Crack-boom.

Smoke curled out from Kye's mouth as he sat at his desk, bent forward over the papers in front of him. Rain came down in a torrent outside his window, the droplets forming a cacophony as he tried to focus on his work. The little candle beside him barely provided enough light for him to read. His work conditions were terrible, but that was the plight of the Port Authority.

He wore his orange jumpsuit open. The rain did nothing to stop Dry Turtle's relentless humidity. His white mask lay on the desk beside him, its fearsome-toothed grin staring up at him as he worked. Every once in a while, he would look into the mask's dark eyes and remind himself to have that kind of ferocity in his paperwork.

"Benji!" he yelled, setting his Red Phoenix cigarette on his ashtray as he looked for his lieutenant.

"Yeah, boss!" Benji looked up from his copy of today's World Daily Press before immediately looking back down.

He wore his white mask askew across his head, leaving his strong-jawed, tanned face completely exposed in the candlelight. Kye sighed, putting down his pen as he stood and walked over to Benji's desk. Several unfinished forms waited there, and Kye was sure that Benji was leaving them there for him.

"What's so important in that paper that you can't do your share?" Kye asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You haven't heard?" Benji turned the paper in his hand, folding it so one particular article was visible.

"Well, clearly I haven't," Kye said, rolling his eyes. "I'm too busy filing the paperwork for those robbers today. We would have beat the storm home if you were doing the same."

"I sleep in the barracks, boss."

"Well." Kye scratched at the fuzz on his chin. "It's the principle of the thing, isn't it?"

"Right," Benji said, giving him a withering stare. "But look at this article, boss."

"Announcement," Kye read, side-eyeing Benji as he looked back and forth between his lieutenant and the article. "In light of recent events, the Scions have made a decision regarding access to the Dark Meridian. For the first time in history, those who wish to journey beyond the Erth are invited to come to Magnus Hortus. Those who will brave the unknown will be welcomed into the ranks of heroic explorers."

Benji gave Kye a sidelong glance, and Kye quickly skimmed the rest of the article.

"They're inviting creeps and villains to come out of the shadows and go somewhere else," Kye said after reading the rest. "Looks like they're going to try and catch the worst of them on the way out, but some will make it through."

"Explains the uptick in business," Benji said. "We've been seeing more and more ne'er-do-well running around recently. I heard there was a murder at Cat's Cradle we missed earlier."

"We can't be everywhere at once." Kye sighed. "When we heard that message a few days ago, I thought everyone would go insane scrambling toward the Core, but hardly anyone moved."

"That's because people like comfort," Benji said. "They don't want to see hardship, they don't want to explore, they just want to live decent lives."

"Then why are we dealing with more ruffians?"

"Because those people have it bad, and they want it better by any means necessary." Benji shrugged. "Think about it. If you have a home and a family, why would you want to go to an entirely new world? What's the point in risking what you already have?"

"Better opportunities? Adventure?" Kye licked his lips. "I've heard of gentlemen explorers, nobles who want to see the far stretches of the world. Surely, they will send people out to see if they can profit from all this."

"You know the smuggling ring we broke up last year?" Benji asked.

"Yeah, they were importing drugs from somewhere, not selling them in the shops but on the street."

"You ever wonder where those drugs came from?" Benji asked. "We never found out, but they all had the same mark as the ones sold in the shops."

"So they stole some shipments," Kye said. "I don't get what you're on about."

"Do you ever wonder where those shipments come from? The ones with the four different labels: Black Turtle label alcohol, Red Phoenix Smokes and Medicines, White Tiger Steel, and Green Dragon Lumber."

"They're companies, aren't they?" Kye asked, looking back to his ashtray. "All of that comes from the Core."

"I think the nobles in the Twelve Kingdoms already do business over the Dark Meridian," Benji said, tapping his finger on the desk. "They had all the time in the world to establish trade across this Dark Meridian the message was talking about. They're only comfortable letting us through now that they've conquered it all."

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"So you think this is all a conspiracy to get people out into the Dark Meridian?" Kye asked.

"I do," Benji said, crossing his muscular arms over his chest. I think that they're all in cahoots to make as much money as they can from us working men."

"I'm not seeing the benefit for them."

"I don't either," Benji said, and Kye sighed.

The one problem with Benji was that he would go off on these hard-hitting conspiracies and then come up with nothing in the end. He had the mind to take things apart but didn't always have the intelligence to put all the pieces back together.

"Well." Kye took a deep breath, set down the paper, and looked over his paperwork. "Speculating about it isn't going to get us anywhere. Unless you're planning to quit and buy a ship to sail to Magnus Hortus, there's still paperwork to do!"

"Like I would." Benji laughed. "I'm one of those people with too good a life to go somewhere else. Not that I don't dream about it on occasion. Dry Turtle is the place for me."

Kye stalked back to his desk, and as he started to work on his paperwork, he noticed that Benji had picked up the paper yet again and was already pursuing the articles. Kye sighed. He needed to find a better underling if he had to do all the work anyway.

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Thwip-crack.

"Grah!"

William Harper swung his whip hard into the man's exposed back, drawing another line of blood in the candlelight as he continued his most sacred work. One lash. Two lashes. Three lashes. Four. He swung the whip again and again. Each time, the man screamed out and pulled against his restraints. Each time, William smiled.

It was ecstasy—pure bliss.

"Know that the Scions are watching over you!" William yelled as he brought down the whip another time.

Thwip-crack.

"Ahh!"

"Know that they are watching you and know your every thought of escape!"

Thwip-crack.

"Grah!"

"Know that they are judging you for even daring to think of stepping out of line!"

Thwip-crack.

"Ahh!"

"As the word says! Only by following their given path can a person truly know peace. Only by submission can a slave know happiness. It is your place to serve by divine order. Do! Not! Forget!"

As he hit the slave the last three times, he realized he was breathing hard. His face, slick with sweat, gave him pause. How many hours had he been disciplining slaves today? How long had he been at the sacred work? He smiled, wiping the sweat from his brow with his sleeve.

"One hardly finds a chance to reflect on the time when enjoying their work so much," he said, looking down at his whip before curling it up and replacing it on his belt.

William turned away from the slave that stood hooked into the whipping post, blood streaming out of several long lines cut across his pale skin. It was a pity. He would have been worth more unmarked. However, the slave had tried to escape and almost forced his way out the door in the small warehouse he and Roy rented in Dry Turtle's West District.

"Here, cool yourself down for a few hours," William whispered, picking up a bucket and tossing its contents over the slave.

Splash!

Cold water gushed out of the bucket in a torrent, covering the slave in an instant and leaving him shivering like a rat in a rainstorm. William dropped the bucket, heaving hard as he turned toward the door. He would lock the slave away for a few hours, which would give the slave time to realize there was only one place in the world for his kind: at the bottom.

Thud. Click.

William closed the door and locked it as he exited into the hall, making his way toward the entrance to the warehouse where his brother was waiting for him. Roy sat at a table, looking out the solitary window in the room they had turned into a makeshift apartment. Rain pattered outside the window, and a heavy wind shook the glass.

A storm was upon them, bringing down the Scions' wrath to remind the people of Dry Turtle, who was above and who was below. William was just happy that he was above some others. Even if he was below the Scions and the nobles, he had the dignity of being above everyone else.

"I got the girl," Roy said, his chair squeaking as he turned away from the window to face William. "I got her and got out, just like you asked."

"None of the rest of the crew tried to come after you?" William asked, pulling out his chair and sitting down.

He leaned heavily on the table, his heart still racing from his sacred work. He had to lean forward on the table, and his skin stuck to the wood as he focused on taking deep breaths. It took him some time to gain control, and Roy waited for him, as his brother always did.

"One tried," Roy said. "I think he was that 'Sword Saint' fella. He isn't going to be any problem, William. I lost him proper as I was running and took enough turns that he had to go running back in the rain."

"That's good," William said. "I would have liked to procure all of them, but 'Thorn Queen' Leah will have to be the prize. It is very unfortunate that they left her unguarded for us to borrow."

"Unfortunate?" Roy asked, scratching at his growing stubble.

"For them," William said, raising one finger. "Fortunate for us, of course. That's the way of the world, though. You take advantage of others, or you get taken advantage of yourself. The Scions favor those who see an opportunity and grasp it."

"We're always good at that." Roy chuckled.

"Where'd you put her at?"

"In the cage with the 'prince,'" Roy said, raising his fingers when he said the word 'prince.' "It's the only cage we have that is made of the leeching metal. Should keep their curses under control until we can get them sold off."

"We haven't heard back from the buyers for the prince then?" William asked with none of the flair of his brother. "We sent out the message the moment we could. You'd think they'd be scrambling to come and take him off our hands."

"They'll come," Roy said. "You said it yourself, brother. They're proper folk. Underground people. They don't mess around from what I hear."

Roy was right about that. Anyone who worked in the more morally questionable trades knew how the Underground Lords operated. Whether it was getting contraband supplies and drugs or trading in people you shouldn't, like nobles, the Underground would operate across Erth to get you the lowest price. So long as you didn't cross a member of an organization, you were golden.

"The prince will bring a pretty doler," William said. "We just need to make sure no one but our buyer knows about the particular heritage involved. The Scions are fine with trading in lower flesh but selling a noble, that's heresy of the highest order."

"What do we care about that?" Roy asked.

"We don't." William smiled. "It is technically allowed, and that's the best kind of right."

Roy paused, looking into the air behind William before he burst out laughing. William joined him soon after. They laughed as the rain continued outside, and the storm drove on. They would make enough from the prince to live like kings for a time.

William would get exactly what he deserved.