“That’s one mighty powerful trick you just pulled.”

Marcus had found Tarken back by the waypoint at the center of the village. The warrior had done a double take upon seeing him return, before pulling him back into the tent.

“Usually I like to build up to it,” Marcus admitted, “you know, keep it under cover for as long as I can, before dying horribly and dramatically at a critical moment.” He shrugged. “But for whatever reason I decided to just get it out of the way this time.”

Tarken snorted. “I appreciate you forgoing the drama, then. Lilian calls me tight. I call it stress.” He leaned back and rolled his neck. “I understand why you act the way you do now, I think.” He leaned forward. “But just because you get to cheat death, doesn’t mean the rest of us are so lucky.”

Marcus was well aware of that fact. It was a lesson he had learned multiple times—painfully.

“I know.” He pursed his lips and leaned forward. “That’s why I help people. I can just walk away from my problems.” In fact, he had. “But many people can’t walk away from theirs. And when I see other people struggling?” He paused. “That’s not something I can walk away from.”

Tarken stared at him intently. Marcus met his gaze, and after a moment, the warrior spoke. “You don’t know our struggles. You haven’t lived our lives. If you want to help, be my guest—but we don’t want trouble.”

Marcus tilted his head and frowned. What did he mean by trouble?

Reading his expression, Tarken continued. “We survive by lying low. We make ourselves poor targets, and we don’t antagonize men like Salieri.”

Whoever this Salieri was, Marcus was growing increasingly displeased with him. “Three of his men threatened to burn down your village,” he retorted. “Antagonize him or not, it seems to me like he’s a problem.”

Tarken sighed and rubbed his forehead. “From what Lilian told me, they were a scouting party with one particularly aggressive member. Yes, it’s concerning—but I suspect that their boss was merely collecting intelligence. And no, their capture isn’t a form of antagonizing—from what I know of the man, he’ll take it as a standard risk of the business.”

Marcus clenched his fist. He took a breath and relaxed.

“I can see it in your eyes that you mean war,” Tarken continued. “Please, for all of our sakes, consider the repercussions of your actions.”

***

Marcus found Lilian by a simple stone well on the outer edge of the encampment. The afternoon sun had dipped below the tops of the trees, and a gentle breeze carried the scent of the dinner preparations through the air. When he had left Tarken’s ‘command tent,’ several women had begun slow roasting some kind of large animal over a fire.

“I’ve decided that I’m leaving for the Riverways tomorrow,” Lilian said as she waved him forward. “It’s one of the four major cities on the island,” she explained. “Do you want to come? It should take just a few days. I mean, I know you just got here, but to me you seem to be the sort who can’t sit still for more than a day at a time.”

Rubbing his chin, Marcus considered her offer. He had a feeling that he and Tarken would butt heads—and while he didn’t mind continuing to help out around the encampment, he was called to adventure like a river leech was called to a particularly veiny thigh.

“Sure, I’ll tag along,” he decided.

“Wait, where are we going?”

Upon hearing the familiar voice, Marcus turned around, coming face to face with a curly haired young man. Berret.

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“The Riverways. And I didn’t say you were invited,” Lilian scolded, placing her hands on her hips.

Berret sulked. “Is it because of the barrel incident?”

Lilian snorted as she hauled a full bucket up to the lip of the well and untied it from the rope. “No, but you’re not helping your case there. But sure, I guess you can come. We need a pack carrier, after all. I intend to bring back as many supplies as we can.”

Berret scratched his head. “Supplies? What are you going to trade with? We don’t exactly have any money…”

Lilian rolled her eyes as she carried the bucket back towards the center of the encampment. The two men trailed behind her. “I didn’t say we would buy the supplies. There are plenty of rich merchants in the Riverways, after all.”

Marcus chuckled, and Berret furrowed his brow. “What? What does that have to do with—”

Exasperated, Lilian turned around and bopped him on the head. “We’re going to steal them, idiot.”

“Oh.”

Upon reaching the central clearing, Lilian brought the bucket over to where an elderly man was sorting through scraps of meat, sinew and bone. “Water for your broth,” she said, and the man thanked her with a nod and a smile.

Marcus’s attention turned to the central waypoint.

“How far out from the Riverways is the nearest waypoint?” He asked.

“Right at the city docks,” Lilian replied.

Marcus frowned. “You said it would take a few days. Why not use the waypoint?”

Lilian shrugged. “Berret and Tarken are the only ones who have added it to their map,” she explained. “And Tarken is a wanted man.”

“And Berret?”

Lilian laughed in response to his question. “What, you think I trust him?”

Berret scoffed, and the trio made another trip to the well. They continued following Lilian as she brought water to various people, until she snapped and told the two men to get their own buckets.

Once their tasks were finished, the trio regrouped back at the center of the village just as the dinner was served. Marcus was disappointed by the broth—it was plenty savory, but there was no salt—not that he could blame the cooks.

The meat and vegetables, however, surpassed his expectations. According to Berret, the commune saved the vegetable garden and any recently caught large game for arrival day.

“Hey, it’s an anus!”

Marcus pointed at the newly risen moon. The pale, puckered circle glowed with a cool light that contrasted nicely with the warm afterglow of the sunset.

Lilian stared at him, mouth agape in disbelief. “It’s a mouth, you weirdo. Look.”

Marcus looked back at the moon. The pale outer rim slowly curled back, revealing rows of jagged, radially symmetric teeth. Marcus arched an eyebrow. This place just got weirder and weirder.

“I heard you had a private discussion with Tarken,” Berret interjected. “What was that about?”

Marcus shrugged. “He said I would die if I continued behaving the way I have been, so I demonstrated my particular flavor of immortality. Then he told me not to cause trouble.” He paused. “I don’t understand how he can cave so easily to a man like Salieri. Actually wait—does anyone want to explain who Salieri actually is?”

“Okay, ignoring the immortality bit,” Lilian began, “Salieri is a… well, he’s the biggest crime boss on the island. The Warden may be our ruler in principle, but in practice? If anyone can claim that title, it would be Marco Salieri.”

“Not that the Warden isn’t strong enough to assert her authority, if that’s what you were wondering” Berret interjected. “She’s just…”

“Hands off,” Lilian finished. “Most of the time. As for Tarken…”

She shared a strained glance with Berret. Marcus took a crunchy bite of his roasted onion.

“...He was kind of like you, once,” Lilian finally began. “Fun. Lively and energetic. Seemed like he could take on the whole world.”

Marcus licked the caramelized juice off his lips and doubled the amount of attention he paid to the conversation.

“He fought one of Salieri’s lieutenants.” Lilian sighed. “He won. But before he could capitalize on his victory, they slaughtered everyone he was close to.”

“They lost more people than they killed,” Berret continued. “But it didn’t matter. Not to Salieri, and not to Tarken.”

Marcus clenched his jaw.

He understood why Tarken acted the way he did now. The warrior wasn’t alone—Marcus knew exactly how it felt.

But the hero wouldn’t back down.

No—a man who took revenge in such a manner couldn’t be allowed to remain in power. And as for a woman who allowed a petty tyrant’s tantrums to take their toll in lives, all while possessing the strength to assert her authority and stop him?

Well, Marcus couldn’t allow her to remain in power either.

It was time to go to war.