What seemed like a lifetime later, the agony dulled. As the world came back into focus, Rix found himself on the ground with the lackey, two guards standing over them. One of them was Scarface.

  “Five minutes and you’re already making trouble, hey?” Scarface said to Rix. “Can’t say I’m surprised. They don’t teach much in the way of manners where you’re from.”

  Rix opened his mouth to try and speak, but all he could manage was a weak cough. His head felt like it had been filed away from the inside.

  “What’s that?” asked Scarface, his voice mocking. “You want to know what happens to dregs who start fights in my prison? Well, I’m glad you asked. It really depends on the exact situation, you see.”

  “He was just defending himself, sir,” said a new voice from the stairs. Rix craned his neck to see who had come to his aid. The man was older, old enough to have more than a few lines to his skin, although that didn’t lend a lot of clarity when talking about Martial Souls. Unlike most of the prisoners, he kept his slowly greying hair cropped close. He looked weathered, but not quite as badly as some of the other prisoners.

  Scarface sighed dramatically. “Do you really feel the need to be involved in everything, Tolson?” he said, though there was no real malice in his voice.

  The newcomer shrugged. “I just call it like I see it. You know how it is for new faces here. They were giving him the normal line and it got a little out of hand, that’s all.”

  As if to punctuate the point, Yutaro twitched next to the step. A long groan escaped his lips as he rolled over, his eyes finding Rix’s. Rix met his gaze without blinking. He saw only hate reflected back. There was blood on the stone beneath his body and a sharp gash across his head. Rix had a fleeting moment of regret that the man hadn’t died. It was probably too much to expect to kill a Martial Soul an indeterminate number of ranks above him, but Rix preferred to deal with problems properly when they arose. Judging from the way the bloodied man was now staring daggers at him, this was not going to be the last he heard of this.

  Then again, the punishment for murder in full view of the entire prison was likely significant.

  Scarface pretended to deliberate on this for a few moments, but eventually he clapped his hands. “I am nothing if not a benevolent god. Isn’t that right, Tolson?”

  “Oh, definitely, sir,” the other man replied, his tone carefully neutral.

  Scarface nodded in satisfaction, then dropped into a squat next to Rix and his assailants. “We’ll treat this first offence as a warning, dreg. A little taste of what the tether can do. Next time, I’ll make sure to push a little more mana through and really show you a world of pain. You understand?”

  Rix suppressed a shudder. If that was just a taste, he really didn’t want to give the guard an excuse to push it further.

  “Yes, sir,” he replied.

  Scarface nodded again, rising back to his feet. “That goes for the rest of you too,” he said, addressing the Iron Hand members. “Leave the calf be, okay? If I find you scrapping here again today trying to get daddy’s attention, you’ll regret it.”

  The two men mumbled agreement, and with Kenzo’s help, Yutaro managed to get unsteadily to his feet. As they stumbled off, they shot Rix a glare that would have frozen water.

  Rix exhaled slowly. With the adrenaline fading, the combination of the blow to the stomach and the tether seemed to echo through every part of him. He felt like he’d run through a brick wall. He couldn’t say he was entirely surprised he’d been jumped. Martial power notwithstanding, the main difference between the prison and the streets where he’d grown up was that these people had been caught. The tribalism, territoriality, and pissing contests would be no different between the two.

  Sure had happened fast though.

  He managed to drag himself up onto the stairs and dust most of the sand from his robes, then turned to look at his would-be ally.

  “Is that a technique?” Rix asked. “Guard whisperer?”

  The man chuckled. “Think I’d be long gone from this place if I were capable of that. No, I’ve just been here a while. That means something, I guess.”

  Rix considered him. He didn’t look particularly dangerous, although with Martial Souls that was apparently unreliable. Some of the greatest heroes in the Chronicles were said to be small and unassuming. Then again, with the tethers, he doubted danger was what commanded the guard’s respect.

  “Well, I appreciate the help,” Rix said, “but I can take care of my own business.”

  The man raised his hands. “I don’t doubt it. Though if I can offer one piece of advice, that guard in particular, he can be a bit of a wildcard. I’ve seen him throw people in the tank on their first day before when he’s been in a mood. And believe me, you don’t want that.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Rix replied. He didn’t know exactly what ‘the tank’ was, but the way the man said the words told Rix it was probably best if he never found out.

  “You’re going to have to watch yourself with Yutaro and Kenzo too. They’re not the strongest people in the Farm, but they’re some of the meanest. They won’t take kindly to being shown up like that. And they’re not just rogue agents. They’re part of a group called the Iron Hand. Honestly, they’re towards the top of the list of people I wouldn’t want to mess with in the Farm.”

  Rix let out a sharp breath. “That’s not what I wanted to hear.” He’d known this wouldn’t be a smooth ride, but things had escalated so rapidly.

  “From what I know,” said Tolson, “the rest of the gang don’t outright sanction their little welcoming committee, so you’re probably safe from their full weight for now. But if you manage to catch their eye properly…well, they’re not known for their restraint, let me put it that way.”

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  “I’ll work something out.”

  “I’m sure you will. Truth be told, I thought they’d give you a proper bruising. The way you moved…well, it was impressive.”

  Rix gave a nonchalant shrug. He had to be careful. As far as everybody here was concerned, he was a fresh Martial Soul. Nobody appeared to have felt anything when he activated his Energy Surge, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t see its effects. Rix had to be tricky when using it, or eventually, someone would catch on.

  “I’ve always been quick,” he said, noncommittally.

  The man gave a thoughtful nod. “Good thing to be.”

  Rix’s mind played back over the attack. His first battle with another Martial Soul. In truth, it hadn’t gone quite how he’d expected. “Could you help me understand one thing about the fight? Our mantles…I don’t really understand why I was able to punch through Yutaro’s so easily. He’s stronger, so I thought it would be tougher.”

  Tolson looked amused. “If I had to guess, I’d say he underestimated you. I’m as far from an expert on fighting as it gets in here, but even I know a little. Your mantle offers a base layer of protection that grows as you get stronger, but it’s fairly minimal. When diving or training, most Martial Souls augment it by pouring some portion of their mana into it. That locks the mana up, so you can’t use it for other things, but it offers increased protection. The Quartermaster can probably tell you more. In any case, I’m betting Yutaro thought you wouldn’t offer any real resistance, so he didn’t bother to augment.”

  That was fascinating. Already, the scope of options available to Rix had broadened dramatically. It seemed like the way you chose to use your mantle was really a lever to move your strategy on a scale of offence to defence. You could be tougher, but that likely meant fewer offensive techniques, fewer options. It also made the mana capacity attribute potentially more enticing. More mana could mitigate the cost.

  “He probably won’t make that mistake again,” said Tolson, his expression growing more serious again. “And just to make it clear, there will be an again, assuming you stay by yourself. Some people can get away with being unaffiliated in here. They pay their taxes or take their blows and otherwise keep to themselves. But with what you just did…well, that was a statement. I’m thinking that’s probably not your way.”

  Rix shot him a thin smile. “Is this a recruitment?”

  The man laughed. “Hardly. I’m one of those few I just mentioned. I like to have a lot of friends in a lot of places, but sadly this leaves me with no group to call home. What I can do is help you with information and introductions. You seem capable. I suspect several of the smaller factions here in the Farm would be happy to hear you out.”

  Rix grimaced. Somehow, he’d made a mess of this. He’d barely been in the prison population for ten minutes and he’d already got tangled up in faction politics. On some level, he knew the older man was right. His experience on the streets was that animals ran in packs, and it clearly wasn’t much different here. He’d played that game as much as necessary growing up, but he’d seen this chapter of his life as an opportunity for a fresh start.

  There had to be another way to handle the situation.

  “People keep mentioning the ‘Farm’,” Rix said, changing the topic.

  If the man was bothered, he showed no sign. “That’s what they call us here in this half of the prison.” He gestured around to the yard. “Because we’re all Whispers, we don’t provide much value to the prison. The joke is that we’re cows. Either we don’t dive and they milk us for our mana, or we do dive and we’re animals at the slaughterhouse. Charming, right?”

  Rix gave a dark little laugh. “What’s the other half called, then?”

  “The Cauldron. Because that’s where they really turn up the heat.”

  “Creative,” Rix replied.

  The man shot him a wry smile. “I’m Tolson, by the way.”

  Rix hesitated. “Rix,” he replied eventually.

  “Nice to make your acquaintance, Rix.”

  The silence stretched between them. After about twenty seconds, Tolson got to his feet. “Well, you’ve probably got a lot to think about, so I’ll leave you be. But if you need help finding your feet, you look out for me, yeah? And consider what I said. This place is like anywhere else; hard to do alone.”

  As the man walked off, Rix noticed how slowly he moved. Despite being a Martial Soul, he had the gait of an old man. “Actually, there is one thing.” He hesitated. “No offence, but why does everybody here look so broken? You’re all Martial Souls.”

  Tolson shot him a sad little smile. “That’s the heartstones. You know we basically owe mana, rather than time to pay our sentence, right?”

  Rix nodded.

  “Well, the technique to make them isn’t designed for fresh Whispers. It takes too much out of you.”

  “So why do they make us do it?”

  Tolson let out a grim little laugh. “Because they can.”

  Rix watched the man hobble away. The notion that he would soon be forced to engage in a process that could damage someone like that was a little frightening, but it was a problem for tomorrow. Right now, he needed to rest. The fight had been taxing and his body ached, but the tether had been like a blow directly to his soul. He felt exhausted in a way that he’d never experienced before.

  He found his way to his cell easily enough. The cell block names were marked on the wall. The corridor to block C ran for fifty feet or so before a right-hand turn brought Rix to a larger hallway lined with heavy metal doors. The only way in or out was through a thick iron gate that was currently open.

  As he was making his way to cell 6, he walked past several inmates relaxing on their bunks. They regarded him with some interest, but thankfully, nobody made a move to strike up a conversation.

  His room was simple, but honestly, he’d slept in worse places. Though the mattress was barely thick enough to qualify for the name, the space itself was clean and dry and relatively warm. His uniform lay folded on his pillow.

  Though he wanted to spend more time exploring the System, a wave of tiredness hit him, forcing him off his feet and onto the bed. He was asleep moments after his head hit the pillow.

  ***

  He awoke feeling surprisingly good. His life had been punctuated by more than its share of scraps, and prior to becoming a Martial Soul, he’d have taken days to recover from the way he felt yesterday. But as he got to his feet and tested his muscles, he found himself only a little sore. The bruising on his stomach from the punch was just a faint twinge, and most of the ramifications from the tether had faded. He couldn’t help but grin. Mortals always joked about how easy life must be as a Martial Soul, but to experience it yourself was something else entirely. Even with just baseline level vitality, he apparently recovered significantly quicker. Would Yutaro be fully mended from that blow to the head yet? Rix hoped not. He hoped he was left with a little reminder. It might make him second-guess himself and give Rix time to get stronger for when they inevitably clashed again.

  The room had a single barred window through which he could see the soft glow of soon-breaking dawn. It had been late afternoon when he’d slept, which meant he’d been out for twelve hours or so. Apparently, being punished with the tether really took it out of you.

  Glancing at his cell door, he found it shut. He assumed that meant the prison still slept. There was no movement in the corridor outside his cell.

  It was then that he saw the letter.

  At some point in the night, an envelope had been slipped under his door. He walked over and scooped it up. It had the words ‘Zao Rixian’ written in elegant penmanship on the front. The prison didn’t exactly seem like the sort of place that would welcome its inmates that way, but what else could it be? The people he knew from outside were few and far between, and almost none knew he was here.

  Upon closer inspection, the envelope was sealed with a wax insignia in the image of a giant tree. It had broad, sweeping branches, but what really caught his eye was the complex root system that was even larger than the tree itself, like the depths of a great iceberg. He’d never seen it before. Inside was a single sheet of paper bearing just three sentences.

  “We know what you are. Grow stronger. We observe.”