IX.

• When they reached the basin of the Knife, both Tarna and Corna were full in the sky. With many of the Traders dragging along donkeys, it was taking an eternity to make progress. Jun had long since grown used to his new companion, who spent half the trip boasting about the women he had laid and the gold he had plundered. When Jun had first met the man, he had imagined him to be a sniveling coward, but that impression was quickly evaporating.
• “I got his piece of gold here,” Majore continued, “when I cut it off the wrist of a Southern whore! Haw Haw!” Jun smiled, taking delight in the company of insanity. “I gave her father two Hands for the one I took, but when he wouldn’t stop hollering I had his head removed. You should have seen the look on his loved ones’ faces when I demanded a Blessing for my act.” He became serious suddenly. “Always repay action with coin, I say. I saved you from a greedy father, an abusive husband; and I consider that a Blessing. So you better Fucking pay up! Haw Haw!” The man slapped his belly and it jiggled furiously. Jun was disgusted by the boil of a man, but decided he could get a lot of information from the cyst before he lanced it.
• “You expect me to find this humorous?”
• “Oh don’t be so high and mighty, Hal! The man was a monster! When the family couldn’t pay me my Blessing, I took them in. Fed them, gave them work. I even gave the wife a son or two, maybe three not sure. Haw. The point is, I made their life better, and not everyone is that compassionate in Solstice.” Jun couldn’t help but smile, it certainly wouldn’t be difficult to turn the workers then. “You are gonna find that Solstice life is a bit different than what you’re used to. It’s a shame about the Harvest, Hal. Things were starting to finally look up for my little trade route. Ah, well that’s the turning of life I suppose. Trading with the neighboring lands is not quite as profitable, but we’ll survive the winter.”
• Jun’s expression was dark, it took all his strength to bite his tongue. “Majore, you seem to be a capable Trader, to be sure, but why travel so far personally?” The fat man sat astride his donkey, and the poor thing looked at the brink of collapse. Jun had the feeling the man was unaccustomed to travel.
• “I’m not paying you, so I can answer your questions, Hal. However, if you give me something from which to drink, I can fill your cup to overflowing with knowledge.” The greedy smile at Jun was unsettling. “Chalices, my boy. Coin answers all questions.” Jun decided he could get his answer elsewhere.
• “Where I am from, there is no price for information.”
• “You live in a barbaric world. Where I am from everything costs coin, and information costs the most.” The man spit between the gap in his teeth and guffawed. “Look at the distance on that! I’m turning into a natural Harvester!”
• “Is that your dream? Want to work in the sun?”
• The man nearly fell off his mount, Jun laughed at him. Useless fuck. “Haw, haw. My boy, you are going to give me the shits! Work in the sun? I’m as big as Tarna’s little brother; think I’d last long slaving over the Autumn-grass? No no no. I was meant to peddle, everyone counts on me being able to get them the best crop for the best price.” Jun was starting to understand.
• “So you are Prime Trader then?” The man looked at Jun confused.
• “Huh, odd title. I suppose I could be compared to a Prime Trader, but that’s a country term! We don’t have Primes in Solstice, that’s such a bumpkin phrase! It’s cute though, you’ll catch your share of ladies in Solstice. Proper ladies too; none of the grime under the nails, and swamp of hair.” Majore gave a knowing wink, but Jun just glared. The man was a master at changing the subject, but Jun expected it came from the art of talking too much. “You have yourself a woman Jun?”
• “Coin answers all questions, Majore.”
• “And I just gave you a load! Come now, no little scraps for your buddy Jeleps?!” The man was eager, Jun could see the glint in his eyes. “What about that one I’ve seen ya with, the thick legged girl with yellow hair.” The fat man rubbed his stomach and whistled, an obscene gesture in any situation. “You’ve been up those trees?”
• “I don’t understand your slang, not to mention you still haven’t paid me coin.” Jun had to still his fury, cracking a smile. He couldn’t let himself get rattled, he had to keep his emotions in check.
• “Bwah! Fair enough, you’re too tight though. Girl’s are gonna see those blue eyes of yours and get caught in your back-lash. You’re what we call a spring, my friend. Wound too tight, you just might snap.” Majore had an odd way of making friends. “But hey, if you don’t have a take on that lady friend of yours, you can send her over to my caravan and I’ll see her well fed. Haw Haw!” Jun laughed at this, imagining Sana Lanson holding the beast of a man a foot off the floor as he choked on his own fat.
• “If I see her, I’ll let her know.”
• “There’s a good friend! This is already turning out to be a profitable venture!”
• It wasn’t for another hour or so that Jun realized the flaw. How had Majore Jelebs known about Sana Lanson? The thought gave Jun hesitation, and he had to re-evaluate his new companion. He wondered if he was in over his head. Jun excused himself, claiming to check on the caravan when he really disappeared into the crowd to search for Deon. Jelebs insinuations were becoming a bit too much in the midday heat, and he knew soon that the Caravan would be forced to seek shade. Fortunately there was plenty to be had in the shadows of the Columns.
• The long train of Traders and refugees had come to a halt when Jun finally found Deon.
• The man seemed lost.
• “Hoy Justice.” Deon called, his Solsticean accent flawless down to the annoying lilt at the end of each sentence. Jun was slightly taken aback, but knew better than to dwell. Deon had always been a man of many hidden talents, and he had used them time and again to manipulate the situation to his advantage. “Don’t suppose its trouble you’re looking for, because I’ve had quite enough for one day. Beg your pardon, Justice.”
• “Haven’t you known me long enough to call me Hal?” The opportunity seemed right, and Deon didn’t miss a beat.
• “No, I haven’t. Now what can I do for you?” Deon was always gruff, but his agitated demeanor was a believable front; none of the Harvesters had been fond of the Justices before liberation, why should they be now? Jun was surprised by Deon’s adaptability.
• “I was stopping by to see how much stock you managed to salvage from the Bounty before heading out.” Of course he could care less, as the stock would eventually fall back into Manala’s hands, but Jun needed to get his bearings.
• “Enough to sell for two warm hands to rub together, the Autumn-ale was a stout batch this year. If I had more time, I would have barreled it properly; no doubt I’ll get a cut from that. Damn Traders, but can’t complain too much; after all, they did lend me two of their donkeys to load my stock.” This was news to Jun, it meant one of two things.
• “Are they charging you?”
• “Nah, they done it out of gratitude.” Deon smiled so wide, Jun couldn’t help but laugh. Sarcasm pouring out of every orifice: “what a nice bunch of fellows, taking pity on the desolate.” Jun noticed the fists. “Did you need an exact number? I have my ledger somewhere on me—“
• “No, that’s enough. It’s not business, I’m just trying to get my bearings on the situation we’ve been left in.” Jun dared not say more, though the Traders around seemed completely oblivious to the interaction. He wondered if they had any idea how the Harvesters would turn on them at the first opportunity.
• “Well, afraid I don’t have much to share in that department. Traders seemed eager to leave, can’t say I blame them; would have left myself, even if I wasn’t commanded by some ruling high-general. Have to say though, those warriors sure made a sight in all that metal. I wonder if we’ll get a chance to see them again.” A warning? Just how much did Deon know?
• “I should hope so, the sooner Grand-Judge Linnsey returns the sooner we have an escort to Scigfried.” Deon shook his head slightly, tsking.
• “I recon we’ll be seeing more once we reach Solstice, it’s not like Scigfried to pass through a town and leave it completely unmanned.” Deon paused giving Jun an important look. “At least, I’ve never heard of it happening before.” Jun suddenly realized the implication; there were still Scigfried warriors in Harvesthome.
• Manala would fall right into their trap, it would be another massacre.
• Jun kept his face from reacting, thinking frantically on what should be done next.
• “You’re right, we’ll see more soldiers when we reach Solstice. Perhaps they will be able to solve our Woodsmen problem, I’ll have to look into it.” Deon chuckled.
• “That’s not likely, Scigfried warriors aren’t likely to take orders from a Harvesthome Justice. Not to mention their honor code. They only follow those that have more metal, and you my friend are stark-naked!” He spit to the side and spoon a ladle of water into his cracked lips. “No, I suspect things will work themselves out in time. No sense rushing into things, and even less sense rushing back.”
• “You’re right. It’s my responsibility to lead my people to safety; that has to come before retribution.” Jun felt like Hal was speaking through him, “in the mean time, you should get some rest. You look tired.”
• “You know what, Hal. You’re different from the other Justices. You’re something else. Ah, but never mind that. I’ve told you once before.” Deon tinged at something, and Jun didn’t have an idea what it could possibly be. “Someday, you’ll have to forgive me for all the things I’ve said about you.” The man grew distant, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I’ll never forgive myself that night, I watched him go; I knew where he was heading, and I knew what waited for him.” Deon looked up into Jun’s eyes. “Don’t take all the blame, Hal. There’s nothing you could have done differently.”
• And with that Jun left, rather abruptly. He was sickeningly disturbed, as if dealing with identity issues. Jun considered Deon’s words, wondering who they were intended for. Did Deon see Hal when he looked at Jun? More likely than not, Deon was just losing his mind.
• Jun found shade for a while, and took a moment to solidify his thoughts.
• Within the hour they were moving again, traveling down the Knife in a treacherous train of donkey and goods. The going was even slower, and at times they had to pass single file down the pass. Hours dragged on, with nothing more to do than put one foot in front of the other. Jun started to contemplate his next steps, playing scenarios over and over in his head; trying to imagine every possible situation. He had to stay sharp, he couldn’t afford to be caught off guard any more.
• And that was when the air itself seemed to shake.
• Jun froze and looked out into the valley below, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end.
• Something wasn’t right, a though the moment passed Jun could feel the pressure of eyes staring into him. The man behind him in line became nervous, asking again and again what it was. After a moment of not noticing anything, Jun was resigned to continue onward. For the next two hours nothing happened, then without warning the ground started to bubble like boiling water.
• Jun jumped, his skin crawling. Something was definitely not right. Yet when he glanced around, everything had returned to normal. What the fuck is happening to me. Everyone stared at him curiously, some in the back asked what the holdup was. Jun saw an opportunity to cause chaos, but decided against it. Better coast by now and save the element of surprise for when he really needed it. He started onward again, and for the rest of the Cornath day he only experienced three more hallucinations.
• First, the short grass on the rock face next to him shimmered a variety of colors.
• Then one of the clouds in the sky above cracked open and rained red blood.
• And lastly he saw a girl with no face.
• She walked directly in front of him, and he had to come to an immediate stop to keep from running into her. Yet when she walked out onto the air over the cliff, he knew he was losing his mind. Something was seriously wrong with him, and he feared no amount of sleep would regain his composure. One moment the girl was there, and the next she was gone. He continued onward, before anyone could inquire; and he refused to acknowledge any strange happenings until they were in the valley below. Once on solid ground, the Traders quickly loaded up their caravans and the left over space was used to carry refugees. Jun smiled at the thought of the Traders unknowingly letting their demise through their gates.
• Part of him wondered if he would ever get the chance to carry out his plans.
• “Hoy, Hal!”  Majore Jeleps shook a meaty hand over his head. “This way.” Jun considered ignoring him, the thought was so tempting. “I’ve got room in my carriage for you and three more, grab some wenches and we’ll make it an event!” The fat man’s obnoxious guffaw echoed through the pass; some took up the laughter, finally relieved to be clear of the treacherous pass.
• Jun grabbed Deon, and two other Harvesters that were posing as Justices. Majore Jeleps seemed disappointed. “Well… not my first choice. You keep strange company my friend. Strange indeed.”
• “Sorry if Harvesthome is lacking in wenches, they were all slaughtered during the raid.” The rest of the carriage ride was silent, Deon managed to shoot him a glance once and gave him a short wink. Jun fought a smile. Tarna was in full reign when the caravan moved out, a full week earlier than had been originally planned. Empty handed Traders would not be a welcome sight, Jun just hoped that Solstice was more forgiving than he was.
• The city had no walls, it was simply an expanse of stone cottages on the outskirts, and teetering brick towers stuffed with the work force. On the horizon, there was smoke; old mills churned out the stuff like a raging fire. Large granaries could be seen from the road, their silos painted the colors beige and red; the colors of Solstice. Sparse copses of trees dotted the hillside, thicker on the outskirts than in the town; though there were a few here and there. 
• There was a moment where Jun was taken aback, the city was smaller than he had imagined; the buildings quaint little cottages. It was…nice. He couldn’t believe overlords lived in buildings like these, they seemed too run down. As they got closer still, he became more confused. He recognized the look of the destitute, women washing soiled clothing in small barrels along the side of the road. Some ran up to the caravan and begged for food or money. Men scoffed at them, some became violent. One grabbed a particularly young woman by the hair and threw her to the ground.
• “The outskirts.” Majore snarled. “Reminds you of home?”
• “I find myself despising you.” Jun couldn’t withhold the remark, it just came out.
• “Bwahaw! Good! Most people do, I would think something was wrong if you didn’t. I mean no offense, directly, at least. These poor women—and they are indeed poor—are the widows of Solstice. Outcasts, harlots, slaves, ex-nobles. They work the forests for Sol-fruit, and are tasked with other menial things.”
• “Why?”
• “What else can we do with them? We don’t allow them in the city walls, they’ll corrupt it with their taint. If you ask me, this is more than some of them deserve. They always beg for something, one even offered to suck my cock for three half-grains.” Majore spat, mumbling: “glad I didn’t, heard she bites.” Jun watched the women stare at the caravan in hopelessness, watching a life they once knew pass them on. “Don’t get involved with these miscreants. Too weak for any real labor, too broken to be good prostitutes. Gathering Sol-fruit is all they are good for.”
• Jun clenched his teeth, Majore seemed to notice but remained silent. In Harvesthome, Gathering was an honor; a staple in the composition of life. Only Harvesting could bring a man closer to the Holy Harvest. Yet here it seemed to be the lowest of the food-chain. These women were strong, Jun saw it in their eyes. The hatred, the lust for revenge. Women were crucial to Harvesthome’s survival, here it seemed to be a sin to just exist. Jun was infuriated.
• This would be as good a place as any to start, if he could get word to Manala.
• “Surely they can sew. Why not give them an occupation that utilizes their qualities?”
• “You must be the funniest man I know! Haw Haw! What a thing to say! These women?! Sew!” Majore had to calm himself before he could explain. “You see, sewing is an art that is reserved for the Ladies of Solstice. Not for whores. Sewing is an art, a practice of status and a symbol of nobility. Sure, these women can sew, but they are forbidden.”
• “Seems impractical.”
• “It is, my friend. That is true. Times are strange but in a place like Solstice, tradition still reigns.” Majore Jeleps clapped his hands together and smacked his lips. “Enough about whores, I’m hungry!” He said the words loud enough so the women around the caravan would hear. He dug through some materials and produced a whicker basket that appeared to be built for show, rather than practicality. Immediately the carriage was surrounded. “Haw Haw. Look at the hungry, so desperate for a scrap.” He reached a meaty paw into the basket and pulled out something that appeared to be tiny Sol-fruit clustered on a strange brown vine. “Ah, grapes. My favorite.” He pulled one off the cluster and popped it into his mouth. Jun watched in disgust as the women walked along the wagon, pleading with hands extended.
• “Grapes?”
• “Ever heard of them? A bit like Sol-fruit, but sweeter. They’re a delicacy in Scigfried, these black grapes are sold for a chalice per pound; I make a killing off them every season. Nobles can’t get enough, buy them by the crate.” He pulled off another and handed it to Jun. Jun looked at it curiously, testing the plumpness. Unlike the Grass-kin, it didn’t pop under the light pressure of his fingertips. It was smaller for certain, and more circular in shape. He had to admit, he was curious.
• But when Majore pulled a fist full and shoved them into his mouth, Jun was washed with nausea. He reached his hand over the side of a carriage and place the small orb in the hands of a women who was wearing a sack for a dress. She clutched to the fruit so tight that Jun feared she would destroy it, tears streamed from her eyes. She repeated thank you, over and over. Jun couldn’t believe his eyes.
• Things were worse here than in Harvesthome.
• And all along he had never known.
• “DAMMIT HAL! Don’t feed the pests! Haw Haw Haw!” Majore slapped his knee and roared. “It encourages begging. We don’t want that. Solsticeans are supposed to be a proud people.” He looked out over the crowd, waving his hands. “You know what, you’ve inspired me! I’m in the spirit of giving! Come on now! Come and get it!” He upended the basket, and the contents poured off the side of the carriage. In moments the grapes were covered in women clawing to get at the fruit. Jun watched in horror as they fought with one another, pushing and tearing to get to the fruit. Just to taste the status that they once had.
• And Majore Jeleps laughed the whole time.
• Jun imagined what it would feel like to push his thumbs into the fat mans beady eyes.
• And then Jun was laughing too. Soon enough.
• Soon enough.
• Slam.
• The mug smashed against the counter, Autumn ale slopping over the silver brim.
• “’Bought, damn, time.” The burly-chested man grabbed the mug and lifted it back, ale dribbling down his black beard and sweat stained forge-apron. Within a heartbeat an echoed slam filled the bar, and the mug was empty. “Ah, oh. Hoy, that’s good fuckin’ ale.”
• “How’d you know, Berny! You don’t give your mouth time to taste!” The barman shouted, Burly Berny waved them all off. “You’re gut sucks down my drinks faster than a harlot!” A chorus of laughter erupted, Berny’s cheeks turned red before he broke out in laughter too. There was a smack of coin on the bar, and those nearby turned to look. Jun stood with his palm on the bar.
• “A round for the Harlot-king.” The crowd roared, Jun smiled in a drunken stupor; the room spun and buzzed. The barman swiped the coin, wiped the bar, and slammed the mug down in three quick motions. “Try not to suck so hard, Bern. Deon’s little ol’ heart can’t handle it.” There was a chuckle, but the wiry old man took a swig of his own flask; liquor purchased from the south.
• “BAH! You drink like a babe suckin’ at its momma teat.” Berny pounded the heavy ale and wiped the drool from his beard. “You’re not man enough to drink like a man.” His speech was slurred to the brink of incoherence. Deon coughed loudly, trying to hide his laughter; his face buried in his arms.
• “You know what they used to call me in Harvesthome, Bern? The town drunk.” The sound of laughter rose again, other joined the binge; drinks were lined. Ale, caps, and dibbits were handed out; the rattling of wooden Half-grains, and iron Hands were rolled this way and that. Jun dimly noticed Deon deftly sweeping up the coin, but his head spun. “I could drink you under this counter.” The fat man laughed like a mountain’s rock-slide.
• “Where’d ya put it all, Boy? Your skin?” The smith, slapped a massive hand on the counter and hollered. “More, drink. I’ll take a challenge from anyone. Man or babe.” The chorus roared. The man sitting next to Berny fell off his stool, and the laughter grew higher. Jun could hardly see straight, all the laughing made his stomach roil.
• The next few hours passed like the last three days; in a blur of noise and drunkenness. Jun pumped ale in two or three gulps, surprising many in his intoxication. Burly won of course, drinking an ungodly amount of Ale before standing on his stool and singing the first three lines of ‘the Miller’s whore’. Jun raised his mug in cheers and fell forward off his chair. The crowd roared, and applauded the contenders; it took Jun too much effort to stand, but when he managed Burly was there to give him a suffocating hug.
• “I love this guy! He’s a funny little guy!” Jun couldn’t help but laugh.
• “As fars Im concern, I won the contes.” Berny held Jun at arm’s length. “I won tha drunktest.”
• “Hoy Justice is true! He be far mar drunk that Berny.” Some man claimed.
• Jun raised his hands in victory. “I drun you under the counter, furst.” Berny just laughed, falling backwards over his stool; Deon hid his laughter in his flask. Jun couldn’t remember most of the night, but from what others told him it had been time well spent. He had half the bar singing the last verse of ‘the Miller’s whore’ over and over and over again; until everyone was in tears.
• And She fucked him again in the Mooooooooorning!
• Berny danced with chairs, Deon pulled a flute and shocked everyone with his drunken-skill. There were brawls here and there, but people were in good spirits when the spirits flowed. Someone recounted the tale of Jun stalking drunkenly after a buxom barmaid, never quite able to catch her over the stools that kept getting placed in his way. At one point Jun even yelled at the chair, “vile chair of chastity, you plague me!” Berny eventually carried the sloppy Jun over to the barmaid, and tossed him at her feet.
• “Yes, milord?”
• “A drink.” Jun managed
• “What of, milord?”
• “Milk.”
• Then Jun was kicked out, and somehow managed to crawl into the hay-barn with the horses. The stable-hand found him next afternoon, collapsed in the hay feed. In a matter of three-nights Jun had amassed quite a reputation. People on the streets of Solstice knew him by sight; and where he would have been a drunkard in the busy town of Harvesthome, he was a legend here. A man’s ability to proper revelry was his ticket to success in a town like Soltice. A town that had everything to lose, and never knew just how much it squandered.
• Jun had forgotten entirely about his passion and goals; for three glorious nights, he had been free to enjoy some spoils for once. But he knew his fun was drawing to an end, he knew the line between revelry and content was too thin to travel. He couldn’t afford to lose sight of his future, but he could certainly afford a few nights away from it. Majore Jeleps had seen that he had been properly funded for his escort, and only required a check in now and then.
• It kept his wallet heavy, and his spirits up.
• But he knew how close he was to falling into the dangers of Solstice. Once you taste of the fruit, it’s hard to go back; and the fruit of Solstice was more addictive than the sweetest Thrush-sap, more intoxicating than the thickest Autumn-ale. Jun considered abandoning his cause; after all, he could be happy here. Fate had given him a break, and with Regional Judge Kregg Linnsey on the loose, what chance did a rag-tag group of rebels really stand? With Scigfried warriors laying in wait in Harvesthome, what chance did Manala’s builders stand?
• He could accept the role as Majore’s bodyguard, and live comfortably for the rest of his life. And why shouldn’t he? He had fought for his freedom, whereas these others had only been born with it. Wasn’t he entitled to a little celebration? But whenever his thoughts would become too complacent he would mistake a stranger for one of his ghosts. Twice he had seen Hallen’s illusion watching him from the shadows, each time he had run from it. Could he live with the fact that he had killed for nothing?
• Somehow, he already knew the answer.
• On the fourth day, he was summoned by a town-crier; the most ridiculous of occupations.
• “Duke Arinold of Rhonteville has granted you audience, sire.” In that moment Jun remembered why he had come to Solstice, and he was forced with the hardest decision he had to make in a long while.
• Within the hour, Jun was admitted onto the Rhonteville Estate; his callaba boots carrying his slightly spinning head over lush thick grass. He still felt drunk from the night before, he whispered a prayer for wisdom; trying to shake the humorous image of himself vomiting over the butler’s finely tailored suit. When the massive oak double door was pulled open, Jun couldn’t hide his smile.
• “Ah, master Alwice, I presume.” The butler wore a ridiculously bright, pink-dyed petticoat that matched his effeminate knee-high socialite boots. Ontop his head was a powered white wig. Jun didn’t vomit, but his did laugh heartily. “Something the matter, sire?”
• “You look ridiculous.” The butler feigned humor, but his snarl was more apparent.
• “Please, step inside.”
• Within the first few moments of his visit to the estate, Jun had remembered why he hated Solstice. There was a fountain of three fat, naked children, spewing water from puffed cheeks; in the center of the dome-shaped solarium. At least, that’s what the butler was calling it.
• “Duke Arinold of Reginald has quite an exquisite taste for architecture, wouldn’t you say?” The butler seemed so proud.
• “What exactly is it that you do?”
• “I beg your pardon?”
• “Your position just seems so frivolous to me. Almost completely expendable.”
• The old man bristled, and his powered cheeks couldn’t fully hide the flush. “Master Arinold is a very busy man. As the Duke of Social-customs, he has many meetings and responsibilities that require the most delicate efforts of organization and schedule—“
• “So you’re his fool? Entertainer?” The man’s lips were thin white lines of fury.
• “I am the Duke’s Social Overseer!”
• “I have a question: if Arinold is the Duke of Social customs, and he has a fool for a Social Overseer; what does that say of his intelligence?” There was a long silence.
• “I believe the Social world may be a bit too complicated for a bumpkin to understand.”
• “Oh I think I understand it quite well. You’re the Duke’s lapdog. A powdered showcase of ridiculous wealth and appearance. You are a competition piece, an unnecessary and expendable showcase of the Duke’s poor taste in fashion. You meet with other socialites dressed like a fool, gauge their reaction and change your appearance accordingly to match the gossips of other fools. So it’s really a competition of ridiculousness, and your Duke has put you at the butt of the joke.” Jun glanced at the sparkling glass fixture that hung from the pinnacle of the domed ceiling. “Now that’s beauty. Do you really think that the Duke needs someone like you to inform him on fashion, and trends of this ridiculous culture? I think if anything, denial has clouded your ability to come to terms with the fact that your master dresses you up with the intention of looking ridiculous.
• “Do you think I understand social customs now?”
• “I would say you are even more out of your element than I had originally feared, and rest assured; I feared the worst.” The voice behind him was clear and aged. Its resonance filled the domed room, and the accent sounded sharp and charismatic. “Were it not for your people’s current dilemma, I would see to it myself that the gates be closed on you.” The man appeared to be close in age to Jun; though his straight white hair, and elaborate garb gave him a sense of regality.
• “Duke Arinold.”
• “Justice.” The man gave the slightest of a nod that said ‘fuck you too.’ “Leave us.” With a low bow, the butler turned and walked stiffly toward from the solarium. The clop of wooden heels echoed through the chamber. “I assume you are wondering why I sent for you.”
• “Not really. I assumed it was because I requested your audience.”
• “Well then you are wrong.” The Duke swept an arm out to his side, the white and gold fabric rippled in the sunlight. “But I cannot say I am surprised. Harvesthome is most lacking in the practice of social customs; I expect you just arrive wherever you please when you feel the need.” Jun didn’t reply, and the man smiled; his teeth had gaps that would put most Harvesters to shame. “There is a lot we can learn from one another.” Jun sensed the trap, but was too hung over to play around it.
• “Right. So what do you need?” The man seemed agitated.
• “You lack an art for social interaction.” A thousand snappy replies filled Jun’s head, but he bit his tongue. It was true, there was a lot to learn from being in Solstice; and Jun had squandered that opportunity. With a sigh he resigned.
• “Fair enough. You must forgive my temper, these have been…hard times for the Harvesters.”
• “Oh, my dear boy. You cannot begin to understand the depths of sympathy we feel for your loss. I can assure you, my clerics weave sendings that would put the traditional Epochs of Marn Gilner to shame.” The man ran his long fingers down his smooth angular jaw. “Indeed, I should ask forgiveness as well. Your loss is great, and yet your people are still treated as uncivilized.”
• “Civility seems to hold a different meaning in Solstice. All I ask is a chance to speak straight with someone.” Jun stared into the man’s eyes, and the Duke quickly averted. “I don’t mean to mock your customs, they just seem a bit…”
• “Unnecessary? Perhaps. Yet, once an establishment reaches a particular level of comfort, there is nothing left to define except one’s status. Believe me, the war of appearance and popularity is an ongoing struggle. But while your Harvests slave over scythes, we duel with poems and song. Solstice isn’t devoid of hard workers, Master Justice; we just hide our labors in well crafted fashion.” The man did a quick twirl, and his flowing fabric glimmered. Jun smiled.
• “It may take time to adjust.” The man’s smile withered, and one thinly manicured eyebrow raised.
• “Indeed.” He turned abruptly and headed to the elaborate double doors carved intricately out of a dark wood. “This way, if it please you Master Justice.” Servents emerged from the woodwork, and what Jun thought were statues were actually people painted to blend in with walls. The Duke turned toward Jun, and gave him a slight frown. “How bothersome, I do believe that in my old age I forget names rather quickly.” Two servants eased the doors open without so much as a peep; Jun thought back on just how loud the Bounty’s hinges were.
• “Hallen Alwice, Prime Justice of Harvesthome. But please, call me Hal.”
• “Very well, Hal. I do hope that you will make yourself welcome in my estate. I foresee a close relationship developing in the near future.” 
• And about an hour later, the tour was concluded.
• Jun was nearly breathless, the grandeur and elegance that went into every single detail was draining. Taking it all in had been exhausting, but the Duke marched on by without acknowledging a single luxury. Jun was growing more cautious as the day wore on, his headache lessening and his focus becoming clearer. On a dozen occasions Jun was able to spot hidden passageways; a door made to look like part of the wall, and over elaborate fixtures that opened briefly or could only be seen from one angle.
• The Manor was a masterpiece of architecture, and Jun grudgingly admitted to himself that the butler was right. Yet the Duke seemed completely disinterested in the workings of his estate. As if spending years surrounded by elegance of amazing craftsmanship had desensitized him to the utility of the place. The Duke could be hiding a small army inside this structure, and none would be the wiser.
• Of course, Jun knew that army had to be made of servants. He had seen dozens throughout the day, and never had he recognized the same one twice. The building was simply a monolith of status and wealth; and the Duke was at the pinnacle of its significance. Jun was gaining an awkward sort of respect for the man, and the power that was bestowed upon the things he owned. Yet the respect was basked in hatred. Jun couldn’t push the image of the women fighting over the grapes from his mind; and suddenly the power and wealth didn’t seem worth it.
• “Welcome to my Conservatory!” The room was enclosed, yet the walls were made of glass. Thick green grass covered the ground, and flowers bloomed in an array of colors along the banisters. There were fountains, babbling brooks, and even well manicure rocks lay out in the sun. A large tree growing from a slight elevation in the middle of the room granted shade, and Jun found himself laughing. It was a massive garden inside a house.
• “Never in my life would I have imagined such a thing existed.”
• “Ah! There you are! You’re a quick learner, Master Alwice. This is indeed the finest Conservatory in all of Solstice; though, not the largest unfortunately.” The words were a snide grumbled, but the Duke quickly brushed them. “Yes, there are all sorts of Manors throughout Solstice, though Rhonteville Estate is likely the finest of them all.”
• “To say it’s not impressive would be a lie.”
• “Yet, I hear those same words from some of my peers. ‘You’re wood is too dark of a shade Arni!’ ‘White marble is quite more fashionable,’ ‘Your taste is bleak, even dungeon like.’” The man sighed, Jun could hardly believe what he was hearing. “The unfortunate thing about fashion, my boy, is that it changes faster than any contractor can build, faster than any servant can decorate.” He turned to Jun and urged him toward a throne-like chair resting in the grass under the tree. “Perhaps you now understand the importance of my butler Vastillion.”
• “That hag?”
• “Yes, he may be an old bat. And quite rough around the edges; but he is invaluable to me. And fiercely loyal. Though I imagine the gold has something to do with the latter.” Jun laughed, trying his best to humor the joke. Arinold seemed content at that, and managed a laugh himself. The butler was anything but loyal, Jun could tell just by looking at him. Loyalty wasn’t something you could buy; it was like respect and compassion. It had to be earned.
• Hyatt Mejini was loyal.
• Nor Makus was loyal.
• Sana Lanson.
• Jun missed what Arinold had been droning on about, and continued to agree complacently with his statements. Sana Lanson. She wouldn’t stand for this. She didn’t have the patience for this, she would have killed the Duke immediately even if it had cost her life. She would be sickened by the luxury, the sheer waste of excess. Yet Jun found it hard to think about her. He had never imagined making it this far without her.
• But he finally managed to push the thought from mind when the Duke changed topics abruptly.
• “What brings you into company with Majore Jeleps?” There was a silence that followed that Jun felt was incredibly more important that the previous silences. Not to mention the name Majore Jeleps sounded like a curse from the Duke’s lips. Careful.
• “A sick twist of fate.” The Duke didn’t even smirk.
• “I would have to say.” Arinold reclined in his chair after a moment, and sighed audibly. “Do not mistake my generosity for all good will, Master Justice. There are some things I need from you, yet I find myself wondering how the topic should be approached.” Jun found this to be an odd way of doing so. “Majore Jeleps is a tycoon, a merchant of some…Notoriety. Perhaps it would be best if you spent as little time with the man as possible.”
• “I do.”
• “Good.”
• There was a moment before three servants arrived, all wearing white tailored suits that were of far greater quality than anything Jun had owned. They brought out a small stool and a box filled with an assortment of other small boxes. Jun watched curiously as the container was placed in front of him, and unlatched on the side to expand upward into a pyramid. In each layer of box there was a small drawer, that pulled out to reveal an array of different colored leaves. On the stool, a crouching servant had opened a wooden case and extracted an assortment of various contraptions that connected together at focal points. Jun looked at Arinold curiously. The man just smiled.
• “Never seen an Obelisk before?” Jun looked at the complex contraption with wonder; it was masterfully crafted. Embossed with ivory and inlaid with marble and gold. The whole thing probably cost more than everything Jun had ever owned, and was only a foot tall when fully assembled. “Well, then. There is a particular pastime we practice in Solstice that quite popular among the Southern Cities of Olmeer. Certainly you know Ghielrout?” Jun cringed at the horrible memory of taste.
• “Of course.” The Duke smiled wide.
• “Who doesn’t?”
• “No one I’ve met.”
• “And no one worth meeting either.” A servant poured a vile of water into the bottom compartment and resealed. In a small basin below the compartment, he used small tongs to place a piece of dark-black stone just under the vile; then backed away. A second servant stepped forward and pulled out a tiny metal compartment out of the Obelisk; which was a finely grated metal box. The servant stepped back and the Duke rose to his feet. Arinold pulled on a white silk glove and pulled a leaf from one of the shelves in the pyramid box. The leaf blue-green with a silvery fuzz coating the stems and veins. “Infused Ghielrout, this strain is from the Grand Plateau, far north of Harvesthome. Costs a fortune.” He placed the leaf in the metal compartment and reached for another from the pyramid. “Tell me, what exactly has Majore put you up to.”
• Jun felt the trap spring around him again, but remained calm.
• “He understands the nature of my profession is to protect people. And he pays well.” The Duke came up short, the blue-leaf quivering slightly in his hand.
• “I see.” He appeared nervous, and Jun didn’t much mind. Times are strange but in a place like Solstice, tradition still reigns. Majore’s words came back to him now, Jun thought about his situation and wondered why the Duke was being so generous. The man cleared his throat and continued to pack the Obelisk. “Majore is a dangerous man, but a wise man despite his appearances.” The duke delicately sniffed the fingertips on the glove he wore, satisfied. “He doesn’t pursue hopeless ventures.”
• “Protection from the Woodsmen is not a hopeless venture.” An anger was filling his words again, but this time he let it. “You’ve take our aggressors too lightly, just as I have done, and now I have to live with the lives of the people that have died from my negligence. Before you call a man’s intensions foolish, put yourself in his boots. Would you feel so brave with a dozen mounted Woodsmen charging you? Does your silk robe stop sharpened stone?” Jun was standing, his breath heavy.
• “My boy.” The Duke stood, removing the glove and sliding the compartment back into place. “You’re being played.” The man was not sympathetic in the least. “Majore Jeleps has more ties to this community than a sewer has rats. He doesn’t need your protection, and he most certainly doesn’t need the burden of a boy who throws a fit at every perceived insult. Now calm yourself.” There was a long silence, but the man didn’t break to Jun’s glare. He suddenly felt sheepish, as if he had been reprimanded like a child. His rage flared but he bit his tongue and sat down again, trying to exhale the tension.
• “You carry the weight of the dead on your shoulders.” The man continued, as the second servant stepped forward with a straw lit at the end. “You jump into situations of which you are not prepared, and get yourself lost.”
• “If you’ve brought me here to berate me—“
• “You’re young, and you’ve been thrust into a position that you were not prepared for. I am not berating you, but if you continue to argue I will send you on your way. Then you can continue this charade with Majore until he milks you dry of what he needs and leaves your lifeless body on the side of the road.” The man watched the fire intently as the servant held it to the black stone under the chamber of water.
• Immediately the stone caught fire, and started to glow.
• “Chard, quite an amazing mineral. It burns dirty, but this brick has been refined for such an occasion.” There was a pause as the water started to heat, small bubbles forming on the blown glass. “Majore sees something in you. Something he needs. And as it so happens to be, when Majore gets what he wants; we all end up a little farther behind.” The sound of the fire was soothing, Jun found himself staring into the flame; surprised it didn’t hurt his eyes.
• “What do you mean?”
• “As I’ve mentioned before—Relax boy, the water needs to boil, and even then it takes time for the leaves to smolder.” Jun looked up to the Duke, and saw something he hadn’t before. A look of concern, not one of sympathy; but one of mentoring. Jun’s hair stood on end. Careful. “Majore is a tycoon, possibly the best there is in all of Olmeer. It was no coincidence that he found his way to Harvesthome when the mountain caught fire.” The Kingwood, of course Solstice hadn’t know what had happened at the time; but by now Jun was sure word had spread. “Yet while I fought with legal procedures from the Scigfried government for days, he managed to walk right up there himself. Did you know that all the traders that made it through the gates to the Knife, had some pre-existing contract with him?
• “He makes things happen. I don’t know how, but he managed to tag along that with Regional Grand Judge, and he even got a small crop from it to. We were told that any crop coming from Harvesthome was completely off limits, yet he managed it. Somehow, somewhere he has a connection that provides him with the means to his end.” The man brushed a stray white lock of hair from his forehead and sighed. “It’s infuriating. I may be the Duke of Social Customs, but I hold a considerable stock in the trade market as well. Without any crop…”
• “Your status will take a hit.” The man turned to Jun, and nodded. “And Majore makes all the profit.”
• “No. It’s not about profit. It’s about status. Majore will become the only selling merchant in Solstice, or at least all of his partners will be…” A faint smell was starting to fill the air, and before Jun could determine what it was, the third servant stepped forward and attached the last component to the Obelisk: two pipes with a tapered mouthpiece at the end. “Can you imagine the power he will have over the market, if he is the only merchant allowed to sell Autumn-Grass in Solstice? He’ll have ultimate control over the trade routes through Olmeer. And that is something I will not allow.” Arinold’s voice was growing stronger now. His jaw was set. His eyes hard.
• Jun knew what was coming next.
• “You have something he needs. And though I don’t know what it is, I know you have it.” The Duke turned to him in a rush and his robes swayed. “And I need it.” The words were a threat, no doubt about it. But Jun was not about to be extorted, he was done being reprimanded.
• “If you give me something from which to drink, I can fill your cup to overflowing with knowledge.” To add the revolting last touch, Jun cracked a wide grin. Majore would have been proud. The Duke didn’t seem pleased in the slightest, but the tension released a bit.
• “You have a gift, Hallen. Given the proper apprenticeship, you could become a powerful member of society.” Jun smiled at the praise, but it stung him somewhere deep. That’s the thing about power, those that think they have it are always the most surprised when it’s ripped away. “But I can understand that you are a peddler at heart. After all, Harvesthome has been short ended long enough. If you want coin, I can outweigh Majore in every way but his waistline.”
• “You are a smart man, Duke. But I’m afraid you’ll never agree to my terms.” The man scoffed and gave Jun a reproachful look.
• “Come now, what could a Prime Justice from Harvesthome possibly need that I could not give freely and remain the wealthiest man in the Region?” The Duke stalked over to his chair again, the Cornath sun glimmering in his white hair. “Name the price and I will see it fit.”
• “Rhonteville is an impressive Manor, Arniold. But it’s missing something.”
• “Uh. Not you too…” The man moaned a humorous sigh, and donned a new pair of white silk gloves. He pulled one of the mouth pieces to his lips and made to remove the stopper. “And what would that be, Master Justice?”
• “Inhabitants.” The man froze at that, and arched an eyebrow in understanding. “Yes. All of them.” There was a silence, and the Duke seemed to reconsider getting high. Jun knew the weight of what he was asking, and though only a fraction of refugees had actually made it to Solstice, boarding them all would be a massive expense. To say the least, the man was not quick to decide.
• “How many are there?”
• “Eleven dozen and six, not even one tenth of the original number. They have no money, no way to fend for themselves in a city they don’t know.” Arinold didn’t seemed surprised by the number, but he also didn’t seem thrilled. “Give them a place to stay. Make them work for you, if you must.”
• “I have a servant force already, one that is trained and skilled.”
• “And you pay them, don’t you? Not much, but I’m sure it adds up.” The man rubbed his temple and sighed. “Release as many as you need, and hire on the Harvesters for free. You’ll save coin, I’ll save my people, and you’ll have a work-force that knows what true labor is.” Jun was on to something, he couldn’t back off. “No one works harder than a Harvester.”
• “If I don’t compensate my servants, they become slaves. You realize this is illegal in Solstice.”
• “Ah, but they won’t be slaves, because you are compensating them with shelter and food. You don’t owe the Refugees anything, and if you take them in…”
• “It would make a remarkable story of my character wouldn’t it?”
• “Yes, it would.” Jun was smiling now, he was so close. If the Duke agreed to this, Jun would have the leverage he needed to start something serious. If the Duke sheltered the Harvesters, and refused to pay them; they wouldn’t stay content for long. It would confirm their fears that Solstice was indeed trying to enslave them. The truth was, they already had shelter; but Arinold didn’t seem to know that. He didn’t seem to know much at all when it came to the lower class.
• And Jun silently prayed that the other Lords and Ladies had the same faults.
• “Deal. Under three conditions.” The Duke stood and placed the mouthpiece and long hose around the Obelisk. “The first should be most obvious; this act of charitable generosity was my idea.” Jun smiled, knowing how the Harvesters would feel about being a bargaining chip.
• “Naturally.”
• “Good. Secondly, You become my ward.” This Jun had not expected, and the thought of it filled him with a sinking dread. “There’s no unpleasantries involved, I assure you. In fact, it very much works to your benefit in many ways as well. You get access to my resources, be it coin or education. You get a reason to forego any more visits with Master Jeleps, and most importantly you’ll rise on the social ladder of Solstice.”
• “What do you gain?” The man smiled, and there was a sparkle to his eye.
• “Whatever do you mean?” Jun just continued to glare, until the Duke chuckled. “Just imagine, Hal. A completely primitive culture is forced to take refuge in a city that thrives at the pinnacle of social subtleties. Whereas most Lords and Ladies would write your kind off to soon become beggars and sheeswae, I will raise you up! I will culture you! I will introduce you to the world, not as Prime Justice… But as Lord Hallen Alwice!”
• “And you get the praise.”
• “Well of course! I am the Duke of Social Customs after all! If I can educate you in the ways of social delicacies, then I’ll be the talk about town. And more than that too, you’ll find that status rules in Solstice.” The Duke sat back down in his chair, with a sense of forced elegance. “The short of it is, you’ll be my little project! My Protégé.”
• “I’m a little less thrilled about this.”
• “Good. I won’t have people saying you were easy to tame. Pardon the expression.” There was a silence that followed, and Jun was left to contemplate the offer. Was it so bad? He’d be granted resources he had never dreamed of obtaining. And he would be able to keep a close eye on the upper-crust of Solstice, wasn’t that what he wanted? This could be his chance to do some serious damage.
• But there was something else to, a sense of pride involved.
• Sure it was insulting to be considered primitive, but to become a Lord of Solstice was not an opportunity you passed up easily. He would never go hungry again, never be forced to physical labor, or to toil in the sun. He could wear clothes that fit, clothes that were made for him. And he would have coin, enough to live in luxury. Yet there was something greater still, Jun felt a sense of honor. He would have a reputation to be proud of. A reputation.
• He would be respected.
• He would be known as Hallen Alwice. There was something haunting about this, but Jun knew Hallen would have jumped at an opportunity like this. Nothing was more important to Hal than Honor and Pride. He could make something from this. Death. That’s the only way, to kill and die. Ronea’s world echoed in his head.
• It didn’t have to be that way.
• “Alright. I’ll do it.” The Duke was elated, and clasped his two gloved hands together.
• “Marvelous! We certainly have a lot to do, and even more to learn. But before we jump into details, there is that one last condition.” The man lifted the mouth piece to his eyes and removed the stopper with a plunk. A stream of thick white smoke drooled from the hose, Arinold pulled it in through thin lips. “We smoke.”
• Jun could feel his stomach roil, the stench of Ghielrout was poignant. Jun forced a smile, but found that it stayed in place much easier than he had expected. He was giddy; for the first time since he had signed on with the Justices, he felt nervous.
• “About time.”
• The Harvesters were found easy enough, most of them had formed a tight packed camp of temporary pavilions in the depths of the Mill district. They got by with selling random items and assortments, when Jun discovered their makeshift market shortly after the two hour smoking fiasco with the Duke. Still thick with the thoughts of thorough intoxication, Jun had demanded he be able to speak with his people before Dal Niente approached. The Duke, standing tediously on a stack a books just hollered “You’re higher than I am, and I’m all at the top of the Wisemount!”
• Jun just excused himself shortly after the Duke fell to the ground and lay there screaming silently, despite being obviously fine. Vastillion was more than eager to see the intoxicated Jun to the door, but Jun couldn’t help but gloat.
• “Looks like we will be seeing more of each other, now that I’m the Duke’s Ward and all.” The old man stiffened, as if slapped on the behind by a paddle. Jun laughed at that thought. “You’ll get to meet all of my Harvester friends too, just think of all the culture we’ll be bringing to the place.”
• “I shall imagine that given time, Arinold with have that culture smudged.” Jun waved him off, making an obscene grunt. “If there is one thing the Duke cannot bear, it’s the presence of simpletons.” Jun laughed. “My point exactly.”
• “You’re just a dried out clam. You have any idea what a clam is? Arinold kept telling me how delicious they were. Ah, well I supposed I’ll be dining with him within the Forte night. I’ll tell you all about clams and figs and camolute, once I’ve had them. Oh I can’t wait, the Duke is quite eager to educate me.”
• “I’m sure he is.” The man’s lips were two thin pink slivers. He looked a fool.
• “I’ll give you some leftovers if there are any.”
• “How considerate.”
• Jun wasn’t surprised when the door slammed behind him. The Tarnath day was alive with movement. The sensation of Ghielrout, mixed with the bustle of everyday life left Jun with the most ridiculous of grins. The sky was a wash of orange and yellow, dappled with pink wispy clouds. The wind rustled the well manicure branches of the oaks that grew throughout the Upper District, and carriages with bells on the outer most corners moved this way and that. Beautiful white horses trotted in perfect unison, riders wearing travel cloaks tipped hats as they passed. Flowers were blooming, birds were singing, even the insects seemed to be singing a happier song.
• Whatever state Jun had been in before was nothing compared to the experience he was having now. Yet when he found his way to the mill district and lay his eyes upon the tents of the refugees, his elation receded. Hecklers shouted, woven rugs of thick wool and dyed tassels were hoisted in wagons. Trinkets, carvings, and tools were sold for the smallest denomination of coin. Men argued, some chased Solsticean children away with brooms and scythes. The scene was a battle of trade, a complete black-market last-ditch-effort to maintain afloat in a society that would not accept them.
• Jun needed to lead these people. He was doing the right thing. At Rhonteville Estate they would be fed, they would have shelter and clean clothing. Yes, they would have to work, but they were going to become a part of a society that didn’t demand them to break their backs for this. Ingratitude. Abuse. The sight made Jun sick, the privileged made his people act like animals. The fact that Jun saw them as such, made him even more sick.
• He was growing apart from them, with only a handful of days apart he may consider them below him altogether. The thought sent an icy chill through his veins. It was so much easier to fall into line, and it was more pleasant too. Yet something drove into him, knocking the wind from his lungs. He stood at the top of the bluff, looked down at the mills and wondered if everything he had done so far had been a mistake.
• “You can’t second guess yourself, remember?” a disembodied voice said to him. Jun saw the man in his periphery, and instantly recognized Hal’s profile. The clear definition of his jaw, his shoulder length blonde hair that blew with the delicate wind. “You were the one that told me that remember?” Jun wanted to run, but he knew it was hopeless. At least he could blame the Ghielrout, leave his sanity intact.
• “If you don’t sacrifice your morals, then you sacrifice your life; and the lives of those around you.” Hal turned to him, his eyes were dark holes of blackness; blood leaked from the corners, yet he smiled. “What are you?” Jun couldn’t say his name; it got stuck in his throat.
• “I am you, Hal. You’ve taken my life, taken my future and past. We are alike in so many ways, so determined to do what we must; too blind to do what is right.”
• “You don’t know what’s right.”
• “You could have told me.”
• Jun swallowed hard, he had no response.
• “I wouldn’t sacrifice my morals Jun, and now I am dead. You were right about that. But you are wrong about this. Leading your people into Solstice will kill their passion, fear always loses to burden.” The image of Hal was suddenly closer, even though its feet never moved. “But love, love conquers all things.”
• “What?”
• “The Harvesters don’t love you Jun. Just as you don’t love them. Do you think they will follow you into the Rhonteville estate? Do you think they will accept their new role with the taste of blood in their mouths?”
• “Of course not.”
• “Wrong.” Jun’s head was light. “They will, because you’ve betrayed them. You are a Solsticean now, you have become the enemy. And your people don’t love you.” Jun considered the words, knowing the truth behind them. What had he done? “I’m not going anywhere, Jun. But your followers are. They’re going to leave you.”
• “Shut up.” Then Hal was gone, and Jun was alone of the bluff again. The Ghielrout had worn off suddenly, as if the reality of sobriety had crashed back into his skull. Jun rested a reassuring hand against his temple. “Just…shut up, Hal.”  Jun cursed and spat, there was blood in his mouth. Hal was right, Rhonteville was not the goal. It was a step along the way, a foothold from which he could maneuver. He needed the leverage to strike; Duke Arinold had unknowingly given him that.
• He looked down into the pavilions and knew what had to be done.
• He needed to make the people love him.
• How the Fuck was he going to do that? All he knew how to do was make the people hate Arinold more. Would that be enough? Would they follow Jun if his way was the less shitty? It had worked before, but he couldn’t continue to lead like that. The small group was going to be his first true test of leadership, without the help from Manala, or Nor Makus, or even Sana Lanson.
• He had to be the reason they fought.
• And he certainly wasn’t. Making them work for Arinold would only make them hate him more. He had to find a way to turn this around; to make himself appear to be the good guy. He had to save his people, but danger was only a bad dream in Solstice. If the Harvesters remained safe, they would be infinitely happier than they were in Harvesthome. If he needed danger to be a hero, he would have to make his own trouble.
• If you don’t sacrifice your morals, then you sacrifice your life; and the lives of those around you.
• Jun found the words infuriating. They seemed to haunt him, sacrificing the morals of right and wrong had been simple. It was sacrificing his goals that he struggled with.
• He didn’t know what to do.
• So he wandered. He couldn’t face the Harvesters without a plan, but before he could think of anything Dal Niente had set in. Yet unlike Harvesthome, the world wasn’t complete shrouded in darkness; there were torches along the road, and light spilled from houses. Though the darkness was pertinent, he could make out enough to travel. So he kicked around the cobblestone road, listening for the sounds of life. Yet there seemed to be none; doors were barred, windows drawn, even animals had grown quiet. Still, Jun marched on. The sound of his footfalls on the cobblestone reverberated unnaturally, as if each step were a stamp of guilt on his soul. He felt like a Rentis-brood, stalking in the shadows in order to steal the souls of unwary children.
• Then he was there again, stalking through the Autumn-grass. The vague whispers of children’s laughter could be heard through the clattering stalks. Shrouded completely in black, Jun stalked through the blades; using his ears to find victims in the night. It was Nientia, the day of darkness; and all the children snuck out into the fields to play Brood and Victim. It was a popular holiday, but parents always forbid their children to partake. Yet somehow they found a way, sneaking into the deep of Dal Niente to scare the shit out of each other.
• Of course, Jun had chosen to be a Brood. He always did. Only the most altruistic children played Victim, and they only did so because of their guilt of being outside in the darkness. If children were caught by adults, it was better to be Victim than Brood; but Jun knew little about his father. And his mother always made sure to lock herself in her room during the hour of darkness.
• So Jun was calmer than Chalton Rentis himself, stalking through the maze of blades for Victims. His New-father had come home early, drunker than half the town. He left Jun with the taste of blood in his mouth, and sent him off to bed without supper. So this year had him feeling at home, his head filled with dark thoughts of revenge and hatred. The game let him take out his frustration on his friends; it’s what kids did during Nientia. After all, he had been powerless to control anything else in his life.
• In the darkest hour of night, Jun had finally found his power. And he was so close to a group of Victims, he could hear their whispering prayer:
• Rentis, Rentis Run away
• The Brood-born came to take the stray
• Rentis, Rentis thirst for souls
• When Forte rise; the bell will toll
• A stupid rhyme meant to ward away the spirits of the Rentis-sphere, but it only made Jun more excited. When he heard the hushed whispers, he would begin to feel the hair on his neck stand; he would know he was close. There was a second part to the rhyme, but it was forbidden to say; many children believed that it actually allowed the spirits of Rentis-Sphere to enter the body. Yet Jun wasn’t afraid. In fact the words gave him power, made his victims forfeit their bravery. Just when he knew he was close enough, he would say the words:
• Rentis Rentis No more soul
• Forfeit love and Forfeit all
• Rentis Rentis need no rest
• Enter body, feast on flesh
• And no one said it better than Jun. He felt the darkness around him, and froze in his spot. He was in Solstice, the light from a flickering torch silhouetted his form. The Rentis-Brood were reborn, the reincarnate of evil and strife. Yet for the first time in his life, he felt like the victim. For a moment he was a child again. A smile played across his lips. Whenever he had felt on the brink of hopelessness he would recall his youth. What was the way out of this? What was he searching for?
• In the end, it found him.
• “You There! Halt!” The voice was gruff, fearful. “Identify yourself!” Jun looked over to the lamppost and saw what he had been searching for this entire time. A thousand thoughts sprung to mind, yet he knew which one to pick; its choice was a bright blue flower in a field of gray weeds. He had found his way out. “Be you man or beast?!” Jun smiled, what he would give to be a beast.
• “Man!” Jun sprinted toward the man. Though the Constable held his ground; his posture suggested he wanted to do otherwise. Jun didn’t have time to delay. “You have to help me! My property! It’s being destroyed by refugees!”
• Jun wondered if he wasn’t beast after all.