The Mark doesn’t distinguish between good and evil. It merely distinguishes between right and wrong. 

- Ancient Founder scripture.

The two hulking demons that guarded the entrance to the throne room looked anything but friendly.

“Boss, please stop ignoring me,” Gob said. I felt a sharp nail poke the bruises on my arm. “Boss.” The finger poked again. “You there, Boss?” And again. “Booooss?” And again. “This is fun.” And again. “What if I use two fingers?”

My arm whacked his hand away with a loud slap. “Cut it out, will you?” I asked in a low whisper. “We’re in the Great Hall, show some respect.” The royal guards didn’t look to happy when we came in, but Gob’s continuous annoyance only further soured their already irritable demeanor. Not that it mattered. It wasn’t like we were going to stay anyway. Can’t he fall asleep or something? This isn’t the time for fucking around.

“It’s so boring here, Boss,” Gob said as lay down on the smooth marble floor. His pale skin a stark difference to the blackness that surrounded it. He rolled onto his stomach as his tail gently swept from side to side, eyes focused on all the people that sat in chains behind us. “Why the long face, dear? At worst you’ll be dead come morning.”

The woman he addressed flinched before huddling her knees closer. Her soft, echoing sobs soon spread to other members of the Awakened. Their ragged forms in stark contrast to the wealth around them. Clothed in prison garbs, looking like gagged and chained up beasts, They seemed out of place in these dark halls. It was like the Founder’s themselves deemed them pests; the way their corridor statues looked down upon the huddled humans before them.

With a strong pull from my hand, Gob slid back next to me. I could only mouth an apology towards the woman in question. I’m sorry. As my foot kept the squirming demon under control, and my fingers locked his arm tightly behind his back. A quick kick, and a short scuffle later, Gob was firmly pinned down beneath me. “Listen, and listen well, Gob,” I whispered into his ear. “No more teasing, got it? They’re miserable enough as it is.”

Gob chuckled. “And who’s fault is that, Boss?” He turned his head to look me in the eye. “It wasn’t me that fucked up the negotiations, Boss. That one is totally on you.” More sobs followed his words. Fucking Adeline. Deceptive bitch. The conversation with the Four Kings didn’t go smooth to begin with. I never expected it to be easy, but the earlier Oath with Adeline really fucked that one up. Hi, I’m Marcus. You can trust me. Really, you can! Just disregard the fact that I made an Oath for personal gain with Cedia’s leading spymaster. It was all a ruse! I swear! Not that I could dispute it. That tended to get quite difficult when said Oath showed up on the nearby Oath-stone.

And then there was the part about openly threatening the Four Kings in their seat of power. Convincing emergency phrase my ass. More like fucking deathtrap. Chameleon and Fang were a lost case from the beginning, but that still left me Python and Hawk to work with. That soon changed after those two stupid lines Adeline taught me. They simply laughed as they pulled the last bits and pieces of information out off me before depositing my body into the nearest cell. And if the treatment that followed was any indication, things weren’t looking good. Getting beat up in the morning wasn’t the most gentle ways of waking up. Being dragged to the Great Hall in chains wasn’t either. Though the crowd that mocked and shouted at us along the way really served to drive across the point. We weren’t welcome, and that meant only one thing. A decision has been made. A bad one.

I clenched my trembling hand. At least I’m not chained up. They had removed my chains as the designated speaker for the Awakened. Not that it would help me in any way, the vigilant eyes around me made sure of that. “Boss, could you get off me?” Gob gasped. “You’re kind of heavy, and I nee-”

“Bring in the prisoners!” a voice said as the thick granite doors to the throne room began to swung open. The surrounding royal guards quickly herded us together before driving us towards the seeping light. I could only think of one stupid thing when we entered my place of judgment. Why is it called the throne room? It looks more like a throne hall to me. A smooth, black floor made of marble stretched all the way to other side of the room. Its surface dotted with unadorned granite pillars that held up an unusually high Founder sealing. The numerous crystals embedded there, up high, basked the rest of the hall in white light. As the banners that lined the stonework cast shadows over various parts of the room.

Strangely enough, this hall lacked the usual display of Founder pride. Its floor was barren, its walls unmarked, and no artistic feats of masonry could be seen anywhere in the room, except for two places. The first was a giant, granite Founder face situated at the far end of the hall. Its size massive, and its eyes inlaid with two white crystals that each easily outshone the ceiling light.  

The second was the marble set of stairs directly below it. Each step imbued with gold, and lit by crystals. They all led to the single heightened platform of this area, upon which sat four golden thrones. Each occupied by one of the Kings, and each guarded by their personal demon. They looked like kings indeed, sitting above a crowd of people; a crowd of people neatly split into two stacks.

We swiftly passed through the unobstructed passageway that ran directly between said crowd. All of them with heels clicked together, and faces facing forward as we were pushed, pricked, and prodded along. I didn’t need to see the faces that were mixed into the crowd; the tabards they showed were more than enough.

Each and every one of them sported either a stitched hammer or anvil. Not a single stripe was to be seen in the long line leading up to the thrones. Only captains and lieutenants. And there was only one reason for gathering all these officers into one place. They’re going to make an example of us.

My stomach began churning as one of the royal guards forced me onto my knees, just a mere feet away from the stairs, while Gob was pinned to the ground by several spear-butts. “Easy there, fellas,” Gob said as the wooden ends pressed down onto his form. “If I knew you liked sticking people with poles, I would have brought along some incubuses.” One of the guards smacked the end of his spear into the demon’s face. A tooth flew loose before skidding to a halt across the floor. Black blood dribbled from Gob’s mouth as a new one rapidly pushed its way through his gums. The gap in his smile soon filled with a new addition. “Do you always hit people when they talk? Or am I special enough to receive your wife’s usual treatment?” The same guard raised his spear once more.

“Enough!” Fang shouted. The royal guard froze as the grizzled man rose from his throne, a single finger thrust towards me. “Marcus Ashwood, this is a place of verdict. Keep your demon under control, or we’ll do it for you.”

“Do as he says,” I hissed through my teeth.

Gob snorted before spitting out a globule of blood. Its color matched by the floor it splattered on. “No deal, Boss.” His gaze shifted to Fang. “They’re planning to kill us anyway. What’s the point of going along with their theatrics? Might as well set me Loose while you still can.”

The knot in my stomach started to grow larger. Can I do it? Can I sacrifice everyone in this room just to save my own life? And it wouldn’t stop there. Gob would need to kill even more as we made our way back to the surface. Familiar fear crept into my limbs as muscles began to shake involuntarily. Fang’s fists were now clenched, and his face was looking anything but merciful. Maybe I should let Gob Lo- No! I shook my head. What difference will that make? I would only end up destroying my one, true home. And then what? We would trade on problem for another. Face death by Burrow law, or face death by Cedian Culling. It’s all the same in the end. That is if Gob even manages to make it. His powers could be merely a ruse, an illusion. Something that looked scary, but didn’t do shit. Though it definitely didn’t feel that way. That left me with one choice, one thing, one law that offered us a fighting chance. I took in a deep breath. Endure, resist, struggle, and wait. Let Patience be my guide.

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“Now, now,” Chameleon spoke up. “No need to be hasty, Fang,” He played with his leather gloves. “Killing them here won’t send the proper message we need.” Several breaths were released as Fang sunk back into his throne. “Don’t feel relieved yet.” Chameleon rested his head on his hand. “We have no use for quick deaths. Corpses like those only serve as a reminder.” He leaned forward. “But screams… screams are different. One scream can make all the difference in reminding a man where his boundaries truly lie.” He interlocked his fingers. “And trust me, I’ll make sure everyone south of the Lid will witness yours.”

Soft crying began to seep from behind me. “Is that true?” I asked. “Is the verdict death?”

Python crossed her legs as she spoke up, “What did you think was going to happen, little Marcus? As much as I adore your father, we can’t let such blatant treachery slip.” A smile formed on her lips. “We won’t kill everyone though. One of you has enough noble backing to justify being used as a bargaining chip.” She looked past me. “Isn’t that right, mister Kendall?”

Keep your breathing steady. Don’t be shaken. “And what about the Awake-”

“Execution,” Hawk chimed in. “We got the information we needed. Sheltering a bunch commoners from the enemy would merely drain our resources. Something we can ill afford if your reports prove themselves to be true.”

“But what about diploma-”

“Diplomacy was dead the moment they announced our genocide.” Hawk leaned his head back. “The noble can be exchanged for prisoners of war. But these commoners are merely a liability.” He closed his eyes. “What’s stopping them from joining in our slaughter once we hand them back? What’s stopping them from reporting all that they have seen and heard when they return? More importantly, what purpose can they serve if they don’t have any value as hostages?”

“They could fight with us, they could help re-”

“Resist the invasion?” Hawk finished. “Are you stupid, Marcus? Or merely faking it?” I fell quiet. “There’s no guarantee that they’ll remain on our side once the fighting begins. A sudden betrayal at the right moment, and they’ll will be safe behind Cedian lines.” He opened a single eyes as he held my gaze. “Would you be willing to fight with such a turncoat? To entrust your back to those that may jump you the moment the situation turns around?” I shook my head. “Don’t shove burdens onto others that you aren’t willing to bear on your own. That’s the mark of true hypocrite.”

“Or a king,” Gob sneaked in. Several suppressed laughs could be heard around the hall. They swiftly ended when Hawk’s eye swept across the room.

“So there will be no mercy?” I asked.

“Mercy,” Fang snorted. “Mercy is something you earn, boy. Not something to be freely given.” His sneer exposed his other fang. “And you my boy, royally fucked up what little you had earned with your betrayal.” He sighed as he slumped back into his chair. “It’ll be a pain to deal with Manfred, but that’s a thing for later.” He looked at Hawk. “At least your departure made Sly come back to her senses. It would have been a waste for her to remain faction-less with you.” Hawk nodded deeply.

Dad… My fingers ached for the locket around my neck, but it wasn’t there. That’s right. It was still at the academy, locked into my locker. I clenched my teeth. Not like this. I would be damned before I let my father return to a fresh grave, and the loss of my mother’s locket. Now or never.

“The Exile law,” All Four Kings turned their head towards me. “I invoke the law of Exile.”

The words had barely left my lips before the two crystal eyes of the giant Founder face turned bright red. White-hot pain seared through the left side of my face as I collapsed into a ball of wailing agony. Smoke filled my nostrils, vision went black, but the pain never left me. It only departed after several more seconds of torment. Sight soon returned as thin lines of smoke obscured my left eye, and the stench of burned flesh wafted through the air.

“Have you gone mad, boy?” Fang asked as I panted on the floor. “Exile may only be rightfully invoked by captains.”

“I am a captain.” I shakily stood up on one leg. “At least I think. Whatever the secret rite of passage was, I’m sure I passed it.”

This time their heads swiveled towards the pinned demon on the floor. Fang shifted his gaze back towards me. “If you’re lying, boy, death will be the le-”

“I’m not.”

Fang studied my face for several more seconds before he stood up, hand thrust forward. “All lieutenants will leave this hall immediately! Captains will remain standing where they are!”

Heels clicked together as I looked over my shoulder. The back-end part of the crowd departed, leaving behind the several hundred captains stationed at the front. Several minutes passed as the lieutenants orderly marched their way out, their departure signaled by the resounding thud of the granite doors.

“Speak,” Fang said.

“You mean show,” I replied. The smile I got back was enough confirmation. I closed my eyes as I withdrew the Contract from the imaginary wooden box where I had left it. A puff of smoke enveloped my hand as that unusual feeling of warm paper filled my grasp. I presented it to Fang as he descended down the steps. His gauntlet grasped the paper before turning it over, rolling it out, and looking at its content.

“Warm paper, shifting letters, and appears out of smoke,” Fang said. “This is without a doubt Contract if I’ve ever seen one.” He crouched down near Gob, looking the pinned demon directly in the eyes. “How long have you two been Contracted?”

“Two days,” Gob answered with a smirk.

“And when were you first summoned?”

“Two days ago,” Gob said with a full-blown smile.

Fang grabbed one of his ears. “Listen here, you ugly mutt. You think me born yesterday? Now speak the truth, or I’ll sk-”

“He’s not lying,” I said. Fang stiffened as I placed a fist on my heart. “I Marcus Ashwood, son of Manfred Ashwood, and Aidyn Ashwood’s son, hereby swear an Oath that I formed a Contract with Gob when I summoned him two days ago.” Wind began blowing through the room as my chest filled with blue light.

Fang was momentarily shocked before standing up and pointing at two nearby captains. “Get your asses to the Oath-stone! I want written confirmation, and I want it NOW!”

“Rise, captain Ashwood,” Fang announced. I stood up from my kneeling position in front of the black marble stairs. The Four Kings sat firmly in their thrones as the air felt heavy with Fang’s voice, “From this day onward you are an Exile. One who’s plea for mercy has been heard by the Forgefather. One who’s debt of gratitude must be paid to the Founders.” Fang stood up. “You are no longer welcome in these halls, nor are you welcome in our homes.” He pointed at my face. “That Mark you bear will be your chain, your cell, your very prison itself. It will bind you to this earth until the day the Forgefather considers the debt fully paid.”

I turned around to face the throne room. My vision filled with rows upon rows of captains and lieutenants, and the ragged forms of the Awakened that sat in front of them. “Rise, prisoners,” Fang said as he waited for them to follow his command. His voice strong and resounding when they finally stood up, “Do you wish to follow this man into Exile? To share his burdens, bear his pain, and have him shoulder your crimes in return? Those that do, step forward. Those that do not, sit down.”

All of them stepped forward, none of them sat down. The ceremony had been clearly explained beforehand, and the choice between exile and execution was quickly made. “Let the Forgefather bear witness to your choice,” screams filled the air as the flesh on their faces began burning, “and let the Mark be his acceptance of it.” Soon their cries stopped, and all that was left was a single, archaic symbol etched into their skin. Each one small, and each one different. I touched my own Mark, one that covered the entire left side of my face, feeling some unknown connection with the ones before me.

“And you, Maximilian Kendall?” Fang asked the silver haired man still sitting on the floor. “What is your choice as one not burdened by crime?”

The man smiled. “I’ve been a pawn in my mother’s game for far too long now.” He stood up. “It’s time this pawn jumped off the board.” He stepped forward. The process was repeated before he joined our line with his head down. The Mark branded onto his right eyebrow. So the girly scream is his normal cry?

This time Fang addressed the crowd filled hall, “Are there any among you willing to bear the Mark? To make sure this man succeeds in pleasing the Forgefather, and bring glory to the Founders in the process?” Fang didn’t let the silence linger for more than three seconds. “Then I annou-”

“Me, me!” a female voice shouted. Hawk instantly broke out into a loud coughing fit as my heart skipped a beat at the voice. “Sorry, sorry. Coming through, coming through.” The voice got closer and closer as someone wormed its way through the mass of people. It couldn’t be? But it was. The woman that broke through the front rank of captains sported a yellow tabard, a stitched anvil, and amber eyes. Beautiful amber eyes.

“Absolutely not!” Hawk suddenly shouted.

Sly placed a hand on her hip before talking back at him, “And this need for control was exactly the reason mom left you in the first place, dad.” My heart skipped another beat as she threw me a smile.

“Long time no see, Marcus.”