> To be of the noble caste is to be both raised and bound. The dangers that civilization face demands the highest skill—and the greatest power—lest we Fall into darkness once more. It is no wonder that those whose birthright bequeaths them such are honoured above all others, to show gratitude for their efforts, in shouldering such a terrible burden.

>

> It is a small thing, truly, to accept in turn the censure on unregistered combat capable cards for the lower castes; it is not our place to infringe on their duties. Some would argue that allowances should be made on combat viable cards that possess ‘reasonable’ utilitarian purposes.

>

> Do not be swayed by such sophistry.

>

> Relaxation of the censure would inevitably lead to dilution of their Noble purpose, as they would be beckoned to corral criminal elements who had acquired poor imitations of their power—easily dispatched undoubtedly, but drawing essential focus from where it matters most. The descent into anarchic instability would be inevitable and swift.

>

> For this reason, there is only one appropriate response to any infringement of the censure: death.

>

> Death on any who would undermine the nobility, and in doing so, all of humanity.

>

> From the classic public betterment production “Our Great History”, monologue by the fictional character Historian Jero. Author unknown.

Jack was halfway home, pausing for breath on a residential roof, when a hundred and ten pounds of crying shadow—Mouse, he recognized abruptly—slammed into his midriff.

“There, there Mouse. I’m alright. It’s okay.” Jack held her while she sobbed into his chest.

Abruptly, she pulled away. Dark locks framed her pale, tear-streaked face. She kept her hair short, always complaining about how unwieldy it became when given the chance to grow.

“I nearly k-killed you. It’s all my fault.” She spoke around strained hitches in her voice as her control failed. “If I hadn’t come up with that s-stupid chime you wouldn’t have jumped when it was unsafe.”

“No, Mouse. It’s Racket’s fault for finding the route.” Jack answered calmly.

“Wh-what?”

“Or actually, now that I think about it, it’s Gravel’s fault for letting us trial it without enough safety measures.” Jack cocked his head to the side quizzically. “But really though, it’s Slip’s fault for not rescuing me, even in spite of the wind. Or is it my fault for jumping headfirst into a wall over a twenty meter fall? Honestly I think the only person entirely blameless is Dart, which I’m having a hard time reconciling with her reputation.”

At this point she was smiling at his antics, wiping away tears and sniffing. “Maybe it’s the nightbird’s fault.” She said.

“Yes! That bird is certainly a primary culprit. But who sent it? I won’t be satisfied with some stooge, not when something else could be pulling that bird’s wings.”

“Don’t you mean ‘that bird’s strings’?” Mouse inquired.

“Hmm you raise an interesting point.” Jack paused for effect. “Was it even a real bird?”

To this Mouse lost her self control and giggled, before she forced her face into a stern frown. “No! It’s not funny! Even if you’re okay, you came too close. I won’t let you distract me. Even if I accept that you’re right, and I’m not to blame, you’re still stuck with that worthless card!”

But he had broken her fear, distracting her from the panic of the circumstance. He realized how tightly she must have controlled herself around the others, to be feeling this overwhelmed and show no sign until she was alone.

“How have you been Mouse?” He said suddenly.

“No! I’m not going to let you distract me! And it’s Neavie when it’s just us, you know that Jack.” Neavie answered passionately, balling her fists and squaring off with him.

Normally so careful with herself around others, Jack admired the boldness that came forth when it was just them. Her timidity and shyness had been nearly crippling when they’d met, and he was sure if any other night-runner were asked they’d admit she’d come a long way, but it was only to him that she’d really opened up.

“Alright! Alright!” He raised his hands defensively. Lowering them only when she did the same. “How have you been Neavie, I genuinely want to know.”

But just then he watched as her face shifted to an evasive look he knew well.

“Ahh stop! You were about to lie to me! Foul!” Jack cried in a mock accusation.

“Ugh! How can you always tell?!” Neavie replied in a huff.

“Because you wear your heart on your sleeve. Now tell me how you’ve been, and then I’ll let you try to fix my problems. That’s the deal.”

“Fine! You win! I’ll tell you.” She gathered her thoughts before continuing, this time speaking in a much softer voice. “It’s not like things have been bad. They just haven’t been good. I worry that this is just who I am, and that doesn’t seem so bad I know, but I don’t like who I am right now. I hate being so nervous, and I hate that this is normal for me.” While she spoke she seemed to drift away from him, as if even the sharing of these truths evoked them. “I keep reminding myself that I’m doing better sometimes. Like tonight, I can’t believe I called Gravel over like I did! But when he told me off I thought I’d die right there. That would have ruined me for weeks, except you joked with me right away. I think I still would have thought about it, but after what happened, I didn’t. Not until just now, that’s how worried I’ve been. So really, this is just me being selfish. You have to let me help you so I can stop worrying.”

Despite feeling that there was more to say, Jack put aside his meddling impulse and acquiesced to Neavie’s demand. When he’d pushed her too hard in the past it had only produced paroxysms of self-doubt.

“That’s a fair trade. Thank you for telling me truthfully. I’ll just say one thing for now, and then we can move on.”

Jack said his next words carefully. “In the time I’ve known you, you’ve come far. Remember how we met? I didn't push you to join the night-runners, you already had. Terrified and nearly unable to talk to anyone, you were still there. I knew that if you could do it, feeling as you were, so could I.”

He let the silence between them sit for a time. But in that absence was trust.

Neavie was blinking a little rapidly, her mouth struggled to find a place between a smile and a frown. But ultimately the former won out.

“Now I’ll let you take the lead on solving all my problems, I daresay I have had enough of them for a lifetime.”

Neavie’s brow furrowed and her eyes grew distant as her interrogation of his circumstance commenced.

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

“So, you lost your first carding. What challenges arise? Your family needs scholarly or mentally focused cards, even if you can’t get them immediately there are others who have them, could take up some of the work and give you time to build your deck?” Neavie paused, leaving space for Jack to answer.

“We can’t afford their rates.” He said with a shrug. “Also a big part of the business is credibility and trust in the family. Clients know we won’t share information around, temporary staff wouldn’t have the same reputation, or incentives.”

“So you’d need someone who could align their incentives to yours, someone who’d stay with the family long-term, who has cards that could fill the gap.” She paused, brow furrowing. “At a stretch, my cards would work. But how would I join your famil-?” She cut herself off before finishing the question, a flush obvious in the dim lighting even as she glanced away.

“As much as I appreciate the offer,” Jack smoothly shifted topics to save her the embarrassment of lingering on what she’d just implied. “I don’t think we should consign me to irrelevance quite yet. I don’t think it was a coincidence that I’ve been working to card by the book fruitlessly, for years at this point; and then I card without any warning.”

“You think… something about the context precipitated your carding? That it was life-threatening? But if you’re pushed to card or die how can that help you with the scholarly card you need? I won’t assail you with hefty tomes, not that it would work—you’d just get the ability to liquefy paper or something.”

“Not life-threatening necessarily, though I suspect the stakes do matter.” Jack grimaced in frustration. “I just don’t know. And it isn’t enough that I just card either, I need a strong card-–a strong set of cards! To make up for this... near junk I have now.”

They both knew that his next primary carding would be his last. After the first ten cards acquired through primary cardings he would only receive singles from then on, at a slower rate. He would be able to reject them, unlike the primary cardings, and this would enable him to curate his deck. But the fact that his first five cards were useless for his trade meant it would be years before he could expect to have a deck that was even vaguely efficient. If his next carding went catastrophically, it could be decades, and then only if he forced himself to engage in a trade he had no support for.

“Writings on card lore are so scattered and incomplete after the last Fall. I feel like—”

“Like you’re trying to piece together a shattered mirror with half the shards hidden.” She finished for him.

The lack of interest in pursuing public research into carding had always baffled Jack. The academico’s spent their time deciphering old texts and hunting through unplumbed archives, as if knowledge couldn’t be created, only curated.

For something so important to everyone’s lives, most carding knowledge was passed down as folk wisdom and general suspicions. Jack had spent the last two years of his life partially sequestered, studying obsessively in an effort to card a mental card because that was all anyone knew.

They stood in silence for a time after that. The familiar ground of a regular frustration, for which neither had an answer. The city around them glowed, a trait that had grown over a handful of decades as wealth flooded into Calamut. They lived in a changing world, innovations from the Springworks came faster and faster as the power of kinetics were harnessed. But the legacy of the older world extended into their lives with a rigidity that rankled them.

After a time, Neavie spoke wryly. “We know the nobility have strong cards. If only there was a secret noble in your bloodline, that would at least solve some of your problems.”

Jack forced a dry laugh, but then a thought struck him. “Wait, are all their cards stronger?”

“What do you mean?” Neavie asked.

“Do you remember the debut we went to see a few years ago?”

Jack was referring to a combat demonstration a newly minted crop of visiting noble youths had performed—slaying a hulking beast that had been brought into the city. The streets had been cleared while the creature had run amok through the city; harried and bloodied by the nobility until they finally killed it in a brutal fashion, showing off their power.

The night-runners had stealthily followed the action on the rooftops, avoiding detection with their mastery of the city. Jack reminded Neavie of that night for one reason: the embarrassing use of movement cards on display by some of the nobles.

They had been inept in their use, particularly obvious to the eyes of the night-runners that had spent years cultivating a deep knowledge of and skill for movement in the city. But additionally, as Jack reminded Neavie now, their cards had been no faster, the distance of their dashes no greater than those of the night-runners.

Jack’s mind was running at such a furious pace he didn’t trust himself to speak immediately for fear of losing his thoughts. But then it came out in a rush. “If all their cards were strong, then the claim that it’s blood would make sense. But if some of their cards were the same or weaker than lowborn...” He trailed off to let Neavie grab the thread, seeing the excitement he felt reflected in her.

“Then their noble blood doesn't actually explain the strength of their cards..” Neavie finished with enthusiasm. She frowned in consideration as another thought came to her. “But wait, it could still matter even if some cards are weaker. If it’s an interaction between their noble blood and specific cards, it would look the same as some other mechanism.”

But Jack had a ready answer. “You’d think so, except you’d also expect to see other family lineages of card users with specific strengths. And sure, clans and dynasties exist around specific trades but they take on wards! Adopted members perform just as well if they’re taken in young.”

“So it can’t be their blood. But whatever it is, their strongest cards make use of it. And we just need to figure out what makes those cards different.” Neavie mused. “You already suspect an answer don’t you?”

“You know me.” Jack answered with a wicked grin. “The nobility are known for their power, but particularly their combat prowess. Those are the cards that everyone knows are unmatchable. We see it often enough in their displays. But how do they get those combat cards?”

“Well, they train obsessively, and avoid anything that could lead them to stray carding. It’s why they need such an army of servants, to avoid weakening themselves. Everyone knows that.” Neavie answered.

His excitement was beginning to affect her as well, as she paced back and forth in precise strides, absentmindedly centring her feet on each tile of the roof before making her next step.

This had always been the time that made Jack feel most himself; working through a problem, challenging assumptions with a friend that could both keep up with him, and outpace him.

“There’s something else that they do. But here I have an advantage, it’s not commonly known.” Jack said, teasing her with a cryptic tone.

Neavie gave him a “get on with it” look.

“Fine, fine! But someday you’ll come to appreciate my dramatic intrigue.” He continued in a serious voice, dispensing with the melodrama. “I noticed something strange in some of the very old expedition records, from before the last Fall.”

He went on to explain how the records provided impoverished details, but a focused eye could frequently pick out a pattern. Multiple expeditions with a common number of people, leaving every four months, was almost certainly the same group successfully completing venture after venture.

“I’d start rooting for them, make up stories about their successes, imagine what they might have been discovering, that sort of thing.” He went on to explain, pausing only at her amused expression. “It’s been a long couple of years, alright?”

“I didn’t say anything.” She replied innocently.

Jack squinted at her suspiciously, but returned to his topic at her hurt look. “There was one small group I was tracing, only five members. They always had spunk, going a bit further afield than any of their contemporaries. Well, on one expedition they had three new members. I thought it was strange, they’d never taken on extras before.” He smiled sadly. “Only three people returned from that expedition, and as far as I could tell, that was the end of the group. I was a bit heartbroken to see how their story ended, so the details stuck with me.”

“That’s terribly, terribly sad.” Neavie said.

“Well, it happened a long time ago.” Jack answered.

“No, I mean that you made friends with a record book. That’s maybe the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.” She clarified impishly.

“Ha ha.” He answered in a monotone. “Some time later I was reading another record—”

“Making friends with another record.”

“I was reading another record," he repeated with emphasis, "this one on noble debuts, when I came across an entry that struck me. An announcement of three concurrent cardings, on the same date the expedition returned. At first, I thought it must be a coincidence, but I looked deeper and the same pattern occurred. Debuts were always occurring on the day, or just, after expeditions returned, expeditions that had left with more members than typical, if you tracked their history. I thought it was just a rite of passage, that they needed to prove themselves in the wild before being allowed to debut, that they must already have their cards.” He paused for a moment, breathless in his excitement.

“But now I think it’s the opposite. By going into the wilds; whether it’s the location, the risk, or some other thing—that’s how they card. Going into the wilds and pinning down their method is how I’ll card to my own strengths.”

For a moment her grin mirrored his own, but over her face a thought passed that Jack could track from how the tension moved into her body.

“I’m afraid for you.”

Jack didn’t know the words to reassure her. How could he, when, as the full reality of what he was proposing finally settled in, he realized that he was afraid too.