Rane spit out blood and glared at the towering figure of the boy across the ring. It was foolhardy to think he ever had a chance. He was older and bigger. He was from a rich family. He probably had an ambient tutor as well.

“I think you can chalk that up as another win,” said one of the boys making the ring.

“Not just yet,” responded Deidre. He brought his fist down. Across the ring, Rane screamed, his right arm hanging limp. Deidre wiped his brow. He was bleeding. Head wounds bleed a lot, but he hadn’t expected Rane to land a blow. Deidre hoped that it wouldn’t leave a scar.

“If I catch you stealing from our shop again, this will end with more than a bum shoulder, “ Deidre said as he walked away.

“Shit, “ whispered Rane. Tears flowed from his eyes. It was nearly all he could do to stop himself from screaming again. He sat against the wall of the alley and closed his eyes.

***

Rane awoke. There was a single ray of sunlight poking through the walls of the alley, shining on his right eye. He squinted his dull brown eyes and put his head down, pulling his long, unkempt, gray hair into his field of vision, again giving his eyes respite from the beaming sun. He would need to go home soon. His mother would be furious. He lived more than a mile away from the alley where he slept for the night.

He drew no attention as he began his arduous journey back home. There was a clear line between the haves and have-nots in Auryck. The line wasn’t literal, but the Southeast district was certainly considered “off-limits” to anyone that did not already live there. Rane was heading there now. Progress was slow. Moving at a pace any faster than a confident walk would send a searing pain down his whole right side. A mile had never seemed such a long distance. As he walked, the buildings began to show noticeably more wear. The shops were more barren. The signposts were a duller blue. The people had more holes – in both their clothes and their eyes.

Rane slowly opened the door, his small mind desperately working on scenarios that would see him through this scolding. Suddenly, he was pulling into the room, his hand still on the door.

“Where have you been!?”

“UUUAH!”

Rane’s scream of pain overlapped with his mothers interrogation opener.

Nyalla yelped in confusion, “and you're hurt!?”

Rane began to explain the events of the previous night. He couldn’t lie to his mother. He had stolen a small and decorative paring knife. It was little more than a child’s whim, and he presumed that, judging from the quality of the store and items, that the small object wouldn’t be missed. Unfortunately, his act did not go unnoticed to Deidre, the son of the shopkeeper.

“You should not have done that.”

“Because it's wrong?”

“It’s wrong, but that’s not why you shouldn’t do it. You shouldn’t do it because what you do is who you are to others. You will be a thief, and a thief cannot be trusted not to steal again. A murderer cannot be trusted to not kill again. Most wrongdoings can be boiled down to this: if you want to live like a human, you have to prove that you provide value to the group. If you provide value to the group, you will be praised, or at least not abandoned. If you prove to be a threat to the group, you will be cast out from the group. You can’t just make all your decisions based on a black and white list of rights and wrongs.”

She continued, “But with all that said, what you did was definitely wrong. If you’re not here before sunset for the next two weeks, don’t expect dinner. Now, let me look at that shoulder.”

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She placed her hands on him, using ambient to feel out the wound.

“Good. It’s just dislocated. If it were any more, I’d have to beg a healer.” As she spoke, she collected ambient around the bones. She breathed slowly, then picked up a small wash rag.

“Bite down on this.” Rane placed the rag in his mouth. It tasted sour. It was that thought in his head when a pain many times sharper than the blow that dealt the damage. It was shocking to the nine year old boy that healing could possibly hurt. With that in his mind, his consciousness slipped away, and his small body slumped toward his mother.

She let out a relieved sigh, though, soon, a more complicated expression painted her slender face. It wasn’t long ago that she could be considered fair. Now, she was tired, haggard, and gaunt. She looked older; she felt older, too. They had decided to have only one child so that they could give their all to a single cause, that he may be greater than them. Now, it seems even that would be a lofty goal.

She had greatly overestimated her value as a skilled worker and greatly underestimated the value of connections, of which she had none of value. She was only a dynient rank ambient user. Still, to her surprise, her skills were lacking when it came to providing quality work for high class clientele. She had never made a dress worth three months' salary. She mended casual clothing for the soldiers of the Kelston garrison, and occasionally a new dress for one of their wives or children. In Auryck, she was little more than a 31 year old apprentice, and she was paid as such. Winz’s parents were in Auryck, but they could do little more than provide the single room lodging in which they currently reside. Nyalla’s own parents had suffered unfortunate fates shortly after her marriage to Winz. Rane’s future, the one they had both given up so much for, was uncertain at best.

“Fight fate with everything, and may the Ambient witness your struggle,” whispered the woman.

***

Rane awoke to the low sound of boiling water in the small room. It was already quite cool; the room was never built to be airtight. He peered over the blankets, a confused look in his eyes.

“You slept the whole day and night after we took care of your shoulder,” said his mother. As the fog of sleep was washed away by the faint smell of boiled eggs, Rane remembered the events that led him here: the fight, the night, and the shameful journey home. His shoulder felt fine, as if nothing had happened.

After breakfast, he performed his usual routine, the city tour. He referred to it as such because he had only been in the city for a few months, and had not been able to get far at first. As such, there was much of the city that he had not seen. This time he would go to the barracks nearest to the Southeast district. The barracks were closer than the market or the merchants district, but he hadn’t toured them yet. First, he had seen barracks many times. Kelston was basically just a military base, anyways. Second, being near the barracks made Rane feel extremely uncomfortable. The uniforms, the haircuts, the men – all made it feel as if his father would suddenly emerge from a door, or show up behind him without warning. The feeling saddened him, young as he was. He knew that despite how much this place reminded him of his father, he was not there.

There was a commotion at the barracks today. It seemed that there was to be some sort of inspection. Like a well rehearsed play, the soldiers created a procession path using a platoon of 49 on each side of the procession and another at the end of the procession. The men were early, as they ended up standing at attention for nearly 15 minutes. Slouching was immediately reprimanded by squad leaders.

Just as Rane was going to leave, he felt it. Then he heard the sound of hoofbeats. Rane was intrigued, not by the sound of hooves, but by the fact that he could feel the shift in ambient before even hearing the beating of the parade of legs on the perfectly aligned stone road. Rane, like his mother, was dynient rank. Who could possibly cause a shift in ambient large enough for him to notice?

Soon, the question was answered. A group of riders, 7 in total, turned that last bend on the street. The one at the lead was clad in a sleeved blue overcoat, which billowed behind him softly, exposing a deep black tunic below. His entourage was dressed in black uniforms similar to the soldiers lined up to receive them, but with more detail in their blue embroidery.

“Make way for High Commander Havertz Aethelwulf Kaid Auryck, second son of Aethelwulf Suroh Thael Auryck, may Ambient surround him always,” announced the first commander.

Havertz slowly made his way down the rows, looking intently at each soldier.

“To continue pushing the front, we will need classients and brazients in each and every unit. A dyniant in that field is of no more use than another packhorse,” he declared.

The commander responded, “yes, we have tightened the barracks and doubled the training regimens. All soldiers are now living in the barracks.”

“Better and more, Commander. Better and more. High capital wants us to push the front, so we must push ourselves first,” said Havertz.

From his vantage point, the inequality of man was enforced. He was not the same as the ranks of soldiers beneath him. Power, wealth, education, and ambient – he had them all, and he would use them to lead as the nobility should.

From his perch atop a nearby hill, Rane felt this as well, a crushing sense of inferiority. He was not close enough to even be in Havertz’s area of direct control, but his young mind conjured a word for this feeling - monster.