“Niklas, please don’t.” Lill held up a warding hand.
“Is that so?” the man asked as he examined Niklas curiously.
Niklas saw that the man wore a thin-bladed sword at his side.
“Boss,” one of the other two men grunted. They carried themselves like soldiers but wore no uniform. Guards maybe? They were also armed with thin swords and long Relrin pistols. “Is there a problem?” the one in front asked Niklas.
“He will apologize,” Niklas said, motioning to their young commander.
“Niklas!” Lill gasped as she rushed down to him and grabbed his arm. ”Let’s go.”
Niklas didn’t feel the pull.
The fifth law of the holy ones echoed in Niklas’ head. Always protect the holy ones.
Though not harmed physically, she had been insulted.
The two guards chuckled, and one stepped forward, resting his hand on a dagger in his belt. He was slightly shorter than Niklas but stood confidently several steps above Niklas, bringing his eyes over Niklas’ head.
Niklas’ heart pounded. Ambushing an unexpected doctor was different than engaging with a pair of trained soldiers.
His body hurt. He was by no means battle-ready.
“Do you know who you’re talking to?” The guard asked, stepping down nose to nose with Niklas.
Niklas didn’t move.
“Arth, that’s enough,” the younger man stepped beside his guard, looking at Niklas as if he was the most intriguing thing he had ever seen. “Obviously, this is just a little misunderstanding.”
“Boss, let me take care of this,” the guard said.
“Where are your manners, Arth? Look at this specimen. He’s built like an ox. He didn’t shrink from you; how many people do you know who hold their own like that? This Sharderin is a wolf.”
Niklas looked from one to the other, unsure what to make of them. His eyes darted to the pistol on Arth’s hip. If he moved fast enough, he might be able to get it.
“Apologize,” he growled, stepping into Arth and forcing the man back.
“Hey!” Arth barked, shoving Niklas in the chest.
Niklas stumbled on the steps and missed his footing as he fell back.
He flailed his arms as he tumbled head over heels down the few steps. He tucked his head and broke his fall properly, but a few deeper scabs cracked on his back, and his knee flashed with searing heat. Niklas felt his ears flush red as he looked up at Arth from the dirty cobbles.
“Please, sir!” Lill cried. “He doesn’t know what he’s doing!”
“Pink!” Niklas snapped as he scrambled to his feet. He was only vaguely aware of his pain as he focused on the men in front of him.
Arth rested his hand on his pistol. “Tsk-tsk,” he hissed as he shook his head.
Niklas froze. What was happening? He was a Sharderin Drone. He had not trained his whole life just to be humiliated on a Relrin street. He should have more valor.
“Gentlemen, please!” the younger man cut in, holding a hand toward each one. “Arth. Step back.”
The armsman nodded and flashed a degrading smile down at Niklas before stepping away.
“I have never seen a Sharderin with such...bite!” the younger man grinned. “In fact. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance. Who do you work for? I must meet him.” He stepped down the stairs and stuck out his hand as if expecting Niklas to shake it.
Niklas stared at the hand without returning the gesture.
“Ah, right. The apology.” He spun and walked halfway up the stairs to where Lill held her hands clasped tightly to her chest. “Ma’am.” He tipped his hat. “That was quite rude of me. I beg your pardon.”
The plump woman blushed fiercely. “Please–” She looked around in embarrassment. “It’s fine.”
The man smiled with a twinkle in his eye. He spun and turned toward Niklas. “Good enough for you?”
Niklas slowly nodded, though he still felt embarrassed that Lill saw him act so clumsily in her defense.
“Now,” he offered his hand again.
Niklas lifted his nose and turned away.
The young man’s smile melted at the response. “Don’t you have any manners? Are you sure you want to ignore me?”
“Who are you?” Niklas asked absently.
The young man blinked in frustration, as though not knowing who he was was more offensive than getting called out in public. “You’re new around here?”
“Yes.”
The man nodded. “Well then, Newcomer, I did as you said. Now, would you do me the favor of coming to my office? I might have an employment opportunity for you.”
Confused, Niklas turned to Lill. What was the meaning of this?
“You’d best go, dear,” she said. “No need to make things worse. I’ll wait for you.”
The man motioned and led the way up the stairs into the shop.
Niklas hesitated but followed.
Niklas found entering his first Relrin public space surreal. The shop was primarily lit by the bay windows and was covered with rows of shelves packed with tin, wood, and paper boxes. There was also plenty of fine glass drinkware, so delicate he feared even looking at it may cause it to break.
“I am Wilbur Teaman!” the man introduced himself as he led Niklas down an aisle and behind a counter. The tall and thick Arth spoke sternly to a smaller worker in a storage room.
“I move and sell in the tea industry. I have ten other shops like this throughout the Soutvor, Estvor, and Garnivor regions. I am one of the biggest tea distributors in southern Relgar. I’m surprised you have never heard of me.” He spoke with emphatic pride. His valor in his work was evident.
“As I said, I’m new to the area,” Niklas said.
“You sound foreign. Are you from the Uppervor region?” He opened a door and led Niklas into a private room. His second guard trailed close behind. It was a neat study, minimal in most respects, lit by another set of windows that overlooked the street outside.
“In a way, I’m from many places,” Niklas said, hoping not to disclose too much, if any, information about Pit Forest.
“Please, have a seat,” Wilbur offered. “I hope your bondholder won’t be missing you?”
Niklas felt a flush of sickness in his gut. Did everyone have to assume he belonged to a mother killer? “I’m not a slave.”
“Oh,” Wilber paused, looking a little disappointed. I recognize the woman you came in with. She lives in the same compound as one of my dear friends. I understood that she’s a debtbond but shouldn’t have assumed.”
Niklas shrugged.
“What is your name, freeman?”
“Niklas Loga.”
“Funny that I’ve never seen you at Paramount Alred’s herd compound before.”
“Like I said, I’m new to the area.” Teaman’s association with the compound was too coincidental for Niklas to let his guard down, but Wilbur’s words felt proud, not deceptive.
“I’ll bet you wonder why I didn’t have you arrested for badgering me?” he started.
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“Arrested?” Niklas said in surprise. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Yeah, you’re definitely new to this place. You pushed Arth.”
“He pushed back,” Niklas said.
“That’s justifiable in the eyes of the law. You should be more careful. Some men would have you arrested for raising your voice to them.”
“Oh.” Niklas looked down. He would have to be much more careful about what he did publicly.
“But not me. Do you want to know why?”
“Why?” Niklas had a feeling Wilbur would tell him whether he was interested or not.
“Niklas, there are two kinds of people in this world – the cattle and the wolves,” Wilbur started his sermon. It was clear from his tone this was a conversation he had with many people, no doubt to appear wise in the eyes of his friends. “The cattle can only see what’s in front of them; they let the course of life move them. Wolves push back and make their own waves. I think you might be a wolf, and I could use a man like you.”
He produced a bottle and a pair of crystal glasses, poured a small amount of yellow liquid into each, and slid one over to Niklas. Niklas glanced down at it and made no move to accept it. Only officers or those of higher rank were allowed to drink liquor in Pit Forest, and most didn’t.
“What employment?” Niklas asked.
Wilbur nodded to his guard, who shut the door. “How would you like to see Prime Paramount Alred ruined?”
Niklas raised his eyebrows, his curiosity finally overwhelming his indifference. “Who? Isn’t that the pink who owns the cattle compound?”
“That’s right. You’re not from around here. Prime Paramount Alred is the regional ruler here and an enemy to some associates of mine. So we’re gathering people to help us. We could use someone with your bite.”
“You’re looking for fighting men, for brusiers?”
“If I were looking for thugs, I would hire bums in the street. Any cattle can be a thug. I’m looking for wolves, agents and enforcers to act for me.”
Niklas sighed. “I’m not going to be here for long. I’ll be gone in two weeks. Besides, I don’t know this, Alred. I have no reason to fight him.”
“What if I change your mind?” Wilbur leaned forward and started rubbing his fingers with his thumb. It wasn’t a gesture Niklas was familiar with.
“I’m afraid I’m unavailable.”
Wilbur frowned. “Don’t refuse me. I have never seen a Sharderin who I thought might be a wolf. You’ve seen the street greys. They result from bad breeding – they’re lazy, they’re without ambition, they are, simply put, cattle. Not you, though. I could use you.”
“Is this your way of making new friends?” Niklas frowned as he felt his valor ignite and start to smolder.
“There it is!” Wilbur cried, pointing at Niklas victoriously. “That bite! You are an anomaly among your kind. You just need to look at The street greys, the dead eyes, the worthless; every Sharderin eventually becomes that, but not you! That’s why you intrigue me!”
The more Wilbur spoke, the more Niklas was sure he disliked him. He was entitled and proud, like a Zealot. He looked at people as if they were pieces to some game.
“Listen, tea boy!” Niklas got to his feet.
He felt a firm hand clap on his shoulder. The guard standing by the door had moved directly behind him.
Wilbur’s eyes twinkled in entertainment. “Even if you are a wolf like me, Niklas, remember, you’re in my lair.”
Niklas’ hand itched for his reaper's blade, but he stopped himself. What was he going to do? Kill them? Even if he could beat them, there was a law and order in this place that he did not yet understand.
Still, his valor pulsed from smolders to a flicker. He yearned to turn on the guard, smash his face into the polished desk, and throw the arrogant merchant through the bay window. As much as he wanted to attack, he had no delusions of overthrowing either in his current state. “I don’t care about your leaders or your quarrels,” Niklas said, “and your childish system of classifying people isn’t as profound as you think.”
Wilbur frowned at that; Niklas insulted something that he held with valor. That made Niklas smile. It was almost as satisfying as twisting a knife in Wilburs’ gut would have been.
“I hate your kind,” Wilbur said, “you’re cheap, weak, and expendable. And even if that isn’t you, you can’t deny that of the rest of the Sharderins.”
Wilbur was wrong. If only he knew. Sure, the Sharderins who stayed behind in Relgar after the genocide lacked valor. But if only he could see the thousands of warriors trained up from birth, waiting, plotting, and preparing for when they would fulfill their glorious vendetta. If only he could see their terrible weapons designed to destroy everything he knew and loved. Then, they would shatter Wilbur’s aggressive confidence.
“Do you know the reason why your people were beaten and destroyed eighteen years ago?” Wilbur said. “It’s because they were cattle. Peaceful with no bite, they were a disgrace to Momalgar, and for it, they could not survive.”
Niklas’ valor flared. “You talk of bite! Maybe you’ll remember you murdered our mothers! You plotted and slaughtered them without warning. Don’t speak of that horrible day like you had any valor. Don’t claim the glory of battle from massacring the week. You weren't brave! You were cowards and liars!” Niklas clenched his jaw, and sweat trickled down his temple.
Wilbur’s face dropped slightly but then smiled again. “Glory, battle, Valor? Maybe you aren't a wolf. The only thing that matters is control. How you obtain it doesn’t matter.”
Niklas stood, shrugging the hand off his shoulder, and tipped over his glass. The clear, yellow liquid ran freely across the leather top of the desk. He spun for the door.
The guard jumped for him.
“Let him go,” Wilbur snapped at the guard. “He came as my guest, and even if he insulted me, I’m better than him.”
Niklas ignored the taunt and pulled the door open.
“Even if you are a wolf, Niklas! If you fight the way things are, you will fall. I offered you friendship, and you scorned me.”
Niklas shut the door much harder than he intended to and stomped out of the shop, pushing startled people aside as he went.
“Niklas!” Lill cried when she saw him. “That was a right stupid thing to do.”
“I’m not sorry,” Niklas said. “The Pink insulted a Mother; he’s lucky.”
His fuming mind was speaking now. If only he could do it again. Arth would be the one at the bottom of the stairs, and Wilbur would–
Lill slapped him across the face, and he yelped in surprise.
“You’re lucky!” she snapped. “This is their world, Niklas! You can’t do whatever you want and hope to escape it. Praise Kel, you’re still breathing.”
Niklas touched his stinging cheek and looked at the trembling Lill wide-eyed. He obeyed the codes, yet again, it offended a Mother. What was he meant to do?
She looked at him in earnest. “Let’s go,” she pleaded. “Let’s get away from here before Wilbur makes you apologize.”
Niklas’ Valor flickered out abruptly, like a candle in a gust of wind, and he nodded in agreement.
He followed her without a word, not wanting to aggravate her further, as she went about the rest of the day's affairs. She exchanges tokens for food and other necessities. They weren’t gold. As they traveled, Niklas noticed at least five more Sharderin men with hollow, sunken, and empty eyes. They sat around doing nothing. Seeing them made him sick. Given food, training, and years of discipline, these could have been Drones, but these were without valor. These were the remnants of those who didn’t exile themselves to the wilderness all those years ago.
Another thing that left him more than slightly unsettled was all of the Relrin mothers working! It wasn’t just the compound; women throughout the town performed menial duties. There was no degree of reverence from the men. They treated the women as though they were Drones. He had been taught that the Relrins had no respect for their mothers, but this was just disgusting.
Shuddering at the pathetic sight, Niklas carried all of Lill’s things for her, not wanting to burden the mother that he escorted. It wasn’t a hefty load, but with his aching back and limp, it proved harder than carrying a cannon shell.
With great effort, he followed Lill back to the compound. He felt winded and fell behind, but there were no other Drones or detachment to mock him for it, so he didn’t allow himself to feel too bad.
They returned to the compound, and Niklas unpacked, struggling to find any space to put anything in the cluttered apartment.
“Mother Lill,” Niklas said, growing frustrated. “Please allow me to turn some of this extra stuff in.”
He was rewarded with a sharp blow to the head from a thick wooden spoon.
Niklas yelped and rubbed his head to find Lill pointing at him menacingly with the spoon as though she were brandishing a Drones blade.
“I warned you about calling women ‘mothers.’ Call me ‘Mother’ again, and I’ll deal you another blow!”
“Of course, Mother!” He said, bowing his head. “Beat me as you see fit!”
“What?” She snapped. “I don’t want to beat you! I want you to stop calling me Mother. You’re making me feel old.”
“What...what should I call you then?”
“You can call a woman ‘ma’am, or ‘my lady’ here. Miss if she’s young.”
“‘My lady?’ Mothers do not belong to me; saying ‘my lady’ is blasphemy.”
“No, it is simply a respectful form of address. It’s flattering even.”
Niklas was silent for a moment. He would have to make a few changes to fit in. “My lady?”
She snorted. “I’m no noblewoman. Call me Lill or sister.”
“Of course, my sister,” Niklas said apologetically, “I’m sorry for calling you ‘Mother.’”
“It’s okay.” She sighed. “But you need to work harder at blending in. If others discover you’re from Pit, they won't trust you.”
“How do I blend in without becoming a Relrin?”
“For starters, you don’t attack people in the streets.” She scowled. “Fighting will get you hanged. For the rest, you are lucky your hair is darker and your skin is closer to a Relrin than ours. You could marry a peasant or debt-bonded Relrin woman, and your children would almost blend in perfectly.”
Niklas had no clue what she was talking about. He was a man. He couldn’t have children. Maybe she had misspoken?
“You could probably become a house servant,” Lill said but stopped short as she bent to examine his healing face. “Maybe not. Your face is damaged badly. If you like slaving away until you die, you could work in the factories in the city. Though, that will likely crush your spirit. We’re willing to keep you, but you’ll need to pay your way once you recover.”
“Pay? How?”
She looked at him, startled. “I suppose, being raised in the demon wood, you wouldn’t have any notion of money?”
“No,” Niklas shrugged apologetically. The word was foreign to him. Was she talking about gold? That was against the law back home. The clan provided everything they needed, and they returned what they didn’t use. They technically weren’t allowed to own any sort of property. Everything belonged to the clan, and they assigned their gear to them to use.
“Here we are.” She fished out three of the metal tokens he noticed her trading for food. “These two are raskers. One is a cesh.”
“Cesh!” Niklas cried out. “Where do I get those? I need 2000 of them!”
She started at his outburst in surprise. “That’s...an oddly specific number…”
“How do I get them? I need some!”
“You get them by working! Different work will get you different amounts.”
“I need 2000!” Niklas cried again, “What work will get me that in two weeks? I’ll do anything.”
Lill laughed. “You’d need to work for years to get that much.”
Niklas felt his stomach sink. “But...there has to be a way.”
Lill shook her head. “I’m sorry, but there’s no honest work a Sharderin worker can do to get that much in less than one or two years.”
Niklas slumped back. “The cesh I get, I can keep?”
“Of course. You’re a free man.”
“But then...but then, in theory, you could have millions of them eventually.”
She laughed again. “That’s dreaming. But yeah.”
“What would I even do with it?” Niklas asked, still confused by Relgar’s money system.
“Buy a manor house, buy three, buy a ship, drink fancy drinks, and go to balls and banquets.” Lill sighed dreamily.
“I’ll do it,” Niklas said, feeling determined. He had to.
“Niklas,” Lill said with tact. “I already said. It can’t be done.”
That wasn’t what she said. She said there was no honest work that would get it. But Niklas didn’t point that out.