Coal smoke was disgusting. Grimy, vile fumes that poisoned the air. It was enough that he could feel his mana-saturated body drawing on his power to cleanse his lungs. And this wasn’t even the capital. Of course Verilia wasn’t much different, but at least they’re work with the Core was cleansing the air more and more each day.

  No, he was right in his assessment. Laskarian industry was a dirty blight on the world. If he was biased against the place that had adopted those responsible for his home’s destruction then that was a separate issue entirely.

  And all that was before he even got to the lead. They used it everywhere. Just walking through the city gave Martin a wicked headache, and they had another day before their next train would take them further west. Keeping his strongest veil up at all times wasn’t helping matters. But this was the second city they’d come across with a clearly cultivated Core. He could only guess there was a sanctum somewhere without so much interference that the locals had used for an anchor. That those cultivators must be working with whatever shadow organization had orchestrated the state of the world was a bad sign.

  This city wasn’t big enough to need a master level cultivator to tame the flows, but it wasn’t that much smaller. A strong expert or an adept would be in charge. Or a dozen weaker cultivators working together. That their enemies had enough cultivators to make that work was an ill omen. From their observations it was only in the heartlands that such measures had been taken. Further out, the population was left to mortal defense and the mercy of the mana flows. Martin shuddered to think how many masters were folded into the pathetic organization, though he had no sympathy for those allowing themselves to be so easily led.

  Devon’s sour expression when he walked back into the common room was enough to confirm his findings were in line with Martin’s own. The enchanter joined Martin at his corner table and picked up one of the waiting tankards, draining it entirely. Martin opened his mouth to speak and Devon held his hand up, forestalling him. Then he drained half of the second tankard as well.

  “We’re fucked,” Martin said, once Devon let him get a word in edgewise. “How do they even have enough people for all this?”

  Devon didn’t bother to glance around before responding. No one was listening to them and they were talking too quietly to be easily overheard in the crowded bar. “When you take anyone with a lick of talent and tell them they join up or die, you end up with a motivated workforce.”

  Martin waved that away. The actual reasoning was obvious, less so what they should be doing about it. “We need to talk about what comes next.”

  All he got from Devon was a raised eyebrow.

  “I know you noticed everything I did. I’m sorry, but it’s time for the conversation. Should we turn back?”

  “Absolutely not,” Devon hissed. He leaned forward, like he would spring at Martin over the table. “We aren’t turning back. We haven’t even gotten there yet.”

  “There’s only three of us. Two if it comes to a real fight. If they have enough cultivators to manage cities like this one, then they have enough to hunt down your legacy stone.”

  “You don’t know that. Even if they did find it, they couldn’t take it, not without a member of the sect.”

  “I know. But say we sneak in and get it ourselves. They’ll know immediately. Then we need to get all the way across a continent without getting caught. Or kickstarting a war.”

  “You promised. Martin, you promised.” He watched as a bit of Devon’s normal mask slipped away.

  “I don’t have anything. No listen to me,” he cut off before Martin could object. “You and Laurel have each other, and the legacy of your sect ensconced safely away in the best possible place for it. New students, new resources. Both of you have been improving your cultivation. You came out of a tragedy smelling like roses.

  “And I’m not saying there was no heartbreak. I know there was. I know you had other friends and the rest of your sect. And from what Laurel hinted, some stuff happened before you met back up.

  “I have none of that. It’s just me. If anyone else made it through the fall I haven’t seen them. I have to assume they died or they joined up with the bad guys. The history of my sect, my family, my whole people is sitting, barely protected, just waiting for some asshole to find a way to exploit it.

  “So if you want to talk battle plans, or how best to get home afterwards, fine, let’s talk. But we’re doing this.”

  There was no point arguing, and in truth, Martin didn’t want to. Devon had always been a friend. More so in the last year. His honor and conscience both demanded they at least try. He lifted the remaining tankard and drained it in one long gulp.

  “To bad decisions. Let’s do it.”

  “To taking what’s ours.”

  The train station where they hitched their next ride was much like the last, except bigger and smellier. At least the more popular route, running more than once a week, meant they had fewer locals shoved in beside them. Still a miserable experience, but Martin wasn’t contemplating murder the entire time. The locomotive picked up steam and they trundled out of the city. Before the countryside turned into a brown blur, one field pricked at Martin’s senses. He elbowed the others and nodded to the field. There was only a minute to observe before they were whisked out of sight, but he thought it was one of the more common cultivation aids.

  Devon proved him right. “Ravitracea, it looks like. Not sure how they got it to grow a full field’s worth though.”

  “What’s it do?” Adam asked. They’d declared he could have short conversations in public, mostly to keep him from going insane. His academic accent was acceptable in the more cosmopolitan parts of the empire.

  “Low level cultivation aid. Helps people break into the novice rank by sustaining their active cultivation through a lapse in concentration,” Devon filled in.

  “If it’s that useful why didn’t Laurel give us some when she started the sect?”

  “She probably didn’t have any, it’s useless at her stage.”

  “It also cripples the people who use it,” Martin added. “If people start relying on it, their cultivation stalls out at the high initiate stage. They might break through to adept but never further. That field is a recipe for lots of very weak cultivators.”

  “Like what you might need to build up a series of Town Cores, very quickly,” Devon mused.

  That grim thought killed the conversation, and they read or rested in silence until the afternoon.

  “We’re riding from here,” Devon told the others when he got back from his scouting trip. “The rail doesn’t go in the right direction. I bought mounts from a few different stables. No one will remember that there’s three of us if anyone asks. ”

  “Good,” Martin said. “If I had to do another train ride that long I might actually break into pieces. We have the room for the night and we can set out tomorrow. Come on Adam, let’s go take a look at the rest of the city.”

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  As good as his word, he and Adam left Devon to keep an eye on the rooms and left to meander around town while it was still light enough to do so. Something was going wrong and he had no intention to let it fester any further. Walls he thought he had broken through months ago were back up around Adam’s heart. It was fine, he would break them down as often as he had to. It was another two blocks before Adam started talking.

  “It’s not what I expected.”

  “How so?”

  “It’s all so normal. Like, everyone here is just going through their lives. Then we see someone get pressed into magic indenture, and don’t think I haven’t noticed you and Devon prowling around town and coming back all broody. It just seems like too much. I was a street kid who got lucky, then a scribe for fifteen years. That was already an adventure, already more luck than I deserved, already a dream. What right do I have to be a part of anything bigger? This ‘fate of the world’ shit is heavier than I imagined. What can I do? Who am I to try and change anything?”

  “Cultivation is ultimately a pursuit of power. I know we talk a lot about how you can be a chef or an artist or a gardener, and you can. But our way of life, the way of life you signed up for, is about taking something from the world and using it for your own ends. It's selfish and personal. Even when we cultivate the Core, that’s self-interest played out on a large scale. A life like that necessarily means you’re competing with other people for power, for resources or influence. Do that long enough and you pick up the secret.”

  A flick of his eyes to the right told him Adam was still paying attention. “No one deserves power. There isn’t some threshold of worthiness you have to reach before diving into those waters feels right.

  “So what are you doing, why you? You’re showing up. Attempting to do the right thing for your conscience and your family, which is all anyone can do when it comes down to it.”

  The next few blocks passed in silence. “Am I supposed to be over it now? A rousing speech and then I’m ready to storm the castle and slay the dragon?”

  Martin swayed gently, bumping his shoulder into Adam’s. “Did it work?”

  “A little.”

  ***********

  Adam felt keenly aware of his body, the way he always did when Martin was nearby. The man oozed confident surety like it was his job, and maybe it was. But it always left Adam aware that he was a middle-aged curmudgeon. Their walk wound through the small city they were staying in for the night. Unlike home, with the tapestry of microcultures and attitudes across different districts, everything was jumbled together. Shops stood next to workshops next to baths next to tenements. There had even been a seedy brothel right outside the train station when they arrived that morning. It was with no surprise then when they stumbled their way into a tiny park. One patch of green valiantly striving against the tall buildings lining either side. Martin nudged him towards a bench and he had no reason not to comply. He felt his cheeks heat when Martin oh so casually grabbed his hand when they settled in. Something he would have been able to hide if they hadn’t forced him to shave.

  “How romantic,” he said when the silence stretched.

  “Not my best admittedly, and also not what I wanted to talk about.”

  “Oh?”

  “Things are going to be dangerous from here on out.”

  “Wait, were they not dangerous already?”

  “They were, but not in a way we couldn’t get out of if we needed to. After the next stretch we’ll be deep inland with a whole lot of hostile Laskarians in between us and home. And guns, a lot of guns.”

  “None of this is surprising Martin. What’s your point?”

  “You can turn back if you want,” he blurted out.

  Adam felt the words hit him like a blow, pushing him back until the wrought-iron bench dug into his back and side. Cold gripped his heart and spread through his chest in tendrils.

  “What the fuck are you talking about? Didn’t we just go through a whole talk about how I’m worthy. Was that all just blowing smoke? Talk me up so that you can send me on my way.”

  “No!” Martin glanced around and leaned in closer. “I care about you, you stubborn idiot, I want you to be safe.”

  “What about danger and experience being essential for a cultivator?”

  “Well, it’s different when it’s you. And now you have me sounding like Laurel, so thanks for that.”

  The sarcasm wasn’t enough to hide the honest fear underneath. The effect on Adam was immediate, the ice inside thawed and his panic calmed. He would consider later what that perverse reaction meant. “Tell me honestly, do you want me to go, will it be too dangerous for you two if I keep going?”

  After a moment of pained silence he got his answer. “I want to do this with you. It will be dangerous, but anything can be dangerous. Devon and I will protect you if it comes to that.” The glint in his eye was back and Adam shed the rest of the tension the moment was carrying.

  The sun had set during their argument and it was well and truly night as they made their way back to the inn.

  “Honestly, ‘turn back now’. As though I wouldn’t be in just as much danger crossing the continent alone.”

  “Oh fuck off with that. I panicked. I’m allowed to stumble on occasion. That’s why you bring other people when you go on an adventure.”

  The taproom was packed when they returned, and a celebratory ale was in order. Martin and Devon had some conversation that was mostly eyebrow-based, which Adam chose to ignore. He was staying and those two could deal with it.

  Getting on the horses the next day reminded Adam why he was so relieved when they had finally sold the last set. By lunch he was ready to crawl back on a train, sweaty and cramped, if only he didn’t have to keep riding.

  The towns and smaller villages blurred together, one much like the other. Unlike the cities, the mana was uncultivated and it showed. In one they saw a creeping black vine growing up the side of a house. As Adam watched, a rat scurried by and part of the vine shot out, ensnaring the animal. In moments leaves covered the rat in entirely, leaving no indication it was anything but a harmless plant. When he pointed it out to the others they both shrugged.

  “If no one stops it, that thing will have eaten the entire village by this time next year,” Martin said.

  “Should we…do something about it?” Adam responded. Their horses had already carried them past the vine and the building it was attached to. He forced himself not to turn back and stare.

  “Nah.”

  “Wait what?”

  “Enemy territory. Avoiding attention.” Devon led them over to a mercantile and hopped off his horse. They hitched their reins to a rail for the purpose.

  Adam forced them both to pause on the steps. His hand drifted to his stomach as a bout of nausea caught up with him. “But these are just normal people. What happens if that thing gets big enough to grab a dog? Or a kid?”

  “We can’t address every magical hazard we come across,” Martin placated him.

  “Enough of this,” Devon said in a savage whisper. “I’ll take care of it.”

  There was no acknowledgement when they entered the shop except a harsh grunt from a back room somewhere. It was nothing Adam wanted, but Devon and Martin were insistent that it would draw more attention if they skipped stopping in the towns they passed.

  From the last half dozen examples he knew Devon would use the opportunity to wring any news out of the shopkeeper. As always, he drifted towards the books. None of it was worth picking up, just land surveys and Laskarian propaganda. Nothing he would be willing to sully the halls of the Archive with by bringing home. He was apparently alone in that opinion, since Martin grabbed a copy with a wink and tossed it on the pile of supplies at the counter.

  “What can I do you for?” The owner of the grunt had finally made an appearance, wedging himself behind the counter where there was just barely room for his ample girth. He sorted their supplies into piles with practiced ease.

  “Oh just supplies,” Devon responded. “My friends and I bought a stake in the borderlands. Of course they don’t tell you just how hard it is to get to when you sign up.”

  While Adam had finally been deemed able to talk without danger, Devon had begun slipping into an accent the further they traveled from the bigger cities. He had also dodged the question when Adam tried to pry into why an enchanter was so good at sneaking through enemy territory.

  “You’re not wrong. Hey, I’ll throw in a copy of the survey for free if you’re heading out there. Need to know what’s what.”

  “Well I do appreciate that,” Devon said with an easy grin. “Oh hey, before I forget, what’s that black vine on the south side of town?”

  “Not sure what you mean there son.”

  “Hmm. We were arguing about it on the way in since they don’t have it back in the heartlands. But maybe it’s normal out here.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t get around to gardening much myself, I leave that for the missus.”

  Devon laughed and finished out the transaction. Adam’s gut was only partially appeased. It was better than nothing, but only just. It was all they could do if they wanted to continue to avoid detection, but it still felt callous. They left the shop with packs loaded down with new supplies they didn’t need or want. Every day he fantasized about one of the storage tattoos. Or one of the rings, he wasn’t picky. His horse this time was at least docile, the gelding didn’t react when Adam strapped the whole mess behind the saddle.

  As they were ready to mount and leave, a young woman stumbled out of the tavern on the opposite side of the square. An older woman wearing a stained apron followed her, waving a broom and shouting.

  “And don’t come back! We don’t need your kind around here.” She punctuated the remarks with a viscous swing of the broom. The thud it made hitting the girl’s ribcage was audible even across the square. Martin hissed in sympathy but didn’t move to intervene.

  A crowd had gathered around the square, spilling out from the tavern and the surrounding shops.

  “Dirty mages should be rounded up and put to work. At least then they’d be useful.”

  Adam nearly jumped out of his skin, not realizing the shopkeeper had joined them on the porch.

  “Yeah,” Devon said, still in character. “We don’t want no part of that.”

  “Good lad.”

  There was nothing more to say and they rode off, leaving the young woman to cower in the face of the crowd. He had nothing to say until they were far from any of the townsfolk, the land fading from cultivated farms back into untamed countryside.

  “They just –”

  “Yup,” Martin answered.

  “And –”

  “Uh huh.”

  “It’s all such utter horseshit. I mean I won’t say Merista has been open about everything but it’s not that bad. Everyone knows someone who knows someone who’s great aunt was a hedge witch with a cold remedy.”

  “It’s not natural,” Devon joined in. His accent was gone as quickly as it had appeared, from good old boy to sardonic asshole in a few heartbeats. “You’ve seen the Laskarian state newspaper that makes its way across the ocean. This is focused, targeted propaganda. I asked Mansfeln before you got to the last briefing, but it’s been getting worse in recent years. More magic to try and control maybe, but I would bet anything I own that whoever’s cultivating the Core in Laskar City is part of it.

  “And it’s working. You heard the shopkeeper. ‘They should all be rounded up.’ If you have that idea spreading out then it’s easy to find your recruits when you need cultivators, their neighbors will turn them in.

  “I don’t feel quite as bad about the vine thing anymore,” Adam muttered. It was a long ride before they stopped for the night, and he thought about that town, the vine that would consume it, and the girl they left in the dirt every step of the way.