Leaving was hardest on Asher, who had gained the respect of almost everyone on campus. There were some tearful conversations in the Lyrenite quarter especially. As the evening rolled in, he realized that individual goodbyes across the entire campus would not be feasible, especially given the lengthy series of questions after such an announcement. He eventually had to tell some of his close friends to spread the word after his departure.

Although she was well-liked, the lightest of the burden of leaving fell on Arlia—most likely because she had suddenly and irrevocably left a life behind just a few years prior. At least this time, she got to keep those closest to her.

A less frantic night gave the group more time to make preparations, so Petra and Katelain were able to get rooms in the small guest quarters on campus for the night. Rex, Asher, and Arlia each returned to their dorms to make final preparations for the morning’s departure.

At this moment, Rex was sitting on her bed, holding a pen and staring at a blank sheet of paper. She knew she had to inform her parents of her decision, but was at a loss when it came time to put words on paper. A letter seemed entirely inappropriate for such a thing. She sighed and slouched down against the wall behind her.

Some of the other Rexelian girls studied her from a distance. She was able to offer them little explanation, as she didn’t want to start a widespread panic if the elders were unwilling to act. Rex was oblivious to their gazes and stared intently at the paper she was holding.

After a few minutes, Rex put down the pen and paper and walked to her closet. For the most part, her closet was filled with rather innocuous objects—clothes and a few books that she didn’t often use. The only thing of note was a box of letters she had collected over the years from her father. She had been away at school for the last ten years, only seeing her father on brief vacations and holidays, so the box had, to Rex, come to represent her father completely.

She pulled the box of letters out of the closet, opened it up, and began going through some of the old letters—letters that had challenged her, encouraged her, and filled her with pride.

But the familiar motions of sifting through the old letters were now tainted with new knowledge. She was an experiment because her parents had wanted her to be. Regardless of any decisions since then, that is why she was conceived, and she didn’t know how much of that was still a factor in their care for her—or, for that matter, whether they cared for her at all.

She read through a few of her favorite letters. Each encouraged her in her studies, pushing her to be the best Rexelian she could be. Some were exhortations, such as the letter she received upon her acceptance to Crater Lake; some were gentle reminders that her studies were the most important thing in her life; some were simply life lessons he had learned, being an experienced Rexelian himself. But all of them focused on her magic—her destructive magic.

As she turned through the pages, a growing feeling of discontent welled within her. Page after page of recognition and encouragement for being, essentially, a living weapon, just as she was bred to be. Each page furrowed her brow a little more, and each time she put down a page and grabbed a new one was a little more violent than the one before.

Eventually, she slammed down the last letter she was reading. She got up and stomped over to her bed, where she picked up her pen and paper and began writing furiously. She wrote until she had filled the entire page. She then read over what she had written. When she had finished, she read it again. And then, again.

Upon finishing it a third time, she put the paper down next to her and sighed deeply. She gazed at the ceiling above her thoughtfully for a few minutes. She glanced down at the letter she had written, then at the collection of letters from her father. Then she got up, picked up the letter she had written, and placed it in the box of her father’s letters. She picked up the box and carried it out of the women’s dorm.

It wasn’t a far walk to the Rexelian training ground, which was deserted in the absence of sunlight. She placed the box of letters on the ground and took a step back. For a few moments, she stared at the box with a hint of longing, even regret. But her expression quickly changed to one of angry determination. She put her hands in front of her and shot an intense spurt of flame down at the box, burning clear through to the barren ground beneath.

Most of the letters were completely incinerated in the initial blast. A few stray embers laid amongst the charred remains of her childhood memories, crackling softly in the quiet night. Rex silently watched the embers die down one by one until their light was completely extinguished before turning and walking back to her dorm.

The oddest thing, in her opinion, wasn’t simply the news that she had heard; it was the fact that she had believed it so easily. Now, having calmed down, the news seemed less like a curse and more like a missing puzzle piece. She had always been an exceptionally talented Rexelian, but it had never wavered with her being in the right (or wrong) mindset, as most other mages dealt with. Even though she was the top of her class, and had been her entire life, she still had a vast well of untapped potential. And how did her parents know before birth that she would grow to become a Rexelian?

And then there was the matter of leaving. While she implicitly trusted her sister’s warning, she knew it wasn’t quite believable. But she couldn’t leave without warning the elders. She also couldn’t leave without explaining her departure. And who would oversee the town guard?

She glanced down at Asher’s sleeping body. He had always been understanding. But how understanding would he have to be for this? Rex didn’t know the extent of her experimentation, so she assumed the worst.

The thoughts and questions weighed heavily on her. Some of the Rexelian students, already walking across campus for one reason or another, were giving her odd looks. She didn’t notice Arlia had awoken until she had taken a seat next to her.

“Feeling better?” Arlia asked.

Rex sighed. She paused as she collected her thoughts, which had been strewn out in all directions. “As good as I can be, I guess.”

“That’s better than nothing,” Arlia said.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry I worried you,” Rex said.

Arlia shook her head softly. “Don’t ever apologize for concern shown for you,” she said. “Concern is a gift. Trust me.”

“Well then, thank you,” Rex said.

The growing commotion had stirred the others, who were now waking. Asher, who had been laying right next to Rex, sat up and groggily wiped his eye. Petra and Katelain sat up, then looked at each other.

“We’re going to go get some breakfast,” Katelain said. “We’ll be back soon.” She and Petra stood up and walked toward the center of the monastery.

Asher repositioned himself to be right next to Rex. The three students sat huddled very closely together.

“So what’s going on?” Asher asked. “I feel like there’s more going on here than a hasty departure.”

Rex relayed to the two of them the information she had received just the day before. They were skeptical, but Rex added in her revelations from the morning.

“So, in a way,” she said, “it makes sense.”

“What does this mean?” Asher asked sympathetically.

“It means…” Rex stopped, sighed, and shrugged halfheartedly. “I don’t know what it means.”

“Rex, this doesn’t change who you are,” Arlia said.

“But this changes everything,” Rex said.

“Everyone’s got a monster in their closet,” Arlia said.

“But I’m the monster, Arlia.”

“Don’t say that,” said Asher, putting an arm around her. “You’re no monster.”

Rex put her head on Asher’s shoulder and dwelt on this for a few moments. Asher’s words didn’t seem to comfort her, but there was still an air of determination about her.

“That’s why I’m really leaving,” Rex said. “Kat said they were going to go look for answers.”

“I thought you were in danger,” Arlia said.

Rex picked her head up off of Asher’s shoulder and shook it. “I can take care of myself,” she said. Then, she laughed unexpectedly. “A boar attacked me yesterday while I was out in the woods,” she said. “I incinerated it in less than three seconds.”

“That’s my girl!” Asher said.

Rex laughed again. Her laughter helped put everyone at ease.

“We’re back,” Katelain said, holding a few apples, some bread, and some cheese.

“We can leave tomorrow,” Rex said without missing a beat.

Katelain nodded. “That will do,” she said.

Rex got up and dusted herself off. “Time to go spend our last day in Crater Lake.”

Katelain had explained to them that the school was no longer safe, and that Rex would likely be going back with them. Asher was initially irate at this news. Anger led to accusations, but accusations gave way to questions, and answers finally made room for concern, which was the feeling held now by all four of them.

All of the questions and conversations had since passed, however, and the group had sat in silence for about half an hour.

Asher got up and took a seat next to Katelain. “So when do we leave?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“As soon as possible,” Katelain said. “I realize there are some things to wrap up first, but we have some important things to get to.” Asher seemed content with this, although he was definitely not excited. “I noticed you said ‘we,’” Katelain said.

Asher nodded. “I’m coming with you.”

Katelain nodded without looking at him. “I’ll leave that decision to you and Rex.”

Asher sighed, then got up and walked away from her. He walked back by the fire and sat next to Arlia.

“I can’t believe I’m leaving so suddenly,” he said.

“I know,” Arlia said. “I mean, we’re almost done with our studies, but still, being pulled out of them so abruptly—”

“You’re coming too?” Asher shot Arlia a quizzical look.

Arlia looked at Asher incredulously. “Yeah,” she said, nodding slightly. She stared into the fire, looking slightly offended, then scoffed and turned back to him. “Asher, you’re not family, but you’re the only thing like it that I have,” she said. “You’re the brother I never had. I have no one else to go back to. So if you think I’m going to let you face this alone, you are sorely mistaken.”

Asher leaned back and smiled slightly. “Who would have thought, when I pulled your scrawny, unconscious body out of the snow that day, that I’d have a sister to show for it?”

“Glad to know you feel the same way,” Arlia said, smiling. She punched Asher in the arm.

“Hey!” he said, leaning away from her.

Arlia yawned, despite her best efforts not to. The hour was late—or, more accurately, it was very early—but all of them had resolved to wait until Rex had returned.

Finally, it happened. Rex walked silently into the midst of them, in a hurry but obviously exhausted. Everyone stood up at her arrival. She walked straight to Asher and hugged him tightly without a word. Everyone gathered around her and waited for some reaction. She held Asher for a long time, but none seemed to mind the wait.

“I’m tired,” she said at last, still refusing to let him go.

“The night’s not bad,” Arlia said, “we could just sleep out here.”

There were no complaints to Arlia’s suggestion. The five of them were exhausted and welcomed sleep wherever it would come to them. They laid down around the fire as comfortably as they could, Rex wrapped in Asher’s arms, a drifted off to sleep under the shining stars.

“I’ve never had a problem before,” the student whined.

Rex shook her head. “Well, not with rocks!” she said, motioning toward some small boulders on the far end of the practice grounds. “You’ve never been up against an opponent who was fighting to reach you. When a target pushes back, that creates force, and you never know how much there’s going to be until it hits you.”

Asher, who was leaning against a tall wooden post, took a few steps toward them. “I’m probably going to regret this,” he said, “but try to knock me down.”

Asher instantly began running straight at the student. The student’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, and he quickly raised his hands and pushed toward Asher, sending an invisible shockwave of concussive force. Both of them fell over backwards.

Asher quickly jumped to his feet in one graceful motion, unfazed. The student clumsily got up and groaned.

Rex stood with one foot placed firmly in back of the other, her knees slightly bent. She raised her hands dramatically and then pointed down toward her feet, then shot the student a look that suggested that she would hit him if he didn’t practice this. The student sighed, assumed the stance, and resumed his practice against the boulders.

Rex walked over to Asher. “Thanks,” she said, smiling at him and softly grabbing his arm.

“Anything to help out your little ragamuffin army,” Asher said, grinning back at her.

The Rexelians guarding the town of Crater Lake were effective, although there had been some unfortunate (and sometimes hilarious) mishaps along the way, earning them the nickname Rex’s Ragamuffin Army. Still, the town was happy to have the guards on their side, and experience was a much quicker teacher than the classroom for most of the students on guard duty. Only one student injury had been sustained so far, although most of the thatched roofs in town had been replaced by roofs of less flammable material.

Rex herself took a few regular patrols, but turned most of her effort toward preparing her guardsmen. This earned her not only the respect of the entire Rexelian quarter, but also a position as an adjunct instructor for the monastery itself. She still had lessons with the Rexelian elder, but spent a great deal of her time teaching her own lessons to the other Rexelian students.

“So what’s next on your agenda?” Asher asked.

“I have a check-in with today’s guard detail mid-afternoon,” she said. “Then a lesson with Elder Bastien, then I’m free for the evening, although I’d like to get some studying in.”

“Nineteen years old and you’re still the smallest Rexelian on campus?” came a woman’s voice from behind them. Rex spun around.

“Kat!” she exclaimed. She ran and gave her sister a hug, nearly knocking her over in the process. Katelain laughed at this and took a step back, but Rex wouldn’t let her go. They held their embrace for a few seconds.

“What are you doing here?” Rex asked, beaming.

Katelain’s smile instantly faded. “I… need to talk to you,” she said. “It’s important.”

“Who’s this?” Rex asked of the well-built man standing next to her. He had short ash-blonde hair and a grey tunic, although she could see the faint outline of light armor underneath. He also had a sword strapped to his back.

“I’m Petra,” the man said, extending his hand toward her.

Rex shook it reluctantly. “What’s going on?” she asked, directing her attention back at Katelain.

Katelain sighed, trying to think about how to begin this conversation. This made Rex even more nervous, as Katelain had never been one to mince words.

“Is there somewhere private we can talk?” Katelain asked.

Rex nodded. “There’s a small garden in the center of the monastery,” she said.

“Alright,” Katelain said. She started walking toward the monastery, then abruptly stopped. “Who are you?” she asked of Asher.

“Asher Silva, Lyrenite extraordinaire,” Asher said proudly.

“My boyfriend,” Rex explained.

“No offense,” Katelain said, “but Rex needs to hear this alone.”

Asher nodded silently, hands on his hips. He then took a step back and motioned toward the garden, his face clearly showing his anger.

“Asher, I’ll be ok,” Rex said. “Go find Arlia and tell her my sister’s here.”

Asher nodded, still wordlessly, then turned and walked toward the Ionan quarter.

The walk to the garden was a quick, silent one. The three of them sat on three large stones on the far end of the garden.

“It’s not safe here,” Katelain said.

“What do you mean—”

“The Ardellian military has classified this school as dangerous,” she said. “No telling when they’ll upgrade you to extermination.”

“They haven’t wiped out a school since Sarcus,” Rex said.

Petra responded: “We’ve— They’ve been investigating the schools, trying to determine if they pose a threat. Some of them have been deemed too dangerous.”

“How do you know this?” Rex asked.

Katelain and Petra looked at each other.

“You first,” Petra said.

“Rex, I’m a spy,” Katelain said. “I’ve assassinated eight Ardellian officials and intercepted a number of documents.”

Rex stared at her sister for a few seconds before nodding very slowly. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” she said. “I never really saw you as a medical Omenian.”

“I’m a former Ardellian officer,” Petra said. “What she’s saying is true.”

Rex stood up. “I have to warn the elders,” she said.

“Wait,” Katelain said, grabbing her arm. Rex sat back down and Katelain continued: “There’s something else.”

Rex looked attentively at Katelain. Her warm, inquisitive gaze gave Katelain pause. She sighed deeply.

“The reason the war was so brutal,” Petra said, “wasn’t just because we wanted your land and resources. Sedera has been doing human experimentation, trying to breed living weapons to use for war.”

Rex’s expression showed equal amounts of shock, anger, and denial. She looked quickly at her sister, who nodded.

“We haven’t confirmed it, but,” Katelain said, pausing to look over at Petra, “Petra said he heard it from an Ardellian researcher involved in the project.”

“This is a little hard to take in,” Rex said. “Human experimentation was outlawed in the six hundreds. This would represent a very grave crime at the heart of our nation.”

“There’s more,” Katelain said. She stared silently at her sister for a few seconds, then down at the ground. Finally, she turned to Petra.

“If… the information I received was correct…” Petra said. He was being very careful with his words, so Rex anticipated the worst. Petra glanced at Katelain, then turned back to Rex. “You are one of those experiments, Rex.”

“No, that’s not possible,” Rex said angrily. “How could this be possible? I’m a student. I’m not in a lab somewhere. I’m not being studied like someone’s—” she raised her hands up in front of her, then quickly backed down. She turned her face away from them, then jerked it back quickly. “How is this possible? It’s not possible.” She was tripping over her words.

Petra shook his head. “The information I received was very clear.”

Katelain tried to comfort her. “Rex, I realize this is a lot to take in—”

“A lot to take in? Hell yes, it’s a lot to take in!” She turned to Petra and pointed a finger in his face. “What do you know? What do you even know? How am I supposed to believe any of this?”

Petra sighed. “We don’t know much more than that. We’re going to go look for answers—”

“Well, maybe you should have done that before you told me!” Rex shouted. She was fuming—literally. The plants around her were wilting under the heat she was giving off.

“Rex—” began Katelain.

“You think this is something you can just… tell someone?” She was waving her arms around wildly.

“Rex—” Katelain began again, this time gently grabbing her arm.

“No!” she shouted, jerking her arm away. “You don’t get to shush me like some child!” She stood up and put her hands on her head, shaking it vigorously. “I can’t listen to this. This isn’t real.”

And with that, Rex ran out of the garden. An Ionan student was walking in as she was dashing out. Rex shoved her aside and accentuated it with a short burst of flame, singeing the girl’s clothes. The girl backed away frantically and fell over into a bed of flowers.

Katelain fought back tears as she watched her sister leave. Of all the conversations she had run through in her head, none had ended this badly. She wanted desperately to chase her down and hold her until she calmed down, but she knew that Rex would be inconsolable until she had dealt with it personally.

Petra sat in stunned silence for a few moments before speaking. “Well,” he said, “that went well.”

She looked around and groaned. The tavern was deserted except for her. She noisily pushed her chair back and attempted to get up, but then immediately sat back down and groaned again.

The barkeep poked his head in through a door, spotted Lenus awake, then stepped through the door. “You’re awake,” he said.

“At the risk of my dignity,” Lenus said, her voice cracking, “what happened last night?”

“You went through an entire bottle of wine, then started picking fights with the other bar patrons,” the barkeep said. “You claimed to be an emissary of Leorus, and I think you sentenced a man to death for being ‘painfully unintelligent.’ You broke his nose, and yelled, ‘The pundits will come for you with their threshing books,’ as he fled the tavern.”

Lenus sighed and buried her head in her hands.

“And then,” the barkeep said, “I’m not quite sure what happened, but I think you accused a man of being a spy from the ‘little people.’ He ended up fleeing the tavern, too.”

“And then I passed out?” Lenus asked hopefully.

“Then you walked into the kitchen and picked another fight—with a rump roast.”

“I picked a fight with a roast?” Lenus asked, laying her head on the table.

“And you lost,” the barkeep said. “You then came back out, shoved a man on the floor, threw up on him—twice—and then sat down in that chair and passed out. Everyone was too scared to move you, so we just cleaned up around you.”

Lenus sighed, then rubbed her eyes with her hands and groaned again. She rested her head on her arm and looked at the barkeep. “I’m very sorry,” she said. “What do I owe you?”

The barkeep shrugged. “Nothing,” he said. “The patrons loved it. They bought a lot of drinks.”

Lenus sighed again and looked down at the ground. She then stumbled up out of her chair and looked up at the barkeep. “Glad to be of service,” she said with a slight bow.

She then walked over to the door and opened it. The morning sunlight came streaming in and hit her eyes again.

“Oh, hell no,” she said, closing the door in front of her.

Two hours later, Lenus opened the door again and successfully exited the building. She slowly made her way to the open market, and then to the tailor booth. It was empty and in the same condition it was the day before.

Lenus sighed and placed a hand on her hip. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” she muttered.

She looked down the market alley one way, then the other. Merchants were set up and the alleys were starting to fill with people, but weren’t quite crowded yet. The market bouquet had become strong once again, making her feel at home, even though the booth was closed.

Since Reese was selling his catch that day and not going hunting, he was most likely back at the house. She knew she had to visit him, but decided to make a few stops first.

She arrived at the house about an hour later—shortly before lunch. She opened the door and let herself in. Reese was in the kitchen, skinning the boar as best he could. He turned around to see Lenus as she walked through the entryway.

“Hey, Len,” he said. “What’s that?”

Lenus smiled warmly. She then walked over and hugged Reese tightly. “Thanks,” she said as she released him.

“For what?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she said. “But this is for you.” Lenus handed Reese a finely-crafted bow and a quiver full of arrows. “It’s a pretty good one, from what I hear. I tried to get one as close to your size as I could. I figured, with you hunting, you could use a real hunting weapon.”

Reese quickly wiped his bloody hands and gently took the bow, looking it up and down. He tested the string and found the resistance satisfying.

“Thank you,” Reese said, not taking his eyes off the bow. He suddenly remembered his manners and looked up at Lenus. “Thank you,” he said again. “But…”

“I know, you don’t know how to use a bow,” Lenus said. “I also paid for a month’s worth of training through the town guard.”

Reese hugged Lenus again. “Thank you, Lenus,” he said, emotion causing his voice to break ever so slightly. He pulled back, looking at Lenus, then down at the ground. He seemed to be biting his tongue.

Lenus sighed. “Look,” she said, “the money—”

“I’m sorry, I know I should just be grateful—”

“I stole it,” Lenus said. She gave that a few seconds to sink in as Reese stared at her wordlessly. “If it’s any consolation, I stole most of it from the Empire.”

“You’re a thief?” Reese asked.

“I’m one of the best thieves,” Lenus corrected him. “But I’m doing something much better now. I can’t say exactly what, but I’m going to make this a better place to live. I’m going to need to go away for a while. But I’ll be back—I promise.”

Reese nodded. Slowly, a smile spread over his face. “We’re a couple of misfits, aren’t we?” he asked.

“We’re getting by,” Lenus replied. “You and me. That’s all we need.”

“Well, I’m sorry I accused you of selling yourself on the streets,” Reese said.

“It’s ok,” Lenus said, smiling.

“We both know it would take weeks to find a willing customer.”

Lenus’s smile instantly faded and her eyes narrowed. She quickly pulled Reese into a headlock.

“Hey, ow!” Reese exclaimed.

“Well, promise me that you’ll stay out of trouble,” Lenus said.

“Let me go!”

“Promise!”

“Ok, I promise!” Reese blurted out. Lenus released him. He rubbed his neck and heaved a frustrated sigh.

“Well, let’s sell that pig, then we can share the meal I’ve been trying to have with you since yesterday,” Lenus said.

“Sounds good,” Reese said, smiling.

“Hopefully you’ll be as good at hunting as I was at spinning stories,” Lenus mused.

Reese grinned, cocked his head, and replied, “I shouldn’t have any trouble with the bar set that low.”

The market’s aisles were the hub of social interaction in Amalia. Many made visits simply to bump into friends, or perhaps meet new ones. At this moment, the street was fairly busy (by Amalian standards) with most of the merchant and artisan booths open and many people wandering about, chatting, and engaging with the merchants.

The odd mixture of smells, including meat, crops, spices, perfumes, and fresh leather goods, had become very comforting to Lenus. It made her feel at home, no matter what was going on. She and Reese and dubbed it the “market bouquet,” and the term stuck. The last few weeks had been spent on the road, in the tailoring workshop, and in the training grounds. She’d forgotten how much she missed the market bouquet.

Lenus smiled as she walked past the butcher’s shop. On a childhood dare, she had snuck into the shop, stolen a knife, and run up and down the market’s aisles while the butcher chased her. Market patrons shouted, screamed, and scrambled to get out of the way as a plucky, audacious red-headed child ran like mad through the market with a butcher’s knife in her hand, followed by an angry, shouting butcher who was red in the face. After a few laps around the market, she lodged the knife into the door frame of the butcher’s shop, and hid away for the better part of the day. She was caught, of course, and punished, but she didn’t remember the punishment—just the pandemonium. To this day, the door frame still showed the scar of that day, but only if you knew right where to look.

While the butcher shop memory was one of her favorites, there were countless others here: pretending the fletcher’s shop was a pirate ship with Reese and other kids; getting free apples from a local farmer who enjoyed her smile; her first kiss behind the loom with the weaver’s son; walking in on Reese’s awkward first kiss with a hunter’s cross-eyed daughter. However much she enjoyed her new adventures, this would always be home.

As she neared the tailoring booth, she felt a heaviness inside and her muscles tensed up. She had disappeared for a few days at a time over the past few months, but never more than a week. And, unlike her previous excursions with the thieves’ guild, she had no fresh bag of coin to show for the trip. She sensed that Reese was growing weary of her flimsy explanations, despite each one being more elaborate than the last.

Her mood changed abruptly when she turned the corner and reached the tailoring booth. Reese was not there, and the shop was closed down. The shop looked like it hadn’t been open since before she left town.

She put her hands on her hips and sighed, shaking her head. She had no idea where he was. She was aggravated that he would let the family business fall to the wayside. Her parents had immigrated from the small island country of Annwyn right after they were married, and would have been just another pair of penniless immigrants were it not for their impressive tailoring skills. It was the tailoring business that had saved her and Reese from a life on the streets.

Lenus marched out of the open market and across town to their newly-re-acquired house. She pulled a key out of a pouch on her belt and unlocked the front door, letting herself in. It was early afternoon. She had hoped to share lunch with Reese, which meant that her empty stomach was just another trigger for her anger. She ravaged through the kitchen, finding some carrots and dried meat, and grabbed them before yanking out a chair from the table and having a seat.

She waited long after she had finished eating, and long after she had gone through an entire bottle of red wine, and then started on another. Around sundown each day, the open market (which was a short distance away) began to close down and the market bouquet gradually faded, only faintly remaining each night until the market reopened in the morning. The smell had begun to fade and the sun set before Reese came home.

Reese finally walked through the door wearing a rugged brown outfit and carrying a spear in his hand and a dead boar over his shoulders, which seemed broader than Lenus remembered. He looked slightly surprised to see her—not alarmed, not happy—just surprised.

“Oh, hey,” he said, dropping the boar’s carcass by the doorway.

“‘Hey?’” Lenus asked incredulously. “What happened to running the booth? How are we going to sell our garments?”

Reese sighed and shook his head, then walked past Lenus into the kitchen, grabbing a carrot and some dried meat as she had earlier. He pulled out a chair and sat down at the table across from Lenus, then took a bite of the carrot and looked at her.

“You gonna answer my question?” Lenus demanded, giving an angry shrug.

“I was out hunting, it’s not like I was lollygagging around!” Reese threw back.

“Are you going to let the family business die with our parents?”

Reese glared at Lenus. “How dare you,” he said. “At least I’m here, trying to make a decent living. Rexel’s fire, you were the first one to walk out on the business to start going on your little business trips to do who knows what.”

“Reese, we’ve been over this,” Lenus said, “we need to keep looking for new customers to fetch the best prices on our—”

“There’s no way the two of us are bringing in more money than our parents ever did,” he said, cutting her off. “You’re clever, but you’re not that clever.”

Lenus scoffed. “And what do you know about business? If it weren’t for me—”

“Lenus, I’m not a child!” Reese exclaimed. “I see plainly what’s going on. Your face is covered with bruises. I just don’t know if you’re stealing, working for the wrong people… selling yourself on the streets, I don’t even know!”

Lenus jumped out of her chair, knocking it over in the process. “You have no idea what I go through to make sure we do alright!”

“Oh yeah? Then why don’t you tell me?” Reese said, slowly and defiantly standing up from his chair. He stared at her for a few long moments. “Tell me what you do, Lenus.”

Lenus remained silent. She couldn’t bring herself to force another lie on him, but neither could she tell him the truth.

“Ah-ha,” Reese said, nodding. “I’m just going to assume you’re some kind of assassin. Makes for a better story. Since telling stories is apparently the new family business!”

“I can’t believe you would turn your back on generations of trade,” Lenus said, crossing her arms.

“I never liked tailoring!” Reese asserted, flailing his arms. “There, I said it. I never liked tailoring. And since when do you care about tradition? When’s the last time you ran the booth?”

Lenus clenched her hands into fists. She then grabbed what was left of her bottle of wine and stomped off toward the front door before stopping, turning around, and stomping back.

“I didn’t buy back our house so you could drag dead animals into it!” she exclaimed.

“Right,” Reese replied, “you bought it so you could leave it for days at a time while I peddle your crafts.”

“Are you going to do something about this?” she demanded, pointing at the carcass.

“Yeah!” he retorted. “I’m going to skin it, then I’m going to take it to the market, then I’m going to make some honest money!”

“I’d better see you at the booth tomorrow!” Lenus shouted.

“Well, maybe you could bring some of your blood money and buy everything so I don’t have to work there anymore!”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“Well fine!” Lenus said, shaking her fists downward as she spoke. “You can sleep here alone tonight with your… big, dead carcass thing!”

“It’ll make better company than you anyway!” Reese shouted back.

Lenus whirled around and stomped over to the door and opened it. She turned right before she walked out. “Well, I hate your stupid face!” she said.

“Keep drinking that wine, I think it’s really helping,” Reese snarked, right as Lenus slammed the door behind her.

By mid-afternoon the next day, Djinly decided another round of questioning was in order. She was accompanied by Bertram and Alenard, and hoped that Bertram’s presence wouldn’t incite the rage it had before in the Ardellian officer. Still, nobody knew more about Ardellian prisoners than Ardellian traitors.

They entered the house, walked down the hallway, and stopped at the door. Djinly briefly made eye contact with both Bertram and Niklos, then unlocked the door and stepped inside.

The officer’s eyes showed considerable restraint, although the rage was still visible beneath them. He stood poised, as if he expected to be attacked. The other soldier looked afraid yet again and had backed up against the wall.

Djinly and Alenard entered and leaned back against the wall. Bertram shut the door behind them. At once, the officer dashed at them. The piece of the floorboard that his constraining ring was bolted to flew forward. He had obviously spent the last day methodically breaking this portion of the floor off. The piece of board hit Alenard in the side of the head and he went down.

Djinly and Bertram each drew their weapons. The officer charged Djinly. She raised her daggers to defend herself, but a fraction of a second too late—the officer grabbed her wrists and wrestled her to the ground. She rocked her body violently to escape the man’s grasp. Both jumped to their feet in an instant.

The officer jumped back toward the back of the cell. He took the rope still attached to his wrists and wrapped a portion of it around the other prisoner’s neck, choking him.

“Are you serious?” Djinly exclaimed.

“We need him alive!” Bertram shouted.

Without a hesitation, Djinly threw one of her daggers at the officer. It lodged itself directly in his eye socket and he fell to the floor immediately.

The living prisoner backed up against the wall of the room and started hyperventilating. He closed his eyes for a few seconds, then opened them to see Djinly retrieving her dagger from the man’s skull. He instinctively backed away from her.

Alenard stumbled to his feet, dazed, and looked around the room to get his bearings. He saw the officer on the floor with a pool of blood surrounding his head.

“Are you going to let me sleep through every one of these fights?” he asked.

Djinly backed away from the remaining prisoner. He slowly calmed down and his breathing slowed.

“Thank you,” he said, still breathing hard.

“Thank you?” Djinly asked, perplexed.

“That man, Gervas,” he said, “he threatened me, told me he’d kill me if I broke. I didn’t know—” he stopped, not wanting to reveal any more.

“That yellow sash on his shoulder means he’s in our special warfare division,” Bertram said.

“What does that mean,” Djinly asked.

“He makes and uses explosives,” Bertram answered. “They probably came to secure the supply of sulfur.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me this?” Djinly demanded.

“I didn’t know what you’d do to him,” Bertram said. “I didn’t want to see him hurt.”

Djinly looked back at the man. He looked more relieved than horrified that his secret was out, but there was still a hint of fear in his eyes.

“What’s your name?” Djinly asked, crossing her arms.

“M-Mathis,” the man replied.

“Could you answer a few questions for us, Mathis?” Bertram asked.

“I think— I think so,” Mathis resolved.

Djinly and Bertram had a long series of questions about his regiment’s plans. He knew little, but volunteered any information he did have. He actually seemed eager to comply by the end of the conversation.

“That’s enough for now,” Djinly said at long last.

“What’s going to happen to me?” Mathis asked.

“For now, you stay locked up,” Djinly said. “Later, I don’t know yet, but your chances just improved by a hell of a lot.”

Mathis heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank you,” he said.

“I’ll bring provisions by later tonight,” Bertram said.

For the first time since arriving, the fear had mostly disappeared from Mathis’s eyes. He nodded once and muttered some thanks. The three left through the door and closed and locked it behind them. When they exited the house, they paused to debrief.

“Well, so much for saving them,” Alenard said to Bertram.

“When I saw that I could only save one of them, I had to choose the one most worth saving,” Bertram replied.

“He seemed very eager to comply,” Djinly said. “I think we may have won an ally.”

“And he can make explosives,” Alenard added. “Very useful indeed.”

“But still, we have no army to use them,” Djinly said.

“You will have your army,” Bertram declared. “I’ll make sure of it.”

“So you’ve made your choice,” Alenard said. “Why now?”

“Perfect or not, we’re in a position to save people,” Bertram said. “Maybe not all the people—but many of them. And if I wait until I know we can save all the people, I’ll have just wasted my time when I could have been saving people all along.”

“A noble position,” Alenard said with a smile.

“And what army would we have?” Djinly asked.

“My squad of elite soldiers is made up of the best swordsmen in Ardellia,” Bertram said, “and Petra’s squad isn’t too shabby, either. Not a full army, but we have to start somewhere.”

“Actual soldiers will be much better than the peasants and hunters we have now,” Djinly said.

“I will make this army great,” Bertram said.

“What about Niklos?” Alenard asked.

“He can help,” Bertram said, smiling.

“So how quickly do you think you could get your loyal men here? And will they be loyal?” Djinly asked.

“The men will be loyal,” Bertram said. “I can get them here within a week.”

“The others will be back in a few days,” Alenard said. “Things are coming together.”

“In a few days, there will be much to discuss,” Djinly said. “Bertram, send for your men. Let’s build this army into something fearsome.”

“No,” Alenard replied, “I’m just saying we’re not happy with the current state of things and we want to see some change.”

The two were seated around a derelict table in Djinly’s house. Niklos and Caelum quietly observed from across the room, mostly because they were still looking for some answers too. The arrival of the prisoners served to ease the tensions between Bertram and the others, but he immediately introduced some new tension by asking tricky questions about the resistance.

“Not being happy with things is not a cause,” Bertram said.

“But asking endless questions apparently is,” Alenard retorted.

“What’s going on?” Djinly asked, walking into the room.

“What does your group stand for?” Bertram asked as Alenard sighed.

“Well, we want to see the Ardellian occupation end,” she said. “And we’d like to see Sedera stand as its own nation again.”

“And do you have a plan for that?”

“That’s not for discussion,” Djinly said sharply. She walked and sat down in an old rickety chair in the corner of the room.

Bertram took a sip of coffee out of a damaged cup. These were answers, yes, but not as specific as he’d hoped. He reminded himself that he shouldn’t be surprised, being that he was little more than a prisoner just a few days before.

“So the Empire’s wiping out magic schools?” Niklos asked, breaking the tense silence.

Bertram nodded. “It appears so, although I don’t know why. Until I heard that, I thought we were trying to study magic more closely to see if any of it would be safe to use in Ardellia.”

“Did you really hear that, or is that just what you wanted to believe?” Djinly asked.

“I hear a lot of things,” Bertram said. “I don’t know for sure what’s true.”

“Convenient,” Djinly muttered.

Bertram set down his cup, excused himself, and left the room.

It had been two days since the prisoners arrived. Lenus had since traveled home to be with her brother, and Alenard had made a few trips to a nearby village for food and supplies, but the group had kept mostly to the camp the entire time.

“Why would the Empire target magic schools? Why now?” Caelum asked.

“Beats me,” Alenard said, shrugging. “They’re very selective, too.”

“Are they eliminating the most dangerous ones?” Djinly asked.

“See, that’s the weird thing,” Alenard said, “Crater Lake wasn’t marked for extermination, but the best mages come out of there. It seemed a little backwards.”

“Maybe there’s more to the story than we know,” Niklos said.

Bertram reappeared holding a small burlap sack. “I’m going to bring the prisoners some food and fresh water,” he said. “Who’s coming with me?”

“Do you have any idea how to treat prisoners?” Djinly asked. “You’ve been bringing them food and water twice a day for two days now.”

“Alenard?” Bertram asked, ignoring Djinly.

Alenard, who was lounging in an old padded chair, sighed, put down his cup, and got up. He motioned toward the door, and Bertram opened it and led Alenard through.

“I hope your loyalties aren’t wavering,” Alenard said as they walked down the path to the central building.

“And I hope your morals aren’t crumbling,” Bertram said.

“I’m serious,” Alenard said.

“Blind loyalty isn’t worth much,” Bertram said, “and it certainly isn’t reliable.”

The rest of the walk was done in grudging silence. Alenard saw his point, and it exposed his own prejudices. The quick walk to the central house was entirely too long for his liking.

When they entered the house and walked down the hallway, they made no effort to conceal their movements. The prisoners were able to hear them as soon as they entered the house. Though the doors to their makeshift cell locked, there was nothing else to keep them confined once the room was open, so they had worked out a system to prevent surprises.

“Alright, back against the wall, and let me hear your voices!” Bertram shouted through the door.

A few seconds later, two voices came back through the door. “We’re back,” they said.

Bertram unlocked the door and stepped through. One of the prisoners rushed at him and took a swing at him. Bertram instinctively jerked back so that the blow only grazed him. He dropped the sack of food and water and grabbed the prisoner by the back and forced him down into an upraised knee, winding him and causing him to fall to the floor. The other prisoner was still against the back of the room, cowering and frozen in place.

Now that they had observed the prisoners for a few days, the group found that the two soldiers were vastly different. One, with short ash blonde hair and a muscular physique, was belligerent, violent, and hateful; the other, a thinner, wiry-looking man with shorter dark brown hair, was far less aggressive, although far more quiet as well.

Bertram picked up the brash soldier by the arm and threw back against the far wall. “What do you hope to accomplish?” he demanded.

The blonde-haired soldier, who was still wheezing, responded, “I will kill as many of you as I can.”

“People like you are the reason the Ardellian military is in the state that it’s in,” Bertram said. “All hatred with no regard for greatness.”

“You pretend to know the first thing about greatness!” the prisoner shouted, and immediately launched into a coughing fit. “You will never know the greatness of the Ardellian military!”

Bertram walked up to him and knelt down beside him. He grabbed the top of his head and pulled it back to look him in the eye.

“I personally trained Boese’s elite squad,” he said, “I created great men out of mere soldiers. I know more about greatness than you ever will.”

The prisoner gasped and sputtered. “Traitor!” he screamed.

Bertram released the prisoner’s head and walked back toward the door. He turned before he exited. “The Ardellian military has lost its greatness. If you can’t see that, then you’re a part of the problem,” he said before slamming the door and locking it quickly.

The prisoner shouted incoherently through the door. There was a flurry of footsteps and he began pounding at the door, shouting things that Bertram couldn’t make out.

Alenard, who had drawn his dagger and tensed up, slowly relaxed his pose and sheathed his weapon. “Well, I think you’re really getting through to him,” he quipped.

Bertram strode back down the hallway toward the house’s door. “I do have a considerable talent with people,” he joked back.

They reached the house’s door and exited into the late morning sunlight.

“How many soldiers share that hatred?” Alenard asked.

Bertram sighed. “I’m ashamed to admit,” he said, “but that was no soldier. He was a lieutenant, just like I was.”

“So there’s a whole squad of soldiers with that rage?” Alenard asked.

“Probably, yes,” Bertram replied. “I want to find out where. I have a hunch. There are two generals over the forces here in Sedera. General Niklos always led his forces with a level-headed approach, and he was replaced by General Sibertus, who did the same. But the other forces were led by General Jakobus. He taught his forces to harness their rage to fight ferociously. His forces are brutal and merciless.”

“So this officer is under Jakobus,” Alenard said.

“Sibertus would never allow such unbridled rage,” Bertram said. “Niklos wouldn’t have, either.”

“And we want to see what their forces are up to,” Alenard said.

“Well, yes,” Bertram said.

“And?” Alenard asked.

“I need to see if I can get through to him” Bertram responded. “If I can get through to him, then there’s hope for any soldier or officer we come across.”

“And if you can’t?”

“Well,” Bertram said, “if that’s the case, then I guess there will be some that we can’t save.”

Alenard nodded slowly and looked at the ground in front of him. “I noticed you said ‘we,’” he said. “Does that mean you’ve made your decision?”

“I’ve made my decision to try to save them,” Bertram said. “Have you?”

Alenard sighed. “We’ll see,” he said.

Now, Bertram was sitting on a table, holding a cloth to the wound on his arm. Niklos had gone to join Djinly for the initial questioning of the soldiers, and Lenus had left to go back to the house for something, leaving Bertram and Caelum in awkward silence, as Bertram wanted to avoid another line of questioning like he’d gotten from Lenus earlier.

Bertram heard some muted voices through the wall, occasionally accented with one of the soldiers yelling something. Try as he might, he couldn’t make out the words that were being exchanged.

Lenus walked through the door holding a small leather pouch with a cap over a small opening.

“This is for you,” she said, handing the pouch to Bertram.

“Is this some sort of healing elixir?” he asked.

“Close,” Lenus said. “It’s red wine.”

“That’ll do,” Bertram said, opening and taking a swig of the wine.

Lenus laughed quietly. “It’ll dull the pain,” she said. “It’s the best I could do.”

At once, a door opened down a hallway and the yelling became immediately clear.

“When we get out—and we will get out of your pathetic hovel—we will bring the fury of the Ardellian military down on you! You will beg for mercy when our interrogators get to you! And you, you filthy traitor—”

And with that, the door slammed. Bertram heard the door lock, and the soldier was still shouting through the door. A moment later, Djinly came walking down the hall, followed by Niklos.

“They’re not talking,” Djinly announced.

“Of course they’re not talking,” Niklos said, “it’s their first day.”

“Sorry, I’m a little new at interrogating war prisoners,” Djinly jeered.

“Will that room hold them?” Lenus asked.

“That’s actually a cell,” Djinly said. “Thieving was bad in some of the mines, so they started building cells to hold thieves who had been caught until the proper authorities could come for them. So it should hold.”

“What are you going to do with them?” Bertram asked.

Djinly sighed. “I don’t know yet,” she said.

“Are you going to kill them?” Bertram asked.

“I don’t know!” Djinly snapped. She sighed again and put a hand to her forehead. “This was not supposed to happen. Why would they come here?”

“Sulfur can be used to make explosives,” Bertram said.

Everyone stopped and stared at Bertram.

“What do you mean?” Djinly asked with narrowed eyes.

“Ardellian chemists have found a way to make explosive powder,” Bertram explained. “Sulfur, charcoal, and… something else. I was never much good at that stuff. Packaged correctly, it can explode.”

“And with the supply lines far from those who need it, they’re in need of new supplies, of course,” Niklos said.

“But this camp is in the middle of nowhere,” Djinly said. “How did they find it?”

“They were probably wandering in the woods, looking for Sederan mages to kill, and smelled it,” Bertram said.

“So we can’t let them go,” Lenus said. “They have two reasons to expose this location.”

Djinly folded her arms and stared down at the floor. Niklos looked at Djinly for a few moments, then stole a troubled glance at Caelum before also staring at the ground.

“Well,” Caelum said, “let’s let them stew for a while.”

“I second that,” Niklos said.

Djinly snapped her head up and looked around quickly, then stepped toward the door without a word. The others followed after.

“It’s probably about time we wake up Alenard,” Caelum mused.

He shuffled to the door, still a bit groggy, and opened it to see Lenus holding a small burlap sack. Her red hair was a bit tousled due to sleep and days on the road, but she had made some effort to tame it into a loose ponytail. She was wearing the same grey tunic she had worn the day before, and Bertram could see the faint outline of light armor underneath it. She also had both of her daggers strapped to her belt. Her appearance was an odd mixture of utility and class, which Bertram admired.

“Good morning,” Bertram said, smiling and leaning against the door frame.

“Djinly got caught up in some documents, but she wanted me to bring you this,” Lenus said, offering the burlap sack to him. “It’s breakfast.”

“Thanks,” Bertram said, taking the sack from her and peering inside. In it were some bread and cheese, and a flask of water.

“Djinly will probably be a little while, but she’ll be down here,” Lenus said, arms folded in front of her.

“Well, will you join me for breakfast?” Bertram asked.

Lenus opened her mouth and looked down at the ground. She took in a breath as if to speak, but didn’t. Bertram’s warm gaze turned to one of concern. Lenus looked back up at him.

“I’m sorry,” Lenus said, “I just…”

“What is it?” Bertram asked.

“Were you one of the ones who attacked Amalia?” Lenus asked.

“No,” he replied.

“Do you know who did?”

Bertram sighed, then slowly nodded. “I do,” he admitted.

“Are they monsters?” Lenus asked. She now had a fire in her eyes.

“Some of them,” Bertram said. “Others, not as much.”

“How could they destroy a village like that and not be monsters?” Lenus asked. She was insistent, but there was no malice in her voice. She was seeking honest answers.

“They were just following order,” Bertram said. “We all were. It’s what we felt we had to do. Do you think the rebels in that town were monsters for capturing and killing Ardellian officials?”

Lenus turned away from Bertram and took a few deep breaths. Her hands were clenched into fists, but she controlled herself.

“Let me tell you a story,” Bertram said. “There was a man I knew, David. He was a good man. He loved kids—so much so that he helped found an orphanage for children whose parents died in war. He signed on to defend our country, but got sent here. Even in battle, he never killed anyone he didn’t have to.” He paused for a second to let that all sink in. “Do you know what happened to him?”

Lenus stared at him as if she was afraid of the answer, but didn’t say anything.

“His patrol was captured by a rebel group,” Bertram said. “They wanted to send a message. They chopped him up and sent him back to camp in pieces.”

“Stop,” Lenus said, averting her eyes. She sighed. She was clenching her fists again.

“Look, I’m not trying to say I’m better than you, or anybody’s better than anyone,” Bertram said. “I’m just trying to say there are monsters everywhere. And there are good people everywhere.”

Lenus stared hard at Bertram for a few seconds and then looked down at the ground and bit her lip. She looked back up at Bertram with a touch of sympathy. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I just never thought I’d be working with Ardellian officers. I’m still trying to sort through it, and it’s… really hard. I’m trying, though.”

“Ardellian officers?” Bertram asked. “Is there another one?”

Lenus gasped softly and looked up at Bertram. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I really can’t—”

“It’s ok,” Bertram said. “I’ll forget you said anything.”

He dug into the sack and pulled out a piece of bread. He eyed it for a moment before taking a bite. Lenus remained silent.

“So what’s your story?” Bertram asked. “What do you do?”

“Well,” Lenus said, glad for the change in topic, “I was a tailor, then I was a thief, now I’m a rebel operative.”

“How long have you been a rebel operative?” Bertram asked before taking another bite.

“Almost twenty-four hours,” she said with a grin. “But I’ve already rescued two people and set a manor on fire.”

Bertram snickered lightly. Lenus was entertaining, but also had an undeniable strength. He liked that about her.

“Well,” he said, “how about after breakfast, we get some training in?”

Lenus stayed silent for a moment and contemplated this. Then, she nodded and smiled. “That would be good,” she said.

Within minutes, Bertram had finished breakfast and retrieved his sword. Lenus was taking swings at the air in front of her as Bertram watched.

“You’re announcing every move you make,” Bertram said, stopping her. “You’re dealing with light blades. No need to wind up for every blow.”

Lenus was biting her tongue. She took another swing without winding up.

“Much better!” Bertram said as warmly as he could. He could tell Lenus was beginning to get frustrated with the constant correction.

Bertram spotted some movement out of the corner of his eye. He immediately motioned for Lenus to step back behind the cover of a building and did so himself. He peered around the corner, hoping for a deer or other passive animal. What he saw instead was the familiar red and black Ardellian armor on two soldiers, peering curiously around the old camp. Both walked plainly, meaning they likely thought the camp had been abandoned, but they were searching thoroughly.

“We need to disarm them,” Bertram whispered.

“We can’t just let them be?” Lenus asked.

“Too risky,” he replied. “They’re searching the camp, so they’re looking for something. They’ll eventually find one of us.”

Lenus sighed. She peered around the corner of the building at the two soldiers, then turned back to face Bertram. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Lenus snuck around the far side of the building to come from behind the two soldiers. She walked, gingerly but quickly, up behind them. Each was scanning the horizon in front of him, neither looking behind. Lenus crept the last few feet, then her hand darted in and grabbed at the hilt of one of their swords. She yanked back and took the sword right out of its scabbard. The soldier yelled, but couldn’t stop Lenus.

The other soldier immediately drew his sword. Lenus held the stolen sword out in front of her threateningly, although it was a bluff—she had little skill with larger blades. The armed soldier stalked slowly toward her with the other soldier circling behind her.

“Drop it,” said Bertram, sword drawn and pointed at the soldier.

The armed soldier looked between Lenus and Bertram a few times before sprinting at Bertram. He swung his sword with alarming speed at Bertram, but Bertram parried and kicked the soldier’s feet out from under him. Before the soldier hit the ground, Bertram swung his sword hard and knocked the sword from the soldier’s hand.

Bertram walked over and retrieved the fallen soldier’s sword, then pointed one at the standing soldier. “Down on the ground,” he said.

The soldier dove at Lenus, grabbing at the sword she was holding. Lenus grappled with him for a moment, but lost her grip on the sword right as Bertram reached them. The soldier struck at Bertram with his sword. Bertram was able to deflect the blow, but it cut into his left arm, leaving a bleeding wound. Bertram swung one sword, striking the soldier’s blade, and then the other, knocking it from his grasp. He now held a sword to the soldier’s throat.

“Down on the ground,” he threatened.

Djinly appeared on the other side of the soldier who had fallen down, her daggers drawn and ready. She stopped a few feet from the soldiers and surveyed the scene quickly. The soldier next to Bertram used the distraction of her arrival to get up and dart at Djinly. She quickly sidestepped and hit him in the back of the head with the hilt of one of her daggers.

“Persistent little bugger,” she said with a hint of surprise.

“Right,” Bertram said, “but now what?”

“The central building has some rooms that lock from the outside,” Djinly said.

Bertram saw two other figures running down the hill with their swords drawn. One of them was Caelum, from the night before. The other took him a moment to place.

“General Niklos?” Bertram asked, perplexed.

Niklos studied Bertram for a moment. “Bertram?” he asked in response.

“Let’s save the explanations for when we get these two locked up,” said Djinly. “There’ll be plenty of time for that then.”