I learned that Mariah was not from another world, but her grandfather was, so she can level up and take a Class. We partied up with a guy named Connor. He’s a super annoying tough guy who loves flirting with Mariah. It pisses me off, but Mariah says we need a Blacksmith, and he’s the only one that’s our level. Tomorrow we’re planning to raid a dungeon. Apparently, there’s a super strong boss inside that specializes in physical attacks. Connor has a skill know as Iron Forged which grants us with armor, so it should be a big help.
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Fel was asleep, hugging Markus tightly. He released her grip, replacing himself with his own bundled up blanket. He looked at their tiny stove, the simmering embers still a bit warm. Only three hours. And the Masters can have as much as they want.
The night was a cold night for the summer. Markus shivered through his tattered cloak as he stepped out into it. It was still very dark, with dawn hours away.
Looking around, Markus noticed that none of the other Common tin huts had any smoke bellowing from them.
The Masters must have taken everyone’s coal. Markus thought to himself, his anger seething inside him.
The Cottage lay atop of hill, a shining beacon, well lit, with the warmth of smoke generously pouring from its chimney. A mockery to those who froze in the cheap tin homes below.
Markus crawled up to it, careful to cover his approach, avoiding the sight of windows lest the Masters kept watch. He doubted it. The Masters were probably way too drunk and busy beating and raping to matter. But Markus was careful anyway.
He reached the cottage after a couple minutes, peering through the glass window. It appeared to be a common area, well furnished with stone tables and stools. The glass was fogged from the warmth within, but Markus could make out the figures of the Masters drunkenly sitting at the tables. It seemed as if most of them were there.
Sneaking around to the backside, Markus spotted a glimmer of light. He peeked around the corner, spotting a single figure seated in front of a small coal stove.
It was Master Roy, thick furs draped over his shoulders, cursing and drinking alone. Markus saw that he had his Metal staff at his feet, the weapon often used by the Masters.
“Damned watch duty…” Master Roy said to himself, wrapping his furs closer to his body. “As if the Commons would do anything…”
Markus took a step back, his boot crunching slightly in the snow.
“Who’s there?” Master Roy rose, staff in his hand. “Frost Wraith? Some Common?”
Markus remained where he was, trying to remain silent. After a minute or so, he peeked around the corner. Master Roy was seated again, warming himself by the stove, staff clenched tightly in his hand.
Have to find another way in. Markus thought to himself.
He snuck around the cottage, risking walking in front of the door. He snuck past it, no guards to speak of. Rounding around to the otherside of the building, he noticed an open window, warm steam pouring from it.
He stopped. A figure laid in the snow drift. It was a woman, her face buried deep in the snow, bruises running the lengths of her naked body. Leftovers of the Masters brutality.
This could be Fel someday.
Markus walked past the body, climbing up and over into through the window. The warmth was the first thing that hit him. It was so warm, that he began to sweat. Like the deep in the mines, but much more pleasant.
The Pipes. They're the primary means that are used for central heating. Many of the larger buildings, including the Cottage have a large coal stove in their basements allowing for heat to be distributed throughout the building. In the Hearths, most of the districts are warmed from the Hearths themselves, which are massive coal stoves. He heard Fel’s voice in his head with perfectly clarity once. She had told him about this a long time ago, when she first started reading.
He also noticed just how much things the Masters kept within the building. It was all metal,but the inside wall was lined with leather and fur. To help with insulation. Fel’s voice told him. The beds were made with animal skin stuffed with feathers and springs, the blankets were thick and excessive. Lanterns hung near the ceiling, illuminating the entire room, much different from the dark hovels Markus was used to.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Markus pushed aside the leather strip that functioned as a door, stepping out into the warm hallway. Various strips of leather lined the doorways, all leading down it to the common area.
A figure emerged from the door as he stepped in front of it, a Master stumbling out into the hallway. Markus panicked, scrambling backwards into a nearby room. After a few seconds he peeked out from it. The Master was still there, hunched over. It was Master Krell, the man that had taken Markus’s and Fel’s coal.
After a moment, the Master lifted his head and left towards the common area. Markus hesitantly followed after him, stopping as he heard faint whimpers from the room he had emerged from.
He stepped inside, still crouched. There in the corner, a girl cried. She had bruised running up and down her arms and legs, her fingers covering her swollen face. As Markus took as step closer, the girl cowered.
“Please, Master. Please, no more.” She cried.
“I’m not a Master.” Markus whispered.
The girl slowly pulled her fingers away.
“Markus? You’re Fel’s brother. What are you doing here?”
“Taking back what’s mine.” He said, trying not to look at her ruined face.
Her name was Melony. Markus knew she was a friend of Fel’s. Looking at the what the Masters had done was too much of a reminder what fate awaited Fel if she ever lost her usefulness.
“You’re going to steal from them?” Melony asked.
Markus nodded.
“Do you know where the boiler is?”
“The coal stove you mean? There’s a small one in the kitchen.” She said.
“No. The boiler. The one that heats the pipes.”
Melony though for a moment.
“I don’t know how the pipes work…. But around to corner that way there’s a big metal door. I’ve only ever seen Master Krell go back there. He always carries this key with him.”
“Thank you.” He said, sneaking back towards the door.
“Markus…” Melony said as he was about to leave. “Take everything from them.”
“I will.”
Sure enough, there was a door there. Compared to the leather strips that the rooms had, this door was a true, heavy iron door. And it was barred shut, a large padlock holding it closed.
I need the key. And Master Krell has it.
The Masters lazed about the common area, either slumped over drunk or half heartedly drowning themselves with drink. One thing was for sure, they were too drunk to recognize Markus. He noticed that the servants, having filled their quotas of beatings and serving drinks, were huddled around the large stove, drawing in its warmth.
Markus pulled off his cloak, leaving it in a pile on the floor, before walking into the room, imitating a servant. The Masters regarded him with disintest, more interested instead with finishing their drinks.
Master Krell laid slumped over in a corner, metal key hanging from his belt. He had fallen asleep mid drink.
Markus made his way over to him, doing his best to appear cowardly and scared. A strong hand grabbed his arm, tugging him forcefully.
“Who… are you? Why…are..” Master Thomas slurred, his eyes struggling to focus.
“I probably let him in.” Master Ned sang, swirling his mug of ale. “You now my fondness for the weak little things.” He chuckled, chugging down his drink.
“That’s why… you gotta beat the weakness out of them.” Master Thomas laughed, punching Markus hard in the stomach.
He fell over, the pain real, but his apologetic pleas a fabrication.
“So weak.” Master Thomas smiled, looming over the boy. “Couldn’t do anything even if they were brave. It’s why they’re beneath us.” He laughed, turning away from Markus, not noticing the defiant stare burrowing into the back of his neck.
Markus crawled away, making towards Krell. Snatching the key was easy. It came off his belt with a simple pull. Getting away was even easier. Markus just walked out.
They don’t care about us. They’re so sure we won’t fight back they let their guards down like this.
The padlock fell from the door, the fall softened by the carpet that lined the floor. With effort, the iron door opened, a surge of hot air hitting Markus.
So hot. Way too hot.
A metal staircase led down into the basement. The stairs were moist with water, steam swimming in the air. Markus carefully stepped down, using the guard rail to keep from slipping on the slick steps. He felt the furnace before seeing it. A large, looming orange glow, with piles upon piles of coal surrounding it. Three workers slaved away, watching the flames, making sure to dump a new pile to keep the flames surging.
They did not regard Markus, for they were focused on the fires. Still, he was careful. He reached one of the piles, taking the coal into his hands. Here it was. The very thing that kept them alive in this world of ice. And there was so much of it.
He took handfuls of it, stuffing it down his shirt, till he could fill no more. He then took his cloak, laying it along the ground, he began to pile up coal. He tied the corners, forming a makeshift bag he threw over his shoulder.
Returning the key was easy. After dumping off the coal at his home, he simply returned the same way, placing the key back onto Krell’s sleeping form. He also found some food and water, sneaking it to Melony who was now laying in Krell’s bed. She thanked him profusely.
Markus stepped back out into the cold night, a sense of triumph washing over him. He had counted his load. About thirty-five pieces. Still not what he once had, but it was thirty-five days worth of work in a single night. He wished he could of stolen more, but the cloak bag was filled, and the servants had grown suspicious, almost spotting him as he tried to make his way back down.
No matter. He had won. He stole right under the Masters noses. And he was one step closer to escaping this frozen hell, one step closer to protecting Fel.