“Wars are fought with the heart and won with the mind.”
-Bron Silvers, Minister of Glory, 182 U.E.
Ario loathed the city of Tumba and all the unwashed hordes pressed within its limits.
The very walls around him oozed of filth even as his men struggled to wash the room clean. The city radiated a stink of cheap decadence and slow decay that made his throat run with bile.
He had bought out an inn close to the city center to house his troops and supplies, posing as a wealthy entrepreneur. That way, no one batted an eye as he had the building remodeled into a suitable headquarters.
Ario sat behind a passably clean desk, staring at the papers before him—pen in hand—without getting any work done.
Why had he come here, to this bloated parasite on the back of civilization? To this city, which every fiber of his being abhorred? It would not further his true goal. In fact, it was an unnecessary allocation of resources that would set the imminent occupation back a ways. He had been forced to argue the merits of his plan to General Dawes, who had only reluctantly agreed.
If this failed, it would be a permanent stain on his spotless reputation.
Whatever wealth this supposed treasure could hold was based exclusively on hearsay, and could not be taken as fact. His recently acquired partner, Captain Legarius Rand, was a snake and a liar.
So why? Why would he stoop to the level of every other common pirate in the so-called ‘Free Cities’, hunting a treasure that was nothing but smoke and wind?
Ario had been unsure himself, at first. He had made the decision on impulse and followed through without really knowing why.
But now that he had seen Tumba for himself—the plodding streets, the failing architecture, the worn-down ruins of a second-rate trading town—he knew.
He wasn’t just going to occupy the Free Cities in the name of the Concord. He was going to tear them to the ground and build them back up again. They were too far gone to be salvaged. They could only be replaced.
Which meant he needed to break their spirits first. Pissing on their beloved treasure would be a good step towards that. If he happened to come into some monetary gain that could be put towards the occupation, that was merely a bonus.
“Leave,” he told his soldiers with a snap of his fingers. “I need to think.”
They did as they were asked without a word, shuffling out of the room. They knew well that what he valued from them, above all, was their ability to slip beneath his notice.
Once alone in the room, Ario went to the window facing the street. He looked out over those little people, watched their petty squabbles, saw the unchecked greed on their faces.
Soon, he thought. Soon you’ll see reason. You will become tiny little cogs in the machine of the only empire that matters.
And all the glory will be mine.
*****
Yin slid one of her swords into the window slit, undoing the latch, and pushed the window open. She slipped inside the murky apartment, her feet perfectly silent on the wooden boards.
She looked around. Examined the mess. Food containers scraped clean. An old couch, so old that she could no longer tell what color it was supposed to be. There was no other furniture to speak of, and no scryer. No paintings, no mirrors, no bookshelves. Just bare walls spotted with mold.
Yin snuck through the living room, did a cursory check through the kitchen, which was just as bare, and finally approached the door to the bedroom. Putting her ear to the door, she heard footsteps. Too light to be a man’s.
She put her sword away, opened the door, and stepped inside.
Wil froze midstep, a backpack slung over one shoulder. A few sets of clothes and some sanitary items sat on a bed next to a duffel bag.
“Hi,” Yin said.
Don’t judge him yet. Give him a chance to explain.
Wil worked his mouth silently for a few moments. “Hi.”
“You’re skipping town, I see.”
Wil glanced at the duffel bag. “Uh, yeah. I am. Rand and I aren’t on the best of terms right now, and my old man kicked me out, so I figured there’s nothing left for me here.”
“You could’ve asked me for help,” Yin said.
“I… didn’t know you’d want to help.”
She tilted her head. “Really? I thought we were past that stage.”
“Sorry. I was going to leave you a note.”
“Couldn’t tell me in person?”
“Like I said, I’m sorry. But honestly, I didn’t want to say it to your face. That I’m leaving. I guess that makes me a coward.”
“It does. I get it, though.”
A long silence stretched out between them. Wil shuffled uncomfortably in place.
“Can I ask you a question?” Yin asked.
“Sure,” Wil said, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Did it mean anything to you? Our friendship. Or were you just passing the time until something better came along?”
For the first time since she’d walked into the room, he met her gaze.
“More than you know,” he said. “That night at the clocktower was really special to me. It was the best time I’ve had in… well, ever. I’m sure it doesn’t seem like it, but I’ve not exactly got an excess of friends.”
Yin took a step back. “Oh. I see.”
She wanted to believe him. Wil was the first real friend she’d had since getting dragged out of that street for the Awakened’s sick experiments.
“I guess I’ll let you be on your way, then. I can always fix you something with my crew if you’d like.”
Wil shook his head. “Nah. I should probably get out of here, start fresh. That way, I don’t have to keep looking over my shoulder. I’m not as strong as you, Yin. Not yet, anyway.”
“I understand.”
“Thank you for… getting it, you know?”
“Of course. We’re friends. That’s what friends do.”
Yin was disappointed, but in a far better mood than she had been a minute ago.
He was telling the truth, she thought. He displeased Rand, so now he has to run. My secrets are safe.
“One last thing,” Yin said. “What’s in that bag you’ve got?”
Wil hiked the backpack higher. “Just, uh… nothing, really. It’s nothing.”
Yin approached him, grinning now. “Really? Nothing? You sure you’ve not got some saucy pictures in there to remember me by?”
Wil laughed, but the sound was shrill and choked.
Yin snatched the backpack away from him and opened it. Inside was a stack of old, weathered books. She picked one up and examined it, frowning. “Adventure novels?” she asked. “You are a nerd, aren’t you?”
“I’d rather you didn’t—” Wil grasped for his bag, but Yin kept him at bay with one leg, staying perfectly balanced on the other.
Going to stick the book back in, she spotted something else near the bottom of the pack. A paper bag.
She shoved Wil aside and piled the books onto the floor, pulling out the paper wrapping.
‘For a job well done.’ read splotchy letters on the front. Yin’s stomach knotted. She ripped the paper open and peered inside.
Stacks of bills. A lot of money, especially to a half-starved boy. Tens of thousands of standards.
“Where’d you get all this?” Yin asked, waving the ruined paper bag. Her voice was perfectly cool, but inside something was bubbling, building towards the surface.
Wil backed away towards the window. “Funny thing,” he said. “That’s why Rand is after me, actually. I stole it from him.”
“No you didn’t. ‘For a job well done,’ it says. What was the job, Wil?”
“I don’t k-know what you’re talking about.” His voice was a strangled whisper.
“Stop lying!” Yin threw the money against a wall, sending pink and brown and green bills fluttering through the air.
Wil hit the back wall, hands raised before his face. “O-Okay, listen. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I really do like you, but I didn’t have a choice! You don’t know what it’s like, having nothing, being beaten every night. I had to do something!”
“I do know what that’s like,” Yin hissed. “But let me remind you.”
Wil turned and opened the window, sticking a leg through to escape. They were on the third story, but he seemed to prefer the leap to facing her.
Yin caught him by his blond hair and hauled him back inside. She slammed his head against the wall, leaving a sizeable dent and drawing a pitiable moan from Wil. Letting him go, he pressed himself against the wall, breathing quick like a mouse.
“P-Please,” he pleaded. His nose was bent, leaking blood onto his lips.
Yin struck him, hard. His head snapped back, and he slumped back, strength going out of him.
“Liar!” she screamed. “Liar! Liar! Liar!”
He slid to the floor, and she continued to beat him.
Ouch, this is getting savage.
Hell hath no fury like a maiden strung along.