Even though the Honey Mead Inn was at its busiest this time of night, the boys lucked out on a table stashed deep into the room between bustling bodies. After the seriousness of the library meeting, Brady was glad to be back in his element with the other city riff raff where he could yell as much as he wanted without watching everyone around him cringe. Adam had been quiet since George had left, and admittedly Brady wasn't eager to bring up the devil father thing again so soon. On the walk here, he'd pestered Gee instead, rattling off at the mouth about her shows and shooting Nathan mean glares when he remembered to. The thief only ever rolled his eyes and buried himself into his cloak.

In the bustling room, Adam put in food orders at the bar as the three low town folk grabbed chairs.

"I've never had a rich kid buy me food before," Gee mused, leaning against Nathan on the opposite side of the table from him. Brady let a grin split his face and leaned forward conspiratorially.

"I recommend it, we're doing the peoples' work." Gee snickered and turned to Nathan.

"You could stand to lighten up a little, dear."

"He's just weighed down by the weight of his crimes," Brady jested, watching for a reaction and reveling in it as he caught Nathan glance at him out of the corner of his eye. "It's hard work, stealing from cripples."

"What do you want, an apology?" he shot back, and Brady shrugged good-naturedly. "If I had known you'd give me this much trouble, I would have gone to the room next door. That shock hurt, for the record." Brady cackled as Gee asked for the full story, and he indulged her.

"I needed to make money, so I staked out one of the boarding houses in the low town–"

"Staked out a cripple."

"Just a boarding house! I knew the room would be empty, so I took what had been naively left undefended," Nathan taunted, and Brady's jaw dropped.

"Things in my private boarding room are not 'left undefended'," he corrected, but he watched the smile pull at Nathan's lips as they fired back and forth.

"So he shot me with lightning," he said, as if Brady had killed his grandmother right in front of him.

"I did not shoot you with lightning–"

"As if that was appropriate escalation," Nathan said, turning to Gee and pretending not to hear Brady's defense. "Lightning. Shot at me." They laughed as Adam returned, taking the seat next to Brady and folding his hands on the table.

Brady bumped him with his shoulder, noticing that Adam was keeping his distance and getting fed up with it. Brady hadn't quite decided what he thought of his lineage, moreover the fact that he hadn't told him earlier, but he had decided that it wasn't Adam's job to make it awkward between them. Besides, he enjoyed watching Adam squirm.

"I could have taken us somewhere nicer," the noble said, grimacing as someone bumped him from behind, but Gee tsked.

"I won't hear slander for the Honey Mead. The food might be slightly off, but it's the heart and soul of Erilea. I won't betray her."

"I'm with Adam," Nathan said. "All the wealth in the world and you picked the cheapest thing possible."

"I'm not that–" Adam started, but Brady cut him off by grabbing his hand and shaking his head sagely.

"I know you've been buying my rooms for the past week, but before that, I was homeless. Compared to folk like us," Brady motioned between the three of them sat in front of his noble, "you might as well be a god." Adam opened his mouth to respond but Brady watched his dark eyes search his as his words got caught in his throat. He felt Adam's hand flip over in his so they were holding hands.

"The idea of eating food every night is heavenly," Gee interrupted, leaning back in her chair and placing her hands on her stomach. "You'd think shows every night would be enough to pay for dinner." Nathan harrumphed at her side, but his eyes flicked from their held hands to Adam's face with no humor behind them.

"You do shows?" Adam asked, and Brady almost exploded.

"You just asked THE Moonlight if she does shows! I've failed you as your poor friend, clearly."

"What Brady is trying to say is yes, I do shows. I dance in the low town, there's lots of people to network with on weekends." She winked and Brady watched Adam's face flush. He was almost glad to see such an obvious sign of life on his face, but there weren't any skeletal appearances in the Honey Mead. There was too much light.

"I'm sorry to say I've never seen one."

"That's maybe for the best," Nathan said. "I would've walked away that night with all the wealth in the world." Brady had spent enough time with the noble to know he was biting his cheek and fighting for a good comeback. As generous as he had been, Brady knew there were things Adam still didn't understand about living on the streets like they did. At least he was good at keeping the indignant responses inside his mouth.

"So what are the odds we die before even reaching the capitol?" Brady interjected loudly, distracting from his friend's floundering.

"Oh definitely," Nathan said, starting to rise as he heard a name shouted over the crowd. Their food was ready.

"That's a bad attitude," Gee scolded, and then added quickly, "I'd say fifty-fifty." She stuck out her hand and told Adam to sit down as he started to rise with Nathan. "I've got it," and she shot Brady a wink.

Brady watched them disappear into the rowdy crowd and glanced back at Adam. He had folded his hands together again, staring at them as they waited.

"It's been an interesting evening," Brady goaded, kicking his feet in his chair. "Lots of revelations."

"If you want to talk about it, we can," Adam said softly, and Brady seized his moment.

"If two people go on dates together, they are sort of dating, aren't they?" Adam turned to him in surprise, his cheeks flushing again. Brady relished the sight and grinned up at him.

"That's what you meant? You almost gave me a heart attack."

"I don't know what else there is to talk about, oh Dark One." Adam looked away, but Brady watched him smile. "Of course, I haven't decided if I like you yet."

"You're using me for my wealth then?" Adam kidded, and Brady nodded eagerly. "I should've known after you demanded I buy you your groceries. Or when you watched that play with me. And then when you took me out to the fields, and we picked flowers. Oh, and when you stayed by my bedside–" He faltered as Brady leaned up and kissed his cheek. His face turned as pink as a strawberry and Brady tried not to laugh as he sat back down, adjusting his cloak.

"That's for not telling me your dad is a devil," he mused slyly, turning to greet their crew returning with fresh plates of food. Just as Brady realized they carried five plates instead of four, George broke through the crowd.

"You all have interesting taste," he huffed, fixing the lay of his satchel and eyeing the crowd suspiciously, sitting carefully in the empty chair left for him. Nathan nodded at his bag.

"I'd keep that buttoned, if I were you."

"I appreciate the expert advice," George retorted, but Brady couldn't tell if he was joking or not. As soon as he'd arrived, Brady had suddenly become hyper aware of the noise in the room, and the bodies jostling his back. The clink of silverware made him shiver, and he couldn't stand letting his fork scrape the plate. He'd hardly picked at his meal before interrupting the others' feasting. His voice was quiet when he spoke.

"How is everyone feeling about tomorrow?" He watched eyes flick to him quickly, but no one was eager to respond.

"It'll be my first time leaving the city," Gee said, setting down her fork. Nathan nodded agreement. Adam and George shifted nervously, and Brady could wager a guess neither of them were excited by the prospect of camping for the next few weeks.

"How do we defend ourselves?" Brady asked again, feeling a pit in his stomach and pushing his plate away. Adam frowned deeply.

"The three of us have our magic," George offered, his tone comforting for the first time since they'd met a week ago. "Worst comes to worst, I've been healing people my whole life." Adam nodded dramatically.

"I've had my fair share of scraps," Nathan added, and Brady noticed him massage something on his arm. "I might not be a knight-in-training, but I've survived this long with knives." Brady nodded and tried to smile, but his anxiety wasn't assuaged. It dawned on him that he recognized this feeling, the one that seemed to arise right before disaster. It had saved him a night on the streets a few weeks ago, but he couldn't tell what was making his skin crawl, the feeling overwhelming. Brady reached for Adam's hand under the table and he felt him squeeze as their fingers laced together. He forced a smile over his face and shrugged dramatically, but Nathan wasn't convinced by his theatrics.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"Well, everyone just stay safe until tomorrow. I'd hate for the world to end because someone got food poisoning or something." Gee started shouting about the Honey Mead's honor, but Nathan let his attention stick on Brady. He continued picking at his meal until Gee bumped Nathan discreetly.

"Why don't you go get us some drinks. Maybe that'll help take the edge off." Nathan nodded and excused himself from the table, weaving through the crowd until he made it to the bar. An aggressive, short woman took his order and left him waiting there, dodging bumping bodies and on high alert for wandering hands. Nathan had spent some time picking pockets in taverns before, but for some reason, he found himself miraculously ignored. Just as he started to notice that, something caught his attention in his periphery, and Nathan turned towards the front door. From the bar, he got a straight line-of-sight to outside, and he noticed patrons crowding the exit like a blood clot in a vein. They kept looking at him, and Nathan leaned back from the bar. He wrestled down his panic as he realized who they were, stepping back on instinct and bumping into someone's chest.

"Woah, there, Brother," they said, and Nathan wheeled around to find Horace Gaudet grinning down at him. "We haven't seen you around base in a while," he continued, drinking from a tankard as Nathan checked the faces around him, expecting to be surrounded. It was more alarming to realize that he was alone with Horace, separated from his crew and Gee by a thin bustle of people.

"I'm trying to collect some coin," he shot back, but there was truth to it. He never took money from the Mothers, he knew it would spell his doom if he did, so he worked around the clock picking enough pockets to make a dent in his indebtment to the Brotherband.

"I heard someone saw you leave the library earlier tonight," Horace mused, his voice scratchy and deep, swallowed by the cacophony of drunkards around him. Nathan resisted the urge to lean in closer to hear him, Samuel's face rearing in his mind as he remembered how easily Horace had thrown him around in the sewers. Nathan didn't weigh much more. "How does a Brother get access to the library, is what I've been wondering. You have to be a rich-fuck not to get kicked out the second you step through those doors. We all know that." Nathan couldn't find his voice, but he spotted the bartender headed back in their direction, arms full of cups. Would he live long enough for her to hand them to him?

"Makes you wonder who was waiting for him there. But I'm just being paranoid," he jested, his voice suddenly loud as he clapped Nathan on the shoulder, hard. He plastered a drunk smile over his face as the angry woman set the tankards on the bar for Nathan, and he tried to mimic his ease. It was hard work as Horace dug his fingers into his shoulder, but he raised his tankard to Nathan in a toast. "See you around," he mused, and he started forcing his way out of the crowd. Nathan stared after him, wrestling his expression back under his control and wishing his heartbeat would slow down. He'd made some progress by the time he returned to their table, and everyone was too distracted by the drinks to spot his shaking legs.

~'~'~

Matt stumbled over the door to his quarters, off balance from the force of Kain's hand holding the nape of his neck and pushing him outside, falling to his knees in the dirt. It was lighter outside, dusk rising in half an hour, but he didn't get time to understand what he was being punished for before Kain was hauling him off the ground again.

He was dragged through camp silently, his commander gripping his arm and pulling him as he walked barefoot up roads, glad to have slept in a shirt as the cold air nipped at him. At least he had the blessing of clothing.

Matt was sure he was being reprimanded, since Kain's anger was laced into his face like he'd been born with it, dark brows knitted together and his teeth flashing through a grimace. He kept his eyes ahead and off the cadet, like he couldn't bear to look at him yet. Matt was familiar with the look.

They finally arrived at Kain's tent, and Matt was shoved through first, making sure to keep his footing this time or else he couldn't even imagine the beating he'd incur. He hoped his first stumble would be forgiven, considering the unusual circumstances.

"Kneel," Kain commanded, and Matt did, coming to his knees in the center of the tent. He spent a lot of time here compared to the other cadets, but he wasn't sure what the purpose was today. Every time he'd come here to train, Kain made him begin with meditating, and at command to kneel, Matt realized that's why he'd been summoned. His wooden practice sword leaned on the desk pushed against the canvas wall, and Kain circled him to fetch his own, longer and more balanced than what he made the cadet use.

Matt forced his eyes off of his commander and closed them, finding his heart racing in his chest. It was always hard to meditate in front of Kain, but he had a lot of practice wrestling his fear down to avoid more punishment. Sometimes, during their long training sessions this summer, Kain had forced him to stay meditating for several hours. Whenever he stirred, Kain would whack him with the flat of his sword, so he stayed past dinner hour and went to sleep starving. Once, after only a minute and a half, Kain ambushed him and he spent the rest of his day in the infirmary with a concussion for the rest of the day. Last week, he'd torn a cut down his eyebrow, which Matt felt tug at his skin now.

He'd come to think of his heart as a scared bird in his chest, and it was landing in his hands now, startled each time he heard Kain's feet stir the ground. He'd need several more minutes to completely calm it, but he heard his commander tsk and his eyes shot open. Kain motioned for Matt to grab his sword, and he followed orders.

"Elena informed me you've been hired," he said, his voice low and monotone. The rage from his bunks had been eclipsed with cold disdain.

"Yes, sir," Matt said, juggling his sword and frowning. It had been whittled down again, way too light on the right side and unpredictable in his hands. That meant his control would be gone, and he suppressed a shiver as he remembered a time a few months ago, when his blade had accidentally struck Kain in the face. It was not helping calm the bird to reminisce.

He looked up to find Kain studying his expression, and he began lecturing.

"In the field, you can never rely on your equipment to keep you out of danger. We train men here, not their swords." Matt had heard him say this before, so he divided his focus to flick around his sword and find its patterns. "When a life is in your hands, it is your skill which will keep them alive."

Matt let his eyes find his commander again as Kain took off his coat, his sword seeming to appear in his hand he moved so deftly. Matt heard the crunch of his boots on the ground, and he reminded himself to watch his feet. Kain would not let him ignore the disadvantage.

Caught up in his thoughts, he nearly missed the commander's first swing, bringing up his sword a second late and stumbling back to block it. Kain swung again, to his opposite side, and again in a blur of motion, cracking Matt's ribs with his sword. He gave him no time to recover, his blade flying through the air as quickly as a hummingbird, almost too fast to keep track of if Matt hadn't learned not to try. It was easier to watch his body and guess that way, although his intuition wasn't perfect.

Matt deflected another few swings and took many more to his sides and wrist, his fingers tingling after a good strike which shocked his nerves. In his pain, he caught the rise of Kain's boot and moved his feet back just in time. He could've smiled, if anger hadn't exploded over Kain's face a second later.

"I will not allow you to shirk your duty to me," he snarled, and Matt felt a hefty THWAP! against his leg bruise his femur. "I will not allow you to mooch with nobles and make a mockery of me." Again, a hit to his shoulder. "You're neither talented nor special enough to be granted a cheat in our system." His sword seemed to curl around Matt's as he twisted, and the blade went flying from the cadet's hands. A cloud of dust poofed around it as it settled on the dirt floor.

Matt had learned not to reach for his blade too quickly, and he raised his arms to shield his face from a hit, hearing Kain grunt as he stopped the blow. In combat, of course, his arms would've been chopped. But here, he had stopped a bad hit to his neck which would've ended their session. At least, Matt hoped it would've ended their session.

The cadet dodged again, sidestepping a swing but ducking into another one, a crack against his ribs that stung more than the last one. The boot rose again, and Matt jumped out of the way. He reached for his sword, but Kain smacked his fingers painfully, making him cry out.

Suddenly, Kain was behind him and his boot bit into the back of Matt's knee, forcing him to the ground. He cracked him in the ribs one more time and Matt let his hand go to it, cringing as pain danced through his chest. He'd taken too many hits there.

He panted on his hands and knees until a hand under his jaw forced him to sit back. Kain crouched in front of him, his dark gaze frightening in the poor light, swallowing his eyes.

"You are not a good enough soldier to be hired, and if anyone besides a Nattien had put their name on that contract, I would've canceled it. You're going to make a mockery of the academy when the young boy is hurt under your insolent care. Get up." Matt heaved in a few breaths, but he'd had worse injuries than a bruised rib in Kain's presence. Some time ago, he'd sprained his wrist falling to the ground and Kain had still pushed him to fight for another hour, until a nearby commander checked on the yelps coming from the tent. He'd gotten a week to rest after that, and the next training session had been five times as painful.

Matt rose with all the speed he could muster, claiming his sword before Kain could kick it away from him. He wiped sweat from his nose and began circling as his commander did, his eyes flicking between every part of Kain's body. His boots dangerously crunched the ground, his hand twirled his blade in distracting displays, and his eyes scoured Matt as he did, not revealing his next move.

Even though Kain had no idea what Matt's real job was going to be, keeping five small, untrained boys alive for the next few weeks, he couldn't help but let his words penetrate his confidence. Brady's display of support had felt nice, but as he ignored a limp from a sore hamstring, he couldn't help but realize how much training he still had left to complete. Kain was an outstanding opponent, faster than anyone Matt had ever fought and more unforgiving than Mother Nature, but he was far from the only man like that in the world. Matt had known a few, growing up in a farming village west of Erilea. He saw their faces merge with Kain's sometimes, when he'd suffered dehydration and heatstroke fighting for his life in this tent, but it was easier to stay sharp when he ignored wandering thoughts like that.

Matt watched Kain turn into a blur of motion, but his sword rose quickly and precisely as Kain maneuvered. He was being backed into the canvas wall, but he'd blocked several attacks in a row and he could feel Kain's blows getting heavier. Matt had never decided if it was better to let himself get hit to assuage the short temper of his commander, or better to test his mettle against it. He always ended up smacked in the ribs before he got to choose.

It happened again now, and Matt coughed at the pain choking his system. He raised his sword, but the balance fell wrong, and he missed, taking another hit. He stumbled, narrowly avoiding an exaggerated stomp from Kain's boot. Matt only registered it had been too obvious when Kain's voice was loud in his ear, hot breath breaking on his neck.

"This is for your own good," he spat. Searing pain shot through his right side and Matt screamed, his sword clattering to the ground. He followed shortly after, his knees buckling and his hands flying to his side as the knife was drawn out of his body, blood spilling down his side. He panted against the pain, already woozy, as Kain wiped his blood off on his dark pant leg and shook his head in disappointment.

"The enemy will never give you a fair fight, cadet. Be glad I'm also your commander," and he disappeared through the front of his tent, leaving Matt alone. When he returned a few moments later with nurses in tow, the tent was empty.