Erin sat sipping on something that was meant to make her feel better as they packed.

She couldn’t believe, just like that, this family was going to pick up and travel south for weeks because of the cultists.

She felt guilt, even if she had already done plenty to help them. A knot formed in her gut. Something told her they wouldn’t make it.

The babies were only a few months old, and she had little doubt the mother was still recovering. She watched Trayox pack their belongings. As strong as he was, taking a vulnerable family so far south would be dangerous.

“What if you stayed?”

He turned a tilted gaze toward her.

“You have to know the road will be dangerous with your family. Why don’t you stay here,” Erin hastily added.

“I tell already. Too dangerous. Cultists be back.”

“Well, what if they couldn’t get to you?”

“Not possible.”

“Why? They can’t get into our fort. Not with the Imperator around.”

“Lucky you.”

“And if you could. Live in the fort, that is.”

“Ahaha,” Trayox fell forward, snorting. “In fort? With Imperator?”

“It’s true,” Erin bounced up. “The Imperator. He’s extending the fort’s walls. He plans to let you and the other ferals live there.”

“Right,” Trayox nodded with a smile. “Help from Imperator. Funny girl.”

“I’m not joking. It’s true. I know you’ve seen us working. What do you think it's all for? We don’t have enough numbers to man even the walls we already have. Not properly, at least.”

“I know Imperator, girl. They not help us. We all the same in their eyes.”

“You’re wrong. The walls,” Erin said, using her hands to create squares to visualize the construction. “They’ll be safe. I swear. It is way safer than crossing to the south with babies. What point was saving them from the wargs if you just let them die to the frost? Come on—think—big barbarian man.”

“Not safe.”

“You’re being stubborn, damn it,” Erin said, stepping in his way. Up close, Trayox looked even bigger. His high cheeks, thick, black dreads, and square chin.

He turned, walked around her, and began shoving a pile of primitive tools into a straw sack.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?” Erin trailed, shoving her face between Trayox and his packing and clicking her fingers. “Trayox, stop ignoring me. And stop being stubborn. Think about your babies.”

“I AM!” His pupils dilated, and Erin squealed as she fell backward. “Everything for babies. EVERYTHING. South for them. Trusting Imperator foolish. You foolish.”

“Sorry,” Erin whispered, curling up against the hut’s straw roof wall.

“It's fine,” Trayox waved dismissively. “You mean well. Just very stupid.”

**Fort Winterclaw**

Erald held the door open as Callum gingerly stepped inside. He had offered the injured boy help, but that had never been his style.

“Callum!” Dober said, hobbling over with the help of his walking stick, leaving Clay behind at the back of the cabin. Clay’s gaze avoided Callum’s as he fiddled with his thumbs.

“She’s really gone, isn’t she?” Callum said as Dober’s arms wrapped around his shoulders and squeezed.

“What do you have to say?” Dober turned to Clay as he released his grip.

“Sorry, Callum. I didn’t–”

“Whatever. It is what it is. Don’t hang yourself up over it,” Callum shook his head as he made for his bunk.

Clay raised a hand as if to protest but lowered it as Callum passed him.

“How’s your leg?” Callum said as he reached his bunk, dropping a bag of medicines prepared by Mira atop it.

“Seen better days,” Dober smiled as he glanced down at the bandage. “Mira stitched me and got me the good stuff. And Erin. She helped a lot,” Dober said, glaring at Clay.

“The wound was deep. It can’t be healed yet, can it?”

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Dober shook his head. “No, it’s not. But I can walk around. Long as I don’t put any weight on it.”

“Suppose that’s good news.”

“Well, I better–”

“Yes, you should,” Dober cut Clay off. “You’re no use to us. May as well go help build the wall.”

Clay nodded at both of them, his eyes fixated on his boots—while Callum looked away, pretending he didn’t exist.

“Coward,” Dober said beneath his breath as Clay closed the door behind him.

“Is it true? You know, what happened to Radic?”

“Yeah. You know how Erin is. Acting before thinking is kind of her thing.”

“But shooting another acolyte? I thought she was smarter than that. There goes any chance of her becoming an Imperator.”

“Most of us have long lost hope of that ever happening. They don’t drop real candidates out here. Left to the wolves like us.”

“Still, you never know. Besides, there are still apprenticeships,” Callum said, easing himself onto his bunk.

“Yeah, like I wanna be a cook.”

“Mightn’t be so bad for you,” Callum eyed Dober’s leg.

“You’re one to talk. Look at you. All beaten up,” the acolyte looked up at the bandage wrapped around Callum’s head.

“Yeah… that will stay on for a while. But Mira said the rest is mostly just bruising, which isn’t that bad. Reckons I’ll be more or less back to normal in a couple of weeks. You on the other hand…” Callum said, creasing his brow as he looked at Dober’s leg.

“Hey, keep your eyes to yourself. I’ll be fine, thank you very much!”

A playful grin creased Callum’s lips, and the boys chuckled softly. It was relieving to have a little normalcy returned.

Callum’s smile faded as he looked into his friend’s eyes. Joking around was fun but only allowed him to momentarily forget the truth of his wound. It was likely to scar. And even if it was explained, doubt would linger with anyone who cast their gaze upon it. He would need to hide his forehead for the rest of his life. Being seen as a heretic was just too risky, regardless of how many people believed the message.

**Imperator**

The circle of ferals moved with Mark’s steps. One lunged for the girl, and Mark made energy crackle around his hand. The man’s eyes widened, and he fell over himself as he scrambled back to the disheveled line.

“Back,” Mark shouted as he shuffled closer to the girl without lowering his hand. “I don’t want to hurt anybody. But I will if I have to.”

He still wasn’t entirely sure how much the barbarians understood him, but they seemed to understand the threat, and the crowd pushed back with a wave of “ahhs.”

“Up,” Mark said to the girl, extending a hand.

Big brown eyes looked up at him. At a guess, he’d have said she was nine or ten. Her mousy brown hair was scruffy and knotted. And she wore rags with some kind of fabric wrapped around her feet.

“Come on,” Mark hissed, shoving his hand toward her.

Her eyes darted between Mark and his hand, then to the crowd before she finally reached out.

She gasped as Mark effortlessly lunched her up to her feet. “Just follow me, and you’ll be fine.”

Trembling at his side, the girl nodded.

“Damn it, you mad people,” Mark shouted at the gathering crowd. “This girl, and everyone like her, is now under my protection, got it? If those cultists have a problem, they can come and see me. And the rest of you, don’t give yours or anyone else’s fucking kids to those insane cultists. I’m extending my fort’s walls, and I invite everyone needing security. Whatever it's from. Cultists. Other barbarians. Wolves. The freaking cold. It doesn’t matter. But you will follow my law.”

They didn’t seem to be listening. Edging forward with their eyes locked on the girl.

“Let’s go,” Mark grunted loud enough for the girl to hear as he walked toward the fort. Not for a second did he lower his hands, pivoting as they walked.

Greedy, bent glares followed them, but that wasn’t all. Mark spotted confusion, maybe even hope, etched on some of their faces. He wanted to yell out to them. But understood that in a crowd, they would likely turn down his offer, maybe even find themselves made a target. He had to resist for now. Hopefully, they would come into his fort and seek his protection later.

The crowd of ferals followed them back to the fort, occasionally sneaking closer only to scatter backward as Mark aimed his palm with a crackle of thunder at them.

He walked in reverse as they reached the gates. The heavy timber doors were being worked separately and hadn’t yet been fitted. Not that it mattered much; several small openings across the extended palisade still had yet to be completed. However, if pushed, it was only a couple of days from completion. And had become a source of rumor—it didn’t take a genius to wonder why the ferals hadn’t been cleared out yet.

Ferals from the hobbles that dotted the clearing rose from their homes at the commotion. Watching.

“What’s going on, Imperator?” Henric said, rushing to Mark’s side with sword drawn.

“The girl. Saved her from cultists,” Mark said, pulling her toward Henric. “Watch her.”

“Imperator–”

Mark stepped toward the following crowd of ferals and sparks crackled around his hands. “I warn you all. Unless you’re here for my protection, back up.”

The crowd hesitated for a second, but a shuddering blast of energy that blew snow into the air sent them reeling backward.

“This area is officially locked down. Now get back!”

The crowd of ferals pushed against one another, fighting to return to the treeline behind them. Within minutes, the crowd had cleared out, but they remained. Watching from the trees.

“What’s the plan now?” Henric said, stepping up to Mark’s side, who stood within the gate entrance.

“We finish it today.”

“Even if we do—it’s not like we have manpower to spare guarding this thing.”

“Just do as I say, Henric. The acolytes can be afforded extra rest afterward!”

“Imperator, but–”

“Figure it out,” Mark snapped. He knew it was a tall ask, but what choice was there? Those ferals would either flee or join sides with the cultists if there was no other alternative. He needed to prove to them that the fort was safe. And he needed to do it as soon as possible. He had the girl now. It was a test. If he could keep her safe, others would believe in him. That’s how humans worked. That’s how they always had. Being a hero was new to Mark, but understanding people wasn’t. He knew how to win investors. If he had managed to raise millions for that shitty app no one needed, he could sure as hell convince a few barbarians to trust him. They had every reason to. He just needed to prove to them that he had what they needed.

“Imper–” Henric bit his tongue. “Yes, sir.”

“Good,” Mark waved. “Then get them to work. And make sure they’re armed. No ferals enter unless I say so.”

“Understood,” Henric nodded, turned to the acolytes already working, and began barking orders. Exasperated sighs and dropped shoulders rippled through the group. They weren’t happy, and they’d be even less happy knowing that their work was going toward sheltering ferals. But Mark would have to make that up to them later.

His thoughts drifted back to the injured boy. Heretic. They had written it on his forehead for following his orders. He knew this was the correct path forward, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t be bloody.

Please, don’t force my hand. He grimaced as he watched the acolytes. They were only kids, but he knew what they were capable of.

Light snow began to fall around him as he stood vigil within the gate. Watching the ferals.

I hope you’re doing okay out there, Erin…