The Final Cell marched into Julleck. They were first met by a discomforting silence and then human voices. Two plumes of smoke billowed from two massive pyres on the outskirts of town. Peter noticed one was for ghouls and the other for fallen people.

Not seeing any familiar faces, they continued deeper into the city. No one moved to stop them or even gave them a second glance. There was an oddly dense presence of domestics, helping the wounded and setting up food lines. They found the commandant, several soldiers, a cluster of stewards and butlers, and hundreds of civilians resting on the steps to the magistrate’s cabinet hall. The wounded were dressed, and organized runners fetched water for healer maids.

The commandant waved them over to him with a grin on his face. They approached quickly, and Peter noticed the commandant’s arm was in a sling; he wasn’t the only one to see.

“Commandant, are you okay?” Isabella asked as they hurried over to him. Her clothes fit oddly to accommodate a body decades older than when she put them on.

The commandant scowled as he looked at the arm. “It was really stupid; it happened a half hour after the domestics came. We were rounding them up — just stragglers. I missed a step and broke my arm. The House offered to heal it once we’ve got the wounded into a stable condition.”

Peter couldn’t hold back a chuckle, and the commandant glared at him.

“Hours of fighting, and it couldn’t have come from something cool. Looks like you’re getting old, Commandant,” Peter said with perhaps too much familiarity for a war leader.

“Hypocrite,” the commandant returned.

“Hopefully not for long,” Peter said.

“So your mission was a success?” the commandant inquired.

“The tiles are secured in a safe location,” the captain confirmed.

“Good,” The commandant said, keeping his voice low. “And the band?”

Isabella drew it from a bag looped around her shoulder but the commandant stopped her. “Not here — too many eyes.”

The commandant saw Iris and smiled. “You must be Iris. I’ve heard a lot about you.” He said with the grace of a gentleman. “It seems that today is a victory for all of us.”

Peter frowned. “Where is Julian?”

“He’s hunting for liches that may have slipped past us,” the commandant said, “He’ll join us soon.”

Peter breathed a sigh of relief. He noticed a pair of butlers giving orders to footmen, a rank reserved for Nyamarian servitors who lacked boons.

“A lot of domestics here,” he noted. “Does that mean the House joined the war?”

The commandant nodded. “This power shift may be dangerous. We’ll have to move forward with tact.”

People stirred below as a unit of soldiers approached. Leading them up the stairs was a man in a suit, a long coat, and a top hat. He had a medallion on a wide scarlet ribbon, which marked him as the magistrate of Julleck. He was escorted by no less than fifty soldiers, soldiers that the commandant glared at with fiery eyes, soldiers that he no doubt could have used in the battle.

“Commandant Van Graif,” the Magistrate said sternly, as he ascended the stairs. “You’re here.” He said it as if he were surprised or disgusted.

“Yes,” the commandant smiled viciously. “I am, and where, pray tell, were you Magistrate Rovers?”

“I am the Magistrate of this city, Sebastian,” Magistrate Rovers said, completely ignoring the commandant’s question. “By what right do you bring your men to my city?” The magistrate saw only the small remaining party, and his eyes twinkled confidently. Peter saw that the magistrate expected heavy resistance and a wrestle for power from Van Graif. Clearly, the magistrate felt satisfied with his heavy security detail.

“I received every right to be here,” The commandant retorted, “When you abandoned your people, you leech-maggot.”

“I know you, Sebastian!” Magistrate Rovers now deliberately dropped the commandant’s title. “You just want Julleck; you’ve come to take it!”

“You don’t know me!” The commandant grunted as he climbed to his feet. The magistrate’s eyes flickered to the sheathed sword in the commandant’s good hand.

“How could you know me? You’ve refused every request for an audience I’ve sent you.”

“You’re not a real soldier,” the magistrate challenged. “I’m a real officer of the people, appointed by the crown of Nosmeria itself.”

“The crown that Rahashel now wears?”

It was all figurative; neither King Adrichem nor his ancestors wore a crown.

The magistrate abandoned all pretenses of diplomacy. “You will not have Julleck, Sebastian!”

The commandant scoffed as he started walking down towards the magistrate. “I wouldn’t take Julleck if you begged me to. You see, unlike you, I don’t just hide and wait for death. I intend to destroy Rahashel, and so far, only my people have ever done any real damage. The last thing I need is a city to babysit while we fight.”

That caused many of the surviving civilians and soldiers to murmur in surprise. The commandant got right in the magistrate’s face, so they were eye to eye.

“I’m going,” he announced, loud enough for everyone else to hear. “Anyone who will fight for all you love, come with me … or do you want to put your faith in Magistrate Rovers hands?” He spat the name like a sour taste.

Commandant Van Graif stalked past the magistrate, and Peter and the others followed him. Peter was surprised when most of the people on the stairs got up and followed him. Apparently, the magistrate was surprised, too.

“Stop!” He barked at them, but there were too many, several of them being his own men. “Anyone who goes with that man is a criminal!”

That didn’t deter anyone. They flooded past the leader for whom they had lost all respect. The magistrate made no move to enforce his threat. In fact, several of his personal security detail looked after them with guilty looks on their faces.

Peter smiled. The further through the city they got, the more people came until the mob had several thousand people following. Summoned by runners and family members, Nine Fingers was being reborn.

Peter gasped as the years seemed to melt off of his aged face.

He dropped the spent tiles onto the table. They didn’t weigh any less now that the glyphs stopped glowing. Ten tiles, about one for each year, ten years younger.

Iris gawked at him. “That looks so weird,” she marveled.

This was how she had gotten her age back; it seemed to work for everyone. You could hold tiles and siphon them dry. It took a little focus and mental strain, but Peter managed.

Peter took another ten tiles and drained them, too. The reverse leech was cold, like he had ice on his skin when it was still dry and it hadn’t started to melt yet.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

He grew younger again and smiled. He looked like he may have been in his forties.

They had each been granted one hundred tiles as a reward for their victory. Peter naturally used his to get his age back.

He wouldn’t use all of them, of course; it wouldn’t do to turn into a baby.

He continued the process and stopped when he looked about twenty-five. “Maybe I should stay like this.” He smiled as he saw himself. He was much more broad and tall than he was as a seventeen-year-old kid or an old man. “This would put me in peak fighting condition.”

Iris looked at him, startled, and quickly looked away.

“What?” Peter asked.

“Nothing,” Iris responded, then she bit her lip. “I just wish I had thought of that.”

Peter looked at her and sighed. She was back to her old self; her body looked about seventeen, just like the day before they were turned to crop.

He grabbed a couple more tiles and returned to the age he assumed would have been seventeen or so, though in truth, he thought he looked more like he was nineteen, a little taller and broader. He had to account for the half-year as a crop, right?

“Are you ready?” Iris asked.

Peter nodded.

“Let’s go.”

Peter scratched at his stiff new uniform. It was a dark charcoal grey, almost black: a Jullecki uniform with Nine Fingers badges sewn onto it. It wasn’t as cool as the coats and cloaks they had worn before, but with more numbers came more structure, and with the new system came the uniforms. Not that it mattered; after today, Peter would only need the uniform for special official occasions.

Peter nodded and pulled his stiff uniform Kepi hat onto his head. He would have preferred Van Gutter’s hat, but, as he kept reminding himself, this was a ceremonial occasion. Iris pulled her own kepi onto her head and followed them. They both had private patches. Iris had enlisted with the majority of the Julleck populace. Peter’s rank was about to change.

Iris' limp was hardly noticeable. Julian had pulled some strings at Peter's request, and Iris had weekly sessions with a healer maid. The wound would have recovered easier if it was fresh, but it had been set improperly years ago. The maid assigned to the wound saw Iris' case as an exciting challenge.

Peter entered the assembly tomb. A simple stone memorial had been erected for those who perished to the laughing kings. Many commissioned and non-commissioned officers gathered in attendance. The rank and structure matched a more conventional army. Peter was afraid staying at the Shay burrows was too bold, but the commandant insisted they were driven out to make a statement, and their staying also made an assertion — that they weren’t so easily moved.

Peter joined Van Dijk, Isabella, Captain Visser, and Director Van Den Hoek, and Owen. Doctor Aarts was also invited to join them, but he declined, saying he was an academic, not a soldier. Like Peter, Van Dijk and Isabella used their tiles to return to their original ages. Isabella now looked familiar, but Van Dijk looked to be his true twenty-five for the first time.

There was also a newcomer, a Dinnian named Kulafu Mendoza. Apparently, he had played an ample part in the defense at Julleck. They were all led to a reserved row of seats before the ceremony started.

Peter’s stomach fluttered as he looked at the crowd of newcomers. Not all were from Julleck, but many were from Macbare, Astria, and several companies officially sent from Vorsabia. He didn’t know drills and ceremonies like these soldiers would have been trained. With two hundred men in uniform, they had the modest start-up of an army.

Seated at the head, Commandant Van Graif, or more accurately, Lord Commandant as he had been appointed, sat beside Commandant De Zwart. Commandant De Zwart now had a claw hand affixed to the nub of his hand, which made Peter think painfully of his trainer, Norah.

The Lord Commandant rose to address the audience, and the officers sat in attendance. Van Graif gave a simple but direct summary of the Final Cell’s “brave deeds” and the “essential role” they played in the victory at Julleck. Honestly, Peter wasn’t listening. He was just grateful to see his new brotherhood grow.

“If the Final Cell would now take their place before me.”

Isabella nudged him, pulling him out of his stupor. The commandant was talking to them now. Both she and Van Dijk were a great deal younger after using some of their tiles to regain their youth. Van Dijk was younger still than he was when Peter first met him; he couldn’t have been five years older than Peter himself.

Peter joined the others and took a knee before the Lord Commandant. Lord Commandant Van Graif smiled at each one in turn before drawing his officer’s sword.

“Attention to orders!”

The assembly stood at attention, the grunt of chairs sliding back echoing off the halls.

“Neils Van Dijk, for honoring your post and defending Julleck, I knight you after the order of Nine Fingers.” Van Graif tapped each shoulder with his sword.

He moved to Isabella. “Isabella Vandersteen, for protecting your unit and fighting valiantly in saving Julleck, I knight you after the order of Nine Fingers.” He tapped each shoulder with his blade before moving to Peter.

“Peter Van Seur, for enduring the pain of a thousand deaths and for your loyalty in saving Julleck, I knight you after the order of Nine Fingers.”

Peter felt his face heat up as it was plastered with a stupid grin. The blade lightly touched each shoulder. Lord Commandant Van Graif smiled at him and moved on.

“Captain Tobias Visser, for your leadership and leadership in saving Julleck, I knight you after the order of Nine Fingers.”

Peter stole a look at Iris in her seat behind him. She grinned, and her eyes were wet.

“Brett Van Den Hoek, for fighting through the most gripping sorrow and for saving Julleck, I knight you after the order of Nine Fingers.”

“Owen Hartman, for keeping the Final Cell operating and for your necessity in saving Julleck, I knight you after the order of Nine Fingers.”

“Kulafu Mendoza, for heeding an unvoiced call and saving many in Julleck, I knight you after the order of Nine Fingers.”

Sebastian Van Graif stepped away, and a new captain approached them with several metal badges hung from chains around his arm. They depicted the nine-finger seal, a stylized depiction of a four-finger hand. One by one, he hung the badges around their necks.

Peter looked at the metal badge with the backdrop of dark leather and smiled.

“Please stand.” Van Graif instructed.

"About face!" De Zwart called.

Peter performed the maneuver the way Owen had taught him.

“At ease!”

The assembly applauded, and Peter went beet red, especially when he saw Iris, whose cheers cut through the noise of the crowd.

Van Graif leaned over behind them. “I’ll have a word with you in my office when the festivities have ended.”

They all congregated with Julian and the doctor in the commandant’s office.

“What’s he doing here?” the doctor asked, pointing to the Nyamarian steward.

“First, I wish to congratulate you on your new position.” The commandant said, dismissing the doctor’s concern. “I am establishing the knights because I need an inner circle of agents and slayers I can trust. You can move independently, and our army will offer full cooperation. Your badge is an emblem of authority. Don’t abuse it.”

The new knights nodded and examined their new badges yet again.

“The reason Julian is here is the same reason you are here, Doctor,” Van Graif turned to Doctor Aarts. “I value both of your input.”

The doctor sobered at the response.

“We need to decide what to do with this.” He produced the court band and placed it on the table.

Tobias twitched when he saw it, and Peter recognized the gleam of desire in his eyes.

“Tobias, would you accept the responsibility of bearing this weapon again?”

“Of course.” Captain Visser smiled and moved to grab it in a way that made Peter shudder. It was like the captain he knew was gone, replaced by a hungry animal.

The commandant pulled it out of his reach and turned to Peter. “And what of you, Van Seur? Would you accept this assignment?”

Peter was taken aback, and the wild spark that Peter saw in Tobias’ eye disappeared.

Peter thought about it, the pain and the leeching.

“With all due respect, Lord Commandant,” Peter said. “Tobias wielded it much more effectively than I did. Anubis seemed to imply that I was somehow handicapped in using it. So I respectfully decline.”

The Command then slid the ring over to Peter, who looked up in surprise.

“Then it’s an order, soldier.”

“It was a test?” Tobias realized.

The commandant nodded, “I don’t doubt your integrity, captain, but Peter’s, ah, handicap seems to keep him from some of the more dangerous aspects. When you started to leech your own men, it wasn’t a fault on your part but the lack of preparation. Van Seur will carry it for now.”

Peter twitched. “Commandant, I …” Life as an immortal meat shield. He’d be alone again. He had Iris and friends; he’d have to stay away from all of them. Live was lonely with the band. He bowed his head. “Yes, sir.”

“You are the safest and most reliable place for the band to be. We’ll work and study and see what it takes for you to control it, but in the meantime, I want it with you.”

Peter reluctantly nodded. “As you command, Lord Commandant.” He picked it up but didn’t put it on just yet; the others were too close.

Julian perked up. “If I may … It might be possible for me to train Peter.” Everyone turned to him in surprise.

“The boy is a Nine Fingers soldier,” Doctor Aarts protested, “Not a domestic. What makes you think you have any claim to train him?”

“Because I know what it is.” Julian looked at the doctor darkly and seemed to weigh his following words carefully. “And I have one too.”

A green fire erupted around the steward’s forearm, leaving an armband glowing with green runes distinctly different from court script.

Julian’s eyes were a more natural hazel when the band was visible on his arm.

Everyone gasped and jumped. The commandant simply nodded. “I suspected as much. We need to discuss the terms of our continued partnership, High Steward. I understand the value of sovereignty in our organizations. Still, the domestics fought with us at Julleck, not the magistrates. In my book, that makes us brothers. I propose joint custody over our court.”

“A generous and wise idea,” Julian agreed. “He can liaise between our brotherhoods."

Peter’s head spun. Things had changed so quickly, but as he looked around the room for answers. Everyone except Doctor Aarts smiled in encouragement. Even Captain Visser, who may have felt robbed of his task, dismissed a fleeting look of jealousy.

Peter couldn’t believe it. After losing everything, he saved Iris and had allies and friends. With them on his side, how hard could it be?