“You think he’s going to say anything?” Erin said, staring at the ceiling of the knights’ shared accommodation.

  “Don’t ya think we would have already?” Callum said from the bed across from her.

  “Maybe he’s just waiting for the right moment,” Clay added. “And once King Atlas has decided, then—”

  “You three weaklings are gonna give yourselves ulcers worrying so much. What’s done is done. We’re alive, aren’t we?” Radic shrugged.

  “He’s got a point,” Callum said. “We’re alive. Not only that, but the priests and their students made it back alive. Why are we dwelling on this?”

  “Maybe because we’re supposed to be like special knights or whatever, and we needed to be rescued on our first mission?” Erin countered.

  “Do I need to remind you it was against Wargs? Who else would have done any better.”

  “No,” Erin huffed. “But still. Why did he even make us knights? We’re just a bunch of kids.”

  “I’m with Erin on this,” Clay said.

  “Well, I’m leaving,” Radic said. “You three are too depressing. There's Gotta be something better to do around here than listening to you whine.”

  “Wait up,” Callum bounced from his bed. “I need to get out of here, too.”

  “Those two hanging out?” Erin said as she watched them leave together. “Seriously, what has happened to this world?”

  “Maybe we’re already dead?”

  “Yeah, that actually makes a lot of sense, Clay. More sense than those two being friends, at least.”

  ***

  Passing out from their room, the two young knights ducked under timber scaffolding and walked along a timber bridge.

  Dozens of men, both mutants and trolls, worked, heaving stone via a system of levers and pulleys. A bucket of something passed over their heads, sliding up toward the top along a rope.

  “How long do you think it’ll take?”

  “All this?” Radic shrugged. “Who knows? I’m just glad I’m not lugging all this stone up.”

  “It’s a good workout,” Callum said, eyeing a mutant as he pulled a crate of rocks up via a lever. “I can’t help but feel a little slack lately. Too much thinking. It’s rotting my brain.”

  “Slack?” Radic tilted.

  “Yeah, like, not training. I used to never go a day without doing something. Ever since that battle, I have barely lifted a finger.”

  “Then what are you waiting for, slacker?”

  “Slacker, me?” Callum pointed at his chest. “I don’t see you doing jack shit.”

  “That’s because I’m naturally talented.”

  “Yeah, right,” Callum scoffed. “That’s why I keep beating you then, is it?”

  “You got lucky. That’s it,” Radic pointed.

  “Lucky? You don't know the meaning of that word. Just face it, Radic. I’m better than you.”

  “Like the dead god’s asshole, you are. I challenge you, any weapon, any style. I’ll kick your ass.”

  “Alright then. You got yourself a deal and a sword duel.”

  “Alright then,” Radic nodded. “Bring it on, little guy.”

  ***

  Standing opposite each other in one of the training grounds, Radic’s nostrils flared as he glared at Callum, both hands wrapped around the hilt of his oversized sword.

  Standing to the side, his profile thin, Callum stood calmly with his sword pointed out toward Radic from the side.

  Dozens of commoners, mostly warriors who had been training just before, gathered around, chanting the two boy’s names. The order of knights hadn’t really proven itself yet and lacked the prestige it had been awarded with. However, most knew that the two boys were skilled warriors, so they easily gathered a crowd.

  Both dressed in plate armor but standing in completely different stances and exuding different energy, the two boys stared each other down and awaited the signal to begin.

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  “Fighters ready,” a scruffy man said between them and stepped backward. “Begin!”

  “RAAGH!” Radic roared and charged forward, wildly swinging his two-hander in broad arcs, cutting through the air mercilessly.

  Callum stood still, but the moment Radic neared, he lunged forward, stepping into range and pressing his blade against the boy’s neck.

  “W-wha–”

  “I think you mean I win.”

  “H-how did you,” Radic shook his head in disbelief as he lowered his sword.

  “It’s all about timing. Now, who’s a better swordsman?”

  “You have to teach me,” Radic said, his tone suddenly shifting in a softer way that Callum had never heard. “Please.”

  “You want to learn from me?”

  “Why wouldn’t I? That was something else…”

  “Fine, but you still have something to say to me.”

  Growling, Radic’s gaze fell to his feet. “You’re the better swordsman… for now, at least.”

  “Well, good enough. I suppose.”

  “So, are we training then.”

  “Sure, why not.”

  “Okay,” Radic nodded and took a step backward, raising his sword.

  “What, you want to train now?”

  “Yeah, why not, slacker?”

  “You’re back to calling me a slacker after I just humbled you?”

  “You’re the one that doesn’t want to train. Or have you changed your mind?”

  “Oh, Radic,” Callum shook his head. “I’m gonna make you hurt for that.”

  “I wanna see you try.”

  “Ain’t gonna be no trying,” Callum cracked his shoulders and limbered up. “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into, big guy.”

  **Trayox**

  Since arriving at the mines in the north, Trayox and his men had got to work. First, they built a simple palisade and then additional cabins. His loyal followers had been the core of Winterclaw’s construction crew, and they put together log cabins at an envious speed.

  However, they still remained around the mine’s mouth. Its natural elevation and the rocky ascent toward it made it an extremely difficult place to attack. But Trayox’s eyes often settled on the ruins beneath the mine. Most of them had been timber buildings that had long-degraded into nothing besides carvings in the ground, where foundations had been dug. However, several stone buildings still stood in a dilapidated state.

  He knew that it wouldn’t take much to repair them, and stone structures were a rare oddity in the Frontier. Having such buildings in his domain would naturally grant it prestige among the wild people who lived out here and likely draw immigration toward his settlement.

  The mine itself was still under the king's direct control, so he couldn’t rely on extracting wealth from it, although he had suspicions about the chief and his guards. However, he had been instructed to worry about his own task and not get involved in the mine’s business, so he turned the other cheek.

  He first put his men to work, building a few tiny hunting cabins in the nearby forests to encourage the people to spread out. This would allow the hunters and rigar bark gatherers to sleep closer to their work and normalize living outside the safety of the palisade.

  It would take a little while to complete, but if any luck, his people would start to spread out, and he could work towards his goal of settling the old town.

  **Reida**

  King Atlas had sent scouts and even a few of his warriors alongside Reida. She was, after all, taking command of a strip of land that lay between Winterclaw and their enemy, the wargs.

  Mark decided not to call this land a march, even though it might have made more sense than the territory he gave Trumus. However, he had every intention of defeating the wargs, and once he did, this would be a very central parcel of land within his growing kingdom.

  Immediately, the hardy female barbarian warrior set the troops to build some basic fortifications and the scouts to patrol the surrounding lands.

  There wasn’t anything particularly special about the land here. Just more trees. But that was perfectly okay for Reida.

  She needed to get rigar harvesting operating as quickly as possible. She doubted their king would leave them out here to starve, but the deal was simple. Provide raw output, and you’ll be given processed goods in return. That was a deal she was happy with. It would keep her people fed and allow them to grow.

  But the master archer had bigger plans in mind. They had plenty of timber out here and far fewer uses for it than back in Winterclaw. If she could monopolize it for her bow crafting, she could drastically reduce the cost of making her bows and then have them transported to Winerclaw and elsewhere for sale.

  She was already making good coin with her store in Winterclaw and had left a few of her apprentices behind to keep it running, but if she would spread across the Frontier, then that would be a completely different matter.

  But it wasn’t wealth. She had a grudge to settle with her clan. They had kicked her out, and she wanted vengeance.

  Bow crafting had long been a skill converted and hoarded by the clans of the Frontier with knowledge of it, resulting in very few having access to bows despite how readily available the resources to craft them were. If she were to flood the market with her own bows, the blow to her former clan would be immense, even if they weren’t of the same quality. And she knew they weren’t, but they were good enough. Good enough to send her clan into a rage as their hoarded power gets eroded.

  **Imperator**

  Clay production was increasing steadily but still far from what Mark needed to start arming his people with more of his flaming grenades.

  The warg army had begun to march on the Clan Federation again. Unable to match or outrun the wargs on open ground, the clans had moved to a fortified hilltop and dug in.

  The scouts had advised Mark that the clans held a numerical advantage, and it seemed the wargs were taking that seriously. They surrounded the hill and took their time to organize an attack as they sieged it down.

  No only did this mean that he likely wouldn’t be able to get weapons to the clans to support their defense, but that even if the wargs chose not to attack, they could likely starve them out. After all, human armies had no chance of outrunning an army of wargs.

  All he could do now was prepare his own forces as well as he could and await the warriors from the west.

  But the entire situation made Mark uneasy. It put pressure on him to make quick decisions. When his reinforcements arrived, he wouldn’t be able to sit back and take his time planning their next move. If they were able to survive that long, he would need to march south and break the siege.

  But that was only half of it. He expected a few thousand warriors to come to his aid but doubted even with his current forces, he would muster half of what the Clan Federation had, and if they were afraid of meeting the wargs in open combat without the Imperials helping them, then what chance would he have?

  Mark knew he would need an ace up his sleeve and likely pray on the clan armies breaking their siege to attack the wargs once he did. That wasn’t something that could be left to luck. He needed to be assured of their assistance.

  I guess I had better pay them a visit beforehand.

  Mark turned from his maps and notes and headed for the door, grabbing his coat. It looked like he would need to take a little flight south.