death he’ll be more than ready to talk.

Amos threw on his cloak’s hood then took off through the field. Everything was quick and quiet. Before he knew it he’d already made his way just outside the first of the lodges. There was hardly anything else here though. The couple lodges closest to him seemed nearly abandoned, save for a few barrels lined up beside them. Amos perked up a bit as he looked around from the thicket. It’s the middle of the day, he thought to himself, Where are all the people? Where are all the—

Some nearby chatter quickly cut off his thought. He crouched low again. Walking up the path from the main building to the village were three guards. That answers that question, Amos thought. I’ll let them pass then head to the archives. A few moments later they’d made their way up to the first lodge but then— who the fuck is that?

A tall, broad shouldered man in a cloak rounded the corner of the lodge, coming up behind the group of guards. What is he doing?

One of the guards finally noticed the man. “Hey, what’re you—”

The man punched his throat. The upward jab made the guard jolt as he stumbled and spat up blood. His friends spun around at once, but the man was faster. He kicked the first guard into the rest, tripping up another guard as they collided.

Recoil sent the first guard stumbling back toward the man. He drew his sword, gagging, but the man merely grabbed his sword hand by the wrist, smashed his forehead into the guard’s face, and plucked the sword from his hand as he fell.

The second guard came in strong. He charged in with two quick strikes the man amply defended. A third strike he parried and sent the guard reeling back.

This guy’s strong, Amos thought to himself.

As the second guard stumbled away a third pounced at the man. Metal hummed and sparks flashed in the wake of the blades. Again. Again. The man brought his sword up high, but side-stepped when their blades would meet. While the guard’s sword whistled in the air the man cut his ankle, spun around him as he fell, then cut down his back and sent him to his grave.

“No!” The second guard screamed. He lunged at the man. The first strike was dodged. The next two the man deflected, but the guard was relentless. He jumped around the man, desperate for an opening he couldn’t seem to find. He swung at the man’s head, but when their swords met he launched a kick into his groin, bringing him to a knee.

“Die asshole!” The guard shouted. He swung. The man roared, and whipped his sword up to block with frightening speed. Metal sung from the force of the blow, staggering the wide eyed guard, but there was no more time. The man quickly pounced forward off the block, and smashed the guard’s face with his pommel.

Blood gushed from the guard’s nose onto the dirt path as he collapsed and dropped his sword. He tried to reach for the blade but the man kicked it away, pointing his sword down at the guard. He stalked after the helpless guard as he scampered back, until he bumped into one of the barrels.

Then motioned his sword to the side. “Run.”

The guard gave a bewildered look but wasted no time standing up and scurrying away.

What did I just watch? Amos thought to himself. Then he sucked his teeth. That doesn’t really matter. What’s important is that this guy is a problem. It hardly proves my point to Gad if he thinks some psycho did this. I gotta deal with him.

He came out from the thicket and made his way over to the scene. As he stopped to pick up one of the guard’s swords the alarm suddenly sounded. Hardly a surprise, Amos thought to himself. The man had just been standing there for the most part, but the alarm seemed to snap him out of his trance. He looked over at Amos who just raised a brow as he approached.

“Is this what you wanted?” Amos asked, motioning to the sky as the alarm bell blared.

The man eyed him for a moment. “It’s a start,” he said. He looked over at the sword in Amos’s hand. “Are you here to stop me?”

“I’m here to make a scene,” Amos said. “You?”

“Same as you,” he said, “but unfortunately I need the attention to myself. I can’t afford to be upstaged.”

Amos scoffed. “Couldn’t agree more,” he said, “but you don’t want this fight big guy.”

The man’s eyes betrayed nothing as he readied his stance. “We’ll see.”

They lunged at each other, dealing swift and sharp blows where there swords collided. Three high strikes, a parry from Amos, a quick deflect to save the man’s leg. They crossed again, then backed off, circling around each other.

This guy is pretty good, Amos thought to himself. He’s big and he’s got reflexes, but his swordplay is pretty average. He pulled his axe out from under his cloak and flipped it around in his hand. If I get in close enough and get him swinging, I’ll catch the easy hook with my axe. Then I go after his leg and end the fight.

He took a breath. Easy enough.

He lunged in after the man with a flurry of sword strikes. The man blocked the first few then swatted one away, before coming in for the reposte. Got you. Amos hooked the blade down with the axe head, then swung at the man’s leg with his sword.

Again proving his speed, the man pivoted his leg out of harm’s way, then elbowed Amos in the face with his sword arm. Amos staggered back, snarling. This guy’s starting to piss me—

The man was right in front of Amos. He swung down hard. Amos barely blocked in time with both the axe handle and the blade, but his arms felt that blow. The man was on him again, following up with a forceful sweep.

There was barely time to react. Shit. Block!

The blow was massive. Just stopping it rattled Amos’s bones and sent him teetering back. He quickly found his stance again, but hissed as his face started to sting. He touched his hand to his cheek and felt the cut start to bleed.

“Don’t slow down now,” the man called. “We’re just getting started.”

Amos looked down at the blood on his fingers before glaring back at him. Ok, he thought, no more fucking around. He took a couple steps in, then brought his arms up to strike. Come. He felt the Reema, the rage, flowing through him, swelling throughout his body. Just as the man raised his blade to block, Amos forced the Reema into his legs and charged. The sudden speed caught the man off guard, and while his blade was still blocking high, Amos rushed in and sliced his side.

The man staggered and groaned, looking back toward Amos, wide-eyed and furious.

Amos took a breath as he let the Reema go again. He didn’t have the strength to keep it up for long yet. He’d have to do short bursts and stall in between.

“‘Don’t slow down now,” Amos quipped while he circled the man. Then he scoffed. “Please, I know your type.” He lunged back after him again.

“You think you’re special cause you run big,” Amos said, as they traded blows. The man’s strikes grew wild, gaining fervor with every blow. Faster. Stronger. It’s ready, Amos thought.

He called the Reema again, and deflected the next blow with ease. The man was stunned.

“You think you’re tough cause of all that muscle.”

The man roared and lunged in again, but with Reema still flowing in him, Amos’s reflexes were unmatched. He swept up with his sword to knock the blow away, then flicked it down and slashed the man’s leg.

“And there ain’t no way you think someone’s gonna make a bitch out of you.” Amos side-stepped a desperate blow, then deflected another, before slashing down and letting his blades bite the man’s other leg.

Amos circled around him as he fell to his knees.

“Well today’s the day and I’m that guy.” The man gave a final lunge but Amos spun around it and cut down the man’s back. He stared down at the man, groaning and bleeding. He scoffed as the Reema faded.

“Guards will come get you soon,” he said. “Don’t wander off.”

With that Amos headed off to the archives, leaving the man bleeding on the ground.