Although Xander had known the town was here, he’d never gone near it. The Inner Wilds, in spite of the predators that roamed within, were relatively safe compared to the Outer Wilds. This town - which he learned from Markus was called Silvershire - had a small stone wall that supported a wooden fence surrounding its borders. Enough to keep the predators out, but it would crumble in seconds in the face of a Husk.
Xander had grown up near the Outer Wilds. He was used to walls of concrete and steel. Silvershire looked pathetically exposed by comparison. Even more shocking to him was the gate. It just... stood open, to allow people to walk through. The guard atop the wall just nodded to him and Markus as they passed, like it didn’t matter that strangers were entering their walls!
His shock must have shown on his face, because Markus chuckled. “You have spent months living in that little hole, and you are still staring at wooden walls like they are an open invitation?”
“Of course,” Xander said. “I only had myself to worry about. Aren’t there children in this town?”
His question was answered as two children burst out of a building, shrieking like fiends. If he hadn’t seen them, Xander worried they were in danger, but their cries came from lips turned up with delight. A young woman ran after them, her hair held back with a simple handkerchief, wearing a homespun cotton dress under a well-stained apron, and dark circles under her eyes. “Both of you get back here!” she cried after them.
Markus took a quick step, all but appearing in front of the children. They skidded to a halt, looking up at him with wide eyes. Their hesitation gave the woman a chance to catch up, grabbing them by the arms. “You’re not supposed to run into the street!” she snapped at them before turning to Markus. “Thank -” the word died on her lips when she saw his medallion. “Revered One!” She dropped to one knee. The older child squeaked and mirrored his mother’s motion. The younger attempted to kneel, but was unsteady on his feet and started to fall.
Laughing, Markus caught the younger child’s shoulder. “Please, rise. You have quite enough going on without worrying about bowing and scraping right now.”
“Thank you, Revered-”
“Please. Lord is enough. No need for that level of formality,” Markus said, waving away the title.
“Thank you, m’lord,” the woman said. “For your assistance with these two.” She rose to her feet. “I apologize if they’ve caused you any hardship.”
“Hardship? Hardly. They are children. Although-” he leaned down to look them both in the eye, one by one. “Perhaps you could go easier on your poor mother in the future?”
It was the younger’s turn to squeak and nod furiously, and the older one looked like he would faint if Markus looked at him any further. Markus straightened up and gave the woman a slight nod. “You have my permission, godwife, to tell them I will return to ensure they are going easy on you - and will be displeased if they have not.”
The woman silently mouthed another thank you to Markus, but Xander was more shocked to hear the title. Calling a person a godspouse was bold without proof. The ritual to bind divine power was common among those who found themselves young single parents, unable to handle the strain of early foundation building and child rearing. It offered some protection until they could develop further, although the drawbacks meant most would not risk it unless they had the need. It seemed to be correct from the woman’s reaction, but nothing Xander could see marked her as a godwife instead of just a mother.
Then again, any such mark would likely be in her aura, not on her person, so it would follow that it would be hidden to Xander’s broken senses. Just yesterday, that thought would have turned him sour. Now, however, it just reignited his hope that Markus could provide what he had offered. “Might I return the favor in any way, m’lord?” the godwife asked.
“You just might,” Markus said. “I would accept repaying in directions to your inn, your tailor, and your bathhouse for my companion.”
The godwife did so without hesitation, and Xander didn’t take umbrage at how... relieved she seemed for that last one. He had long ago stopped noticing his own stench, but he was certain that after so long, he’d become unpleasantly ripe.
***
An hour later, Xander settled into a chair across from from Markus. The interior of the inn was plain wood, unadorned save for the skull of some predatory animal over the door. To Xander, however, having wooden floors was an unimaginable luxury after so long without. Markus had clothes delivered to Xander, simple linens that felt like the finest silk. The inn smelled of cooking food and smoke, and that smell did even more to bring Xander back to feeling human than even the bath and new clothes. Xander bowed in the chair to Markus. “A thousand gratitudes. Although I worry - you are doing so much for me, and you offer me so much more. Won’t such generosity stain your soul?”
Markus smiled and held up a finger to the innkeeper, signaling for food. He’d expected, rightly so, that the deer meat earlier had not been enough to sate Xander’s hunger. The carcass had been left in the Inner Wilds, an offering of apology for harming the scavengers when there was no need. Although they were the lowest sort of animal, they still kept carcasses from rotting, and by consuming them made sure they would never enter a Husk’s gullet. For that, the creatures did deserve the same respect as any beast. “I’m doing so with the expectation of gain,” Markus said, his smile not wavering. “It’s not generosity. It’s investment.”
Xander nodded, although he couldn’t fully keep the frown off his lips. It was technically allowed, but that was only because the gods had not forbidden investing in the Broken - it just wasn’t done because such an investment would be wasteful.
Markus saw his expression and laughed. “My new friend,” Markus said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. “You have doubts. I understand. But you should know you are the last of the Brokens I’ve spoken to over this month, and some of my colleagues had spoken to others. You are special for one simple reason - you survived your Crucible period.”
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The food arrived then, two bowls of stew set before them. The innkeeper was a portly man who had shaved his head in response to gathering baldness, and he apologized profusely to Markus for the poor quality. He gave Xander an odd expression, but backed away when Markus waved him off. He could likely see Xander’s status, but he would face no stain for feeding a Broken at the command of someone of Markus’s status. That gold medallion opened far more doors than a Broken status closed.
“Crucible?” Xander asked. This was new to him, and he focused on that instead of his discomfort over the innkeeper.
“Yes. Many of the Broken do not.” Markus steepled his fingers. “Some leave the mortal world behind entirely through the only exit left to them. Others sell themselves to a slaver ship from one of the Empires across the waves. A few even attempt begging. And of those who chose the Exile’s Path, many do not survive. This period is known as the Crucible.”
Xander was still hesitant. The term had the weight of being something more than just an idle metaphor - Markus said the word with the weight of one using a term from the Divine Decrees. “I haven’t heard of this before,” Xander said.
“No, you haven’t, and you will not repeat it. It’s from the Hidden Decrees.”
Xander sucked air through his teeth. The Hidden Decrees. Sacred texts that were not taught or printed. To repeat them, except in accordance to the provisions in the Hidden Decrees, was the greatest stain one could risk. “I presume this Decree may only be revealed to a Broken who has passed their Crucible?”
Markus’s smile widened. “I’m glad to see that your time in the wilds has not stopped basic reasoning.” Xander almost bowed at the compliment until he turned it over in his mind and realized it was a compliment seasoned with a dash of mockery. When Xander didn’t bow, Markus’s eyes sparkled. “Yes, you are correct. This can only be revealed to one such as you. Speaking of you - I would like to make sure everything I heard was correct? Records can be... imprecise, at times, and there are some details missing.”
Xander nodded for him to go ahead.
“Wonderful.” Markus’s eyes took on a far-away cast, a sure sign he was checking his Writ. The sacred script that held the system. Skilled scribes could create papers that, when read, could be stored on the Writ and pulled up verbatim at a moment’s notice. “Xander Zenoria, of the Sixth Tribe. Human. Age eighteen. Attended the School of the Third Opal, and achieved Steel status, with a rank of seventeen. Impressive for such a poorly ranked school.”
Nothing Markus was saying was new to Markus. He’d been the best student at Third Opal, but even then he’d been aware of the flaws of his school. His family couldn’t afford anything better.
Markus continued. “Had applied for the Interposed Spears Academy. Why that one?”
The sudden question caught Markus off guard. “My best weapon was the spear, and the Path of the Interposed Spears called to me.”
“Mmm.” Markus said. Just that, a sound. “And... why did it call to you? I know we are fond of speaking of paths picking the person, but in my experience, there usually is more to it than just a ‘calling.’”
“Interposed Spears guard the Outer Wilds,” Xander said, his voice soft. “My father... surely you have his record?”
Markus shook his head. “You have no more family,” Markus said gently. “And that is not something I can restore, even when you are reforged. If you progress far enough, perhaps... but most find such homecomings are less pleasant than they might be.”
Xander breathed heavily. So. That answered one question he had wanted to ask. Although Markus could restore much of what he’d lost, he’d still not be allowed to return home. “My father was in Basiel.”
Markus grimaced at the name. “A tragedy, what happened there.”
Xander couldn’t meet his eyes. “His sigil was found at the entrance to a Pyreforge. He did not turn. He was not consumed. He died an honorable death,” Xander said, intoning the words that had been beaten into his mind throughout childhood. As always, they provided little comfort. At least he knew the worst fate hadn’t fallen his father. Many who had lost people at Basiel didn’t even have that.
“Yes he did,” Markus said softly. “So you wanted to go to Interposed Spears Academy so you could protect the Vulnerable against Husks?”
Xander’s hands clenched into fists. “Yes,” he said hoarsely. The Vulnerable. People like his father, or this Innkeeper, or the blacksmith. Those who did not have great strength - generally they stopped their progress while still Stone, although some did finish two Academy years to become Steel - so they pursue another craft. They were one of the four groups the Divine had spoken of. The Rulers, of course, lead. The Forged fought in wars and against Husks and other threats. The Vulnerable were most of everyone else.
Except for the Wretched. Criminals. Beggers. Dishonored. And, lowest even of these, the Broken. People who could be spared no aid or offered no protection. They were only offered one right - no one should take the manner of their death from them, unless the Wretched claimed a life themselves, or if the Wretched would feed a Husk.
Markus either missed Xander’s state, or didn’t particularly care. “Why Interposed Spears, though? Surely other paths would offer you what you wanted, so why that one in particular.”
Xander spread his hands helplessly. “Because they were the only one that would offer a scholarship at my rank.”
Markus smiled and nodded. “Sometimes the simplest explanation is the truest. Did you consider others, though? Tarnished Wardens, Cascading Dawn, Crimson Turtle, or even the Embers?”
Xander snorted at that last one. “The first three were beyond my former family’s means, and one does not apply to the Embers. Surely you know that! The way they choose their initiates is a secret of the school, but it is known they choose those who... who…” Xander trailed off, and Markus smiled as he saw realization set in.
“Those who have have nothing left to lose,” Markus said, the words taking on the cadence of an incantation. “Those who have been burned to the bone, and have left only Embers. We stoke those Embers until they flare to a new life, a new purpose.” He settled back into his more natural rhythm. “Everyone thinks we accept people who have lost their families to the Husk, or had their lives destroyed by those monsters or some Wretched fiend, or fallen in one of our wars with the Five High Kingdoms. But we go lower than that, my new friend. We take the lowest of the low, and we raise them to new heights. And the Path of Falling Embers has one other criteria that is not known - to become an Ember requires a hollow space in the soul. The kind of space that can only exist in a Broken soul.”
Markus leaned back, breaking the spell that had fallen over the table. Xander realized he’d been breathing so fast he’d nearly lost the rhythm of his breathing technique. He forced himself to regain it.
“That is all I can tell you here. The rest you’ll learn at the Academy. Unless you would like to return to-”
“What do I need to do?” Xander said. Normally he wouldn’t interrupt someone of Markus’s status, be eagerness drove him to do so. The Embers were feared by some, but for a young Xander, the woman who had brought him news of his father’s death had seemed like a valkyrie delivering a final message from the fallen, providing the only comfort left. A last bit of warmth in a world that was going cold around him.
If the Embers were demons, as some whispered, then Xander would find great comfort in the fires of hell.