“I am very warm,” Vidar said, clearing his throat and bending over to peer under Jarl’s arm. “I really should return to work. The speech looks like it’s about to start.”

  Jarl tilted his head to the side. “Not a builder, then?”

  “We are allowed a break to listen.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  And the conversation had been going so well up until that point. Vidar widened his eyes and peered over Jarl’s shoulder, feigning surprise. It worked, and Jarl looked back, giving Vidar just enough time to sidestep. When Jarl’s head swiveled back, Vidar threw a handful of snow right in his face as he set off running.

  Unfortunately, the man was quick. He leaned out of the way from the snow without as much as blinking, then threw the palm of his hand at Vidar in a slap that would surely have sent him to the ground if not for the algiz rune. The relatively gentle strike landed on a translucent, bluish barrier.

  Jarl was taken by surprise and stepped back, confusion evident on his face. The unexpected shield must’ve made the man forget what sort of footing he was standing on, and his back foot slid away from under him. He fell with a yelp. This was Vidar’s chance.

  Vidar ran and didn’t look back until he was firmly entrenched in the milling people waiting for the speech. Close. Far too close. Jarl was quick on his feet and was just a moment behind Vidar, who kept pressing forward, ducking under arms and squeezing past fat stomachs. After a few minutes, he hid behind an abandoned cart full of gravel. Waiting and ready to resume his fleeing, Vidar panted, for once feeling far too hot underneath his coat.

  Many glanced down to where he was hiding, but no one disturbed him or called out his position. Hopefully, that meant his pursuer had given up. By the time the speech started, Vidar dared stand. He saw no sign of Jarl anywhere and he didn’t doubt the fair-headed, tall man would stand out in the crowd.

  Safe and sound, Vidar turned to listen. Unable to hear a single word, he forced his way closer to the front of people until he spotted Jarl up on the steps near the gate. Even with the wide divide between the listeners and the speaker, perhaps it was not a good idea to be all the way at the front. A line of soldiers held the citizens of Halmstadt back.

  “What is he saying?” someone nearby asked.

  “Can’t hear a word!”

  “What are you doing to protect us?”

  The incessant questions and demands made it impossible to hear the speaker. Vidar sighed and turned around, ready to head back. Then, a man in official-looking robes climbed a cart nearby, and Vidar saw others doing the same throughout the crowd.

  When they spoke, it was as one, their voices carrying over the milling masses.

  “A great tragedy has befallen our fair city. The steward of Halmstadt, the royal second cousin to the king himself, has decreed the attack unlawful. As such, those with claim shall approach the administrators at the conclusion of this message. Furthermore, we wish to put your fears to rest. The Crown has been notified, and a reply is expected within a few days’ time. Meanwhile, we have the ability to protect this fair city and its citizens. Fear not, for we shall shield you from this threat.”

  After that short message, the speakers hopped from the carts and disappeared in the crowd, only to emerge behind the guards. Porters came running with tables they placed in front of the speakers, then more with chairs. They were fifteen in all, men and women both, sitting behind the tables when the guards changed positions to allow people to approach.

  “Form up to place your claims,” the speakers bellowed as one.

  Vidar grabbed the sleeve of a nearby man with the appearance of some sort of craftsman, wearing a heavy-looking leather apron with burn marks aplenty. Being that close to the front of the crowd, he was among the first in line.

  “What is this about?”

  The merchant pulled his arm back. “Don’t lay your hands on me, rat!”

  One of the soldiers shouted, “Order! We will have order!”

  “If you suffered monetary loss from the attack, you may claim so now and receive recompense,” a woman said. She was perhaps a few years his senior and was well-dressed enough to make him think she was someone of means.

  “They’re going to pay me for the coin I lost?” Vidar asked, stunned. Seeing how many lined up behind them, people were eager to take advantage of this favor from the steward.

  “I’m sure your little losses will be a great burden to the Crown,” the lady said. “But in essence, yes, they will.”

  “What of the poor folk who’re still by the church?”

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Someone nearby chuckled, but it was the lady who answered again, talking down to him like he was a child. “Those without means rarely have claim to any incurred losses. Looking at”—she wrinkled her nose—“and smelling you, surely you understand those of lesser means own very little.”

  Her tone set his anger ablaze, but he knew better than to start something out in the open, especially with so many soldiers nearby. Jarl still stood by the stairs as well, scanning the crowd. Vidar moved a little to the left, out of his pursuer’s line of sight. Two men in front of him argued with the administrator but were soon herded away by one of the bored-looking soldiers carrying short spears.

  Just like that, it was Vidar’s turn. He was well aware of those he’d spoken to, the lady in particular, listening in on the conversation.

  The administrator looked up from his ledger. “Name?”

  “Vidar.”

  “Any family name?”

  Vidar shook his head and the administrator gave him a long look, then shook his head, sighing. “Claim?”

  “The room I rented was burned down by the dragon, obliterated, really. I’ve already paid this week’s rent.” He looked back over his shoulder, then back, speaking in a low voice. “I had supplies in there worth a lot, and almost fifteen silver coins”

  “Claims against your landlord for rent should be made to him or her directly, not to the Crown.”

  “She, uh, Edna… is dead.”

  “You may petition her estate.”

  That did not seem like it would be a fruitful endeavor.

  “What of my supplies and coin?”

  “Did you receive the coin as recompense for your labor, or are they a result of invested wealth?”

  The look on the administrator’s face conveyed which option he thought more likely.

  “Labor.”

  “What is your occupation?” He scanned his own notes. “Vidar?”

  “Hurry up!” someone shouted behind him. People were antsy, shoving each other back and forth. One such shove forced Vidar up against the table, pushing it so the administrator’s ink bottle almost tipped over.

  Vidar turned and barked, “Shut up and wait for your turn, fancy bastards!”

  He turned back and muttered, “Scribe.”

  The administrator took another look at Vidar, then raised an eyebrow, holding out his hand. “Please show me your guild’s writ.”

  Someone yelled right into Vidar’s ear and someone jostled him again. Vidar turned around, furious. “Lay off me right now or I’ll make you pay!”

  A few people laughed.

  “The urchin will make you pay! Hold on to your coppers!”

  “Go back to Andersburg!”

  Vidar gritted his teeth but tried to come off as pleasant when he turned back. “Unfortunately, my writ burned with the rest of my belongings.”

  A full-on brawl broke out nearby and the shoving intensified as soldiers rushed in to keep the peace.

  The administrator appeared unaffected and continued speaking in his bored, monotone voice. “In such cases, you may enter the name of your guild representative. Once a link has been established, your claim may move forward.”

  It was no use. That money was lost to him. He looked up, and to his horror, Jarl was approaching.

  “Never mind,” Vidar said, ducking away. With everyone fighting, and with the throng of people pushing forward from behind, disappearing into the crowd was not such an easy endeavor this time around. As he squeezed and pushed his way against the stream of people, he kept his arm up to protect the algiz rune at his chest against sudden, random strikes from the crowd. It wouldn’t do to have that barrier appear in front of so many people. It was bad enough Jarl saw it. Him noticing the sowilo runes didn’t help, either. If he was caught, things would go from bad to worse.

  The going was far too slow for Vidar’s liking. Wanting the use of both arms, he formed the circle in his mind’s eye. To his surprise, the algiz rune was fully drained and rendered inactive. The slap from Jarl hadn’t looked very powerful, so why had it drained the entire rune? He had no way of answering that without further experimentation. This was neither the time nor the place for such things. At least he was able to use both hands to navigate the crowd.

  Using his smaller size, he made some headway and the crowd finally began thinning out. All of a sudden, he found no other people coming the other direction.

  Suspicious, Vidar ducked into a narrow street and then crept forward. The gate. It was closed. A few people were arguing with the soldiers in the distance, but to no avail. This situation had to be one of Jarl’s making. The look and feel of the man, and the way he strolled up the stairs to the steward of Halmstadt with such relaxed ease, meant he was someone in power, not just some captain of the guard or high-ranking soldier. This was a man who could order the gates shut. Vidar better be careful.

  He couldn’t help but grin as he slipped into the tiny hatch he’d scoped out as alternate escape route for him and Ida the day before. Jarl could search this part of Halmstadt all he wanted, he’d never find him. Not for as long as he was in possession of the key to the underground system. With that, he was uncatchable.

  Closing and locking the hatch and throwing himself into darkness calmed him down. Vidar climbed down through the darkness and soon found he’d happened upon one of the less-enjoyable tunnels. From the smell of it, water did not flow through here.

  “Just my luck,” he grumbled, then set one of the kenaz runes from his pocket alight. That grinding noise of stone on stone sounded from somewhere far away, deeper down the endless corridors to the south. While it did make him jump a little, it no longer sent him scrambling with fear. As far as Vidar figured, it had to have something to do with the system itself. Something like the water treatment. He still wanted to find out exactly what it was, but the thought pulled his mind in a different direction.

  The monster down in the dark. Revelations from this past day made him certain of one thing, the nature of the corpse. It was a dragon.

  What else could it be? With that size and the shape of it, nothing else made any sort of sense. It made him want to quest down into that deep darkness immediately, to find the secrets and riches of one of the dead monsters that once plagued Halmstadt and the rest of the country. Now that he knew that dragons existed, he wanted to find the dead one. Those gleaming orbs might be its enormous dead eyes, but it might not be. Either way, it was a secret to uncover, a step toward his goal of understanding the flying monster. Because without understanding it, he would never be able to slay the beast, and slay it he must.

  No one burned Vidar’s room and belongings and then just flew off into the sunset. He’d get his chance at it, he knew that much. It wanted something, why else would it have come? And it left empty-handed, so the return of that thing was all but a certainty. Vidar needed to be ready for it, and so far all he had were the new runes. They were miracles in their own right but would not suffice on their own. Tomorrow, he decided. Tomorrow he’d uncover that tunnel’s secrets.