We made our plans. Jacob had been provided with the schedule of routes the city needed its Griidlords to cover. Together, we consulted the map, assessing known fiends and bandit groups. I say "consulted," but in truth, it was mostly me consenting as Jacob made the decisions. He knew what he was doing. The longer our conversation continued, the more I realized that his doddering, disheveled appearance hid a keen and curious mind. His eyes lit up whenever we discussed Entropy. From fiends to storms, Jacob had an intense passion for it.
Planning took time, but eventually, Jacob seemed satisfied, gathering up his papers and shuffling away. I wanted to know if I’d have privacy, so I let my helm enclose my head and extended HEARING to listen as his irregular footsteps faded.
The voice said, “It’s a good plan. There’s a lot of experience to be had here. This is a solid chance, kiddo. We’ll level plenty over the next few weeks.”
I thought back to it, a mix of dread and excitement churning in me. “And then the Falling.”
The Falling was a wild concept. In a few short weeks, the Orbs would fall from the sky. The armies and Griidlords of Boston would go forth to compete with every other power for our share of the precious Flows they contained. The idea of crossing swords with other Griidlords was mostly thrilling. But being the nominal leader of Griidlords far more experienced than I was enough to twist my stomach in knots.
As Jacob’s footsteps faded, two new sets of footfalls began to approach. Two people, armored.
“It’ll be Alya and Tara. They were on long runs and should be back by now,” Chowwick’s deep voice rumbled.
I turned with a start. “Chowwick! You’re awake! How… how are you?”
Chowwick chuckled roughly, though there was pain in his voice. “I just had a few pounds of steel cut out of my legs, lad. I’ve been better.”
“Will you… are you going to be okay?”
Chowwick said, “The white cloaks tell me I’ll fight again, but I’ll only barely be ready in time for the Falling.”
I shook my head in amazement. “Your wounds were so severe.”
Chowwick said, “You’ll get used to what some time in the pod can do. It’s boring as hell, and you need to get used to letting the Pod handle things, even...well, you know. But it’s magic. That scrape on your ankle will be good as new by tomorrow.”
His gaze shifted beyond me, and I turned to see Alya Vaelstrom and Tara Bleakwind entering. Their helms were down as they spoke closely. Alya was easily the most powerful Griidlord in Boston—a renowned Scepter, perhaps the finest in the world. As a Scepter, she contributed little during the Falling, as their vulnerability made them rare in the field. Instead, the Scepter was typically tasked with defending the city, using BEAM to protect Boston from opportunistic invaders. Tall and proud, her face was long and elegant, and her fair hair flowed behind her in silvery waves.
Tara was petite—not as tiny as Katya, but a head shorter than Alya. She had a small, girlish face with a button nose, and her dark hair was cut short. She was eye-catchingly pretty.
I let Assess give me more about them.
Subject: Alya Vaelstrom
Status: Chosen Scepter
Level: 63
Level 63 was by far the highest I’d encountered since gaining Assess. It was also, by my understanding, a rare height. A Griidlord was considered a success if they reached the 30s.
Subject: Tara Bleakwind
Status: Chosen Arrow
Level: 26
Tara had been an Arrow for over 30 years. If she hadn’t broken the Level 30 barrier yet, it was unlikely she ever would. She was a competent, if unspectacular, veteran. Looking at her youthful face, it was hard to believe she was nearing 60. She met my eyes, and the wink she gave carried all the energy of someone my age.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
They said Order changed the way the mind aged. A Griidlord could live for a hundred years and, instead of becoming a sage in the body of a twenty-year-old, would largely retain the mindset they had when they entered the suit. Even centenarian Griidlords were known to take risks like a youth, feast like a youth, and chase partners like a youth.
“What are you girls nattering about?” Chowwick’s voice rang out across the chamber.
Both women turned to him, their faces breaking into easy smiles.
Tara said, “We were just making bets on whether our new Sword would survive his first Falling.”
Alya swung an armored fist into her companion’s shoulder. The blow might have killed a man, but between the two of them, it was enough to turn Tara’s shoulder and provoke an exaggerated yelp and an overly played display of shoulder-rubbing.
Alya turned to me, her face serene and assuring. “We were talking about the Green Men in Buffalo and how they managed to recruit a Griidlord. But first, Tiberius, greetings are in order. We were in the arena together before, but we haven’t shared words. I’m Alya. It’s good to meet my new Sword.”
Tara just waved the fingers of one hand while clutching her mock injury with the other.
I said, “It’s an honor.”
Chowwick cut in, “You never said it was an honor to meet me.”
I couldn’t remember what I’d said to him at our first meeting. “I told you something of the sort,” I replied.
Alya smiled, a genuine, self-contained smile. “I’m excited to serve under you. You’ve achieved an awful lot in a short time.”
I looked between her, Tara, and Chowwick, waiting for someone to point out the absurdity of the idea. I was only level 10, mere days into my time in the suit. The lowest level among them was double mine, with many times the experience. It seemed madness that I would lead these god-like figures.
Chowwick cut through the moment. “How did the Green Men get their fingers in the ear of old Perdinger?”
I knew the name. Perdinger was the Griidlord who had gone rogue from Buffalo.
Alya shrugged as she moved to her pod. “The same way they always do. They find some pain, slight, or injury and leverage it.”
Tara slinked to her own pod, casting glances my way as she moved. “They’re only doing what they think is right.”
Alya settled into her pod, the clouds of strange whiteness beginning to envelop her lean form. "They're subversives. They destroy lives. Look at Perdinger—running from capture, a Griidlord of many years, brought low to struggle like a common criminal. Do you think that's where he saw himself when he won his suit?"
Tara slipped into her own pod, wrinkling her nose in response but saying nothing.
I asked, "What exactly happened with Perdinger?"
They all paused. Alya stared at me and then said, "Forgive us, Tiberius. I forget easily how quickly your world has changed. Do you know of the Green Men?"
"Well, yeah. Kind of. They’re rebels who want to rewrite the order of things—an end to Lords and Ladies, taxes, rules."
Alya smiled. "Well, depending on who you ask, that's part of it. They are rebels, and they're not unique to Buffalo. There are Green Men in every city. They model themselves after Greenbay, probably even receive support from Greenbay. They preach equality for all, no man holding more than any other. It’s not an ignoble idea, but it’s impractical. All men may have been created equal—no one can testify to that more than you, a man of common station who defied all odds to win a most coveted suit. But I struggle to understand how, in their world of equal wealth for all, anyone would find motivation to work or invent. Disparity may structure our society, but it motivates us, putting power in the hands of those driven to use it for the betterment of everyone."
I hesitated. Alya, like everyone else in the room, was a member of a noble house. Of course, she’d support the traditional structure of society. Father, when he mentioned such things, had detested the Green Men too, though he also stood to lose much in their world of common ownership.
"And what happened with Perdinger?" I asked.
Alya shrugged. "They got to him."
Chowwick added, "They worm their way in, lad. It’s happened before and, sad as it might be, it’ll happen again. They bent his arm with women or blackmail, or they twisted his mind. They got a hold of him, and he was found out. Now he’s a dead man walking."
There was a darkness in the air, an unspoken warning: don’t let it happen to you. I wondered if my common origins made them distrust me. There was no evidence of it, but the thought lingered.
"What did he do?" I pressed.
"There was an attempted uprising," Alya said, "a coup. It's nothing new for Buffalo. That city's been in turmoil for years. The ones I feel sorry for are the common folk caught in between. Buffalo’s nobles are a mess, and the Green Men have a real foothold there. Meanwhile, the common people lack trust in their leaders and fear the Green Men will come for their property. It’s chaos."
"But they still gather more Flows than we do, every year," Tara remarked.
Alya smiled thinly, glancing at me as she replied, "Maybe not. Not any longer."