The extra day proved to be much needed and was well received. Niklas’ headache matured, and he spent the day in bed. He endured the day full of insufferable med cravings. Lill attended to him with great care, but she was beyond confused. His infected lash marks had been healing at a tremendous pace until his med burned out. Now, they were left to recover a bit more naturally. His face was more or less normal now. The deep scabs of his faceless mark were the only thing that stood out.

By the next day, Niklas’ headache had died down a bit, and he found a tiny familiar flicker of valor. Not the fierce fire of valor the med caused, but the candlelight sense of valor that he suspected all men carried naturally. It was an instinctive fire that drove men to act and fight.

Better as he felt, he still had no cesh. So he was up early with Robin as they made their way to the lumberyard, sure to be the first to arrive.

A short time later, Niklas ignored the sweat on his brow as he accepted another log from Robin. He ran it through the frame saw. The saw groaned as it spat wood chips in the air. Sore and satisfied, sawdust began to build in a pile at his feet.

Niklas and Robin had found several ways to cut back on time. Not wasting motion or getting distracted, they made far more progress on their workload than everyone else in the yard. While focused on his work, Niklas avoided thinking about med.

The bell sounded, signaling them it was time for the third break. Robin looked at Niklas hopefully, but Niklas shook his head.

“Niklas!” he gasped. “We have already skipped our first two breaks. If I don’t rest, I’ll burn out before the end of the day.”

“No,” Niklas said, noting Robin’s obvious fatigue. He could tell Robin was trying his best to be stoic, but now he was reaching his breaking point. Robin had worked as hard as any Sharderin Drone Niklas knew, but it was taking its toll. “Soon,” Niklas promised encouragingly.

“Niklas, the next break isn’t for two hours,” he tried hopefully.

“Our next break will be soon,” Niklas insisted, though honestly, he was still struggling to figure out the next steps in the plan.

“What do you mean?” Robin asked, the panic of exhaustion dripping from his voice.

“Trust me,” Niklas said, nodding with respect. Robin’s efforts today had far passed any Relrin Niklas had seen yet.

Two men glared at them as they trudged back to the break hut. The spite was apparent in their eyes. Niklas could feel their dislike.

“What is their problem?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” Robin shrugged. “They may think we are shooting for position.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Niklas asked. “We are.”

“That sort of thing is frowned upon here,” Robin cautioned. “People can get jealous and start to feel insecure.”

He looked after them troubled.

“Are you worried?” Niklas asked, “Do you care about their judgment?”

“No! It’s not that.”

“You fear them?” Niklas asked, still unsure of his comrade's unrest.

“Look,” Robin started, “if enough men in the yard hate us too much, they could drive us out. It’s happened before.”

“Well then. I’ll go talk to them,” Niklas offered as he set down a plank and started after them.

“No!” Robin cried. “We just ought to be careful, that’s all.”

Niklas couldn’t help but feel amused. He concluded that Robin feared not only conflict but the very idea of confrontation itself. It was very different from the Sharderin society Niklas grew up in. Competition was the lifeblood of his people. Rivalry was their friendship, contention, their play.

“Don’t mind them,” Niklas said. “If they dislike us for our competence, let’s hope they hate us.”

Robin nodded but still looked worried.

The bell sounded, and the workers filed back into the yard.

“It’s time,” Niklas said, dusting off his hands.

“For what?”

“Break.”

“No, Niklas, that bell was to signal the end of the break. We should have gone in with them.”

“Come on,” Niklas commanded as he started toward the break-hut. “It’s all part of the plan.”

Robin flinched as he hesitated but left their workstation to follow.

“Hey, corpse!” a voice carried from behind.

Niklas stopped, his eyes flashing dangerously. The flicker of valor inside was just enough to make him care.

“If you wanted a break, you should have taken one on the schedule.”

Niklas turned to face the man. He was much smaller than Niklas. Was this man stupid? Did he not know math? Niklas was bigger than him in every way.

Niklas approached the small man, drowning him in his shadow. Niklas stuck his nose inches from the man's face, and the man shrunk from him, eyes widened.

Niklas smiled. His assumptions were correct. The Relrins were weak. This was a man who was unaccustomed to confrontation or contention.

Back in Pit, Niklas might have grabbed the small man and beat him down until he apologized, but the fire inside was so small that seeing him shrivel was enough.

Niklas snorted, spun on his heel, and walked to the break hut.

“Niklas, what were you doing?” Robin demanded. “Management will discharge you instantly if you fight in the yard.”

“I didn’t fight,” Niklas pointed out as he recalled what he had to do back home whenever he switched units. “I proved myself.”

“I don’t know what life was like in the haunted wood, but this behavior is unacceptable here.”

Niklas’ confidence wavered for a moment, and he stopped to ponder. Everyone had told him to blend in, first Lill and now Robin. They spoke with fear. Was he growing reckless? Or was their timid attitude what kept them down?

Niklas was half-Relrin; the Drones back home ensured he didn’t forget that. That didn’t change the fact that he was raised a Sharderin. That’s who he was, so that’s who he would be, med or no med.

Niklas saw Foreman Osred squinting inquisitively at a ledger, obviously struggling to determine what it said. He glanced at them as they approached.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“We’re taking a break,” Niklas told him.

“You want to take a break?” Osred asked, shifting uncomfortably. “The next break isn’t for another two hours.” He fidgeted. “Policy gives us four set breaks,” he explained, growing stiff.

Niklas smiled as he watched the man squirm.

Remarkable, every one of them. Could there be a more convenient culture in which a Sharderin could excel? They all hated conflict. Niklas could use this to his advantage.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“No,” Niklas interrupted, facing Osred head-on. “Policy gives them four breaks,” he said as he gestured to the laboring men in the yard. “We will break whenever we want.”

Osred didn’t respond, using whatever was written on the ledger as an excuse to not deal with the disobedient workers in front of him.

Niklas sighed in irritation as he took the ledger from Osred’s hands and looked at it. He quickly found his problem. Whoever made the order had jammed too much writing in one box.

“It says sixteen shelves of thirteen by eleven and a half and eight shelves of eight by five,” he said and handed it back.

Osred looked at Niklas with a look of sheer panic and grabbed him by the wrist. Leaving the bewildered Robin behind, he towed Niklas away from the yard into the makeshift office.

“You can read?” Osred demanded.

“Sure,” Niklas said. “Relric, Sharderic, and Colgan. I’m not bad either.”

“You sound like you can barely speak Relric. How can you read it?”

Niklas snorted. “Reading your language is much easier than speaking it. I was proficient at writing Relric before I tested out in speaking.”

Osred turned visibly pale.

Why was it such a big deal? And why was he struggling to… realization dawned on Niklas. “You can’t read, can you?”

Osred looked at Niklas, worried. “Mostly just numbers. In fact, it’s only because I can understand numbers that I am in charge of this yard.”

Niklas let out a bark of laughter. “You mean none of the workers can read?” he asked, gesturing toward the yard.

“They wouldn’t exactly be working here if they could,” Osred muttered.

“Then I am the most valuable Drone here!” Niklas realized.

Osred nodded. “See, that’s why I asked you to come here. I need my job for my family. I need you not to tell anyone you can read,” he begged.

“Hmm,” Niklas mused. He owed this man nothing. If he had a chance to increase his earnings, he would. Osred wasn’t a friend or even his boss anymore. He was competition. There was no reason to be merciful.

Looking into Osred’s alarmed face, Niklas felt a small bout of pity. Osred was utterly helpless before him. The feeling was new and strange.

Niklas growled at himself. Was he actually feeling sympathy for a Relrin? He was disappointed in himself, but Osred looked like a puppy being put out of its house. Niklas sighed. Edgar would laugh if he saw him.

“Do you have any women in your charge?”

Osred nodded. “My wife and my two daughters.”

That settled it. Niklas could have easily cut Osred out of the picture and taken his place, but it would be a grave sin if three mothers struggled for rations. Niklas felt a new feeling as alien as sympathy. It felt warm. Not hot like valor, but nice. Niklas cursed in his head. He knew that he was lying to justify himself. He wasn’t going to let this go completely.

“Maybe we can protect each other's interests,” Niklas said in surrender to himself.

Osred nodded with a sigh of relief.

“I’m going to need a raise,” Niklas said.

Osred nodded again. “I will arrange for a full wage.”

“I think you can do better,” Niklas cut in. “I need extra wage for both Robin and me.”

“I can’t just do that!” Osred cried in protest. “There are rules!”

Niklas shrugged. “You will find a way or become a Drone again, and I will get your mark.” Niklas bit his tongue. He was constantly slipping back into Sharderin terminology. He should have said, worker and foreman.

Osred slumped in despair, not showing any sign of catching Niklas’ mistake. “I’ll see what I can do,” he choked.

“Also, as of now, the policy only applies to the others. Robin and I will take breaks as often as we want, whenever we want to. We make the rules for us.”

“You’re crazy,” Osred cried. “You must be blind to not see that the others don’t like you. This will make them mad. They may even come after me.”

“Let me deal with them. And whenever you need me to read, call me in. I will read and write for you.”

“I don’t suppose I have much of a choice, do I?”

“No.”

“Very well then… deal.” He extended his hand.

It was the most miserable handshake Niklas had ever seen. “Don’t be upset.” Niklas was surprised to find himself trying to comfort Osred. “This is good. You just learned how to read and write. You will still take care of your women.”

“Thank you for understanding,” Osred said, as tears of a frightening moment passing came to his eyes.

It made Niklas instantly feel awkward. Crying was shameful. It was a sign of weakness, especially over something so trivial. “Hey, hey! Don’t do that.” Niklas said.

Osred nodded and wiped his eyes. He looked sad, broken but also relieved.

Was Niklas repaying Osred’s choice to hire him poorly? “Look, Osred,” Niklas started, “you and I have a common goal.”

“What is that?”

“We both want Western Lumber Yard to be best. It lacks efficiency.”

Osred nodded knowingly.

“Your men are undisciplined. They only care to fill hours, not make progress. They cheat the mill by sitting around when you’re not watching.”

“I know,” Osred confessed with downcast eyes. “But nothing I do works.”

“We can change the yard. You and I, working together.”

“How?”

“You must discipline them, Especially if they try to fight Robin or me.”

“Discipline them? You mean punish them?”

“That’s right. You need them to know that they are in your fist. You are the boss.”

“That’s dangerous. For me, I mean. Some of the men in the yard might try to hurt me if I discipline them in your defense.”

Niklas laughed. “Show authority, use a firm voice, don’t shrink. They will respect authority. They’re already more scared of you than you know. Well, not all of them. Some openly disobey, but we need to be rid of them anyways.”

“How?”

“It’s easy. Bark like a dog, stand by your word, take away what they want, and reward the diligent. Set expectations. The yard will clean itself out.”

“They are going to hate this,” Osred warned.

“The yard needs it.”

“They already hate you, especially Tim.”

Niklas looked at him inquisitively. “Who’s Tim?”

“The short, sour bloke who has been giving you nasty looks all day.”

“Why does Tim hate me?” Niklas snorted. “He’s little; he should watch where he walks.”

“Well, you’re the only Sharderin here. I guess having you around makes him feel small.”

“Don’t mind him. He is weak. We can only have strong men in our yard. Leave them to me. As allies, we will move our yard forward.”

Osred smiled. He didn’t look so sad or hopeless anymore. In fact, the promise of a better yard seemed to cheer him up considerably.

Good. Niklas felt momentarily guilty, pressuring Osred into giving them a raise. That type of thing was basically expected back in Pit Two. Osred was a simple man. He could perceive Niklas’ overbearing approach as an attack. If Niklas was seen only as a threat, then Osred would be rid of him first chance he could find. Not only that, but Niklas needed Osred’s backing if he wanted to stand up to those less favorable workers in the yard.

Niklas smiled, suddenly feeling ambitious. “Let’s move our yard forward, Friend.”

After Niklas dismissed himself, he met a distraught Robin who was working again.

“Hey!” Niklas laughed as he slapped Robin on the back. “Break time.”

“Are you fired?” he lamented.

“Actually, you just got a raise.”

Robin’s jaw hit the dirt. “No!”

“Let’s go.”

Now, he followed Niklas to the break hut to take a long, well-earned breather.

“We both get twenty-one and a half cesh a week,” Niklas said.

Robin laughed out loud and pumped his fist in the air. “What? Did you threaten him?”

“Not exactly.” Niklas said, “But we need to work like we’re worth a hundred, do you understand?”

Robin nodded intently. “Slaving away might actually be worth it.”

Niklas sighed as he stretched his well-worked body. He hadn’t run, rucked, or worked out in two weeks, and that was no state for a drone.

As they rested in the cool shed, Niklas watched the workers. Tim gave him dirty looks, but Niklas just smiled back. That drove Tim red with fury.

Niklas scoped out and evaluated all of the workers from a distance. Tim wasn’t the only one to glare, but two of the best workers who kept glaring at each other caught his attention.

“What’s their story?” Niklas asked.

“Wissian and Banning?” Robin said. “Wissian allegedly joined one of the young Rowan paramounts in an attack on some of Paramount Ripley Alred’s shipments. One of Banning’s brothers was working for Paramount Ripley, and I guess he got hurt.”

“What?” Niklas asked dumbly at the blast of news.

“Oh, right,” Robin sighed. “Forest man, I forgot. The Rowan house rules Estvor, a smaller region immediately to our west. A couple of their younger paramounts have been seen here and are acting out against Prime Paramount Alred.”

“What about?” Niklas asked.

Robin shrugged. “Oppression, injustice, money? I honestly don’t follow politics so well.”

Niklas smiled. The Relrins must have had fierce political rivalries, just as the Sharderins did. The thought made their nation look more vulnerable in his eyes.

Niklas looked at Wissian and Banning just in time to catch another dirty look between the two. He saw an opportunity, but not today; today, they would work. Niklas gave Robin plenty of time to rest but then roused him from relaxation. “Back to it.”

They labored in the yard until dark. All the other workers had left hours before, but Robin managed to get with the beat and soldier on. Finally, they left weary, tired, and satisfied. Niklas’ headache had all but vanished.

They returned to the compound to find the herdsmen and Sommerfeldts gathered around a cooking campfire, laughing and telling stories. At least twenty-five people were present, including men and mothers.

“Robin!” a young woman cried as she filed off from the circle and threw herself at Niklas’ friend, wrapping her arms around him. She had the same tint of an accent Robin had.

Niklas shied away from them in discomfort. It felt inappropriate in every way for a moth- ... a woman to hug a man.

“Robin, where were you? It’s late.”

She glanced at Niklas, and he caught a glance at her in the firelight. He took another step back. He was unarmed in the woods, easing away from a bear that caught sight of him. Niklas looked away. It was her, the one who used a spell on him earlier.

It started again, the stirring inside.

“Oh, Niklas!” Robin turned to him. “This is my sister, Esther.”

“Oh,” Niklas said as he looked at his feet, unsure what else to say.

“Where have you been keeping my brother so late?” Esther asked, punching Niklas playfully in the arm.

Niklas cried out and jumped back defensively.

“Easy,” she said evenly. “You’re so serious.”

Niklas looked around uncomfortably, looking for anything else to call his attention. That feeling was back burning fiercer than a fresh dose of med. What was she doing to him?

“What’s wrong?” Esther asked. “It’s not like I’ll bite.”

Beads of sweat formed on his brow. He didn’t want to talk to another Mother.

“Are you okay?” Esther asked, frowning slightly. “You look...ill.”

Niklas grunted, caught in a bout of confusion. He had no idea how to answer her, so he stomped past her, into the Sommerfeldt’s apartment, and slammed the door behind him.