The road had been tough. They were nearly out of water—both barrels—and the food had been gone for a few days. Jeb was hungry.

  Rising over a hill, they saw smoke from a fire in the distance. “I hope this is your village,” Jeb said.

  Raul squinted and then shook his head. “No.”

  “Well, we can get some food and water,” Jeb said.

  Jeebz, how long can a Sac go without food or water? Jeb asked his A.I.

  Food is approximately fourteen to twenty-one days, Jeebz replied. Depending on the starting state of the Sac. Water is less, about ten to twelve days. But the last days of both are torture.

  It took another few hours to reach the village. They parked the cart at an inn and had the stable boy handle the horses. The large beasts had been pleasant enough. He found himself rubbing them down at night after Raul showed him the basics of handling such creatures.

  “Make sure they get whatever they need.” They had plenty of coin left over. Considering they’d only spent about half on their supplies, and with no villages since to use any of their coin, they had plenty left.

  Stretching, he went into the inn with Raul, who slumped down at a table. They were both filthy. About two weeks back, they had found a small pond to wash in. But the water was not clean enough to drink.

  Jeb sat down with Raul, but adjusting his sword on his back didn’t work, so he removed it and set it on his lap.

  “Strangers. You all came in on a different road. Nobody comes from that direction anymore,” the innkeeper said, a smile on her plump face. “You must be hungry.”

  “Yes, I’d like a double of whatever you have. And water, if you have it. Otherwise, ale.” Raul said, his head buried in his arms on the table.

  “The same,” Jeb smiled. “Where can I get water and supplies?” Jeb asked the lady before she went back to the kitchen.

  “The general store is closed. Mr. Bode provides the water.” She waggled a finger at him. “You don’t wanna get water from the creek. It’ll make you sick. Only get water from Bode or the inn. But we don’t have water right now. Only ale.” She smiled, then walked off.

  They ate, Jeb warning Raul not to eat too fast or it would make him sick, and they secured two rooms. “In the morning, we’ll get the supplies,” Jeb said. Raul only nodded and was gone into his room next door. Jeb could hear him snoring within minutes through the thin walls.

  In the morning, Jeb made it up to the small sandstone building of Mr. Bode’s and knocked on the wooden door made of planks. He could see through the door, with the wood planks not being straight and small openings between each board at different spots. A child answered.

  “Can I help you, mister?” Jeebz translated for him. The accent was slightly different.

  “Yes, I'm in need of water and would like to purchase some. I assume you have water here for sale?” He didn't know if children were treated differently. They certainly looked different. Jeb couldn't recall ever being a child. Just one day, he had a Doll, and he was 'living.'

  “Come in; I'll get Father.” The boy stepped aside for a moment to let Jeb in and then ran into the back room, where he could hear the tinkering of pots and metal. A few moments later, an older man came out, wiping his hands on his apron.

  “You want water? I got plenty of that.” He smiled. “Come on back.”

  As Jeb entered the back room, he saw a machine that distilled contaminated water. In fact, he saw many of them of different designs. Jeebz began analyzing them at once, pointing out design flaws, materials, etc.

  Finally, they came to the back of the room, where a large machine with a makeshift smokestack stood.

  “How much water do you want?”

  Jeb looked around and saw that there were many water pouches on the walls and a few small barrels on the floor.

  “Well, I'll be needing about thirty days' worth for two men or at least enough to get me to the next city heading north.”

  Rubbing his head, the man replied, “Thirty days’ worth, that's a lot of water. I’m assuming you have your own barrels? You’re the ones that came in last evening, am I right?” Jeb nodded that he was right. “I don't know if I even have that much water. If you give me a few days, I can get it, though.”

  Jeb nodded his understanding. “How much will that be?”

  “It's five coppers per barrel. But if you buy it all and the barrels, I’ll throw in an extra one for free.”

  Jeb was thrown. This man was offering to lower the price if he bought more than one. This was absurd. Why would he do that?

  He decided to ask him. “Why would you do that?”

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  “Do what?”

  “Lower the price if I buy more than one like that.”

  The man looked like he'd been hit in the face with a shovel. “I can keep the price the same.” He didn't know if he was asking a question or making a statement.

  Jeb shook his confusion off. “No, no. It’s fine. But I'll give you what you want.” He counted it out in silver and gave it to the man. It seemed, on average, the exchange rate was about twenty coppers to one silver. “How long to fill all the barrels? I probably need new ones. Mine are definitely rough.” They’d bought them used, and they already had cracks that leaked some.

  “Oh, I'd say about a week at most.” He put the purse away on the shelf nearby.

  “Do you have enough water to fill up my pouches?” Jeb indicated his empty water pouches.

  “Sure, give 'em here.” He gestured for Jeb to put them on the table next to the large machine.

  There were two large barrels next to the machine. The stiller took the lid off one of them and scooped out a pot full of water. Then he poured it into the side of the machine. Pulling a lever, the machine started to vibrate.

  There is heat being put into the base of it, Jeebz said. The water turns into steam in the bottom pot, where the water sits after being poured in and is boiled. The steam is then collected near the top on the plate above and recollects as water condensation and drips down the side of the top collection plate. See how it's angled? If the plate was curved more and the top portion rounded off like a bowl, it would collect more, and the smokestack would not be needed. He would just need a bigger collection plate.

  And why did you bring this up, Jeebz?

  It wouldn't take a week to get your water. Maybe a day, two at most.

  Oh. I see, Jeb said.

  Jeb waited for the process to finish. Near its end, he decided to offer the idea.

  “You know, I've seen similar contraptions. One in particular comes to mind. It had a similar design to this, except it had a plate like a bowl at the top—large, long, and angled. It was able to work without a smokestack, and it produced three or four times more water.”

  The man turned to him with an odd look on his face. “I'll have to try that out.” Jeb couldn't tell if he was being brushed off or not, so he dropped it.

  He got his water, bid the man farewell for now, and headed out to meet Raul. It had become late afternoon by the time he was eating at the small inn and drinking. He didn't realize how hungry, tired, and thirsty he still was.

  After another bath and getting his clothes washed, night had come. He decided to check on the horses.

  In the stables, he greeted the stablehand and began rubbing the horses down. They’d been well taken care of. The stablehand bid him farewell, and Jeb was alone with his two friendly beasts.

  He sat down on a bench and let his eyes close for a bit. He was still so exhausted. It had been so hot the past several days.

  It was painful to be woken up so quickly by Jeebz. It was like an alarm going off, every nerve brought to life too fast.

  Jeb opened his eyes to see a shadowed figure standing over him with a black sword coming down toward his chest. With his right hand, he deflected the blade to the left, palm flat on the flat side of the sword. At the same time, his right foot kicked the surprised assassin in the side of the head.

  Jeb scrambled to stand up quickly, but the hay was slippery. He would have to make do.

  Like a ghost, the assassin moved in as though a silent wind carried it forward.

  The next few motions were over in the blink of an eye. But it was over. The assassin lay dead with the sword sticking out of his chest. Jeb was panting, hands propped on his knees. It had not been easy.

  What the hell was that? Jeb asked Jeebz, breathing hard.

  Scanning… The makings of a human, genetically similar. However, there are a couple of differences. Firstly, it does not breathe, having no lungs. Instead, it absorbs oxygen through the skin, and it appears to have some kind of built-in genetic night vision. The shape of the eyes, Jeebz reported.

  And the blade. Make? Design? Jeb queried further.

  Bring it closer, close enough to smell, Jeebz requested. Jeb acquiesced and began handling and smelling the blade. Careful! The edge is poisoned. It’s a dry poison that activates in water, which blood or spit contains. Additionally, the sword is made of a material which this planet would not have access to for many centuries.

  Careful of the edge, he set the blade down and began looking for the scabbard for it. He found it, a slim leather scrip. Everything seemed to be made to be silent. Nothing hard on its person except the actual blades. Jeb was holding a throwing knife, one of several, similar to the material of the sword as well as poisoned.

  Definitely an assassin, Jeebz replied.

  But why? Jeb said both to Jeebz and to no one.

  Raul found Jeb standing over the assassin, a dark silhouette against the dimly lit room. "Jeb, I’m gonna go to bed—" he started, but his voice faltered as he caught sight of the black-clad figure sprawled on the floor. Raul’s eyes widened, and his expression hardened into something like stone.

  "What happened?" Raul asked, his voice tense with disbelief as he approached the corpse. His eyes scanned the scene, lingering on the assassin's lifeless form. "This cannot be. These ones... they are immortal."

  Jeb wiped sweat from his brow, his breathing heavy as he tried to regain his composure. The adrenaline from the confrontation still coursed through his veins, and his muscles were tense from the exertion. He had barely woken up before being thrust into this unexpected battle.

  "What do you mean, immortal?" Jeb replied, glancing up at Raul with skepticism. "He doesn't seem that immortal to me."

  Jeb slumped down next to the assassin's body, his gaze fixed on the mysterious intruder. He began rifling through the assassin’s belongings, his fingers deftly searching for clues. The assassin's garb was designed for stealth, each piece of clothing tailored to be as silent as the night itself.

  In the assassin's pockets, Jeb found a handful of gold coins, each tucked into its own individual compartment to prevent any telltale clinking. The coins were unremarkable, yet the meticulousness of their placement hinted at the assassin's precision and skill.

  As Jeb continued his search, he noticed a small tattoo etched onto the assassin's forearm. The intricate design depicted a scaled creature, a dragon perhaps, breathing fire onto its hapless enemies. Its eyes were a vivid crimson, and the fangs were stark white against the dark ink—a symbol of some allegiance or a badge of honor among a secretive order.

  Raul crouched beside Jeb, his eyes narrowed in recognition. "That tattoo... it marks him as one of the Serpent's Sons. They are said to be unbeatable, bound to some dark magic that grants them life beyond death."

  Jeb raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "Well, whatever magic they think they have didn’t save him tonight." He stood, still catching his breath, and shook his head. "Immortal or not, he bled like any other man."

  Raul nodded slowly, a mix of awe and caution in his gaze. "It's not just their resilience. It's what they stand for—their willingness to do anything to achieve their goals. If they’re involved, it means something far bigger is at play."

  Jeb absorbed Raul’s words, the weight of the situation settling over him. The quiet of the room was unsettling, a stark contrast to the chaos that had just unfolded. More than Raul knew.