“Wilbur is a nasty and slimy man,” Robin frowned in disgust. Thanks for taking care of Esther. I knew those Rowan boys had brought bruisers into Soutfel, but why would they harass Esther?”

“If they were actually the Rowans’ men,” Niklas interjected as they lay a board on the sixth stack. Despite being only on the third shift, they were making great progress.

To Niklas’ surprise, it wasn’t just him and Robin pulling their weight. A handful of other workers began to step up their game and started to produce more. Osred decided to make incentives available, and some top performers were stretching. Perhaps what made the competition in the yard bloom was that under Niklas’ counsel, Osred had let the lowest-performing workers go. He had hired new hands to take their place, and the yard was transforming.

“What’s Wilbur’s problem?” Niklas asked. “He’s so arrogant.”

Robin sighed. “Rumor is that Wilbur is self-made. A debtbond as a child. He didn’t inherit his enterprise but built it from the ground up. As much as I hate the man, he’s not lazy, and he’s wicked clever.”

“He’s vain,” Niklas said, remembering their first encounter. “He thinks he’s better than just about everyone.”

“He’s a real predator,” Robin agreed. “I know my sister is beautiful. But in this case, I wish he had never seen her.” Robin looked at Niklas. “He’s controlling and has the means to be so.”

“What does that mean?” Niklas asked.

“What?” Robin asked.

“You said your sister was beautiful. What’s beautiful?”

Robin stopped and eyed Niklas incredulously. “You’re serious?”

Niklas furrowed his brow. “Relric isn’t my first language!” he complained.

“It means pretty or attractive.”

Niklas splayed his hands and shook his head apologetically.

“You’re a strange man, Niklas,” Robin concluded. Something pleasing to look at, something that draws your attention.”

“Oh!” Niklas exclaimed. “The mother’s enchantment!” He recalled his previous encounters with Esther and the strange stirrings. “There’s a word for it!”

“Strange man,” Robbin muttered under his breath as he returned to work.

Someone spat at Niklas’ feet as they walked past. The gesture wasn’t unexpected. In fact, Niklas was surprised it took this long. Osred’s warning was correct. Already, Niklas could feel the distance between him and the other workers, even the diligent ones. They wouldn’t speak to him, but they would whisper behind his back.

Niklas could tell that they hated that he was different and that he had additional privileges. They could sense that his purse was heavier than theirs and that Niklas was Osred’s favorite.

But it was all part of the plan. Eventually, someone would challenge Niklas, and it was up to him to keep his place. Niklas had walked through this scenario a dozen times in his head, and so he was ready as it came.

“Hey!” Niklas snapped, spinning to recognize Tim stomping past.

At the call, Tim scurried away.

Seriously? That didn’t make any sense. Tim was a weasel, a small man. Niklas thought he might have to face off with one of the bigger guys.

Tim scuttled behind two bigger men, smirking at Niklas as he approached.

Of course, now that made sense. There was no way Tim would cross Niklas on his own, but now he had two brutes backing him up.

Niklas hesitated momentarily at that but cursed himself immediately after. He couldn’t afford to show reserve to these people.

They glanced at Niklas in a strange mix of defiance and disgust as he approached.

“Is something wrong here?” Niklas demanded as he stomped up to them. His voice wavered, casting a shadow of his unease. They outnumbered him, and even if he was slightly bigger than the biggest one, there were three of them.

“Yeah, we have a problem with you. Osred and Robin too,” Tim sneered.

“I didn’t know having friends was a crime,” Niklas scowled. “But maybe you wouldn’t know what that’s like. How much did you have to pay your boys here to back you up?”

“Who do you think you are?” Tim squealed in protest as one of his guys let out a low growl. “You skipped the hiring line. You’re obviously shooting to be crew leader or even foreman.”

Niklas shrugged. “I have my goals. What's wrong with that?”

“You think you’re better than us, corpse?”

Niklas bit back a hiss. He really hated that name. “It’s no mystery that I am better than you. It’s a wonder you haven't been booted from the yard yet.”

All three of them let out a cry of outrage. “Corpse wants to get buried!”

Niklas analyzed each of the three men quickly. The time had come to make a lasting impression. “No, who do you think you are?” Niklas demanded, stepping closer to Tim. “You think the yard owes you anything? You’re privileged to work here. There is only room for assets in this yard. If you’re going to drag us down, then go join the eastern yard!”

“I ain’t afraid of you,” Tim cried as he stepped back and glanced at his comrades.

“Well, you should be,” Niklas said. A hand on his shoulder turned him.

Robin shook his head at Niklas with a hand of restraint on his shoulder. “Don’t,” he warned.

The two thugs stepped in and pushed Robin aside.

Niklas had confronted them entirely without the fire of valor up to that point, but once they pushed Robin, Niklas felt the inner fire ignite. These men were peasants, not warriors. Only two. Oh, how Niklas wanted to throw a punch. He could probably beat one by surprise and face off with the other fair and square. No doubt Tim would run when he saw his friends drop. Only Robin’s warning voice in Niklas’ head held him back. “Fighting in the yard will get you instantly discharged.”

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Niklas couldn’t fight. He wouldn’t report them. That would make him look like the weaker man. His only other choice was to establish himself without touching them. To create an impression that they would never forget.

Niklas growled and stepped forward, jabbing a finger at their faces.

“What’s going on here?” Foreman Osred barked as he strode to the argument. He looked different. His clothes were clean, he had clipped his beard back, and he held his head high. He looked like a completely transformed version of the Osred Niklas had first met. Niklas couldn’t help but feel a spark of pride at his progress.

“This corpse thinks he’s special,” Tim snapped. “Until you make him follow the schedule like the rest of us, we’re going to take a break.”

Niklas moved to interject, but Osred beat him to it.

“Back to work, Tim,” Osred said, furrowing his brow in annoyance.“ Zach, Stephan, you too.”

“What about him?” Tim shrieked as he pointed at Niklas.

“He’s okay, Robin, too. You need to get to work.”

“I won’t until you make them do it too!”

“Get to work now,” Osred said sternly, “or I’m docking your pay one cesh.”

The three men stood firm.

Osred signed and marked his ledger. “One cesh docked. To work now, or I’ll make it three cesh.”

The two he called Zach and Stephan paled and turned to their work, leaving Tim alone.

“No! Where are you going?” Tim screamed. “He can’t do it to all of us. He needs us as a whole!”

“Five cesh from your pay, Tim. To work, now, or you’re out of my yard.” Osred threatened. “And no. I don’t need you. A whole queue of desperate workers would gladly take your place.

Tim’s face twisted in outrage, but he stomped off, murmuring.

Osred shook his head as he watched the tantrum.

The three of them watched him leave with grim satisfaction.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” Osred said suddenly, looking faint, like it had taken everything to keep his composure, and now it claimed its toll.

“You are doing much better, Osred.” Niklas grinned. “I thought you were going to wet yourself the first time you confronted a worker.”

“But not anymore,” Osred said with a weak smile.

“That’s right,” Niklas said, giving Osred a hearty slap on the back.

Osred glanced at his clipboard. “What’s the progress so far?”

“Six stacks,” Niklas reported. “We are doing much better.”

“It’s true,” Osred affirmed with a smile. Our productivity has increased this week, and more people have started contributing. We are establishing a culture of diligence.”

Sharderin culture, Niklas corrected inwardly.

“Keep up the good work, boys. Upper management is talking about increasing pay in our yard.” The foreman returned to his office with a hopeful air.

“He has changed,” Robin noted.

“No, he has simply found himself,” Niklas said. “When you don’t know how to face opposition or how to work, you are not yet a man.”

“Would you say I’m a man?” Robin asked.

Niklas nodded. “You work harder than everyone else.”

“Not more than you.”

“Almost.”

“True. I don’t know where I would be if you didn’t come around.”

Niklas smiled. He liked Robin. Like Niklas, Robin wasn’t a full Relrin. He wasn’t as rough and competitive as the other Sharderins Niklas trained with. But to Niklas’ surprise, he found that he preferred it that way. In the end, despite those who undoubtedly hated him, he also had friends, which was a first.

A subtle motion caught Niklas’ eye. He would have missed it if he hadn’t been watching. Banning, broad and bald, roughly brushed into the shaggy-bearded Wissian. Wissian scowled after Banning but didn’t move to confront him.

Niklas excused himself from Robin and jogged after Banning.

“Hey!” Niklas hailed him, causing him to turn in surprise.

He didn’t look at Niklas with the hatred Tim did or even with the general disgust of other Relrins. To him, Niklas was simply Alien. Banning looked at Niklas with a look of mixed confusion and worry. “What?” he asked, growing tense.

“I couldn’t help but notice you and Wissian aren’t friends.”

“So what?” Banning growled. “You going to go report us to Osred? It doesn’t get in the way of my work.”

Niklas waved a dismissive hand. “It’s not that at all. I was just wondering what you were going to do about it?”

He looked at Niklas, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Well.” Niklas started as sympathetically as he could. “The Rowan boys come into town, and Wissian joins them and thinks he can push whoever he wants around. Now, surely we can’t let that happen,” Niklas honestly didn’t know anything about the politics around the situation; all he saw was a grudge to be paid, and there was only one way that Drones back home solved problems.

“What do you want?” he asked suspiciously.

“I want to see who the bigger man is,” Niklas tempted.

“And?”

“Challenge Wissian to fight you,” Niklas said. “Let’s settle this like men.”

“Fight?” Banning asked, bewildered. “What will that solve?”

“Absolutely nothing, aside from sending a clear message that you and your kin are not to be toyed with, that you’re people are strong, and people shouldn’t throw their weight around without second thought…or am I wrong? Are your people easy to push over?”

He scratched his chin thoughtfully. He was a Relrin, but he was still a man. His pride was on the line.

For a moment, Niklas started to worry that he might be losing him. “Do you think you’ll lose?”

“Pit, no.” He snorted. “Wissian is a child. But he’ll never accept.”

“He will...if there is cesh on the line.”

Banning’s eyebrows arched. “I knew there was a catch.”

“Five cesh from each of you. The winner gets eight and their pride.”

“I ain't dumb. You forgot the last two cesh.”

“Consideration for my troubles. A man’s gotta eat.” Niklas smiled, his tongue wet with greed. He needed to be making much more money than he was. He hadn't received his first wage yet.

“I don’t need you!” Banning snapped. “I could arrange this on my own.”

“And you think he’ll pay?” Niklas asked. “Or maybe you’re afraid you’ll lose?”

He barked with laughter at that. “I think you’re a cheat. Who trusts a Sharderin anyway?”

Niklas stiffened. “An ironic accusation from a mother killer.”

“Whoa,” Banning held up warding hands. “I had nothing to do with that.”

Niklas flustered for a moment, almost ready to abandon his plan completely. But desperation spurred him on. “I get two for putting it all together. I will give the eight to the winner. I have a place where officers won’t interrupt.”

“Where?” Banning asked in surprise.

“Here,” Niklas said, “after hours. I have been working late, and Osred leaves me here alone.”

Banning’s suspicious face finally melted. “Well, I’ll be daft.” He chuckled. “I thought you were just a rule-bound goodie. But there’s nothing honest about you, is there?”

Niklas shrugged. “Just another guy looking out for himself.”

He laughed. He could understand that. “All right!” he agreed. “Go and tell Wissian. I bet the coward doesn’t have stones enough to meet me.”

“Get the word out,” Niklas said. “Your friends can watch and bet, but we keep it clean. If anyone cheats, they’ll answer to me.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Banning waved a dismissive hand. “Fair and square. I'd deny my own point if that weren’t the case.”

Niklas nodded. Good, he understood. “Great. I’ll talk to Wissian.”

Niklas dismissed himself and headed to Wissian, who worked the logging crane. The wood structure used counterweights to move logs from the channel to the cutting area.

“Hey, Wissian,” Niklas called. “A word.”

Wissian dropped the weight, allowing the crane to splash into the water. “I saw you talking to Banning,” he said without looking. “I don’t care what he says. I didn’t hurt his brother.”

“Is that so?” Niklas asked. “He doesn’t seem to care. He challenges you to my pit fight.”

Wissian seemed intent on not making conversation, but that caught his attention. “Your what?”

“My pit fight,” Niklas said absently. “You mean you’ve never heard of it?”

He shook his head. “Look, I don’t want any trouble.”

Niklas looked down sadly. “That’s too bad. I would have thought you to be one to jump at an opportunity.“

“What opportunity?”

“Oh, not much, really,” Niklas sighed. “Winner gets eight cesh. On top of that, you would teach him to spread rumors and accuse your good name. You’re not scared of him, are you?”

Wissian flinched. “Scared? No. I could put that old daft down ten times out of ten.” Wissian absently puffed his chest as he spoke.

“It costs five cesh,” Niklas said, and the shift in Wissian’s face instantly made him regret not telling him that sooner. “That’s only three cesh for winning!” he cried, causing heads to turn.

“Shh!” Niklas hissed, looking around in worry. “This isn’t the type of thing we can just go around shouting to the world.”

“Oh,” he said in apology. “The stakes are high, and the reward is small. I don’t know if this is in my best interest.”

“There are more opportunities!” Niklas tried desperately to reel him back in.

“I’m listening.”

“Do you have any friends who would want to fight?” Niklas asked.

“I don't know. I can ask around.”

“If they have cesh, they can fight. Same cost.”

“And that helps me how?” Wissian wondered.

“Put your money on the right people,” Niklas said. “And in no time, you could have two weeks' wages overnight.”

He smiled at that.

“But only tell people who can keep a secret. “The last thing we need is officers crawling over my event.”

“Oh, I think I can find the guys you’re looking for.”