Marcus bumped into Leeroy’s shoulder on purpose and caught his gaze. They were cleaning up after practice in the courtyard and Sergeant Tick still watched them with his hawk eyes. Marcus leaned in and cleared his throat.

“Do you know anything about employment at Headmaster Lorken’s estate?”

Leeroy’s brows furrowed, and he scratched the back of his head. “Why?”

“I’ve heard it’s easy and good money,” Marcus said, shrugging.

“Yeah, sure, but not for you.”

“What do you mean?”

Leeroy glanced around and they fell into step next to each other, walking toward a pile of training equipment lying on the ground a few feet away.

“Everyone knows who you are now,” Leeroy said. “They screen the guards who work for Headmaster Lorken, even the ones who are just temporarily filling in. You’ll never pass and even if you did, your leg might be an issue.”

Marcus was walking without his crutch today, but it wasn’t in stable smooth motions. More like wobbly limpings forward. He had gotten better and had been working out like crazy recently to try to get muscle strength back in his leg. But it was a slow process and his crutch was still with him on most days.

Leeroy picked up two staffs and handed them to Marcus, then he reached down again and picked up a padded shield. They continued back toward the side of the building where the storage was located. Other soldiers circled around them like sharks, waiting to maybe overhear tidbits from the dragon cult soldier and his friend.

Marcus swallowed hard and leaned on one of the staffs as he walked. His leg ached, and he hated himself for needing to lean on anything at all.

“What do you want the money for, anyhow?” Leeroy asked.

“My family,” Marcus said. “They’re having a hard time back home. I want to send them money to help out.”

This was a lie. His family wasn’t at all going through a hard time financially. But he didn’t want to tell Leeroy the true reason, that he didn’t want the money at all. That the only thing he wanted was to spy on Headmaster Lorken for Mel. To get the information on why she had been kicked out of Falden. But he couldn’t tell Leeroy this. He couldn’t tell anyone what he really wanted.

“I can help out,” Leeroy said. “It’s not much. But I have some money saved.”

Marcus shook his head. “No, I can’t take your money. I just want to earn a bit more than what we get from the army. But if it’s not possible, then so be it. My family will probably be fine, anyway.”

Leeroy placed the padded shield, and the staff Marcus was holding into the storage unit. He turned back and faced Marcus when he was done.

“I heard some soldiers talking about working for the Taveck’s,” Leeroy said, lowering his voice. “They have these strange stories about something going on in the mountain. They told me they guarded an entrance inside during the night, but no one seems to know why or where it leads.”

Marcus frowned, looking at Leeroy with puzzled emotions. This was not what he had been expecting to hear. He didn’t care much about spying on the Tavecks. He trusted Austin by now to tell them if he knew anything, but this just sounded strange.

Sergeant Tick blew his whistle and yelled, “Practice over. Hit the showers.”

Leeroy threw Marcus a glance and lifted one eyebrow, but Marcus just shook his head.

“Nah, the Taveck’s sound too serious. I’ll look for something else around town.”

#

It was late when Marcus made it down into the bunker after his meeting with Mel and the others at the Last Stance. He didn’t bring his crutch down with him today and Eric seemed to notice this, looking at his leg and smiling. Marcus took the seat next to Eric and prepared himself mentally for the many questions the storage clerk might have for him tonight.

Eric licked his lips. “So all your exercise down here during the night is paying off?”

“It seems that way,” Marcus said.

“How long until you will run again and be rid of this place, I wonder. Soon you’ll be up there on the surface, fighting the beasts and the shadows again.”

Marcus nodded. “Hopefully.”

“Why do you hope for that?”

“Because,” Marcus said. “I’m a soldier. Soldiers need to fight. Without the army, I’m just not sure who I am anymore.”

Eric watched him and his lips seemed to curl up at the sides into a half-smile. Marcus felt a chill running down his spine. He sat up straight and put his arms on the table.

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“Do you know anything about getting employment at Headmaster Lorken’s estate?” Marcus asked.

Eric’s eyes widened, a little surprised it seemed at Marcus showing any particular interest in, well, anything.

“I hear from time to time soldiers taking a shift over there, earning some extra cash. Yes.”

“Do you know what the requirements are?”

“Why? Are you thinking about working there?” Eric asked.

Marcus shrugged, trying to seem noncommittal. Like this didn’t mean anything to him. “I might be in need of some extra money and thought I might ask around for job opportunities outside of the army. Something extra on the side, you know.”

Eric shook his head. “It’s not for you.”

“Why?”

“You’re not from Aldrion. Headmaster Lorken doesn’t trust people from outside, especially not from the dragon cult.”

Heads around the room snapped up when the dragon cult was mentioned, looking at Eric and then at Marcus. Marcus swallowed hard, feeling the attention from the others like a hot knife in his belly. He knew they were listening to their conversation, but this felt a little over the top.

“Sure,” Marcus said, fainting disinterest. “Thought I could ask at least.”

“But from what I’ve heard, you’re not missing out,” Eric said.

He watched Marcus, seeming to want him to ask what he meant by this. But Marcus didn’t want anyone to know he was that interested in the topic. Marcus leaned back in his chair instead and rubbed a hand over his knee, pretending to be more interested in his wounded leg.

Eric leaned in toward him. “I was dating this girl who works for Lorken. Like his secretary or assistant or whatever. She seemed to know a lot about him and she said the guards were not the lucky ones. If you know what I mean.”

Marcus kept his eyes on his knee, rubbing his hand over it and wincing softly. It did hurt a little, but not as much as he was pretending to. He made a noncommittal grunt, as if he’d barely been listening. But Eric seemed to take this as approval to continue.

“She said she’d rather be cleaning his sheets or washing his clothes. Anything other than guarding his estate. She didn’t understand why all the soldiers thought that was the best way to earn money. When there were easier things to do that didn’t involve risking their lives for Lorken.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Marcus said.

He looked up at Eric and caught his gaze. Eric seemed done with his story and leaned back into his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. Marcus shrugged again and walked up from his chair to the empty surface between the entrance and the table.

The eyes that had been on him only a couple of minutes ago when he had been talking to Eric slid away. Like they had seen this too many times before and really weren’t interested in watching someone do strength training in a bunker again.

Marcus bent to the floor, making an explorative squat, just feeling out his muscles and the ligaments. He felt his knee squeak a little, but not too much protest. When all eyes had been turned away from him, he continued with his workout routine, feeling sweat glistening on his forehead.

Then, in the motions and repetitiveness of the training, he let his mind wander. He thought about the closed door that was guarding the Lorken estate and about the one that had opened tonight. Could he pass as a cleaner, a laundry-man, and infiltrate Lorken’s most intimate spaces? Would that give him the information that Mel wanted?

Deep down in his chest, he felt a rumble and an ache. He didn’t want to confront that feeling that made his chest feel tight with tension when he thought about Mel still. He refused to go there. He had promised her they would only be friends from now on and therefore he could not think about her in any other way. He wouldn’t let himself go there.

He didn’t dare ask that deep aching part of himself why he was doing this. Why he was going to these lengths to find out some seemingly useless information for her. But he knew he was risking a lot by doing this. If Marcus got caught spying on Lorken or the governor, he would definitely be kicked out of the army and lose his only sense of belonging. He just needed to not get caught.

#

Marcus headed into town square the next day after his weapons training and stood close to the broken statue for a moment. He looked around at the merchant stalls and at the people snaking through crowded spaces just to not miss out on the daily sale of vegetables.

He couldn’t see anyone selling services like washing or cleaning. The only merchant’s advertising services were a cobbler a bit down a side street and a tailor that had a sign hanging out from an alley.

Marcus headed for the flower stall, thinking that he might as well ask anyone if he couldn’t see what he was looking for. He took his time getting there, still limping a little on his wounded leg. The merchant looked him up and down when he arrived at the stall, seeming to judge him only based on appearance.

“Are you looking to buy flowers for your girl?” he asked. “Keeping them around while in the army can be difficult.”

Marcus put a frown on his face and stared daggers at the merchant. He didn’t seem frightened though, he just stared right back. Marcus let out a deep sigh and leaned in toward the merchant.

“I’m not here for flowers,” he said. “I just want to know where I could get some dry-cleaning.”

The merchant’s brows shot up. “Dry-cleaning? Why would you need that? Doesn’t the army pay for their own?”

Marcus rocked back on his heels, thinking this over. Yes, it was true that they had laundry service in the army and Marcus had never thought about where his clothes were cleaned or by who before. Even more of a reason why Headmaster Lorken wouldn’t have thought much about it either. Clothes were just clothes.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Marcus said. “But you see, it’s not for me. It’s… for that girl you mentioned.”

The merchant watched Marcus with a skeptical expression, but ultimately seemed to decide that Marcus wasn’t harmful. He pointed down a sidestreet and wiggled his nose.

“Down that way, there’s a warehouse. They don’t have any signs or anything. Everyone knows who they are. They usually don’t take private orders unless one has a lot of money. You can check in there, not that I understand why you would want to. But it’s your afternoon you're wasting, I guess.”

Marcus nodded, looking down at the street the merchant had pointed at. “Thanks, I will remember you if my girl ever wants flowers.”

The merchant gave him a wave and then a look of distaste. “I should have made you purchase something before I gave you directions.”

The Merchant shook his head, and Marcus took a step back. He let out a snort and met the merchant’s scowl with a smile.

“See you next time,” Marcus said.

The merchant said nothing as Marcus made his way down the street.