Margo and Treeg stood at the highest point of the bluffs, gazing far into the distance.

  “See? There's the river,” he pointed out, shuffling aside so Margo could follow the line he traced in the air. “And running East of it is the town.”

  Out in the distance was a scatter of stout buildings and moving specks of people. Margo could barely make out the gray stone bricks holding their streets together. “That's where the noble boys live?”

  “That's where they live,” Treeg said, then with a more bitter, disdainful tone he spat, “that's where they sit in their big houses and look down on us, like we're not people too.”

  The houses didn't look that big to Margo. They certainly didn't seem more beautiful than the incredible cave system the Blems had carved out and made their own. But Treeg’s cold, lethal glare indicated that Margo should probably keep her mouth shut on the matter. Treeg balled his hands into fists, seething with rage as he spoke.

  “We're stuck hiding in caves and forests because they believe we should. I can't stand it.”

  “Let's do something about it, then!” Margo pointed to the town. “It's not a very big town. If we get everybody in the cave together, we could take every last one of them out. They wouldn't stand a chance against all of us!!”

  “I've been saying that for forever,” Treeg sighed. “But Granny Ophelia said it wasn't the right time, and everyone else is too scared of Fable to fight back.”

  “Why? I scared off those boys easily enough,” Margo said with a shrug.

  “They're not all like that, though. Some of them are strong-- they're apart of the military.”

  That word was familiar enough to Margo. She had heard the Doctor use it several times-- “Tell the King his military is his problem to sort out, not mine,” the Doctor would hiss over the silver phone in her office. Margo tried to ask what the Doctor meant by that, but she would simply give Margo a thin smile and shake her head. “Nothing you'll ever need to worry your head over. It's a matter for the adults.”

  “What makes the military strong?”

  “They're trained to fight with their magic,” Treeg explained. “They only take the best. I've heard stories about soldiers who can turn an entire mountain to ice, just by looking at it.”

  “Whoa…” Margo said with awe, imagining a dark, shadow figure reaching down and turning everything she could see to a frosty blue-white. She shivered, thinking of the chill under her feet.

  “And they're not even the strongest!” Treeg shouted in despair. He began storming back down the bluff, stomping through the rich green grass while his cloak billowed behind him and almost hit Margo in the face as she tried to keep up. “The Knights are even stronger! One Knight is enough to bring down an entire army of bears and elk combined!”

  “How do you know all this?” Margo asked, somewhat out of breath from chasing after Treeg. Treeg threw his hands up in the air, taking a sudden turn as they came to the bottom. Margo noticed a trail of saplings popping up along the sides, jagged black leaves sprouting as Treeg seethed.

  “Granny told me,” Treeg replied shortly. Margo gave him a skeptical look, until he quickly corrected himself with, “Well, she had a book, and when I read it, that's what it said.”

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  “Well did the Knights write it?” Margo countered dryly. “If I wrote a book, I'd probably say I was the strongest too!”

  “That's--” Treeg stumbled over his words. His place slowed for a moment. The black leafed saplings froze in their adolescence, some already beginning to wither and rot. “That's not my point Margo.”

  “No, the point is that you're scared and everybody in the cave is scared and no one wants to do anything about it,” Margo sighed, rolling her eyes with the disappointed click of her tongue.

  “I'm not scared!” Treeg scoffed.

  “Oh yeah?” Margo replied, tone dripping with competition. “Then let’s go to the town. We’ll scope out the weak spots, and we’ll plan an attack so good not even the Knights will see it coming.”

  “Xireal will know we’re gone,” Treeg argued. “We’re supposed to see him today.”

  “Do you always do what Xireal says?” Margo cooed mockingly. “Besides, I’m tired of seeing Kethell’s stupid face. Imagine the stupid one she’ll make when we come back to class as heroes.”

  Margo crossed her eyes, sticking her tongue out and rolling it in and out. Treeg laughed, and before long they were trading overexaggerated impressions of Kethell all the way to the outskirts of the village. They pulled up the hoods of their cloaks, obscuring their faces as they snuck through the rounded metal gates, joining the quiet waves of people moving to and fro inside the town.

  This place was terribly boring compared to the cave in Margo’s opinion. She had suspected as much afar, but seeing the droll stone huts and long-faced humans up close confirmed it. Several farmers carried compact bushels of hay twice their size over their heads. Red sparks of enhancement magic shot off their arms and legs, bouncing off the pavement before disappearing into nothing again. A group of giggling women whispered to one another behind calloused hands. Two young girls were setting paper boats onto the surface of an overflowing fountain. In the center stood a great statue of a man, a sword balanced over his armor-plated shoulder. His face was angular and sharp, with long flowing hair and a pointed nose that jutted out towards the western reaches of the town.

  “Who’s that?” Margo asked, pointing up to the man. Treeg slapped her hand, forcibly lowering it with his own as he shushed her. Margo muttered flatly, “I was just asking, you didn’t need to hit me…”

  “You were asking loudly,” Treeg hissed. “And people are going to think it’s weird for a normal girl to be asking about the First King.”

  “He didn’t look very kingly,” Margo replied, looking back over her shoulder. “He’s got a weird nose…”

  “Who cares if his nose was weird? He was the founder of this country. People take you seriously when you’re a founder.”

  “You sound just as boring as Xireal when you talk about history like that.”

  “You’re the one who wanted to know!!”

  “Yeah but,” Margo frowned, pouting in disappointment. “I just thought you were gonna say something more interesting, like he’s a big time hero, with magic that can move the seas or change day to night.”

  “It’s the opposite actually,” Treeg replied, pulling Margo into an alley and leading her through to the road on the other side. “He was born without magic. But his might was so great, the enchanted sword chose him anyways, so he became the most powerful ruler of them all.”

  “How’d he die then?”

  Treeg shrugged. “Xireal hasn’t taught us that yet.”

  “Why bother telling me the story if you don’t know the end?!” Margo groaned.

  “Don’t get mad just ‘cause I don’t know what you want to know,” Treeg shot back in annoyance. “Maybe you should pay more attention when Xireal’s teaching.”

  They came to a stop in front of a peculiar building. Like the others next to it, it was a rounded half-circle, with two windowed doors and a pair of navy blue banners on either side. Hanging above the doors was a beautifully hand-written sign that read in elegant lettering, “Goods, Greats & Galore.”

  “It’s a supply shop,” Treeg explained. “I’ve heard some of the adults come in to steal from the dumpster out back. Here, I’ll show you.”

  Treeg began walking away, but Margo stood perfectly still. Something about the building made her heart pound, her mind clicking thoughts together in rapid succession. She grabbed Treeg’s swinging wrist.

  “Wait,” she said. “The townspeople go to this place for supplies?”

  “Yeah, that’s what I just said,” Treeg huffed. “Why?”

  Margo broke into a wide, maniacal grin. “Then I have just the idea on how to use it.”