My arms ached from the repetitive motion of sanding, but I kept at it, using a mind gem every now and then to refresh myself. The charred wood of Ma's favorite rocking chair slowly gave way to clean grain beneath the Shardfang leather. The tough monster hide made excellent sandpaper, stripping away the fire's damage bit by bit.

  Pa stood with me on the street, watching my progress. I'd been crafting all day, finishing the three armors we’d set out to do, and now Eryn was at the Hollow Hearth, having a well-needed rest. She'd gone through more in the last few weeks than in the years before, and it had all just caught up with her.

  “Four Mind Gems for the Glowcaps is a good price,” Pa said, breaking the comfortable silence. “Harold must really want to test them for the defense proposal.”

  I nodded, pausing to wipe some sooty sweat from my brow.

  “Plus the one Eryn got from Victor,” I said. “We only need four more. Almost there.”

  Pa shifted his weight, grimacing slightly as he adjusted his bad leg.

  “If your mother can sell those Shardfang armors for a Mind Gem each, we’re one short.” He smiled. “Sometimes I almost doubted we'd get here in my lifetime.”

  My hands stilled on the chair. The thought of finally consuming the class gem made my skin tingle. After everything we'd been through, after all the training and hunting, I was so close to becoming a real and sanctioned adventurer.

  My chest tightened with anticipation, and I had a hard time coming to terms with it. The journey toward the goal hadn't been easy, but somehow processing it all was even harder.

  “We've got company,” Pa said, and I turned to see Finn hurrying down the street toward us, his compact frame moving with unusual urgency. Pa and I shared a quick glance.

  “What news?” I called out.

  Finn pressed a finger to his lips as he reached us, glancing around furtively.

  “Best to talk inside,” he said, his voice low.

  Pa nodded and led us into the smithy and closed the door. The smell of smoke still lingered, though it wasn’t nearly as strong as before. Ma looked in from the shop where she worked to fix more things with her friends.

  Pa gave her a slight nod. She took one look at Finn's expression and immediately understood.

  “Ladies,” she said brightly, “I think we could all use some fresh air. The smoke smell's getting to my head.”

  As soon as the door closed behind them, Pa and I turned to Finn.

  “What did you find?” Pa asked.

  Finn massaged his knuckles and gave a grin.

  “One of House Domitius' thugs,” he said. “Bastard tried buying supplies at the general store.”

  “What kind of supplies?” Pa's voice was sharp.

  “The kind you need for long-term travel.”

  “Roaches are fleeing after their failed attempt,” Pa spat.

  “Where is he now?” I asked.

  “Timberline,” Finn said. “Johan and Knut are... holding him there. If you know what I mean.”

  Pa and I exchanged looks. The fury in his eyes matched what I felt burning in my chest.

  “Go,” he said firmly. “I'll stay here. Not leaving your mother alone, and we've got some potential customers coming.”

  I followed Finn out, heading along the curved street, nodding to the neighbors we passed.

  * * *

  The floorboards creaked beneath our feet as we entered the Timberline, and I shot a glance up at the Scuttler hanging over the bar, and Marcus’ name carved into it. The familiar scents of ale and smoke felt weird in the near silence.

  I'd never heard the tavern this quiet. No laughter, no singing, no clanking mugs or shouting patrons. Just a faint sobbing drifting from somewhere in the back.

  “We're closed!” Johan's voice rang out, followed by his heavy footsteps. He emerged from behind the bar, his usually cheerful face set in hard lines. When he spotted me, his expression softened slightly.

  “Ash. Good. Finn found you. Come in.”

  “Thanks for helping, Johan,” I said. “I will make it up to you. I promise.”

  He waved away my gratitude.

  “You saved my life riftside,” he said. “And family... family is everything. What they tried to do to yours?” He shook his head. “This is the least I can do. And maybe one day you will return the favor if I need it. We're friends. Or at least I like to believe so.”

  “More than that,” I said, grabbing his arm and squeezing just hard enough.

  Johan led us past the bar and toward the back room. Finn hung back near the door.

  “I'll keep watch,” he said. “Make sure you’re not interrupted.”

  The storage room door swung open with a protesting groan, and the thug's cries only became louder. He sat crumpled on the floor, his wrists bound behind his back, and his legs were wrapped in enough rope to break a horse. Blood trickled from his split lip, and his fine clothes, the kind only nobles' men would wear, were torn and dirty. One eye was swollen shut.

  Knut loomed over him like death itself, his massive frame casting the bound man in shadow, and he acknowledged me with a sharp nod.

  “Ash.”

  “Knut,” I replied, making my way inside. My stomach turned at the sight of the man's injuries, and I knew Knut must have had to work him over hard to get there, but I pushed the feeling down. This was one of the men who'd tried to burn my family alive. Who'd attacked Enar. Who'd almost cost me everything.

  “What did he say?” I asked.

  Knut's boot nudged the thug's ribs. Not gently.

  “Speak,” Knut growled.

  The thug's good eye fixed on me wide with desperation.

  “Please,” he whimpered. “I didn't do anything wrong! You have to help me! This man’s insane! He's going to kill me!”

  Knut's hand flashed out, catching the man across the face.

  I pulled Roq from storage, the familiar weight settling into my palm.

  “Oh yes!” Roq said, sounding way too joyful for the occasion. “Proper entertainment! Though I must say, he looks rather fragile. Try not to break him too quickly. And let me have his blood, okay? Blood for the blood—yeah, you got it.”

  Stolen story; please report.

  The thug's eye widened at the sight of the hammer, tracking its movement as I approached.

  Ever so gently, I tapped Roq against his kneecap.

  “What was THAT?” Roq demanded. “Hit him properly! Make him bleed! Show him what happens to those who threaten our forge!”

  I met the thug's terrified gaze.

  “Talk,” I said softly, “And you'll leave Dawnwatch alive. Stay silent...” I lifted Roq slightly. “And I'll break every bone in your body like hammering iron on the anvil.”

  The thug's face went white. His chest heaved as he nodded frantically.

  “Ivan hired us!” he blurted.

  “Who?” I demanded.

  “Ivan,” Knut spat. “Leader of noble’s dogs. One with nasty scar on throat.”

  “Ooh, the throat scar! We should open his head and see what's inside!”

  “Earl hired Ivan,” the thug continued, words tumbling out like a river.

  “Which earl?” I asked.

  “Not an earl, just Earl. Earl Domitius. The youngest son of the house.”

  My fingers tightened on Roq's handle.

  “What does he want with our smithy?”

  “He's a classed adventurer,” the thug said. “He knows how valuable Riftside materials are. And smithies.”

  “Ah,” Roq mused. “The noble brat is jealous of our materials. How predictable, though I can't say we shouldn't have seen it coming. You bipeds are of the materialistic kind.”

  “His family gave him everything,” the thug continued. “Paid for his leveling with gems, class gems, even private dungeon runs. He's level thirty-two now and determined to take over the family business.”

  “What's that got to do with our smithy?” I asked again.

  “His oldest brother is set to inherit the house,” the thug said. “But Earl thinks he can skip the line by proving himself. If he grows the house enough, his father will name him the heir.”

  I narrowed my eyes.

  “Why should we trust anything you say? How would a thug know all this?”

  “Why would I lie?” The man exclaimed, his voice cracking. “I just want to live. No way I'm dying for some rift rotting noble! And I was Earl's scavenger while he leveled. The man loves to talk. Brags about everything! Please, just don't kill me!”

  Knut snorted.

  “Why leave? If made good coin sucking noble teat?”

  The thug's face twisted.

  “Earl's insane. He's horrible. Once, I stored a carcass before he said to and made me—” The man swallowed hard. “He whipped me, and made me crawl through monster gore while the others watched, laughing.”

  He raised his chin.

  “And Ivan's scar? All Earl's most trusted men have one. He makes them duel him but always wins, then cuts their throats and watches them bleed, only to have a healer save them at the last moment. Says he's 'granting them life and they belong to him from then on.'“

  “Well!” Roq exclaimed. “I must say, this Earl fellow sounds absolutely delightful! When do we get to crush his skull?”

  “Every fight gets worse and worse,” the thug continued, his voice cracking. “Some think they're dueling for honor or glory. But Earl just wants to watch them bleed. The ones who put up the best fights, he heals. The ones who don't, he lets them die. Smiling the whole time.”

  My stomach turned.

  “His method seems rather inefficient,” Roq said. “Tasting their blood without finishing the kill? I cannot imagine anything more frustrating.”

  “I got to level eight under Earl.” The thug's words tumbled out faster now. “Decided I'd rather take my chances as a normal scavenger. Made it to ten on my own, can you believe it? All I needed was the class gem.” His laugh held an edge of hysteria. “Then Ivan found me. Offered me my class gem in exchange for two years of work as a bodyguard. Thought I'd be hunting riftside with them, which would've been great, but…”

  I leaned forward, Roq heavy in my hand.

  “But what?”

  The thug's face crumpled.

  “Haven't set foot riftside since I signed that contract,” he whispered. “It was about hunting humans. I wasn't ready for that and have just been accompanying him as muscle to intimidate people. Nothing else.”

  “Just like you've tried to strong-arm my family, huh?” I hissed and spat at the man.

  “No!” He shook his head frantically. “It was supposed to be just a show of force! We've done it a dozen times before! Nobody ever stands up to Domitius! I thought Ivan was bluffing—I didn't think he'd actually set the fire. But when I saw him him go to set the fire?” the man whimpered, his voice breaking. “I knew I had to leave. I don't care if I have to leave Tharunga. I want nothing to do with Earl or House Domitius ever again!”

  The rage that had been simmering inside me since the fire exploded. I dropped Roq and kneeled, driving my fist into his stomach. He doubled over, wheezing.

  “Instead of running,” I snarled, punching him in the face, “You could have woken us up! Or even stopped Ivan from lighting the fire in the first place! My entire family could have died!”

  “Oh, very nice!” Roq said approvingly. “Though next time, perhaps use me instead of your fist? Much more satisfying to feel his bones breaking under my weight.”

  The thug dissolved into tears, shoulders shaking as he sobbed.

  “I'm sorry,” he wept. “I'm so sorry. I'm sorry!”

  “Talk faster.” Knut's sharp command cut through the sobs.

  The thug looked up at me, his good eye desperate.

  “If you let me go, I'll help you find them.”

  “How?” I demanded, wiping blood from my fist on his pants leg.

  “They're camped outside Dawnwatch,” he said quickly. “I volunteered to get supplies for the journey, planning to take them and leave. We're supposed to head back to Kingsworth. Ivan knows the arson failed. He watched your neighbours helping, and he knows we'll be hunted. But once we get back to Earl, he'll give Ivan anything he needs to take you out.” He drew a shuddering breath. “Earl never gives up. He'll never stop until he gains control over Dawnwatch through your smithy. That's what he does in every new frontier town.”

  “Earl's blood sounds exquisite,” Roq said. “A level thirty? Imagine the power boost, Ash! Let them come and we can paint the streets with his insides! I'm STARVING for a proper feast.”

  I exchanged a glance with Knut. His expression was grim.

  “Finn!” I called out.

  He appeared in the doorway.

  “Watch him, please,” I said to him and Johan, nodding toward the thug. “He's still a classed adventurer. Don't give him an inch.”

  In the common room, Knut poured two mugs of beer and handed one to me.

  “Bulging bellies build better brains,” he said.

  Despite the tension, I managed a small smile. I rested Roq on the bar and raised my mug to Knut.

  “Thank you,” I said. “For finding him. For everything.” I took a big gulp. “What is your advice?”

  Knut's expression grew grave.

  “No mercy for pawns of nobles,” he said. “If let them go, they come back stronger. Like bugs.” He set down his mug. “Only two choices.”

  He held up one finger.

  “First? Bend knee. Give everything, pray they leave you some. If give enough, might get peace.” His eyes met mine and he shrugged. “Or not. Might kill you anyway.”

  “That doesn't sound too great,” I muttered. “And the second?”

  “It sounds absolutely terrible!” Roq interjected. “Where's the glory in submission? The joy of conquest? The satisfying crunch of bones beneath my head?”

  “Two,” Knut continued, “Is buy time. Grow strong. Crush them.”

  “What do you think we should do?” I asked, though I already knew by the way he eyed me.

  Knut nodded slowly.

  “Usually have third option,” he said. “Sell smithy and run.” His lip curled. “Tastes foul. Even if rebuild somewhere, you always have taint in back of mind. Feel hunted. Chased. Worthless.”

  “Bah!” Roq scoffed. “Running is for prey. We are predators!”

  “But you? You can choose,” Knut said. “Give smithy to cursed nobles. Make peace.” He lowered his voice. “With your gem nose, still become powerful. Earn much. Take care of Pa and Ma and pretty girl. Just hunt and sell gems.” He met my gaze. “If that's path you choose, I stand by you. We make money to provide for families. Lose smithy, lose face, but maybe gain peace.”

  I blinked, surprised by what he was telling me. It wasn't something I'd expected to hear from the big man.

  “I thought you'd be more vengeful.”

  Knut chuckled darkly.

  “That is easy way,” he said. “But also hard way.”

  “The only thing we should give them is pain!” Roq declared. “Lots and lots of pain!”

  “Oh, give it a rest already. I'm talking to him.”

  Knut took a long drink before continuing.

  “Other way is get camp location from thug. Gather posse. Hunt thugs down. Not even fart gets back to Earl or Domitius.” Knut grinned. “Buys time. Any gem-grams Earl sends receive simple reply. Ivan left Dawnwatch, headed for capital. Let them wait.”

  “Now THIS is more like it!” Roq said eagerly. “Finally, a plan with proper violence!”

  “Then grind. Get stronge. If fast enough, when monster-licking noble send more men, and they will, you be strong enough to crush. Or we all die. Repeat until so strong they give up.” Knut leaned forward and winked. “Or run out of men.”

  “Oh, Ash. Please, let's choose option two. I'll never ask for anything again, not even the satin pillow, which I must remind you you still haven't provided. Just pick option two! Think of all the blood!”

  “Once classed,” Knut said, “You also have guild protection. Maybe get Ma and Pa classed? Not even noble house dare touch smithy then. Or guild crush their house.”

  “Yes! Yes! A thousand times yes!” Roq's mental voice vibrated with excitement. “Let us build our strength and crush our enemies! That is the only path to true greatness!”

  Knut took another drink.

  “Second path carry heavy price too,” he said quietly.

  I nodded, my voice barely above a whisper.

  “I've never killed a human before,” I said. “Never thought I would have to.”

  Knut met my gaze steadily.

  “It change you, so think first.”

  Silence fell between us and I thought about it for a while. After a long moment, Knut spoke again.

  “What you want?” he asked. “Your family. Your responsibility. Your decision.” He clasped my shoulder. “I help. Stay with golden bird, no matter path.”

  “Thank you,” I said quietly, wondering whether I was ready to go to war with a noble house and what that would entail. Did we have the power to take them on? No, but I was pretty sure they would never come at us head-on. If they gave us time and kept throwing meatsacks our way, then we might even get out of it alive.

  “Oh, come now!” Roq said impatiently. “The choice is obvious! We crush and grind them to dust, then use their bones to forge something magnificent! Something with spikes. Lots of spikes!”