Callan stared down at the bill of Dragon’s Silver in his fingers, turning the paper slip over and over as he listened. On one side was a silhouette of himself; he guessed James hadn’t bothered with the expense to rebrand the currency, plus it was vague enough to not really matter. He barely remembered posing for the artist on the balcony of his tower overlooking his home anyways.

The other side was blank except for the dragon’s head emblazoned on the paper’s shiny surface. It held the denomination of this particular bill in its open maw: one.

Callan turned the bill over in his hands and let the cold words of the dead seep into his mind.

‘Such a small thing,’ the skull said in a chilled whisper, ‘Such a small thing to almost get Halari killed over. That girl’s going to die, Callan. She’s going to die because you can’t let go of your home.’ It giggled in his head and its mocking laughter echoed in the darkness. ‘What were you after, anyways? A system from your dead empire? A relic that nobody cares about? You’re going to kill that girl. She trusts you like I did to keep me safe, and you’re going to ki—’

A knock at roused him from the void. Callan pocketed the Dragon’s Silver and opened the door to the small office room he’d commandeered from the Melokide Sect.

Halari smiled at him from outside and the skull’s cackling choked off. It tended to do that around the woman, as if terrified of her presence. And for that alone, Callan very much enjoyed being around her, even if there was some genuine shame tracing his spine at the moment.

“Can I come in?” she asked, stepping past him without waiting for his response.

“As you wish,” Callan said, closing the door behind her. “How’s your head?”

“Fantastic, those meds we got from the pharmacy worked like magic,” Halari said, lightly knocking her knuckles against her forehead. “And I hope you don’t mind, but they said I could find you in here. Why’d you lock yourself up?”

“Just needed a moment,” Callan said. He moved to stand by his new desk, an ugly thing that resembled an old hospital operating table.

“So you could soak in whatever stupid guilt you’re feeling?” she asked, fixing him with a knowing look.

Callan blinked in surprise. “How’d you kn—?”

“Oh come on, Callan,” she said, “you wouldn’t even look me in the eyes yesterday when you came to check on me.”

Can’t get anything past her, Callan thought with rueful grin. “I suppose I do feel the need to apologize, Halari. My persistent failure to understand this world almost got you killed.”

Halari chuckled and shook her head. “You’re such a man.”

Callan gave her a good-natured glare. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Taking responsibility for problems you can’t control,” she listed, “blaming yourself when people get hurt. I chose to fight Callan, and because I did, you got an opening to kill that damn bug.”

“That’s true.” Callan nodded heavily. “Still, seeing you get hurt because I was too… eager to recover an old system from my empire sat wrong with me. So, I am sorry.” He met her coppery eyes and held them.

Her face softened and she smiled brightly at him again. “It’s fine, I promise. Now, the real reason I came…” She pulled a roll of Silvers out of her satchel. “You gotta explain these. Everybody’s walking around with them in their pockets.”

Was it really that easy for her? Callan wondered, amazed. He pulled out his own bill and showed it to her. “These are Silvers, a type of money. The building was an old bank that I rightfully hoped had some in its vaults.”

“And money is…?” Halari spun the roll around and studied it.

“The most powerful form of exchange in history,” Callan said. “While I was gone, the barter system resurrected itself in the face of the end of the world, but it doesn’t work as well as this.” He flicked the bill up for emphasis.

Halari quirked her head to side. “But it’s just… a piece of paper.”

“If everybody uses it, if everybody values it, then it has power,” Callan explained. “It used to start wars, corrupt men, change the very face of the world.”

Halari frowned. “This little thing? Really?”

“It also used to let parents support their kids,” Callan said with a small grin. “It let them buy gifts, food, make their families happy. Used correctly, like Norio and I plan, we’ll reshape trade going into the future.”

Halari looked wholly unconvinced scrutinizing her roll of money. He’d given everybody around a hundred to kickstart the economy with but had slipped her an extra fifty. “I’ll… take your word for it.”

Callan chuckled. Her people had been equally hard to convince. Most of them just stared at the little slips of paper like they were some kind of divine toilet tissue, and an hour of explanations did little to convince them that Dragon’s Silver was the future of their commerce.

“It’ll take, believe me,” he said, thumbing his ring, “I spent weeks figuring how to do this when I was king. And on a much bigger scale.”

“I’m sure,” Halari said, replacing her roll in her bag. “Well, anyways, militia training is about to start for the day. I think they might like to see you there. Some of them have been wondering if you’ll come to watch.”

“Thinking about troop morale, hm?” Callan asked, a smirk curling the corner of his mouth. “Naturally, of course.”

Halari’s cheeks reddened for whatever reason; it seemed to embarrass her when he pointed that she really was an organic leader. The people were catching onto that too, he knew, and looked at her a lot more than she said they used to in the past.

“Shut up,” she muttered, grinning awkwardly, “Come on.”

Callan followed her outside of the Temple. The Quarry’s streets were active with people chatting, working, even trying to trade their new Silvers for whatever interested them. He saw one citizen offer a Silver to another, then point to the man’s house.

That’s the spirit, Callan thought, even if it’s not at all a fair trade. The place felt alive and much more familiar that it had when he’d woken, and the people were proving to be tremendously adaptive to their upheaved world.

The training yard was a strip of bare stone that hugged the cliff face. It was slightly wider than five men standing shoulder to shoulder and, for the time being, lacked any kind of training equipment. Old Bear stood before a group of twenty young men, watching carefully while they grappled and practiced tosses. With a limited selection of real weapons in the Quarry, the big man had suggested they work mostly on holds.

“How are they progressing?” Callan asked.

“Most of them are doing well, Great Flame,” Bear rumbled. “‘Cept for that one.” He gestured to a particularly mismatched pairing: one clearly a miner or hauler with the build to match, the other shorter and on the slighter side of physique. “Probably gonna recommend him for a scout role.”

Callan watched the shorter man fight. Like the rest of his fellows, he was entirely untrained in any formal kind of combat and his stature did him certainly no favors.

However…

The taller of the two went for a grab, nothing fancy, just a reach with his longer arms. He managed to get a grip on the smaller fighter by his arm and swung him around, then lifted him up awkwardly before slamming him to the stone. It was a hit that should’ve knocked the shorter fighter unconscious, but he rose unsteadily and tried to the tackle his opponent.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

Which ended with him tossed to the side in a heap.

Up again, Callan thought, impressed, watching him stand once more to face his competition. “What’s his name, the short one?”

“Dalvo,” Bear growled. “Foam family. Tenth to volunteer.”

“Oh yeah, his sister was asking about him,” Halari said. “Seemed worried since he’s well…” She gestured with a light, vertical wave of her hand. “I see what she means.”

“Fights like he has something to prove, though,” Callan said. Dalvo, now latched to his opponent’s leg, tried to use his whole body to take the taller man off balance, but even with the right mindset, ten day of combat training wasn’t enough to overtake years of foamwork. His larger foe fell on him, pinning him completely with his bulk.

Ten seconds later, Dalvo stopped struggling and finally tapped out his defeat.

Fights hard, Callan analyzed, but knows when to call it. Smart.

He turned to Bear and gestured for him to call them to attention.

“Men, attention for the Great Flame!” Bear shouted, standing himself. The militia volunteers immediately separated from their sparring bouts and formed into an enthusiastic array of unrefined salutes. “Tighten it up!”

The volunteers sharpened their salutes, bringing their feet together tighter and straightening their backs even more.

“Very good,” Callan said to them, nodding appreciatively at their effort. “You’ve progressed fast in these last ten days. As you are the first company of this Quarry, this is encouraging to see.”

A few looks of pride infused into a few of their faces, but Callan made a point to check on Dalvo. He looked proud like the rest, but more focused.

Somebody to keep an eye on, Callan thought. “Within the week, we should have more real weapons for you, but you show great promise with what you have to work with. You have every right to be proud of what you’re doing here.”

“When do we fight, Great Flame?” one of them asked. It was the bigger man Dalvo had sparred with. “The gildgrown, I mean.”

“Wait to be acknowledged first, boy,” Bear barked. “Don’t just ask questions!”

“It’s excused,” Callan said, waving dismissively with one man. “He’s enthusiastic, can’t fault him for that.” He focused on the volunteer. “We still have quite some time before any conflict is to be expected, so focus on your training. You’ll be expected to train the next wave of volunteers.” This seemed to placate the larger recruit, who nodded in agreement.

“Keep up the good work, soldiers,” Callan said. “Back to it!”

The trainees returned to their exercises, but as Dalvo grimly looked to his enemy, Callan decided that if anybody needed a moment to breathe, it was him.

“Recruit Dalvo!” he called, waving him over, “to the front!”

Dalvo and his partner looked at each other confused. Then, his opponent shrugged and walked off to grab some water from the small bench of refreshment nearby.

With a nervous look on his face, Dalvo approached the spot where his city’s new leader, his militia’s superior commander, and Halari stood waiting. Callan realized the young man might be quite intimidated, so he did his best to look regal, but not overbearing, and even welcomed the young soldier with a nod.

Dalvo saluted sharply, much more practiced than his peers. “How can I be of service, Great Flame?”

“I was curious about your commitment to the militia,” Callan said. “I’m told you’re from a foam farm, what prompted you to volunteer?”

“When you told us about the gildgrown, I…” Dalvo chewed on his words for a moment. “I guess I don’t want to be someone who watches others protect what I care about, if that makes sense Great Flame.”

“It does, indeed,” Callan said. “And it’s a good reason to fight. What kind of role are you hoping to be placed in?”

“I’m not sure yet, my lord,” Dalvo said. “Somewhere I feel like I’m being the most helpful, I guess.”

“Good answer,” Bear grumbled. “Good to know we’ve got some brains in the group.”

“I do hope to get an actual weapon soon,” Dalvo added. “I’m not really good at all this wrestling.”

“For you,” Callan said, “lower is better. Try below the know for a throw. And pull, don’t push.”

“It’s in the core.” Bear pounded on his own abdomen with a fist. “Build that up when you have some free time.”

Dalvo nodded slowly, then looked over to the taller man, eyes narrowed. “May I be excused to get back to training, Great Flame?”

“Dismissed,” Calvo said, gesturing at the field.

Dalvo returned to his fight with a new concentration in his gait and tried to use his newfound knowledge in practice. And while he did succeed in getting his opponent’s leg out from him by the ankle, he failed to follow through.

He’ll work on it I’m sure, Callan thought as Dalvo once again tapped out his defeat underneath the bulk of his opponent, this time folded uncomfortably in half.

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Some hours later as the tragedy called the sky began to darken, Callan walked alongside Halari after checking on the rest of the Quarry. Everything was moving along quite impressively, leaving Callan to marvel at the efficiency of these people. They were truly hardy in an inspiring way; they worked fast and moved with a purpose that Halari said had been missing for quite some time.

“Your people work hard,” Callan said, stopping at the foot of the Temple steps. “I’ll admit I was worried that they would be resistant to changing so abruptly, but they’re doing well I think.”

“It is nice seeing them like this,” Halari said. She took a big bite of her protein-paste flatbread, then offered him a chunk which he accepted. “Even with Tel’s preachers slowing things down some days.”

“Even if he opposes me,” Callan said, “I do admire his dedication to his gods.”

“He’ll come around,” Halari said. “He’ll see what you’re starting to do. I know my brother; he’s stubborn until he really realizes that he’s wrong.” She tore him off another chunk of flat bread and offered it to him. “Just give him some time.”

“He’s not doing too much to slow us right now anyways,” Callan said. He spied one of her brother’s agents sitting on a street bench with James’s open book in his hands. He shouted proverbs and verses to those passing, even stopping some who lingered too long. Callan pitied the man, so taken by James’s lies.

“How’s the food?” Halari asked after a moment of chewing her own meal heartily.

“Unfortunately, the taste is growing on me,” Callan said, munching his own piece. “I’ll try to trade for some actual food first.”

“Pffft, good luck with that,” Halari scoffed. “Scrag Fort’s grub is barely any different than this. Their ashbuds are staler if you can imagine.”

Callan made a face of disgust. “Just give me one good cow, that’s all I need.”

“Huh?” Halari quirked her head at him. “What’s a cow?”

Greatest loss of all. Callan sighed with a sad laugh. “Forget it, hamburgers are dead.”

They stood together watching the city for a few minutes, eating food made by the end of the world. Stargazer’s Quarry slowed down when night came, almost going completely still when the miserable silver above became like smeared coal. The people were all rather firm on their schedules and usually followed a glare-up to glare-down day of work.

“Callan,” Halari said, turning to him with an odd expression. “I know this is a random question, but… have you slept? I heard some people talking about they see you out here every night sitting and watching until the sun comes up. ”

“No, I haven’t actually,” Callan said. “I don’t actually need to sleep. It’s part of the Great Dragon’s blessing.” He grimaced, feeling cold metal on his back and inescapable weight around his wrists. “More than that though… the idea of being alone in a dark room… I don’t think I can do that quite yet.”

“I get it.” Halari took him comfortingly by the elbow. “What you had to endure for so long definitely left its marks. I was just worried you were hurting yourself somehow.”

“Being somewhere I can see people, be in the light, helps,” Callan explained, turning to look at her. “You help too. I would undoubtedly be lost in my head without you to talk with.”

He saw her cheeks redden again in the dim light of the evening; but she held his gaze without unwavering. Callan suddenly realized that she had pretty eyes, coppery and shining in the ambient night’s illumination of the Quarry.

‘Are we forgetting somethi—?’ the skull began to ask, only to find itself yet again cut off by Halari’s voice. It glared at her with hate inside his mind but said nothing more.

“I’m glad I can help,” she said, grinning softly and tightening her grip on his elbow. “We can’t have you getting lost, can we?”

“Certainly not,” Callan said. “We still have a lot of work to do.”

“My lord!” an energetic voice called from the main street. Callan reluctantly pulled his focus away from Halari and turned to see Norio dashing up the stone walkway. Perhaps dashing was too appraising a word; Norio more lunged with each step, his awkward build getting in the way of meaningful movement. “I bring news! Good news!”

Callan straightened up into a more regal posture and Halari let her hand slip away, although she still stood rather close to him. He didn’t mind it at all.

“Tell me something promising, Administrator,” Callan said, stepping forward to meet the man.

“One of my workers,” Norio huffed; he’d clearly hurried here from wherever he lived in town. Yet even out breath, the amusing man exuded an excited demeanor that only a certain type of person could contain. “They received a response from the Scrag Fort. They’ll meet with us the day after tomorrow, at noon.”

And so we take the next step, Callan thought. “That is good news,” he said to his trade master. “Let’s try to get a good deal, shall we?”