Billy’s mind spun as he sat in the Son’s war room. A large map of Bleakridge was laid out on the table, and on the far wall was a map of the Rills, marked with the locations of the dozens of townships that dotted the vast countryside. Red circles adorned the northern half of the land, marking suspected locations of forced labor camps in the north. Getting intelligence in those areas was difficult as the garrisons took to killing first and asking questions later as there was little reason to be that far north unless you had business with a camp. The map ended far to the north as the rolling hills faded into the great northern forest. He’d only ever seen the vast woods from a distance on patrols long ago, but the haunting sight still gave him chills.

Billy shook his head, taking a deep breath as he looked around the men sitting with him at the circular table. Marc stood, leaning over a sheaf of parchments that Billy assumed held the orders Kid had mentioned. James had just arrived after a long trip through the tunnels. A freshly bandaged wound lay bloody along his left arm. If the wound bothered him, he gave no indication. Billy supposed if anyone were accustomed to pain, it would be the Gatekeeper.

He owed the man a drink that was long overdue, for trying in Varna while he had only watched. He’d have to see to it before their time came to a close.

The rest of Marc’s gang leaders were trickling in. Most were near his own age, Veterans of the last war who never put their swords down. He knew some of them from a lifetime ago, most of them hard bastards. The extremities of the Sons may be little better than rabble, but Billy had to admit Marc presented a strong center.

His mind drifted back to Grim once more and he sighed. That boy could never seem to keep his nose out of trouble. He could still remember handing the boy his first axe and shield. Bastard was big even then. Billy ran a hand through his thinning hair. He’d trained hundreds of boys into killers and outlived more than he cared to think about.

Marc rapped his knuckles on the table and Billy realized that the seats around the table had been occupied by the twenty-some-odd men who led the various cells around the city. Each knew little more about the organization at large beyond what was needed to keep their slice of the pie intact and operational. That was by design, so that if any one of them or their men were captured, the Venarans wouldn’t know all the ways into the Son’s sanctum or the extent of their operations within the walls.

Stolen novel; please report.

Marc looked across the assembled leaders as the room fell silent. “Tomorrow there will be blood,” he said breaking the quiet and securing the attention of every man in the room. Sources within the Venaran army leaked information to us of a raid to come tomorrow.”

Marc tossed a rolled piece of parchment onto the table. “Somehow information on our supply depots was leaked,” he said, “And I’d recommend you all had best look to your men for leaks, before I start looking.”

Marc let the silence linger, meeting the gaze of every man at the table, as the gang leaders passed the plans around the table.

“They’ve pushed too hard this year, and have taken too much. We will not quietly step out of their path. We know where they will be and when they will be there. We will meet them, and we will be ready.”

That statement was met with a roar of approval from most of the men in the room as they beat their hands on the table. Billy was passed the parchment and he took in the markings on the map. It was just as Kid had said.

Billy spoke up, “Who’s the source for this information?” he asked.

“Unimportant,” Marc answered.

Billy narrowed his eyes. “It’s important to our men who’ll be betting their lives on it.”

Marc was quiet a moment as murmurs of agreement sounded around the room. “Leadership of the Fifth Cohort. Seems they didn’t appreciate their underground assignment,” he said, conceding the point.

That brought a handful of chuckles from around the room. Billy nodded in thanks, passing the parchment to his right. “Is the deal that we don’t bring the cave down on their heads?”

Marc glared at Billy, seeming to not appreciate this line of questioning. “It was asked but will not be honored.”

Billy spat on the floor. “And you’d piss on your word so easily?”

Marc leaned forward on the table, eyes boring into Billy. “They’re southerners and not deserving of mercy.”

Part of Billy wanted to tell Marc Grim was there and too important to throw away, but he saw no way to bring that up without sacrificing Kid. He steeled himself.

Billy leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Killing men who would work with us is shortsighted.”

“The times call for hard measures,” Marc answered.

“Men who blame their actions on the times are cowards,” Billy spat.

The room went dead silent, every man carefully inspecting the grain of wood on the table as Marc and Billy glared at one another. The ominous quiet was broken by James, “Marc, he’s right on one point. If we break the trust of men who collaborate with us, we’ll find ourselves short on allies before long.”

Billy held Marc’s gaze, seeing something ugly beyond those dark eyes as the man’s face broke out into a grin. “Maybe my anger got the best of me. I find it hard to forgive those who killed my kin,” he said, “And since honor is so important to you, Billy- I’ll give you the honor of leading our vanguard tomorrow.”

That might very well be a death sentence. Billy met Marc’s grin with one of his own. “I’ll fuck the whoresons good.”