Monver stood above the amassed men on a small mound of dirt. He was cleaning his teeth with his tongue. Wet smacking sounds filled the air as 80 men stood in neat lines before him. Finally, he finished picking his teeth and sighed.

‘Congratulations,’ he said. ‘You survived.’ Monver was a tall man with a boyish face and thick eyebrows. His nose was crooked, making it look as if it had a mind of its own and was going off to sniff something delectable to his left. ‘As some of you may be aware, the Consortium has seen fit to provide additional rewards for our expedition. As such, the top performers will be given a reward in line with their achievement.’ Monver held out his hand, and the only other man standing on the hill handed him a scroll. He unrolled it, then began to read. ‘In order of the smallest achievement to the largest step forwards: Ascendant Cradow, no family name, for leading the southern flank to victory you are awarded Q200 and a bronze pass to all Consortium stores.’ Cradow was standing to the left of the lined-up men and a few snickers rose up as he climbed the dirt mound.

Covens wasn’t surprised at the laughter. Cradow’s order to charge the barrier had put 20 men out of commission for an entire day. What surprised her more was how sheepish he looked during the walk up to Monver, almost as if he was actually embarrassed; Cradow was proving to be a masterful actor.

‘Secondly,’ Monver continued. ‘Lieutenant Antone Trevil, for scouting ahead of the main body and discovering the current position of the bandit camp. As well as discovering the barrier. You will be awarded Q400 and a silver pass to all Consortium stores.’ The man standing behind Monver moved in front of him to stand beside Cradow.

‘And might I just say,’ Antone said as he came to a stop. ‘It’s been an absolute pleasure working with you, sir. And I am most pleased to have my efforts rewarded in such a generous manner.’ Cradow shrugged, brown-nosing seemed to have little effect on him.

‘Thirdly,’ Monver continued. ‘Ascendant Marshall Covens, for delivering the news to the Consortium about the location of the manual and aiding Antone, you are awarded Q500 and a silver pass to all Consortium stores.’ Coven’s mouth dropped open, but she quickly hid the expression. The Consortium kept careful track of all Ascendants under its employ and Covens was hoping to keep her involvement in this “expedition” a secret for as long as she could. Monver had let her come in exchange for queens and a valuable cultivation fruit for the promise of making no mention of her being here. Now, her name would appear on the list of rewarded Ascendants. If there’s 1 thing the Consortium keeps better track of than its Ascendants, it’s its money. Her presence would not go undetected, not to mention all the questions her three new allies would have.

‘Especially that crafty one, Vaskir,’ Covens thought as she made her way up to Monver. ‘If he was smart enough to find the manual before me, he’ll be smart enough to ask the right questions.’ She came to a stop before Monver and almost chuckled as he came up and shook her hand, making doubly sure that she would be remembered.

‘I’m not one to stand against the Consortium,’ Monver whispered. ‘Also, I just didn’t like your attitude. Oh, I’ll be keeping the queens and the wind fruit, unless, of course, you want to try and take them from me.’ Covens didn’t rise to the bait and warmly shook his hand.

‘Thank you for the reward,’ she said evenly. Monver shrugged and went back to reading.

‘And finally, Vaskir Freyfa. For acts of heroism, taking command above your station in a moment of need, and defeating a 30-man commander, you are awarded Q1000 and a private pass to all Consortium stores.’ Monver grimaced as he read out the reward. Covens smiled. The Consortium was keeping careful watch of this expedition, so the knife cut both ways and there was no chance for him to skim off the top. ‘Seeing as how Freyfa is currently bleeding to death in Miss Coven’s tent the reward will be given to his trusted companion: Pravin Bronzewood.’ Pravin was standing in the front line of men and took a deep breath to calm himself.

‘Alright, time to get your ass kicked,’ Pravin thought and made his way to Monver who was already holding a thick pouch in one hand and a small, white-trimmed card in the other. ‘On behalf of Vaskir, thank y—’

‘Hey wait a fucking second,’ Cradow interrupted. ‘How do we know he won’t just run off with the goods? He’s just a mortal. I’m the one who ordered Vaskir to do all the shit he did, I should hold onto them.’ Pravin looked at Cradow with as much disgust as he could muster.

‘All I remember is you trying to get us killed. Besides, Vaskir’s awake, let's just go and ask him who he wants to hold onto his reward.’

‘Yeah!’ someone called out from the crowd of men. ‘Fuck off, baldy.’ Cradow shot a glace to the general area where the voice came from, quieting any follow-ups.

‘I heard,’ Cradow continued, looking back to Pravin, ‘that poor old Vaskir took a mighty big hit to his head, apparently half his brain is missing. Someone in a condition like that needs a strong Ascendant to help keep his goods safe. Don’t you agree, Captain Monver?’ Cradow said, insinuating from his tone of voice that Monver would get a cut of the reward if it ended up in Cradow’s hands. Monver grinned.

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‘If that’s the case, why not handle this like men?’ Monver said. Pravin grinned with false confidence.

‘I agree. Duel!’ Pravin shouted, to the dismay of all the men watching. Audible groans could be heard; an unascended mortal would stand no chance against Cradow. Pravin did his best to look confused at the reaction, although inside he was hating coming across as a buffoon.

‘Excellent,’ Monver said and Cradow grinned, cracking his knuckles. ‘I will act as a witness. The challenged may pick the sparring ground and time,’ he looked to Cradow. Cradow pursed his lips, tapping on the bottom one as he surveyed what was around him.

‘Um, what about, like, down there?’ Cradow said, pointing to a flat piece of ground beside the enemy command tent. Monver’s eyes lit up. He had decided to perform the reward ceremony close to the enemy command tent as a way of attacking their morale. Hearing the enemy get rewarded for their efforts against you, whilst you slowly starve, would have an effect. And now, hearing cheering and booing as the whole expedition watches two of its members duel? Monver was many things, stupid wasn’t one of them.

‘Does the challenger agree?’ Monver asked. Pravin nodded, not looking forward to the ending. The expedition rotated and moved until they were surrounding the two men in a semi-circle, with the enemy barrier cutting into the duelling area. Monver walked in-between them and shot Cradow a secret glance that roughly translated to “don’t fuck this up.” Pravin was handed a wooden greatsword, the edge was even wrapped in what looked like cotton. Cradow wrapped his fists, mostly for show; he could throw a punch with enough force to negate any dampening. ‘The first to concede, or be knocked unconscious, loses,’ Monver shouted. He clapped his hands. ‘Begin!’

The energy barrier thrummed ominously as the two men circled each other. Covens smiled as she watched from the sidelines, casually playing with the pouch of queens she had been given. The silver Consortium card was already tucked neatly into one of her greaves. The plan was going well so far. Now, the two of them just had to mock fight for a little while and slam into the barrier. Both would be knocked unconscious, and Covens would rush in, shouting about how horribly injured they were, then take them to her tent for healing. Afterward, she would ask Monver for a few of the lightly injured men’s assistance in carrying Vaskir, Pravin, and Cradow back to Port Royal. She would knock out the stragglers and the lot of them would start making good time away from Monver’s camp. She nodded, satisfied. Now everyone just had to follow the plan.

Pravin was in no mood to follow the plan. The two of them had been fighting for no longer than a minute but Cradow was already starting to piss him off. Whenever Pravin went in for an attack Cradow would step in and land a knuckle strike on his arm, causing the attack to swing wide and miss. Worse, he always laughed and did this stupid dance backward, goading him. This was nothing like fighting Vaskir, who stood almost perfectly still whenever he wasn’t parrying, dodging, or attacking. Pravin grunted and changed tactics. He was going to win this, if only to put Cradow in his place.

Cradow was having a blast; big lumbering idiots were his favourite punching bags. Pravin stepped forwards again, swinging his sword in a tight curve, using no more than half its range in exchange for speed. Cradow still easily dodged, but the attack was quick enough not to leave room for any counterblows. This wouldn’t stop him for long. Cradow went in for a leg sweep, using Pravin’s own tactic of shortening his range against him, ducking under the attack. Cradow suddenly felt pressure on his thigh and halfway through the movement his left leg was lurched out from underneath him and he fell.

Pravin grinned, Cradow had fallen for it. People tend to underestimate the range of a greatsword and treat it as a heavier, thicker, version of a longsword. This tendency could be further exploited if you purposely shorten your range. When Cradow went in for his sweep, something which Pravin had not predicted and was forced to react to, he simply changed his grip and hooked Cradow’s left leg out from underneath him. Had it been a real greatsword he probably would have cut open his inner thigh as well. Pravin, capitalising on the situation, immediately dropped his weapon and lunged for Cradow’s prone form.

Cradow’s eyes went wide as he watched the massive gorilla of a man leap at him. There was no dodging this, so instead Cradow curled up and got his legs in between himself and Pravin. Pravin slammed into Cradow’s feet, but still pushed past and started punching into Cradow’s guard. Vaskir wasn’t lying when he said that Pravin had wrestled that Ascendant to the ground, and if he had received even a small amount of training, or was following a manual’s teachings, Cradow probably would not have been able to overcome the mixture of strength and technique. As it stood currently… Cradow hooked his legs around Pravin’s right arm and pulled him close, then pushed off.

Pravin hit the dirt and rolled, he could feel the energy of the barrier behind him, it made the hairs on the back of his neck hackle up. Cradow wasted no time and leaped at Pravin. Pravin panicked and caught Cradow in a bear hug. They both rolled closer to the barrier.

Covens stared at the two men, mouth slightly agape. They were both on the ground, punching each other in the face with no thought for defense. They rolled from side to side, trying to take the top position, narrowly missing the barrier every time they swapped positions. The crowd roared with excitement every time one of the men got on top and started attacking, the cheering entered a fevered pitch as Pravin managed to catch Cradow in a prone headlock. The tips of Pravin’s hair were no more than an inch away from the barrier, causing them to spike up.

Cradow tried to break the headlock he was in by elbowing Pravin’s side, but Pravin was too stubborn. Cradow would be damned before he lost to an unascended mortal but Pravin had played his cards well. If this was a real fight Cradow was still certain of his victory but he was no longer sure he would come out unscathed. He looked up at Pravin, who was gritting his teeth and straining, and felt momentary respect for a fighter other than himself. Then, he pushed off the ground and hurled them both into the barrier.