Marcus woke up in a tree. Pale dawn light filtered through the silver branches, and a fluffy white squirrel stared down at the hero through ruby red eyes. It bared its curved fangs, before taking another bite of the small bird it clutched in its paws. Marcus smiled. The little murderer was so cute!

Another pebble bounced off his head.

“Get up, sleepyhead.”

Peering down from his nook in the branches, Marcus gave Lilian a cheerful grin. “I think you mean get down.”

Lilian fixed him with a flat stare. “That’s not… whatever. We leave as soon as we’re ready.”

After making use of the branches to stretch his back and joints, Marcus descended from his perch. It took him a minute or so to reach the gate—the tree he had chosen was right outside of the log fence.

He found Berret back by the well. The young man was washing his face with water from one of the wooden buckets, and he gave Marcus a cheerful smile.

“Tarken let me have my sword back,” he said.

“Wait, seriously?”

Marcus hadn’t noticed Lilian’s approach. The blonde woman was carrying a pack on her back and one in each hand. “I swear, if you lose it again, I’m beating your ass myself.”

Berret sheepishly scratched his head and shrugged. “You can try,” he muttered under his breath.

Lilian’s posture instantly stiffened. “Is that a challenge?” She demanded, dropping the two packs she had been carrying.

Marcus rubbed his hands together in excitement. Fight! Fight! Fight!

Returning to his bucket, Berret splashed his face again. “Maybe now that you have a mark, you might last long enough to make for a half decent warm up exercise.”

Lilian’s face contorted, and Marcus whistled innocently.

“Two marks,” she corrected, “And I’m warning you, I’m a whole lot stronger now.”

Berret sighed as he shouldered one of the two packs. “It’s not all about strength. You still need to develop skill.”

Lilian huffed. “Whatever. Go get your stupid sword. And any supplies you need.” She paused as the swordsman trudged off in the direction of the command tent. “But not any food!” she called out hastily. “We’ll take care of that!”

Once he was out of earshot, she turned back to Marcus. “Last time, he brought nothing but cabbage.”

***

The stick whistled through the air and impacted Lilian’s torso with a sharp crack.

The young warrior was sent sprawling backwards. She rolled over with a groan, and Berret tapped his weapon on the ground three times. “How is the steelskin mark treating you?”

It was late in the afternoon—the trio had already stopped for lunch several hours prior, but the other two had wanted to stop again for a short rest break. Why they considered an intensive sparring match to be a good way to spend a rest stop, Marcus had no idea.

“I’m okay. It’s definitely pumping up my tolerance and endurance.” Lilian dragged herself to her feet. “Without it, I think that last one would have put me out of commission.”

Berret sighed. “I know you aren’t pushing the full capabilities of your first mark. What are you afraid of?”

“I’m not afraid of anything,” she growled—actually growled, “but you should be.”

Dashing forward with savage, inhuman speed and ferocity, Lilian closed the distance to her opponent frighteningly fast—but the swordsman simply blurred to the side while casually extending a leg to trip her.

It worked, and she sprawled to the forest floor once more.

Marcus appraised the swordsman with a critical eye. The young man carried himself with an awkward, humble demeanor, but he was clearly a highly skilled fighter. From his prior conversations with Lilian, the hero had expected Berret to be clumsy and ineffectual—yet he was anything but.

Dusting herself off, Lilian glared at her opponent. “Your marks are so annoying.”

Berret twirled the stick in one hand. “I take offense at that, actually. I like to think that I don’t have to rely on my marks to be a nuisance.”

Marcus grinned. He was growing to like this kid.

“By the way,” he began, sliding off of his rocky perch, “I’ve been wondering. Why didn’t you and Tarken slay the nightstalker?”

Berret shrugged. “We didn’t know for sure how dangerous it was, and it had already killed one of our marked. All of the attacks happened at night, so Tarken decided to let it be for a while before committing to a plan.”

Marcus nodded. As he stretched and rolled his neck, he caught sight of something bluish purple up in the branches above.

“Hey, look at that!” He said, pointing at the juicy fruit.

Lilian and Berret looked up in unison. The pair instantly froze, before simultaneously sharing a look. A mounting tension crackled through the air.

Lilian kicked up a cloud of dirt while Berret blurred in the opposite direction. Lilian began literally clawing up her tree, while Berret waited for a moment before blurring upwards, catching onto a branch midway up the trunk of his.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Taking advantage of a brief moment where both were focused on their climb and not their target, Marcus fired a thread upwards. The end stuck to the fist sized fruit, and he yanked it down, catching it in both hands.

The two competitors reached the midpoint between the two trees at exactly the same time. They both looked around in confusion, before hastily grabbing at each other.

“Which hand is it in, asshole?!”

“Hey! I know you took it!”

Grinning, Marcus took a juicy bite. The soft black flesh was both sweet and sour and smelled vaguely of baking spices.

It was, in a word, delicious—almost as delightful as the shocked and betrayed looks directed at him from above.

***

“No entrance without identification.”

It had taken the trio two days and several hours to reach the Riverways. In that time, Lilian and Berret had continued to spar, Marcus had experimented with his new marks, and Lilian had recounted the legendary barrel incident.

Marcus found the enrapturing account of the young man’s exploits to be truly inspiring. It was rare that the hero readily felt such kinship with another man…

Returning his attention to the present, Marcus took in the site of the city.

Gleaming white walls rose upon a rocky island in the center of the small estuary. Verdigris domes crowded each other like enormous fantastical mushrooms, and Marcus watched as a couple on the other side of the bridge flew a red kite in the wind.

“Under whose authority?”

Lilian was currently arguing with the three guards stationed at the mouth of the narrow raised stone bridge. Each man wore dark green reptile hide, and each of their chests was gilded with a golden stylized S in the form of a serpent.

“Under the power of Senator Marco Salieri, on Behalf of Warden Vespra L'enchaîné,” the middlemost man stated. “Now I’m sorry, but if you cannot produce acceptable identification, we cannot help you.”

Marcus frowned and turned aside to Berret. “Is this normal?”

The swordsman shook his head. “No. I don’t understand why she would restrict entrance, especially the day after arrival day.”

Lilian looked like she was about to press the issue, so Marcus stepped forward as well.

“You might not be able to help us,” he began, “but we might be able to help you.”

The central guard narrowed his eyes. “What exactly do you mean?”

“You work for Salieri, yes?” Marcus didn’t wait for the man to answer. “Just three days ago, we had, you could say, a bit of a conflict with a group of your employer’s men. Not to worry, we resolved the issue—but I’m afraid their termination renders their status as unemployed.”

The guards shifted their position, adjusting their stances, and the man on the left warily took hold of his spear.

Marcus raised his hands placatingly as he continued. “After experiencing firsthand the incompetence of Mister Salieri’s staff—not to suggest that such incompetence is universal,” he added hastily, “we decided that he could benefit from a little additional professional assistance.”

The middle guard scanned Marcus from head to toe. “You want a job.”

It was a statement, not a question. Marcus confirmed anyway with a nod.

The man frowned and turned to his companions. “Eh, what do you think?” He asked, clearly not bothering to make their discussion private.

“If they meant trouble they would’ve caused it already,” the left guard suggested.

“We’re always short pressed for skilled recruits,” the right man added. “Might as well take them to see the lieutenant. As long as you make sure to keep a tight eye on them, that is.”

The centermost guard returned his attention to Marcus. “...Right. Okay, you three can come with me—don’t even think of trying anything funny.”

Marcus grinned and glanced back at his two comrades. Berret had furrowed his brow, and Lilian was staring at him in shock and betrayal. Marcus waved them forward as he passed between the two remaining guards.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Lilian demanded in a harsh whisper upon catching up to him.

Marcus brushed her off. “Just follow my lead—trust me—I’m a professional.”

As they reached the end of the bridge and passed under the raised gate, Marcus dropped his third spawn point. It wasn’t a very practical location, and he would likely change it later—but something about it just felt appropriate in the moment.

The city felt cramped. Stone walls rose high on all sides as the guard led them down narrow, winding streets. Closelines crisscrossed the air between opposing buildings—some as many as four stories high.

After his arrival on the beach, his night in the commune, and his trek through the wilderness, Marcus felt slightly claustrophobic. He supposed it might have something to do with being on an island—or, more accurately, an island within an estuary within an island.

A young child played in the street before them with some kind of rope toy, and a man hauled a cart full of small loaves of bread in the opposite direction.

Despite feeling cramped, the town also felt strangely empty, and it made Marcus oddly uneasy.

As the guard led them deeper into the city, the atmosphere lightened and the architecture became grander. Marble mansion complexes sprawled left and right, each one crowned by a beautiful pale green copper dome. Marcus thought back to Lilian’s remark about Berret’s sword. If a piece of metal was worth a man’s life…

The guard let them into the entrance of one of the mansions. Instead of knocking, he simply strode inside—there wasn’t even a proper door.

He flashed a badge at the two private guards stationed at the entrance to the wide atrium. Sunlight streamed onto the tiled floor of the circular room from windows in the great dome above. A fountain gurgled in the very center, and a middle aged man in a simple white tunic and green and gold sash strode forward to greet them.

“May I welcome you to the home of Miss Vinroze on her behalf,” he began, performing a curt bow. “As Miss Vinroze was not expecting visitors at this hour, may I inquire upon your business?”

The guard—Marcus belatedly realized the man had never introduced himself—spoke first. “These three want to join up. They claim to have defeated three of Mister Salieri’s men, and I reasoned that Miss Vinroze might be interested.”

The butler—at least, that’s what he seemed to be—nodded. “Please wait here. I will inquire with Miss Vinroze shortly.”

The guard turned back to face the trio, but remained silent. Lilian and Berret clustered together uneasily, while Marcus whistled a tune he had picked up from the local songbirds.

Just over a minute later, the butler returned with their host in tow. The lieutenant was a tall, sharply featured woman, with rich brown hair arranged in an elegant updo. She wore a simple, dark blue dress, and strode forward with confidence and a clear sense of dignity.

Stopping beside the fountain, she appraised the trio. Marcus clasped his hands behind his back and smiled innocently.

“You claim to have defeated three of my men.”

The lieutenant’s voice was clear like cool water from a thin crystal glass.

“Marty, Hank, and Jake,” Marcus confirmed. “A scouting party sent to find a forest encampment.” He paused, and clutched a hand to his chest. “Take this as a token of proof.”

With a gentle underhand throw, Marcus tossed the galvanic channeling mark to the lieutenant. She snatched it out of the air and inspected it.

Satisfied, she tossed it back, and Marcus returned it to his heart deck.

“That’s enough proof for me,” Miss Vinroze said. “Now. You wish to enlist in Senator Salieri’s employ, correct?”

Marcus met her gaze. “Yes.”

The lieutenant flashed a tight smile. “Good. My guard will take you to your new superior. You.” She pointed at the bridge guard. “Take them to Augustus.”

The guard saluted, and turned to lead the trio back out to the street.

Marcus grinned. While he was a hero by trade, there was a certain joy in acting as a henchman.

“So,” Lilian hissed as they stepped off of the curb, “are you ready to tell me just what the fuck your plan is?”