Hector stopped. What did he mean by that? If Lincoln was going to use this as a reason to attack the farm, that wasn’t going to work. Hector crossed his arms and squinted. “What are you planning?”

  Lincoln raised his hands in defence. “Trust me. You started making it up to me the moment you decided you’d follow me.”

  Hector glanced around, adjusting his sandals in the dirt. Were they not meant to be here? Nothing looked out of place. The trees were normal and there was nothing to stop someone from walking over there.

  “Don’t worry. You’re good. All I meant was the fact that you are coming with me to have a look means a lot to me.”

  “Hmmm… I see.” Hector took a deep breath and gestured for Lincoln to continue—he’d come this far. It was clear where they were going now. But why they were going there was still unclear. If all he had to do was follow Lincoln, then there was no harm in it.

  Hector trailed behind Lincoln, admiring the surroundings as they went. The smell of the Hay Quarter was something to be envied. The life of this place. Frowning, Hector’s mind wandered. The Glademoors had no doubt helped to make all this possible. They, much like the Frostkeep family, had an unusual affinity for their aspect. In this case, plants.

  Shaking his head, Hector continued to follow. What was it that made them all so special—aside from the years and years of resources piling up in their vaults?

  A few moments later, and after forcing their way through some shrubs, Hector and Lincoln stopped by a tree. In front of them, across a small field, stood a barn. It seemed typical for this area—he and Lincoln had walked past a few on the way over.

  Hector gestured towards it with his head. “What am I looking at right now?” he asked. Was this why Lincoln was so obsessed with the farm, this barn?

  Lincoln’s eyes locked onto it. The sun glimmered across their brown as they didn’t budge. “That’s it, Hector. In that barn are more resources than we would know what to do with.”

  “Lincoln.”

  “No. Listen.” Lincoln turned to him and grabbed his shoulder, eyes wide with excitement. “I can tell you, hand on my heart, that in there, there are more than enough resources to pay back your father’s debt twice over.”

  Hector looked to the ground, focusing on a patch of grass as it swayed in the wind. What if Lincoln was right? If what he said was true and in that barn, there were enough resources to repay his father’s debt, could Hector refuse?

  Shaking his head, Hector turned back to Lincoln. “How can you be sure that the resources in there could repay my father’s debt? Did you see something?”

  Lincoln took a step back, resting himself against a tree and crossing his arms. He looked off to the side and puffed out a breath. “To tell you the truth, I wasn’t too sure. I knew farms were bound to have some wealth. But I could never prove it.”

  Hector scrunched his brow. He took a step towards the barn but made sure to stay in the tree line. Leaves fell by, some brushing against his face, as the wind blew through the tree branches. Attacking a farm could be dangerous—though it would be safer than outright pickpocketing.

  It just involved a bit more violence. Hector shook his head. He wouldn’t consider it, he couldn’t.

  “We can’t attack the farm, Lincoln, you know that,” Hector said, glancing back at him. He looked him over, wondering what he was thinking. “Besides, we don’t even know who owns this farm, or how deeply they’re connected to the Glademoors.”

  Lincoln scoffed and pushed off the tree, stepping over to stand next to Hector. He watched the barn for a few moments before speaking. “I know who owns that barn. Or at the very least, who works it. Besides, I think you’re forgetting something.”

  Hector crossed his arms and regarded Lincoln with a critical eye. Where was he going with this?

  “Are you really sorry about what you did at the festival?” Lincoln asked.

  “You said all was forgiven, Lincoln.” Hector’s voice chilled. Was he really going to pull that on him? “You said that me following you here was more than enough.”

  Lincoln looked off to the side and shrugged, rocking his head from side to side. “I did. And it is. But I feel like this would go a long way to proving it. You know, backing up your words with actions.”

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  “That’s crappy, Lincoln, and you know it.”

  “And you leaving me to a Phoenix Company initiate is just as bad. Maybe a little worse.”

  Hector’s eyes lowered, focusing on the ground. The grass swayed subtly in the gentle breeze. He’d left him to a fate that could have gone horribly wrong if Lincoln hadn’t been prepared.

  But from what Mirae said, Lincoln would have done the same—which was seeming more and more true by the minute. Hector shook his head. The two of them couldn’t raid a farm alone, that would be just handing themselves over to the guards.

  “Don’t worry,” Lincoln said, almost as if he’d heard Hector’s thoughts. “I don’t want the two of us to raid it alone. I want your help to convince our friends. Then we can go from there.” Lincoln then raised a finger, stifling the words Hector was about to say.

  “I know. Jodie won’t even consider it. But there is a reason I brought you here.” He moved his finger and pointed it at the barn. “They’re coming now.”

  Hector watched where Lincoln was pointing. He watched as the barn door burst open, and he watched as two Farmhands dragged out a sack splotched with red. Was it a farm animal? They dragged the sack across the dirt and slumped it down, then stood, waiting for something.

  A few minutes later, wheels rolling down the dirt path from the barn, a donkey and a cart appeared. The animal pulled it along, chasing a carrot on a stick, oblivious to its destination. Hector frowned. He recognised the Farmhand with the stick. It was one of the boys he and Lincoln had fought the other day.

  Hector turned to Lincoln and raised a brow. Did he know what was going on? Lincoln tapped his finger against his lip and pointed, signalling for him to continue watching.

  As the cart drew to a stop in front of the barn, the two Farmhands went forward to greet it. They exchanged words—none of which Hector could hear. Then the two boys moved to the back of the cart, one of them climbing in.

  The boy bent down and dragged something. Hector’s eyes went wide when he saw it. He was dragging a person, gagged and bound. With the help of the second boy, they dragged the person from the back of the cart.

  The cart driver hopped off his seat, down onto the dirt, and walked over to the sack the two had carried out of the barn. He hoisted it over his shoulder—his cultivation making it easy—and walked to the back of the cart. Tossing the body in, he said something to the two boys as they entered the barn with the bound individual. The two of them nodded.

  The cart driver then hopped into the driver’s seat and steered the cart back down the dirt road. Hector turned to Lincoln. What had he just witnessed? Were they kidnapping and killing people?

  “As I said, you won’t have a problem convincing Jodie,” Lincoln said with a smile. He dusted a leaf off his shoulder as he stepped back over to the tree. “Whatever is going on in there, it’s not good. But it could also explain how they got their cultivation.”

  “What are you talking about?” Hector asked, stepping further into the tree line. A low crack came from above, followed by a thud as a tree branch landed next to him. Hector snapped his head up, looking at where the branch had come from. A squirrel sat munching on something. Hector turned back to Lincoln. “You can’t be talking about what I think you are.”

  Lincoln’s lips peeled into a crooked smile. “You’re right on the money. I think somehow they are sacrificing those people and gaining power from it.” He looked off to the side, shaking his head. “But they are definitely making a profit from it. After all, if they were just strengthening themselves, why would their cultivation be so low?“

  “Lincoln,” Hector said, his mouth falling open. “How long have you been watching this?”

  “Since that incident with Hammond,” Lincoln said, shrugging. “I got curious. Why would a group of Farmhands want someone like Delworth, and why did they have cultivation?”

  “And you found this out just by watching?” Hector asked. How could he just watch and do nothing? “Hadn’t you thought of going to the guards or something?”

  “Oh, come on,” Lincoln laughed, pulling a small bag from his pocket. “You think the guards are gonna believe a slum rat like me over some Farmhands? Don’t mess around.” Soft crunching came from Lincoln as he began chewing something. “Besides, I saw this as an opportunity—Do you want some?” he said, holding out the small cloth bag containing breadsticks.

  “No,” Hector said, waving him off. Part of him was disappointed in his friend, but another part of him saw his reasoning. No guard would believe them over the Farmhands, and if those guys were making a profit, it would be in that barn.

  “So, what do you say?” Lincoln said, crunching on another breadstick. “I think it would be more than worth the shot. And as Jodie likes to say, we would all benefit.”

  Hector stepped over to a tree, turning and leaning his back against it, biting his lower lip. One thing didn’t add up. If Lincoln didn’t know about this until two days ago, why was he so interested in the farm beforehand?

  “I don’t get it,” Hector said. “You’ve been talking about the farm since the other day at the dump. You didn’t know about this before, so why were you so interested?”

  A coy smile appeared on Lincoln’s face. Crunching another breadstick, he shrugged. “I wanted to see what’s inside, and selling a few stolen goods could be easy in the slums. Food is hard to come by, after all.”

  Hector raised a brow. That had to be one of the dumbest reasons, but somehow also uniquely Lincoln. Hector shook his head, wiping his palms on his trousers and gazing off to the barn. He didn’t have a choice anymore, did he? He owed Lincoln and there were people who needed saving—it was a convenient excuse, but it was the one he would go with.

  He lazily turned his head back to Lincoln and let out a heavy sigh. “Alright, I’ll help you convince them.” He pushed his back off the tree and rolled his shoulders. “But I don’t make any promises about whether I’ll be able to convince them.”

  “That’s more than alright,” Lincoln said, pushing off of the tree. He fished out one more breadstick, placing it between his lips and sliding the cloth back into his pocket. “But I think everyone will come around.” He crunched on the breadstick, smiling.

  A crack came from the side, followed by the rustling of bushes. Hector’s head snapped to the sound, and there he found a Farmhand walking out of the bushes, staring at them with a look of confusion.

  “You two shouldn’t be here,” he said with a sneer.

  Well, damn.

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