The whole range emptied, any thought of training gone as the anxious Nine Fingers operatives hurried to hear the verdict.

Peter saw Captain Visser hesitate. He looked torn, most likely wanting to stay and continue training, but in the end, what the House had to say seemed more critical.

“Let’s go,” the captain prompted, and they joined the herd, Peter trailing behind.

Van Dijk jogged astride Peter several paces away. “Your shooting looked clean,” the private assured Peter. “Horrible accuracy, but you were smooth."

“Thanks,” Petter muttered, then he turned to face Van Dijk. “Do you think the House will join us?”

Van Dijk sobered. “They will. They have to. If anyone has a chance against a court, it’s the House.”

“I heard they have no stewardship obligation or even authority to resist the courts,” Peter said dejectedly, choosing to omit that he heard it from the mouth of the high steward himself.

Van Dijk clenched his jaw in determination. “The Master won’t let his servants ignore us.”

Isabella strayed close to Van Dijk, having overheard his declaration. “The House doesn’t care about us,” she said darkly. “It’s just a group of people who have monopolized boons and hunt anyone who uses ‘their’ power. They’re hypocrites and liars who warden the greatest weapons that could help us win this war!”

Peter felt a flush creeping up his cheeks. He should’ve remembered that the House of Nyamar was deeply controversial. He hadn’t intended to start an argument with the team.

“The House has a stewardship to resist Ataggin,” Van Dijk said sharply. “The Ataggin Empire would resurface if —”

“How would the courts have fared against the Empire?” Isabella demanded.

“The Empire massacred billions before it fell!” Van Dijk cried. “They tethered three planets together, causing darkness, cold, and famine!”

“Shut it!” Captain Visser snapped over his shoulder. “If they’re going to fight with us, they are allies. You will leave politics out of it.”

The privates lapsed into a sullen silence, internalizing their arguments.

“The House executed my brother,” Isabella said, her voice low, her words fierce.

The captain didn’t reprimand her. He gave no indication he heard.

“He was sixteen,” she continued, her voice pained. “Do you know what his crime was?” She looked over at Niels.

Van Dijk didn’t respond but had gone white as a sheet.

“He studied Waarheid manuscripts and tried to anoint himself. He wasn’t part of a militant cult. He wasn’t an empirical extremist. He just wanted to help people, and the House rejected him. When he took it into his own hands, they named him Atagginite and murdered him.”

Peter saw her eyes glisten, and he looked away, torn. The situation was complicated and multi-faceted. Controversy was born of complex situations; the more one simplified it, the bigger the divide.

The mob approached the tombs, and Peter saw two scores of domestics moving with a purpose. Black-suited, white-gloved butlers, white-aproned maids and valets were setting up a contraption and moving bags. Peter recognized the fine wood stand, despite having never seen one. A breach jig.

Peter gawked. The breach jig was a thin doorway with round sides and a peaked top and bottom. Usually housed in Nyamarian estates, this jig seemed to be a portable version. It was artistically crafted with symbols carved along the body—not court glyphs, but Nyamarian Waarheid runes.

Peter saw Julian direct a small team of domestic stack supplies and a chief butler, leading the others to set up the thin doorway breach jig. Peter knew the butler when he saw him: High Butler Anton Dekker. The dark-haired hawk-faced man looked upset as the Nine Fingers crowd gathered around.

“What’s the word?” a private shouted from the back of the gathering crowd. “Will you fight with us?”

High Butler Anton shot Julian an irritated look. The look communicated something to the High Steward that Peter couldn’t read.

Julian stood to address the crowd. “Nine Fingers,” he said, his voice rising clearly against the muttering, “The House of Nyamar commends your efforts against Court Rahashel, and we bring you food and supplies in support.”

“We don’t need supplies,” came an angry voice to Peter’s left. “We need Domestics!”

Several people in the crowd hollered in assent, and Julian held up a placating hand.

“Shut up!” Chief Director Stegeman roared, and his soldiers quieted down.

Peter saw the commandant and a few staff members exited a tomb and parted the crowd to get close to the domestics.

Julian looked at the commandant squarely, but apologetically. “The purpose of The House of Nyamar is to fulfill The Master's stewardships,” Julian said. Then he hesitated. “Unfortunately, fighting the courts doesn’t fall within the framework of our stewardship.”

Under the steely gazes of the directors and commandant, the Nine Fingers soldiers didn’t cry out but merely hissed and muttered their disapproval. Peter did note a few arguing in defense of the Domestics.

Julian continued, as if there had been no interruption. “Please accept these supplies as a token of our support.”

The commandant’s temples bulged, but he kept his voice steady. “We appreciate your token and pray that your master will give you a new stewardship soon.”

Julian looked at High Butler Anton, who nodded in approval. This time, Peter caught the meaning.

Clearly, the High Butler was the chief proponent against helping Nine Fingers. He glared down his nose at the Nine Fingers assembly in pious indignation. In contrast, Julian's brow was drawn in frustration, an unspoken protest against the High Butler's Position.

He wants to help, Peter recognized.

“Let’s go!” High Butler Anton called to the Domestics. Then he nodded to a butler who stood next to the breach jig.

The butler nodded and drew a glass oblong rod from a lacquered wooden case. It seemed to be a cross between a long letter opener and a wand.

Peter stared, mesmerized as the butler inserted the wand into the open doorway and parted the air. The opening shimmered and rippled as the butler breached the fabric of reality. The rip crackled and buzzed violently, protesting the violation of natural law. The shimmer extended until it reached the sides of the ellipsoidal breach jig. Peter could see a different scene on the other side — blurred, but recognizable as the inside of an entirely new building. A breach could lead to any Nyamarian estate on Boslic; hypothetically, it could connect to a point on Din or Chur. Did the House have contact with the other worlds of the Tri-Terra?

Butlers, maids, and valets stepped through the doorway one by one. At a certain point, Julian nodded subtly to the breach master, and the butler focused his attention on the doorway. The breach closed with a disorienting snap, leaving Julian with the five members of his original staff that Peter had met the night before and the breach master on the Nine Fingers' side.

Hendrik the Slammist combed his fingers through his hair, wiping the curls out of his eyes as they ignited with green light. He took a deliberately clumsy step toward the wooden frame and swung his fist. The inert breach jig shattered in a spray of splinters, causing several Nine Fingers soldiers to jump back with a cry of surprise.

The Slammist turned to Julian. “Oh, no,” he said wryly, a faint grin on his face. “I tripped, High Steward. It looks like we’re trapped on this side.”

Julian smiled and nodded. “And it looks like Anton can’t send someone back to get us.”

They did it on purpose! Peter realized. Julian's team isolated themselves from those who didn’t want to help.

Julian turned to Nine Fingers.

“As you may imagine, our practices, policy, and doctrine don’t account for the courts,” he said firmly. “I’ll be the first to confess that the courts scare me. They scare all of us. Some of my brothers and sisters fear that if we deviate from our current stewardships, we’ll become like the Ataggin Empire, which is the one thing we’ve been charged to resist. Their concerns are valid and reasonable.”

Julian looked down at his hands and took a deep, uncertain breath.

Stolen novel; please report.

“They’re right, but I can’t stand by and watch.”

Julian turned to the commandment. “Being High Steward, I have given myself, and a few trusted attendants here, a local stewardship. We’re the new caretakers of the Nyamarian Estate in Stalpia.”

The commandant nodded slowly, understanding. “The Estate under Rahashelian control?”

“The same Estate that Rahashel has converted into his tile vault,” Julian confirmed. “While I admit it’s very unorthodox for the High Steward to take a local stewardship, it’s not technically against the rules, and as the new estate steward, it’s my duty to go back and remove any foreign elements or entities from the estate.”

“Is there any chance your timeline will line up with ours?” The commandant asked. His tone was steady, but his eyes were eager

“We might as well,” Julian shrugged. “We could use the company on our way to our stewardship.”

The commandant nodded in approval. “Thank you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Julian said, laughing. “I’m just a domestic fulfilling his stewardship.”

They left the rest unsaid.

Peter wanted to run up to Julian to thank him, but with the crowd’s density, he couldn’t get close without leeching at least a dozen people. So he stood, as always, apart from everyone else. The isolation already grated at him. He knew it was a matter of necessity, but still, having a shun order was more than a little annoying. It was as if everyone who saw you looked at your chin instead of your eyes. It was unnerving and even a bit humiliating.

Despite trying to endure his isolation with a good attitude, Peter ended up folding his arms and glaring at the mingling crowd dejectedly.

The commandant turned to address the Nine Fingers. “House cooperation comes at a desperately needed time,” the commandant said. “As you know, Court Rahashel plans to march on the city Julleck, and probably through the rest of Nosmeria. We need to clean out his time vault, which is housed in the Nyamarian estate. Without time, Rahashel’s forces run dry, and we have a chance to form a real resistance.”

The Nine Fingers operatives watched their commandant intently.

“However, we just received news that Rahashel is pulling all his ghouls from Calacray back into Nosmeria. Calacray is gone.”

“What does he mean, Calicray is gone?” Norah hissed toward Captain Visser, who stood at the back of the crowd. Around them, others held similar muttered sidebars.

Commandant Van Graif silenced them with a wave of his hand. “Rahashel killed Court Rasminfrey and has finished harvesting the surviving populace. As we speak, Rahashel is launching barges into Calacray to recover his forces and get back into Nosmeria. At its current rate, The ghoul population of Nosmeria will triple before the end of the week.”

A heavy silence bore down in the room.

“This means that Rahashel has sent many of his overseers away, making now the time that Stalpia is most vulnerable. We have decided to move up our timetable. We leave for the time vault today.”

“Today?” One of the mercenaries associated with the old King’s Cell shouted in disdain.

“Cut and run if you don’t have the balls!” Isabella snapped back, sparking a divisive outcry between the hired guns and the regular soldiers.

Peter saw Owen shaking his head in disapproval. He barely heard the words the operations officer was muttering to Captain Visser.

“It won’t work. The logistics and planning alone —”

“This is our best chance before we get swept away like Calacray,” Commandant Van Graif insisted. “Our intelligence has given us a clear image of what happened across the river. The rot and stink of death there are overbearing. It is now an empty rat-infested wasteland, unfit for human life. If we don’t act now, that’s what’s in store for Nosmeria.”

The crowd had been silenced, but Peter could still see the doubt in their eyes.

“This is a combative operation, so it will get messy. It is up to us to move quickly to minimize the damage. So listen carefully so we don’t have any mishaps.”

“We won’t be working as individual cells like you’re used to. We will be split into three larger teams: operations, support, and Spearhead. Director Habets will lead Operations, and will be responsible for barricading all the side streets, moving the tiles, extracting them, and providing backup defense. “Support: you take to the roofs, drop anything that’s dead, and walk. You will report to and meet with Director Van Den Hoek.

“Spearhead, well, that’s you,” Commandant Van Graif looked directly at Peter, “… And you.” He turned to Julian Gerrets. ”You two and Chief Director Stegeman will meet with me. Everyone else is dismissed for your briefings.”

The audience didn’t move for a full ten seconds before eventually shuffled away as everyone met with their designated director. Captain Tobias, Isabella, Van Dijk, the trainer Norah, and even Doctor Arts were sent to operations. Owen was the only one Peter knew who was sent to support, leaving Peter, Chief Director Stegeman, and Julian to meet with the commandant.

“You two come here,” Chief Director Stegeman said, motioning them to the command burrow. The elderly court, the young steward, and the heavily mustached director went with the commandant to his office, where he had a map of Stalpia rolled out on a table. The city was both the capital for the enemy and Peter’s old home.

Peter had to stay back and stand on his toes to see the map; he didn’t want to leech them, though Julian had somehow gotten past his radius before. He wasn’t sure if the steward would be safe from him again.

“Your first objective is to clear the way to the time vault,” Stegeman said, running his finger down Hill View to where it intersected with Elm Way. “We are all of the manpower we have, so stealth will only get us so far.” He jabbed a finger at Peter. “You must take care of as much of that as possible. And you can offer support where you see appropriate, Gerrets.”

Julian nodded.

Peter tried to think. Hill View and Elm Way would be the Nyamarian steward’s estate in Stalpia. A Nyamarian estate served as a training house for domestics and was considered sacrosanct. Peter suspected they researched old Ataggin technology and practices there, but the House could be heavily confidential about their estates.

“The operations team will set up burning blockades and try to funnel all the ghouls that flood the streets down southbound Hill View. Van Suer, we need you to … soak up what you can.”

Peter twitched.

“Again, Gerrets, try to conserve yourself at this stage.”

Peter frowned. “What exact-”

“Save questions for after the briefing,” Director Stegeman spoke quickly. It was clear they weren’t kidding; the directors wanted to run the operation that day.

“The third stage is the fail-safe stage. Van Seur, if an elder lich should come, that’s where you hand the point mantle to Gerrets, and you run. We can’t afford to lose you.” Or the Bedorven, he left unsaid.

”After that, we’re in the extraction phase. Get out using Hill View. There will be landmines that we’ll prime as soon as you cross over Third and Oak. Hopefully, that will cover our escape.”

“Hopefully?” Julian asked, shooting the director a skeptical look.

“This plan is rushed, and there must be some improvisation. The primary objective is to remove the tiles from Court Rahashel’s hands. Our survival is secondary.”

Julian frowned. “There are assets in the estate that I’m obligated to recover as its new steward.”

Chief Director Stegeman sighed. “I’ll have our men help you if we have time, but our ability to recover them will depend on your ability to cover our escape. You can do that, can't you?”

Julian furrowed a brow and folded his thick forearms over his chest. “I can do it, but will your funnel plan work? Because I can only be in one place at once, and my team is small. What if Rahashel’s elder liches all come at us at once? I don’t imagine Anubis is still fighting for him in Calacray. What if we get hit by Khnum, Horus, Bastet, Montu, and Sobek all at once? Do you have a plan for that? What if Court Rahashel himself decides to show up?”

Peter shook his head and blinked. He’d stopped tracking the conversation as soon as Julian said ‘Anubis.’ His ears rang and he tried to swallow.

Stegeman frowned. “Get in and out quickly. That’s our plan.”

“I don’t like it. It’s too big. We need a small team to slip in and out.”

Peter’s heart thumped in his head, louder than the conversation, as he saw the jackal-headed lich standing over his mother’s withered corpse.

“We can’t afford to mess this up. We need to use all of our resources.”

“Are you going to take my warning so lightly, director?” the Nyamarian steward asked.

“As a soldier, I take value in your words, Gerrets. Anyone who did otherwise would be a fool.”

“And as the mouth of Nyamar?” Julian asked.

“Nyamar can rot,” Stegeman snapped, and Julian tensed clenched his jaw, bridling.

“I’m going to kill him,” Peter growled, causing the other two men to look at him abruptly. “Anubis,” Peter clarified.

The commandant stared sharply at Peter.

“I saw him that day. I saw what he did.”

“Anubis is one of Rahashel’s highest commanders,” Julian explained. “He’s a very competent warrior and a brilliant strategist. I doubt I could defeat him.”

Peter realized his intensity made the others uneasy. They wanted to control him, and his personal feelings were beyond their control. “Don’t worry,” he said at length. “I won’t do anything that jeopardizes the mission but I hope Anubis shows himself.”

“No, you don’t,” Commandant Van Graif corrected simply.

Peter met the commandant’s sharp eyes — his inward rage towards Anubis and his terror of the commandant mixing strangely in his head.

Peter took a deep, grounding breath in an attempt to regain composure. His hands flexed, and he touched each finger to his thumbs. Of course, he was desperate and had every reason to be distressed. Still, Peter knew he needed a level head, especially in high-stress situations.

Peter considered briefly recommending a subterranean approach, but he knew the sewers well enough to know it was unrealistic. Even with a map, Rahashel had installed many storm grates, and maneuvering a force through the perpetual labyrinth would lead them into several bottlenecks and choke points. Peter acknowledged to himself that the only reason he was considering it was to avoid doing his job.

Peter stayed silent. He twitched as he thought of the blades and bullets that awaited him when he just walked down the street.

“Any other questions?”

Both members of the Spearhead team shook their heads.

“Good. Remember, the whole operation is banking on your performance.”

Chief director Stegeman dismissed himself and left to check on the other teams with more complex plans.

Peter turned to Julian. He was surprised to see a faint, purple, misty lech light flow towards him from the steward.

Julian spun towards Peter and jumped back, surprised. “Careful!” Julian warned, the surprise lingering on his face. “If you catch me off guard, I’ll leech just as good as anyone else.”

“Sorry,” Peter stammered.

Julian sighed and walked up to Peter; luckily, this time, nothing happened. “Your defense is passive. Mine is active.”

Peter made a note of that.

Julian sighed. “You ready?”

“No,” Peter said truthfully.

“But you’ll fight all the same?”

Peter nodded.

“That’s how it always is,” Julian assured him.

“Thanks, Julian,” Peter said, and the steward cocked an eyebrow at him in question.

“I know you’re a good steward.”

“No doubt I have a grumpy chief butler who wouldn’t agree with you.”

“I don’t see him fighting with us.”

“He is fighting,” Julian assured Peter. “High Butler Anton is focusing on keeping an old empire dead so I can focus on stopping a new one.”

In a way, the courts were similar to the Ataggin. They quickly rose to power and were now moving to crush and corrupt humanity. They were doing it at a frightening pace with a power very few understood. The only active resistance in all of Nosmeria stood in the Shay cemetery. The Magistrates hiding in their cities were probably preparing to betray their people once ghouls showed up, as Espen Hummel did. Peter was disgusted with the thought. If it were that easy for Court Rahashel to march on Nosmeria, then millions of people would be subjected to the crop rings as he and Iris had been.

Iris.

Peter twitched. Was Iris okay? As scared as he was to move against Rahashel today, part of him was glad. She had little time; he was free and preparing to fight, but she was still out there alone.

This mission had to succeed. Then the commandant would help him get Iris out, and they would save Julleck city in the process.

Peter nodded. Simple, right? An easy plan: rob a death god, stop an invasion, rescue Iris, and live happily ever after. There was nothing to it.

“Julian,” Peter started. “Will this plan work?”

Julian looked at the map somberly. “I guess we’ll see.”