Morning was a little brighter. Vidar had slept in, not stirring until the first rays of the sun baked the city of Halmstadt in light to chase away the darkness.

  Rubbing at his eyes to get the sleep out of them, he reached for a pot of water he used to wash his face and hands. He had just been too tired to give a crap the night before, but now he felt reinvigorated. After a bite to eat, he headed out. The others were still asleep when he walked out onto the street.

  Wanting to find out more about what had happened during his sleep, Vidar made his way to the upper city. The gates were open and people were coming and going unhindered. Mostly coming, it turned out. They were pouring into the weathered neighborhoods to gawk at the burned-down buildings before continuing toward the keep.

  Following the stream of people at first, he then diverged to find the dragon's remains. It was gone. Blood and soot stained the ground, but no other signs remained of the momentous scene that transpired on those cobblestones.

  The entrance to his underground kingdom was gone, with the building he had climbed having collapsed over the hatch, burying it in rubble and debris. This meant neither exits in the upper city were viable at the moment. Others existed but he did not know their locations. Hopefully, he would not need to search for them.

  Vidar made his way to the keep, keeping a low profile and huddling inside the crowd of the poor and the hungry of Halmstadt trudging forth to listen to some sort of speech, if the murmurs and grunts were to be believed.

  He was more interested in where they’d carted the dragon off to. Taken by the crown, no doubt. This meant he'd never lay eyes on it again. Hopefully, it had burned to the point of the rune in its throat becoming unrecognizable. Time would tell if the rune scribes' guild started going around, producing great bouts of flames.

  This time, the crowd gathered much closer to the main doors of the keep, rather than standing back, with a few soldiers holding them from going up the very stairs leading to the main gate. Few officials and soldiers were out and about, but Vidar didn’t see a single guardsman.

  The battle the night before must have been horrific, with many lives lost before Vidar and his friends came to everyone’s rescue. With the large doors to the keep opening before them, the crowd fell silent. Soldiers poured out, putting on a show of strength from the steward who followed, with Jarl at his side. The man who’d been the one to get Vidar out of his cell wore a new-looking cloak in the brilliant colors of Sveland. A light blue cloth with gold ornamentation and stitching. He wore a brilliant plate of armor without a helmet, looking every inch the hero.

  The steward, a man of perhaps fifty, with short-clipped brown hair balding at the top of his head, stood beside him. A large nose that looked like a potato and, in comparison, tiny ears made him look ridiculous. Still, when he spoke, everyone quieted down to listen.

  “People of Halmstadt, today I come before you with news most fortuitous,” he announced. “The dastardly dragon crossed our skies again when night fell last. But this time, we were ready for it!” He gestured toward Jarl with his entire hand. “The marshal of Halmstadt oversaw production of specialized arrows which brought the dragon out of the skies and turned the fire-breathing monstrosity into nothing more than a charred corpse!”

  Cheers erupted around Vidar, who stood there, dumbfounded. What the hell was this fool saying? Jarl’s arrows didn’t do a thing. Vidar was about to go up there and give the steward a piece of his mind but thought better of it. Yelling at the man in front of the crowd and guards just meant another beating from the soldiers protecting. It would do him no good.

  Instead, he seethed while the steward continued his speech, now raising both hands over his head. “The fate of humanity was in these very hands, and humanity prevailed against the ancient beast known as a dragon. We have taken the remains to study, but will soon display its fearsome head to silence any who doubt what transpired before the sun rose over Halmstadt. The king himself has sent word that he is most pleased with our efforts, and he congratulates the people of Halmstadt, promising funds to rebuild our fair city before winter turns to spring! Meanwhile, you will be provided shelter in the Church of the Fallen Angels, where the clergy will soothe your worries and ills, as well as provide food and water.”

  Another set of cheers erupted, while Vidar clenched his fists so hard his nails dug into the palm of his hand. "This is wrong. This is all wrong," he muttered, feeling his pulse quicken. He jumped and waved, pushing forward while trying his best to appear non-threatening.

  Jarl caught sight of him, and the cheerful face he put on for the adoring crowds turned stony in an instant. He shook his head, but Vidar pressed on, too angry to even care, too disappointed for caution, despite his previous vow of keeping a level head.

  Jarl shook his head again and mouthed, "Later," nodding to his right to indicate the side of the keep and the small entrance Vidar and his friends had entered through before. Clenching his jaw, Vidar relented with a quick nod, allowing the crowd to push him back and away from the bastard taking credit for Vidar's tremendous efforts.

  ***

  Vidar huddled near one of the rectangular, box-like buildings within eyeshot of the door and hurried forward when Jarl emerged. Spotting Vidar, the much taller man almost jogged forward. He now wore simple clothes, rough but well-made, not unlike the outfit they'd gifted Vidar before tossing him to the side.

  "What gives, you bastard?" Vidar hissed.

  "Follow me," Jarl said, pulling the hood of his cloak up over his head to further disguise himself. With the steward’s speech just having ended and the crowd dispersed, everyone in Halmstadt would know Jarl’s elevation and his face. The man did not want to be seen meeting with Vidar.

  "Come with me," Jarl said, putting his big hand on Vidar's back, pushing him forward. "This isn't the place."

  "And what the hell is the place for this conversation?"

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  A barmaid placed tankards of beer in front of Vidar and Jarl both as they sat down at a nearby establishment. The serving woman had looked skeptically at Vidar, but Jarl pressed a coin into her hand, and she'd allowed them to sit. A hearty meal of meat and carrot stew over potatoes followed the beer. Vidar found he was quite adept at eating and glaring at the same time, and he spoke around a mouthful.

  "You know I killed that dragon, Jarl."

  The place was empty apart from them, with most people out rebuilding after the fires. Still, Jarl gestured for him to keep his voice down. The words coming out of Jarl's mouth were like fresh daggers in Vidar’s back.

  "We put so many dragon bolts into that thing. It looked like a porcupine. It was bleeding, and we still had many bolts left, along with a few more with your new design. Don’t think I don’t know what happened to those bolts that disappeared from the keep."

  "Bullshit," Vidar said. "The dragon was fine and demolishing you until my arrow hit. You must have seen it soaring through the sky," Vidar pointed to himself. "My design, my glory."

  Jarl regarded him for a moment, then sighed and raised his hands in surrender. "Look, yeah, yes. I am well aware that our attempts at killing the dragon might not have succeeded on their own. Your arrow, which we haven't been able to recover by the way, was what did it in."

  Vidar sat back with a self-satisfied smirk on his lips. "So. When are you going to correct the steward? Put things right."

  Jarl took a long sip of beer and then shook his head, looking down at the table. "The steward knows, Vidar. He does not care that it was your doing and not mine. Don’t you understand? It’s politics."

  "Fuck politics," Vidar snorted, almost startling himself with his immediate reaction. "So, that’s it? I get no credit, no gold, no nothing?"

  "I’ll get you some silver for your service to the crown. You have your pardon, and I hear you have come to some sort of understanding with the rune scribe's guild. I’m sure you’ll land on your feet. Your ban from Nordstan is still in effect, and I would suggest you adhere to it."

  "Silver? I don’t need your charity," Vidar spat. "What about the corpse? What did you do to it?"

  "But you just said," Jarl said, scratching his head. "Never mind. The dragon is a crown secret, but I can tell you little of it remained, aside from charred bones. We will have it studied before showing it to the King's men once we make contact."

  "Didn't the steward proclaim the crown would help rebuild?" Vidar asked, narrowing his eyes. "Now you're saying you haven't made contact."

  "You need not concern yourself with these matters," Jarl sighed. "Despite what you did to my guardsman, you are a free man. The dragon is dead. I suggest you go on and live your life."

  "What of the shadows?"

  Jarl raised an eyebrow. "Shadows?"

  "Shadows moving around. Stealing away with people."

  "Child's tale," Jarl said.

  "Mm-hmm. A good one, like dragons. Also, when are you going to do something about the thieves' guild?" Vidar asked.

  Jarl blinked. "The thieves' guild? You jump from topic to topic like a grasshopper in spring."

  "They kidnapped me last night. They are threatening me and threatening my friends and my family, saying they will torture them unless I do what they want."

  "And what do these thieves want with a fine upstanding citizen such as yourself, if I may ask?"

  Vidar gulped down his beer and couldn't suppress a small burp. "Doesn't matter. They're breaking the law, and you are the law, so..." He shrugged. "Maybe you should do something about them running rampant in the city, threatening upstanding citizens such as myself."

  Jarl leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. "The thieves' guild is a complicated mess, made worse by one of their leaders turning up dead only a few days ago. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you, Vidar?"

  "Of course not," Vidar said.

  "Of course not," Jarl echoed. "Unfortunately, they are difficult to exterminate, and I have some intelligence telling me they are bribing officials, which is another complicated mess but not one for me to deal with. I’m the marshal, in charge of Halmstadt's soldiers and our guardsmen as well. Prosecution of thieves is not my domain. I will pass along word to those in charge."

  "That's not good enough," Vidar hissed. "They threatened to cut off my sister's legs. She's nine years old."

  Jarl's face darkened. "That will not stand. I promise you that. I'll post guardsmen outside your father's home and make sure your family is kept safe, Vidar."

  "Appreciated," Vidar said, nodding.

  "Anything else?" Jarl asked, the question itself a sigh.

  "The church."

  "What about the church?"

  "They're up to something," Vidar said. "Rituals."

  "It's a religion, of course, there are rituals."

  "Not like this, I don't think."

  "Just leave the church alone, Vidar," Jarl said, his voice stern. "Anything else."

  Vidar sighed, then thought a moment before shaking his head. "No. I don't think so."

  "Now then," Jarl continued, "you should leave the upper city and make sure you aren't seen by the soldiers or the guardsmen. We've opened up the gates around the city, so people will be coming and going a lot in the coming days. Keep out of trouble, and I would recommend staying with the rune scribes' guild so you can become a respectable tradesman."

  "Hey," Vidar said, "I'm respectable."

  Jarl shook his head. "You still have a lingering scent of the sewers on you, Vidar. Stay out of that place, or I'll have Guard Captain Anderson throw you in jail for trespassing on crown property."

  Vidar glared up at Jarl as the marshal of Halmstadt nodded once and then left without even having touched his food. Vidar grabbed Jarl's bowl, poured it over into his own, and set to eating.

  Full almost to the point of bursting, Vidar left the establishment, having suffered a lot of glances from the proprietor and then some outright hostile huffing when she came over to wipe down his table before he'd even finished eating. Leaving the upper city wasn't a problem, but he found himself unsure what to do with himself afterward. He had enough coin to pay for the room and food for the entire group for a long while, so he didn't need to sell any more runes or have people pay him to rejuvenate them. Doing so could also catch the ire of the rune scribe's guild and threaten his place as one of their students, which would not be ideal.

  Rend was running, or more likely, shuffling, around in the sewers if he wasn't dead already, and Vidar wanted a thorough conversation with the dragon rider to find out more about where he'd come from and why the hell he'd been attacking Halmstadt of all places. But he couldn't go down there looking for him before Alvarn made a copy of the key. That would take a little while.

  It was past noon so going to the rune scribe's guild to register would have to wait until the next day, when he could go with Siv and Sven as well.

  Vidar stood, looking around, up and down the streets, unsure of his next step. People huddled near burnt-out houses, cold and miserable. The fires were dealt with, but the aftermath and rebuilding would take time. And despite the sun being up and providing a little warmth, spring was still a way off. People would freeze. Sighing, he began walking, sticking his hands down into his pockets to rejuvenate and trigger some sowilo runes, and handing them out to people who looked like they could use some warmth. People who, for one reason or another, weren't heading to the Church of the Fallen Angels.

  Keeping away from them was a good thing. The church of the fallen angels was not to be trusted. He knew that much after finding a room dedicated to some manner of sinister ritual connected to the wagonloads of pale corpses they'd put in the ground right outside the church not that long ago. There was something sinister going on there, no matter Jarl's opinion.

  Should he do something about it himself? He wasn’t sure. He was not the savior of Halmstadt, something Jarl had just made very clear. So why should he get involved in things that did not affect him?