Randle shoveled dirt into a five-foot grave in the backyard. His boots and hands covered in mud and dirt; he wiped the sweat from his brow. Primus pierced into the ground next to him like a grave marker, observing the scene with a dozing off half-shut eye. “If only I had formed a true contract with Sasha, maybe she wouldn’t have been taken. But to sell one’s soul like that so early… and so young.”

Randle shook his head. “It’s time to rest, Primus.”

The blade quivered. “If this is my punishment, then I won’t argue.”

The old man unstuck the machina from the earth and sheathed it into its scabbard. Abdul walked outdoors to join him at his side. Both their eyes were bloodshot. Randle cleared his throat before speaking in a tone devoid of color. “It’s good to see you’re back on your feet. Primus told me everything.”

Abdul’s face rested in morbid rage. He barred his teeth. “If only I told you the truth. If only I didn’t keep her secret. I’m the worst. I am trash. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. It’s my fault.”

“No, it’s mine. She didn’t feel comfortable enough to confide in me. I failed to protect her. I broke my promise to her brother.”

Randle gazed vacantly at Abdul. “Can I ask you for a favor?”

Abdul nodded, returning a thousand-yard stare.

“Could you kill me?”

***

Sasha hung by enchained wrists in a dark cobblestone chamber, unable to lay down or truly fall asleep. She gazed out into the dim embers of the only light source beyond the iron bars of her prison. A shadow strolled by with a lantern, stopping to relight the extinguished wall-mounted flame. Then it walked up to put its hands around her cage’s bars as if observing an animal. He was a demasked runt of Rath Ghul in casual clothes, eyes devoid of warmth or sense. “Oh, you’re a pretty one. Just you wait,” he whispered to her.

He jolted his head around for witnesses before intruding into Sasha’s chamber. The closer he crept up, the more she shriveled up, avoiding him. “Go away. Don’t touch me,” she grumbled, jerking at her tight metal wrist cuffs.

The stranger ignored her request, slipping his cold hand under and up her shirt. He held Sasha’s chin tight and close, his labored horrible breaths forcing her to gag.

She growled. “I said not to touch me!”

With an unhinged grunt, Sasha chomped down on his fingers. They struggled shortly over his hand until he slammed her head into the stone. The man ripped himself free with a panicked scream only to fall onto his butt. Sasha spit onto the ground in front of him. He stared at his mauled hand missing the ring finger, and then scooped up the detached digit. Groaning in pain, he cursed her. “I’ll kill you.”

“No, get away!” She yelled back.

He gripped her throat with both hands and squeezed. Sasha bruised her wrists trying and failing to defend herself, her vision blurring and body’s feeling rushing away.

Distant footsteps stopped outside the cage. The barred door creaked open, and Sasha’s attacker swiveled his head around in panic. He let go of her. She collapsed, wheezing, and coughed violently. Sasha’s attacker pointed at her as another figure approached the two. “Jericho, it’s not what it looks like. She bit off my fucking finger.”

Jericho looked down at Sasha and then back up to him. He rested his hand on the hilt of a rapier at his hip. Six more sheathed in other odd places from hip to leg. “Ever visited Zaibah and their wildlife reserves?”

“No?”

“They really are beautiful.”

Everyone exchanged odd looks until he continued. “They often warn the tourists, ‘Don’t ever tease the monkeys.’ Helps to avoid incidents.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“We have a similar rule. Code fourteen of the codex. Is it hard to remember?”

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

Apprehension manifested on the guy’s face. He put his hands up in a halting position, walking backwards until his back hit the wall. “Forgive me.”

Jericho unsheathed and thrusted the rapier into his throat in an instance. The man crumbled, croaking, clenching the blade. Jericho ripped it out with a SHLING. Blood sprayed the wall. Even though the goon laid instantly slain, he stabbed him another six times for assurance. He talked down to Sasha. “Don’t be mistaken, new hawk. I’ll never be your ally. All here live under strict codes.”

“Thank you,” she responded meekly, her head hanging limp.

He started to leave, but she stopped him. “Can you loosen these chains? I want to sleep. I just want to go to sleep and never wake up. Please.”

Jericho shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t mind granting your wish. Make this easier on me.”

With a groan, she straightened up as he got close, fiddling with the chains behind her. She avoided eye contact after seeing his disgusted expression. He blinked rapidly. “Augh, you reek like a dead dog.”

“Was your name Jericho?” She asked.

“I never speak to corpses. No use in getting to know somebody on their way out. Don’t do ghosts, and that’s one of seven ways to be haunted.”

She stared at her own feet. “It’s nice to meet you too… I’m Sasha.”

“Yea, whatever, here you go,” he mumbled before stepping back, unenthused.

She flexed and moved her arms around to find much more space to work with. Maybe she could have even laid down. It didn’t matter to her now that the ground was dirty concrete. At least she could rest. Jericho strolled away without a goodbye. “Someone may clean up the mess,” he told her on his way out.

Then on the other side of the bars, he stopped as if stricken by a resolution, and gazed at her in surprise. She didn’t know his eyes could get that wide. “Was Sasha really your name?”

“It is.”

“Did your brother go missing? Been three to four years now, aye?”

“Ley?”

“I knew I’d never forget. Thorin will be excited. After his contract, you’ll see. He searched a long time for you. Pray he makes it back before the day of your judgement.”

“My brother... is he here?”

Jericho shook his head. “I was the one who put him down. Chopped his head off quick and clean. His last thoughts were about you. I doubt the kid felt much pain.”

Sasha didn’t look at him. Tears welled up and spilled of course, but another strange feeling overwhelmed her. She felt loose. So much so that she could breathe like never before. Jericho disappeared, his voice fading off into the darkness. “Seems your blood holds true spirit. All these owls lack such power. They’re rustled and rattled.”

***

Abdul sat on the living room recliner with his arms crossed, facing Primus tilted up against the wall. Only minutes ago, he’d unsheathed the entrapped sword. “Are you a strong machina? Never mind that. Of course you are. Sasha was an amateur and she could kill with you.”

Primus’s ethereal eye squinted. “I’ve been used to kill thousands. I was passed down countless times on both sides during The War for Lovecraft leading up to the fall of The Westwinds. Randle escaped the battlefields; brought me with him.”

Abdul looked over to the dining room table where Randle had passed out blackout drunk. A myriad of shattered and emptied wine bottles rested thrown about in front of him, some thrown onto the floor. Thinking back with a pensive face, he couldn’t believe the old man would ask him such a question. Abdul brought his attention back to Primus. “Do you wish to kill again? Like back in the wars?”

Primus fell quiet, so Abdul went on. There was no longer hatred in his voice. He spoke as if stating cold, empirical facts. “I’m going to rip every owl in Monestate to pieces. Then when I find Rath Ghul’s home base, I’ll burn it to the ground too. Will you help me?”

“I’ve become indifferent to violence. I only wish to save the girl if she still lives. If our needs align at least there then, sure, chop down whoever with me.”

Abdul sighed. “Didn’t even mention her, did I? My bad.”

“What extent do you intend this agreement to go, human?”

“I want to become the strongest I can be, so I want a contract with you. That’s how machina work, right? Just swinging you around like Sasha won’t give me access to your full power.”

“You’re keen in that aspect, but you fail to get one thing. A contract requires consent on both sides.”

Abdul looked offended. “You don’t want to form a contract with me? Am I not enough for you?”

“I’m saving myself for a truly worthy wielder. So far, I’ve only met one person compatible enough to consider. You can swing me, but I refuse to bind our souls.”

“Don’t tell me… the girl? The girl’s more worthy than me? You think her strength compares to mine?”

Primus’s single eye darted to the side, avoiding Abdul’s disbelief-stricken face. “Brawn isn’t everything. A human’s life purpose is to find the ideal companion, right? Why can’t I keep searching in death?”

Abdul’s expression resembled his brother’s resting bitch face. “You’re a fucking sword though. A hunk of metal is in love.”

Primus’s eye grew wide and sharp. The blade shook, almost enough to wobble off the wall. “Steel has feelings too!” He toppled over onto the ground with a metallic clack. “But watch your mouth, human! Me? Love? Never!”

“Fuck you too. I didn’t want a contract anyway. I’d be miserable being stuck to you for the rest of my life. Maybe I’ll go find some young, well-mannered machina with lower standards.”

“Go and try. You’ll come back with nothing,” Primus mocked.

Abdul scoffed, watched Randle who’d sunk deeper into his slumber at the dinner table. “Don’t know how he dealt with you so long.”

Primus went quiet. Randle didn’t deal with him. Like everyone else, his previous owner shoved him in the sock when he wouldn’t shut up. At the end of the day, Primus was a rightless weapon to be owned. Sasha was the first wielder to let him breathe and ramble as much as he wanted. The blade’s eye sharpened. “What’s the first step then?”

“We’ll trap our very own owl. If we can catch one alive, we’ll get many things. A disguise, information, a chance.”