Hector turned his head to Lincoln and raised an eyebrow. What were they supposed to do here? If things had gone as planned, this guy would have spilt all the information he had rather than sitting here sobbing. Lincoln shook his head.

  Marcus stepped forward and bent down, raising a hand to comfort the Farmhand. Hector reached out to stop him but decided against it. With everyone present, the boy couldn’t do much to hurt Marcus—not without suffering for it, anyway.

  “What do you mean, you don’t remember?” Marcus asked, resting a hand on the boy’s shoulder. His lips budded into a soft smile as he tilted his head to meet the boy’s eyes. Why was he treating this guy like he wasn’t a murderer? Hector couldn’t understand—but then again, Marcus hadn’t seen the body.

  “I—I don’t know,” the boy mumbled. A tear crawled down his cheek and splashed onto his torn robes. “It’s like I know what I want to say, but the moment I try, everything just leaves.” He sobbed, lowering his head into his bound hands.

  How the hell does that work exactly? I mean, assuming he is telling the truth—which is a big if—how would that even work?

  Marcus glanced up at Hector. What did he want him to do? It wasn’t like Hector knew what was going on. Hector sighed. “Well, he’s not as helpful as I’d hoped, but it kind of leads me into what I wanted to say.” He paused, knowing he had to say this right, or it could make things difficult.

  “I want to rescue the people this guy and his friend have kidnapped,” he said. “We don’t know what’s going on, but I want to save them. I can’t have people dying while I sit here knowing I could do something about it,” he sighed. “Though I’d be lying if I said that was the only reason.”

  There was no way to say this next part and sound like a hero—not that he wanted to be one. It would only sour his proposition. “Lincoln and I also believe that they are making a profit somehow,” Hector continued, glancing at Lincoln, “and attacking the farm could help us gather the money we need to pay off my dad’s debt—and then some.”

  Several cracks rang out around the brewery, followed by vicious squeaking. The group fell silent. The Farmhand’s sobs and the whipping wind snaking through the open roof were the only sounds.

  Hector glanced at his friends—Marcus and Jodie. What were they thinking? And Emela and Nyx—had he stepped too far? Judging by their faces—Jodie’s lips pulled into a tight frown—the reaction was mixed.

  “You absolute idiot, lying piece of dump trash,” Jodie yelled. She took a step forward, her shoes crunching on the wooden board beneath her feet. “We agreed, Hector. We bloody well agreed. And now you pull this.”

  “Jodie—”

  Her head snapped toward Lincoln, cutting off his words as fire burned behind her eyes. “Not another word, Lincoln—if you open your mouth before I’m done, you’ll be picking your teeth up off the ground.”

  Lincoln shrank back, glancing at Hector. Hector held his gaze. He wasn’t about to say anything; that would only let the argument spiral, and they were already burning enough time.

  Jodie flopped her head back, her ginger hair cascading over her shoulder, and she sighed. “Angry doesn’t even come close to what I’m feeling right now. I hate being treated like a fool. I’m not one. You brought us to the Hilda Festival,” she said, lowering her head. She met his gaze. “You brought us there knowing full well that you planned to go to the farm, anyway.”

  “Jodie, no. That’s not what happened,” Hector said, narrowing his eyes at her. He’d never do that to them—never. It was just a coincidence. I was only being a good friend. He glanced over at Emela, who subtly shook her head, her eyes falling to the floor.

  “Oh. It’s not,” Jodie continued. “Then, Hector, please enlighten us. What were you doing at that bloody farm when we agreed we wouldn’t go there—did you just trip and fall into the Hay Quarter?” she yelled.

  Marcus got up and stepped in front of Jodie. “Calm down. I get that you’re angry, but it’s not helping. I’m sure there’s a good reason,” he said, turning to look back at Hector. Delworth nodded along.

  Hector sighed, dragging his hand down his face. The subtle taste of salt prickled at the tip of his tongue as he wet his cracked lips. “Lincoln said he had something to show me, so I went along—I owed him one.”

  “Why am I not surprised?” Jodie said, scowling at Lincoln. The look in her eyes said it all—she still hadn’t gotten over yesterday. If anything, she was looking for an excuse to deck him. “And so what?” she snapped, turning back to Hector. “You just followed along, knowing full well where he was taking you.”

  Hector’s gaze dropped to the floor. She wasn’t entirely wrong, but she wasn’t right either. At first, he really didn’t know what to expect, but as things unfolded, the signs became clear. He had an excuse—though it wasn’t one she’d like. “I was just being a good friend. I abandoned him yesterday, and I owed him.”

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  “You did, did you?” Jodie shook her head and turned away. She walked over to a pile of crates, swinging her leg back and then crashing her foot into them. The crates exploded in a shower of splinters as she let out a roar of anger.

  Better the crates than Lincoln.

  Emela stepped forward, glancing down at the Farmhand. The boy stared wide-eyed at Jodie, occasionally looking around as if to make sure he wasn’t the only one witnessing what was happening.

  “I don’t care that you lied, Hector,” Emela said.

  “I didn’t.”

  “Sorry.” She coughed into her fist. “That you went to the farm,” she corrected, “but I’m more concerned about these demonic cultivators and what they’re doing. Shouldn’t we be taking this information to the guards?”

  They all fell silent as Emela looked around in confusion. “What?” she asked, glancing at Hector. He could relate—he’d asked Lincoln the same thing in a moment of naivety. Nyx stepped forward—as usual—and whispered in her ear. “Ah, I see. Never mind,” Emela said.

  Hector shook his head. They were getting a little off-topic. “I know you’re angry, and rightfully so, but Lincoln and I saw someone being dragged in there this morning. I want to save them, and I need your help, guys.”

  “I’d love to help, I really would…” Emela said, glancing at one of the large windows of the decaying brewery. The window was mostly shattered—only a few panes clung to their frame while the rest lay scattered on the ground. “The sun is going down soon, and I have to leave. Nyx can stay, though.”

  Emela gestured to the girl behind her. Nyx’s face fell—one of the first times Hector had seen any emotion from her. She grabbed Emela by the arm and led her away, the two of them walking toward the brewery’s entrance.

  “So, you want to do this tonight?” Lincoln asked, scratching the back of his neck. He glanced over at Jodie. It would be an understatement to say that if they went tonight, things would be tense. But Jodie always put what was important first. Hector could count on that.

  He nodded, glancing over at Emela and Nyx. “I hadn’t intended to, but the quicker we do this, the sooner we can put a stop to what they’re doing—and save whoever it was tonight before the worst happens.”

  Lincoln nodded.

  Marcus stepped over, Delworth a pace behind him. “We won’t be able to help with the task tonight. We aren’t fighters, after all,” he said, glancing down at the Farmhand, who sat between them. “I hope you can understand—it’s not that we don’t want to.”

  “It’s all right, Marcus,” Hector said, resting a hand on his shoulder. Marcus was one of the few people Hector could count on to trust him, no matter what. That kind of loyalty was a luxury he didn’t have with many others—and any doubt would be a detriment.

  I guess it will have to be me, Jodie, Lincoln, and hopefully Nyx tonight. It would be great to have the backing of someone in Gravity Forging Four.

  He glanced over at Emela and Nyx, who were having a heated discussion in the corner—more a case of Emela talking at Nyx while the girl nodded.

  “We can take the coins with us,” Marcus said. “I take it you guys will be heading straight there? We can hold on to them for safekeeping.”

  Hector nodded at the suggestion. He was right—if they went home now, there would be a bunch of questions they wouldn’t have answers to. Who knew how long this would all take? And it wasn’t like they’d even split the earnings yet.

  “Thanks, Marcus—though, about the split—”

  “It’s all right. We didn’t know how much your dad’s debt is,” Marcus said, “but before you and Lincoln turned up—and before that gang arrived—we’d already agreed to give seventy percent to you. Emela even offered all of her remaining percentage to you.”

  “She did,” Hector said, glancing back at her as she and Nyx continued to talk. He smiled. “It means a lot. I appreciate it,” he added, nodding at Jodie as she returned—noticeably calmer.

  “Well, we couldn’t leave you out in the lurch,” she said. “Even though what you did was crappy, I know why,” she shot a glance at Lincoln, “and I understand. It’s just annoying, that’s all. I’m pissed, but I won’t hold it against you.”

  “Thank you,” Hector muttered. He glanced at Lincoln, who gave him a weak smile. Hector held back a sigh. It had worked for the most part—and they were raiding the farm tonight—but something still itched at the back of his mind.

  He had no evidence, but it was funny how Lincoln got what he wanted in the end, even after everyone had initially agreed. He couldn’t help but feel slightly used. Still, Lincoln couldn’t have known that Hector would abandon him—or that a situation would force him to.

  Or did he? Hector turned his head, smiling at Emela as she walked back over with Nyx in tow—her face returning to its usual calm. His gaze then flickered over to Jodie and Marcus. They were all his friends, but did he put more stock in Lincoln than in the rest of them?

  Perhaps sometimes he let himself get too swept up in the boy’s antics. He’d have to keep watch for that.

  If Hector was honest with himself, he’d gotten swept up in a lot so far. In retrospect, the pickpocketing operation was stupid—it bordered on a get-rich-quick scheme that didn’t even go well.

  A snap came from the back of the brewery as the wind swept through the building. Hector placed a hand on his chin and rubbed it. He needed to reassess their options. Once his dad’s debt was paid, he’d have to find a way to earn a reliable income.

  He had a system and advantages that no one else in the world possessed. A cough brought him back to his thoughts. He glanced up to find Jodie gesturing to the tied-up Farmhand. “What are we going to do with him?”

  That was a good question. Hector bent down and looked into the boy’s eyes. “You don’t want to go back to the farm, right?” The boy nodded, and Hector smiled. “Well, we’re going to need some information from you, then. For starters, why is your cultivation so high?”

  The boy shuddered, his eyes falling to the floor. “I didn’t want to, but they said I had to take them. They said it would make me better than I was. They said it would make me great—more than just a pig.”

  “Who said that to you?” Hector asked. The boy’s words gave him a hunch, but he needed confirmation.

  A dull look passed over the boy’s eyes as he shook his head. “I can’t remember. I wish I could say.”

  Hector sighed, clenching his fist. How were they making him forget? It was as if anything that might expose them or offer a clear, usable hint would simply slip from the boy’s mind—and that dull look that passed through his eyes.

  The boy was either a phenomenal actor or something else was going on. “Can you at least say what they made you take? Is that how you got so strong?” Hector asked.

  The boy nodded. “They gave me several Ham pills.” The Farmhand shivered as his gaze lowered to the dirt.

  “These Ham pills—again—what do they have to do with the farm? Wait, don’t tell… He wouldn’t.” Hector clenched his fist and sighed as his body shook.

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