Picking a flag hadn’t been hard. Mark had two to choose from: one made by the kids and another by the mothers.

The kids had essentially sewed whatever they could find onto a piece of cloth. It certainly wasn’t the kind of thing he could imagine an army marching beneath, but he did take it for himself and hang it in his cabin. Mark had never been a big kid person, but it filled him with joy to see how his actions had inspired them.

The other flag was black, green, and white. The bottom half was white to represent the snow, the top half black to represent the night sky, and a green pine marked its middle. He thought it was a little ironic, considering how skeletal most trees around here were, but the flag certainly wasn’t bad.

The meals, however, left a little to be desired. Most were stodgy stews that almost tasted like he was chewing on glue.

The closest thing to a standout was a porridge-like dish with little fried bits of meat that reminded Mark of bacon. Some earthy herbs had been added to it, and a slight sweetness touched on the mostly salty dish. Mark called it Winterclaw stew. And while it wasn’t his favorite food, he could imagine it warming him on a cold, snowy day.

Maybe with a little culinary magic, rigar bark can be formed into something that can be used as a dough… Bringing pizza to this world would certainly be one way to turn my little fief into a cultural powerhouse.

The crowd of his new commoners cheered throughout the competition, but grogginess from the night’s celebration quickly chased them to bed once he had handed out the prizes.

The fort became the sleepiest he had ever seen it, but it wasn’t a big deal. The acolytes hadn’t been allowed to drink and were awake bright and early to man the walls.

It was one thing for sixteen-year-olds to have a couple of mouthfuls of rum when they were injured, but he wasn’t about to let them get drunk on his watch, even if it wasn’t an Imperial law.

When they finally closed the outer gates, Mark was fairly certain some of the ferals from the outside remained in, but since his tribunes felt comfortable handling it, he decided not to bother getting involved.

Time to get myself some sleep; he rubbed at weary eyes and turned for the inner wall. The sun was already creeping across the horizon, and he hadn’t fully recovered from yesterday's fainting episode.

**Acolytes—Erin**

Erin had taken the previous night easy, even though she was still barred from carrying weapons.

She could hear the low groans emanating from several cabins as she passed through the outer walls.

Reaching her destination, she hesitated. It was just a “hello,” she reminded herself. Nothing to make a big deal over. Still, her hands refused to knock.

Come on, stop making such a big deal of it.

Just as she was about to knock, the door creaked open, and she came face-to-face with Trayox.

“Annoying girl, what are you doing here?”

“Hi, Trayox,” Erin rolled her eyes. “How long are you going to call me that?”

“I’m not sure,” he stroked his head.

“You sound different,” Erin scrunched her brow.

“You noticed? I’ve been practicing my Imperial.”

“You, studying?” Erin leaned back.

“What do you mean, me?”

“Nothing important. But moving on, who even teaches you?”

“Venjimin,” Trayox pushed past. “He runs lessons for anyone who wants to join in. Every day.”

“Free education? We don’t even get that in the Imperium,” Erin grumbled beneath her breath.

“Get a better Imperium, annoying girl.”

“Hey, stop being mean already. I came all this way out to see you. And Arinie and the bubs, of course.”

“They’re inside,” Trayox waved. “I’m busy; got work.”

“That sounds more like you,” she grated her teeth and turned for the cabin. Fine, whatever. I don’t even need the big dumbo.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Stepping into the dimly lit cabin, Erin spotted Arinie lying at the far end, trying to feed the twins some porridge.

“Need a hand?”

“Erin, so glad to see you safe,” the mother smiled.

“At least someone’s glad,” Erin said as she approached. “How do you always look so beautiful? Your skin is flawless.”

“Please, Erin,” Arinie blushed. “You too kind.”

“I bet it’s the babies. I heard a Star Maiden say something like that once. Being a mother gives you a special energy or something like that. Can even make your skin glow.”

“Maybe. I not know such things,” Arinie smiled gently and turned back to her babies as she directed a spoon to their mouth. “Come on. Eat up.”

The baby licked the spoon and turned away, making a whining noise as it scrunched its face.

“Oh, come on, baby,” Erin said, lowering herself to the baby’s eye level. “Eat a little; it’ll make you big and strong like that idiot outside.”

“What Trayox say now?”

“It’s fine,” Erin shook. “He’s just being his big dumb self.”

“Sorry, Erin. He say mean things sometimes.”

“Sometimes? You mean like always?”

“I guess he is. But that just Trayox. It’s all he show outside. But he soft here,” she said, patting her chest where her heart was.

“Maybe with you,” Erin scoffed. “He certainly ain’t like that with me. But I guess it's nice to hear he treats you and the babies well,” Erin huffed.

“Sorry.”

“Please, Arinie, don’t keep apologizing. I’m just a little frustrated, and besides, it’s not like you’ve done anything. It’s just that I wanted someone to talk to... There’s always something going wrong in the fort. It gets a little tiring, that’s all. And then Trayox—you know.”

“And he was an ass.”

“Exactly!”

“You can talk to me.”

“You’re so sweet. How you ever ended up with that brute amazes me.”

**Acolytes—Callum**

“Do you ever sleep?” Dober said as he waddled toward Callum behind the cabins with his walking stick.

“I can’t. Not anymore.”

“You had a crazy fever and barely survived. I don’t think you should be pushing yourself this hard.”

“What do you know?” Callum turned mid-swing and lowered the wooden sword. “You’ve seen what’s below this scarf, haven’t you?”

“And that’s a reason to get yourself killed?”

“I’m a ghost now, am I?”

“You know what I mean, Callum.”

“Yeah, and it doesn’t matter. If I want to be anything more than fodder for the Imperium, I’m going to need to prove myself twice as hard as anybody else. Unlike you, my future has been dictated for me.”

“Unlike me? You serious? I’m never going to walk properly again. I can’t even go back home. So retirement is out of the question. What worth does a farmer have that can’t walk properly?”

Callum broke his swing and looked down at Dober’s leg. It was no longer bandaged, but that didn’t change the damage that had been done.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“What did you mean then?”

“I suppose I didn’t think. It’s just that—”

“That I never stood a chance? That’s what you mean, isn’t it? I was already fodder, as you call it. Wasn’t I?”

“Come on, Dober. Don’t be dramatic.”

“I’m not. You’re nice, so you won’t admit it, but I know that’s what you mean.”

“Dober…”

“It’s fine. I’m here to talk about you anyway. I don’t want to see you train yourself to death. What are you even achieving swinging a sword around out here?”

“I’m practicing. I’ve still got the Imperator’s old lesson plans. I’ll work with those until he finally decides to give us another lesson. Whenever that is.”

“So, just keep doing the same thing over and over?”

“Yep, pretty much.”

“How are you still so stubborn,” Dober sighed.

“You either make the reality you want or accept the one you have. And I’m done following whatever path fate had laid out for me—first this stupid fort in the middle of nowhere, and now this injury. Nah, I’m not doing that anymore.”

“Fine, whatever. Just try not to get yourself sick again.”

It's not like it matters. If I can’t make it, then maybe getting sick isn’t so bad. Whatever it takes, I’m not settling for whatever future currently lies ahead; Callum gritted his teeth as he followed through with another practiced strike.

He must have made the same swings over a thousand times by now, but that wasn’t enough. He could feel the combination of strikes seeping into his muscle memory. All it took was a twitch to bring them out now. But it still wasn’t enough. The moment anybody saw his scar, they would be thinking the worst. He only had one option: to become someone people couldn’t ignore.

**Imperator**

A knock rattled Mark’s door, eliciting a groan from him. He felt like he had closed his eyes and immediately opened them.

“Give me a minute,” he groaned and rolled to his feet.

A headache had crept in, and his fireplace had a healthy glow.

“Someone stoked my fire?”

I’m not sure if I should be thankful or creeped out that I didn’t notice them enter.

His gaze then turned to his table where a spread lay waiting. There were sausages and rigar patties—with plenty for seconds. The rigar patties had been his idea. Something he had instructed Treff to try a couple of weeks back. It was basically just frying some of the stodgy Play-Doh-like stuff in animal fat. They were an imitation at best but close enough to hashbrowns to put a smile on his face.

His stomach growled, and he made for the table but was interrupted by the intrusive knock he had almost forgotten about.

“Damn it, what is it?”

“Henric sent me, Imperator. It’s important. He needs you now.”

“Now? Seriously? I’m starving. Can’t it wait a little?”

“Ahh—but, Imperator–”

Exhaling, Mark grabbed a sausage and an imitation hashbrown and threw on his suit.

No rest for the wicked, huh?

Grumbling with every step, he made for the door and swung it open in a huff. “This better be important, Acolyte. Now, out with it.”

“It’s a–” the acolyte swallowed. “Im–Imperator—people are coming.”

“People? What do you mean, people? Calm yourself and speak plainly, Acolyte.”

The acolyte nodded. “Sorry. I–I didn’t mean to—what I meant–”

“Calm,” Mark lowered his voice. Poor kid didn’t mean to break the boy. Mark sighed, realizing his tired irritation had gotten to him. “It’s alright. I’m not angry. Just tell me what’s going on.”

“Yes,” the boy nodded, relaxing a little. “A dozen people are marching toward the fort. Imperator, they are acolytes from another fort, and they are being led by one of their masters.”

Mark's brow rose. Imperials didn’t just go marching to each other’s forts, not unless there was a gravely vital reason to do so. And Mark hadn’t requested help from anyone.

Great, now what?