Silverdawn
patreon
Unclassed - 17
🕑 Added 2025-11-07 19:17:03 +0000 UTCToar couldn’t believe his ears as he listened to the younger boy standing before him.
They were a member of Naska’s group—that demon girl. They’d arrived at camp holding out a letter for him to read, saying the matter was ‘sensitive’.
Everyone had stirred and reacted at the sudden disruption, Ceri and Jackal both making attempts to read the letter’s contents.
The moment Toar saw Adam’s name on the paper, he shooed them away.
Toar thanked the messenger and took the letter to read in solitude.
He grinned at the contents. Apparently, Adam had been caught attempting to steal from Naska’s territory, skulking off once again, and they’d captured him. They wanted fifty gold to hand him over, or they’d kill him.
Considering this letter had even been sent, Adam hadn’t been stupid enough to tell the group about his stashed gold. Probably figured they’d murder him on the spot once they had it, and he was probably right.
Toar didn’t know a lot about Naska’s group—he’d not had much interaction with them—but he did know that demons were ruthless. They didn’t take kindly to crime or thievery, and Adam would be killed if his debt wasn’t paid.
Meaning Toar was about to save his life. On one condition.
He couldn’t even hide behind the group now. All Toar would have to do was show this letter to confirm Adam’s status as a thief and a liability. If the rat wanted his freedom back, he’d have to comply, and that meant handing over everything he had.
It’d been a fun game. He’d held out for a while, managing to withstand various amounts of pressure, but in the end, he’d caved. Stealing from another group was desperation. It was the knowledge that he wouldn’t get paid, that he wouldn’t eat if he didn’t do increasingly drastic things to get by.
And now it had landed him right in Toar’s clutches. It was a commendable attempt at defiance. A shame it’d been so pointless.
“Finn, you direct the group today,” Toar said.
“Uhh, how?”
“I dunno. Figure it out. I’m busy.”
With that, Toar left. He was in a hurry to leave. Excited, even.
Satisfaction mixed with relief as he followed the path down and through the caves. He was glad to be done with this. To finally come away from this matter the victor.
He felt some measure of might as he walked, something he hadn’t experienced in a while, now. He asserted himself above passersby, staring at them as they crossed him, daring any to meet his gaze.
Toar was a powerful creature. More than that, he had potential.
Improving his position in the mines was the start: from there, he could finally prove himself and become a strong addition to his family, claiming a high position in the clan and ensuring his own future.
From that point, he could either work to make his family proud or make them cower at the sound of his name. Toar wasn’t sure which outcome he preferred. Anything but what he’d experienced up until now. That was all he knew.
He would finally be a dragon in everything but name. Not an outcast, not a feeble leopard, but a man. A true man.
He no longer cared about who he might hurt or how he might do it. He’d cast off those distractions. They were inconsequential to him. All he felt was drive.
He would become everything he was destined to be and more. This was the first step to his redemption.
Toar shivered as he walked ahead, adrenaline leading his hastened footfalls.
***
“I see you’ve had an eventful evening.”
I snapped to attention the moment I heard Toar’s voice.
I dragged myself up from the cold stone floor I’d been laying on, flexing my bound hands from behind my back.
“You just come here to gloat?” I asked, fully anticipating the beastkin’s answer.
Which, yeah, there was gloating involved. The leopard grinned, teeth glinting as he looked my dirt-and-bloodstained form over. He looked positively overjoyed.
“I’m not that cruel,” Toar answered, a complete lie. He peered down at me as if he were weighing his next words.
“I came to get you out.”
I blinked at that. I wasn’t surprised, not at all, and it was exactly what I was hoping he’d say, but I didn’t wanna give the game away.
So I went for surprise and disbelief. Cast a frown over my face.
“What’s the catch?”
“Same catch as always. Did you think I’d bail you out for free?”
I groaned as I rolled from my side and up onto my knees, difficult with my hands so tightly bound. I felt one of the recently inflicted bruises on my face explode with pain as I stumbled and slumped back down to the floor.
Toar attempted to help me up, but I shrugged him off, retaining my independence as I pulled my tired body up to kneeling.
“I’d rather rot in here than give in to you that easy,” I spat, staring hatred right into his eyes. “Thanks for the offer, but no thanks.”
“Adam. Adam, listen to me.” Toar craned his neck to see if anyone was looking. He knelt down beside me in the tight confines of the storage tent, dropping his voice to a whisper.
“Read this,” he said, thrusting a piece of paper into my face.
My eyes scanned the letter I’d asked Naska to write, having dictated about half of it to her myself.
I think I made a pretty good show of growing fearful. I couldn’t make my lip tremble on command, which was why I never attempted ransom scams when I was younger, but I could at the very least bring tears to my eyes.
“They’re… they’re seriously going to kill me?” I stumbled over the words a little, but I was bad at forcing myself to stutter. “Why… why wouldn’t they tell me?”
“Probably didn’t wanna deal with you having a breakdown. Wanted to see if I’d pay the ransom first.”
The gears in my head started churning. Or at least, that’s how I tried to make it look. I flicked my eyes left and right as if I were calculating something, rereading the note.
“Fifty gold? That’s all it costs to get me out?”
“That’s all I have to pay,” Toar corrected. He smiled. “For you, the price is a thousand, plus three superior healing pots.” He paused for a moment. “Also, that shiny knife you carry around. Mine’s getting kinda dull.”
“...I can’t believe you’re still trying this.” I let rage cloud my face. It wasn’t just a playact at this point. “You’re scum, Toar.”
“Funny way to talk to your only ticket out of here.” Toar shrugged, shifting back to standing. “But hey, it’s your choice. If you’d rather die here, I’ll find your stash eventually. In a few days, a few weeks. It makes no real difference to me.
“But, I’d rather lose fifty gold to expedite the process.” He swiveled his head left and right as if he were considering something trivial. “Plus… I guess it saves your life. It’s not like you aren’t useful.”
I watched him with unmasked disdain, a scowl on my face. If Toar was the arbiter of my fate here, I’m almost certain I’d rather refuse him than ever let him win.
But Toar was losing. Every word he spoke was delivering him closer to his fate.
“...you’re really going to make me do this, aren’t you?”
“I’m not making you do anything,” Toar said. “It’s your choice.”
I said nothing for a time. Just let myself stew in faux-hopelessness.
Eventually, with a sigh, with a strangled nod, I bowed my head and accepted my fate.
My victory.
“So, that’s it then? You’re finally giving in?”
He sounded almost surprised. Like he’d expected me to refuse him until the end.
He didn’t sound disappointed. More relieved than anything.
Still didn’t stop him from reaching out his hand, the gloating prick.
“Shall we shake on it?”
My hands might have been bound behind my back, but my mouth worked. I spat in the bastard’s face.
Toar punched me. Not hard enough that I blacked out—I could tell he held back—but it was still twice as hard as Carrow or even Jackal had ever hit me. I think I felt a tooth crack.
I fell to my side, clutching my face. I needed to sell this, but maybe I’d gone too far. Maybe he’d decide to let me rot in here. Turn around and leave. Maybe I’d lose my chance.
“Sorry,” he immediately blurted, grabbing me by the shoulder and helping me back up. “Instinct.”
He chuckled as he looked me over, sounding kinda nervous. “Man… that looks kinda gnarly. Well, you can heal that up when we grab your potions, right?”
Was he worried that I’d back out now? Was that what this was?
“Fuck you…” I spat a line of blood on the floor, pretty sure I’d bit my tongue. With monumental effort, I pulled myself up and onto my feet.
“Get me out of here. Take what you want. Then don’t ever fuck with me again.”
Talking kinda hurt. Whatever.
For all the nasty shit that Toar was, he didn’t continue to gloat or tease as we headed out of the tent and he paid the fifty gold ransom. I was kinda shocked by that.
I stumbled out of the camp with Toar in tow. He led me to the edge, my body protesting every step.
We’d had to sell my capture. That involved roughing me up. It involved me sleeping tied up in the storage tent of Naska’s camp.
And I barely slept. My mind was too awake. I spent almost all of that time plotting, revisiting every single detail of what I wanted to happen from the moment Toar walked through that tent.
And things hadn’t gone as I’d imagined. The painful, growing shiner on my face was definitely an example of some creative improvisation on my part.
But, whether it fit the version I’d envisioned or not…
It was still perfect. Just as I’d expected.
“Okay…” Toar said once we were a minute beyond camp. “No one following us. Wanna lead the way?”
Someone’s following you.
“Untie me first,” I protested, knowing it’d be the first rational thing to do.
“Not happening,” Toar said, shaking his head. “Sorry, man, but I don’t trust you. After you ran off last time, and considering you can use magic… I think we’ll keep those on.”
It was what I’d expected him to say. I just needed to get the conversation out of the way.
“Fine.”
“And don’t try to burn through those ropes. I’ll know it if you do.”
“Fine.”
With that, I began to lead Toar to what he deserved.
The path into the caves was dark and steep, and while I led the way, it was difficult for me to maintain my footing with both hands tied behind my back.
After a minute, I almost fell.
I felt Toar’s claws press against my back as he caught me by the back of my jumpsuit, preventing my face from smashing into the rock below.
I wordlessly kept walking. Two more times, Toar narrowly prevented me from eating floor, and for a while, we continued in this fashion, me his hostage, him my unknowing victim.
“You know,” Toar said after five minutes of mostly silent walking. “I’m surprised you got caught robbing another group.”
I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t interested in chit-chat.
“Hey.”
I ignored him.
“Why’d you do it?”
I sighed. Was my lack of response poking holes in the whole narrative? Did it seem strange that I’d done something so brazen, something that could’ve alienated me from my whole group if it was discovered?
“I guess I was pretty desperate,” I said with a murmur. “I haven’t been eating a lot lately.”
It was a lie wrapped in truth. It didn’t garner an immediate response.
But eventually, one came. It was prefaced by a short hum. Toar’s thoughts bounded and reverberated. They were inescapable.
The cave listened. I judged.
“I was thinking.”
“I could tell.”
“I don’t need all of the money,” Toar said, his voice less cocky than usual. Almost hollow. “I only need… maybe six hundred. Plus the fifty I paid to free you.”
He paused for a moment, as if he were reaffirming his position. We continued to march ahead.
“Yeah. You could keep three-fifty to yourself. That knife, too. I don’t need it.”
I didn’t want to indulge him.
I couldn’t help myself.
“Why?”
He seemed confused by that question. He stopped walking, which meant I stopped.
He looked at me.
“What do you mean, why?”
“I mean, why not take all of it? I thought that was the point here.”
“I mean, it was, but after seeing you like this—”
“What? You feel bad about it?” I rounded on him. Stared at his prick face. “You just magically realised your actions have consequences on people?”
Toar said nothing in response, and I’d dug this deep already…
So I continued.
“You think you can make it all better by offering me fucking charity? Like I’m gonna say, wow, you’re gonna let me keep a bit of my own money. I feel better.”
“I told you, I need that money,” Toar stated, his voice firm. “I’m just trying to—”
“What? Because whatever you think you’re doing, I’d rather you didn’t.” I fired the words like venom, until my throat ran dry. “You’re a piece of shit. Own it. Stop trying to be a human being and accept that you’re nothing but garbage. I’d feel much better if you did.”
I stumbled my way ahead, not waiting to hear his response. I walked until I stumbled once more.
Toar tried to catch me. I twisted from his grip and allowed myself to fall.
He waited for me to stand. I looked at him expectantly.
What next? Another justification? Another excuse? More anger?
“Walk.”
It was all he said. I was glad for it. All I wanted to hear. I didn’t want to be burdened with his fucking conscience.
We were nearing the last hurdle. Just a couple more minutes, and this whole thing would be over.
He didn’t try to talk anymore. Good. He could spend the last few minutes of his life ruminating on what a waste of space he was.
We eventually reached the mouth of the cave. I felt my neural link establish. My spider was waiting just out of sight.
“It’s down there,” I said, motioning forwards with my head. “Down the ramp.”
Toar looked ahead and leaned forwards, spying the spiderweb-filled room.
Not that even he could likely tell from such a glance. It was pitch black here. The light crystals only spanned so far, and it was a big drop.
Toar stared over the edge and tried to figure out how he was gonna get me down with my hands bound. I took the distraction as a signal to begin.
First, I touched my fingers to the ropes that bound me, ignoring the burn against my wrists.
[Would you like to store Grass Rope (knotted)? Y/N.]
Fuck yes.
It was off my wrists in an instant. I was in my [Hoard] before Toar could turn, before he could blink.
And within moments, I held something new in my hands.
I put my finger to the trigger. I raised the weapon and took aim.
I waited for Toar to turn around.
I wanted him to look at me.
“I don’t know how we’re going to get you down there, but—”
It wasn’t just shock that cut Toar’s sentence short. It was a bullet to the gut.
“Fucking rat…”
That was all I needed. I opened fire.
Bullets ripped across Toar’s midsection as I held down the trigger and sprayed him with every ounce of anger and spite I had.
Toar walked through the bullets. Even as I burned half a magazine into his body, he continued to advance on me. There was murder in his eyes. Something beyond rage.
I let my mind connect to my second weapon, the turret I’d ripped from the facility, stashed neatly behind a pile of rocks in the corner.
Fire.
The second storm of bullets joined the mix, this one even faster. I shot Toar full of lead until he stopped advancing. Until he stood still, hulking, panting, arms over his face to protect him from the ceaseless barrage.
I had a feeling taking him down wouldn’t be this easy…
That was what the spider was for.
I’d been practicing pushing mana through my body for weeks, all while using [Flame Body].
And all of it had been for this moment, for the specific place I’d been concentrating on allowing my energy to flow fully and freely towards.
I reached forwards, leaned back, and delivered an explosive kick.
Toar crumpled and fell back, his body skidding back onto the ramp, blood trailing as he sailed down, rolling from the impact.
I watched as he landed in a cushion of spiderwebs, flailing and ripping at them.
I contacted my spider. I sent it a single word command.
Advance.
***
Toar had an ability called [Danger Sense]. It had rarely led him wrong throughout his life. When something was ready to hit him, to hurt him, to threaten his life, he felt a flash or recognition.
It always seemed to be active around Adam. Not to the same intensity as a real threat. More of a persistent buzz in the back of his mind, just enough to unfocus him.
He’d learned to tune it out. To ignore it. Adam was too weak to kill him. He’d already proven it.
At least, that’s what he thought. What he thought until he felt the cacophony building in his mind so loud that he couldn’t drown it out anymore. He hadn’t noticed it until it was too late.
He turned to find Adam was no longer bound. How? He’d been tied up tightly. Toar had checked those bindings himself.
He was holding a… what was that? Some kind of weapon?
Toar felt disbelief. Anger. Indignation clouded his vision. He opened his mouth.
“You fucking ra—”
That was all he managed before the pain started. Some kind of projectile pierced his stomach. He felt the metal lodge a quarter-inch deep.
The rat had tricked him. He’d led him here to kill him.
He was holding some kind of ballista. It fired pellets smaller than he’d seen, but they burned like an abscess.
He needed to kill him quickly. Toar pushed his legs out, preparing to kick into a sprint.
Five more projectiles ripped across his torso, smashing and tearing.
He stumbled; he gasped. He focussed his mana around his chest to try and deflect the incoming barrage as his mind screamed of the coming danger.
He could weather this. The rat was close. He could reach him…
A second weapon began firing all at the same time. This one tore into him even faster, ripping at his chest, his arms, his shoulders. Most of the metal bullets he caught at the surface, but some lodged deeper, halting his advance as he held up his arms to protect his face.
He couldn’t attack like this. He had to hold until his opponent ran out of ammunition. It was the only way to—
Toar felt a new sensation cut through the noise. A screaming impulse to dodge.
He saw what was coming before it landed. The runt was slow. Such an attack never would’ve usually caught him, he’d have dodged to the side and ripped the bastard’s throat out if he wasn’t so panicked, so disoriented.
But despite how slow the attack was, there was power behind it. Mana in the strike.
He’d seen Adam’s power before. Assumedly his limit. What he’d seen was a barrier spell.
Not this. Not this coalescence of power and weight and judgment.
Toar braced himself for impact, but it was scarcely enough to stop him from stumbling. The moment his foot caught a jagged rock behind him, he was sent hurtling back.
He caught a glimpse of the sneaky, rotten bastard looking down at him as he hit the ramp and rolled, not a single emotion on his face. No more anger. No satisfaction. No worry or care in the world. It was as if Toar wasn’t worth the energy.
It made him furious. How had he been bested by this lowly creature? How could he have taken him off-guard? Had he orchestrated all of this just to bring him to this place?
Toar landed with a thump, exacerbating his new injuries.
He sighed. He breathed. He attempted to force new air into his lungs.
Big mistake. He might have thought I was that easy to kill, but he’s still weak, and hurt or not, I’d climb back out of this pit and fucking kill him.
Toar made to move, to stand, ignoring the pain coalescing in his ribs and belly, [Warrior’s Heart]’s potent thought-narrowing effects appearing in full force.
It was only when he attempted to stand that he realised where exactly he’d landed, realised how his body stuck to the floor.
His [Danger Sense] was still screaming. He didn’t know why. He could only imagine the cause.
It only added to his dread as he pulled and kicked against the adhesive web sticking to all sides of his body, dangling helplessly like a fly. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t stand.
Toar saw the encroaching monster in the corner of his vision, slowly lumbering towards him.
It was massive. The kind of rift denizen he usually avoided, that he’d only fight if absolutely necessary.
And he was trapped, ripping and tearing at the web he’d been glued to. Tooth and claw made an incremental impact, allowing him to pull away a single arm and attempt to free his legs.
Blood poured openly from his wounds as he tore away layer upon layer of sticky, thickened web, as he thrusted and threw his body in an attempt to free his trapped legs.
A spider’s maw descended upon his shoulder. Toar roared. He screamed.
He punched the spider with all of his might. The creature’s head jerked back, but still it remained lock-jawed against his shoulder.
Yowling bloody murder, sounding more catlike than he had since his youth, Toar punched and smashed the offending creature until it finally removed its head, leaving deep puncture-marks in his shoulder.
It looked disoriented, but no worse for wear. It moved forwards again, angling for another bite, and this time, Toar wrapped his arms around the spider’s neck.
The creature recoiled, and Toar used the momentum to free himself from his confines.
He stood on shaky legs, the area he landed in still webbed, but with intense effort, he was able to walk, one footfall after the other, the process as agonising as it was slow.
He could see well in the dark. Far better than most beastkin. He could recognise areas where the webs were lesser. He could even see the rat watching from above as he struggled down in this pit, fighting for the boy’s amusement.
It occurred to Toar that he could run. That every injury he’d sustained until now hurt, that his spirit had faltered in the face of his fear. That a real and growing part of him wanted to run.
If he fled, he might survive this. He might live to come out the other side. If Adam could survive the underground, Toar could get through these caves while injured. If he could find a path out, if he could do it, then he might live.
If not, he’d die like a dog attempting to outrun his fate, and the rat would drink in every moment of his torment.
No. Not like a dog.
Like a deer.
Toar looked into the black maw of encroaching death, and he saw each of his failures staring back at him, reflected in a thousand unblinking eyes.
Each of his flaws.
All of his pride and ego and insecurity and fear.
They’d all come to eat of his body; they’d already eaten his mind.
He was scared. He wanted to run.
It would be cowardly to run. Not because he was scared.
Because this was his trial.
It was the fight that he deserved. A battle against himself.
How could he run from that?
All of his choices had led him up to this.
He wouldn’t cry, even if he wished to. He wouldn’t beg, even if he thought it might help.
He’d see this through. He’d defeat this thing and survive. Whatever that made him. He’d embrace his fear and live.
And if he died, it would be spiteing his cowardly enemy. A trickster who couldn’t fight for himself.
An enemy that lived within him as much as it did above.
The spider attacked him once more; teeth flayed his arm as he brought it up to block. A leg kicked him back to one knee and then hovered over his torso, preparing to crush or skewer him, whichever came first.
Toar grabbed the leg with both arms, bracing, holding, attempting to withstand the creature’s burgeoning weight as it bore down on him.
He felt the sharpness of the spider’s leg, how it ripped and tore at his palms with serrated edges.
He ignored the pain. It was immaterial compared to his will.
His will to be something more than this, looked down upon and scorned.
Toar always had something to prove. Now he could finally prove it.
He felt the tendons in his fingers rip as he twisted with all he had, power rippling through his tired muscles as he pulled the spider’s leg clean off.
The creature roared, backing up a little. It looked genuinely pained, as if it might give up on fighting him and retreat any second.
Then, with an eerie wave of stillness, it stopped writhing. Its head snapped back to attention. It looked at him as if he were its sworn opponent.
Toar struggled back to his feet, fighting against a thousand ethereal hands willing him to lay upon the floor broken. To accept death.
He stood. He brandished the spider’s leg, holding it in a tight grip, preparing to swing it, ignoring the barbs that continued to slice into his hands.
The spider was sluggish and slow. Enough so he managed to land a clean shot against its face, causing it to reel back as multiple eyes were impaled.
He dragged the sharp instrument down, blood spraying as even in spite of the torturous attack, the spider lanced out with two legs and smashed directly into his chest.
He hit the floor, still clinging to his weapon, still pulling.
The spider descended upon him. It opened its maw.
Toar relinquished his hold on the leg. He stuffed his hands into the spider’s maw. He felt endless teeth grate against his forearms as he ripped and pushed with his claws, attempting to pull out the creature’s throat, to end its assault, to snatch victory from the jaws of despair.
It pushed him down further, the dearth in strength between them becoming more apparent. Its maw squeezed like a vice, crushing at his forearms, fracturing bones. It cared not for his feeble attempts at resistance. It was hungry. It would feast.
Toar had lost. But he wouldn’t pull away. Not even to spare himself a moment of agony. He’d take this thing with him if it was the last thing he did.
He gripped whatever flesh he could within the walls of its mouth, squeezing as tightly as possible, squeezing even as everything came apart and his world unravelled. There was no give. No quarry. No falter. Only pain.
And then, it happened.
Toar heard a familiar sound. A sonorous blast upon the edge of everything, a terrible crescendo.
Staccato pindrops echoed in the dank confines of death as metal casings hit the ground. Heavy thuds ricocheted through the body atop him as bullets pierced its chassis.
Blood sprayed from the spider’s head as projectiles pierced its brain.
From the silence that followed, the stillness, the give in pressure as the spider finally relented and fell to the floor beside him, dead, Toar could only ask one thing. Could only think one word:
Why?
Why had he been spared?
Why was he not dead?
What had he done to deserve mercy? Why would he even want it?
Toar’s vision began to fade. His injuries had mounted. His arms were numb. He could barely feel anything anymore.
It didn’t matter, ultimately. Whether the rat had decided to spare him being eaten or not, he was still going to die.
A dragon bested by a rat. What a legacy.
No. That wasn’t his legacy.
What did he care about being a dragon anymore?
He had fought. He had tried.
It wasn’t enough.
Death would be quiet. A gentle reprieve from his thoughts.
The buzzing had finally stopped. He scarcely noticed Adam’s approach until he felt a hand press against his shoulder.
He’d come to gloat. Or to finish him.
Whatever. Toar smiled and accepted death.
He felt glass being thrust against his mouth.
He’d consumed a few drops before he could register what was happening.
He felt a pulse inside of him, like a tree of life giving root, staving off necrosis and rot. His heart pumped. His limbs jolted with vitality.
The pain faded beyond excruciating. Enough that he could think. Enough that he could force out his single question.
“Why?”
“It’s a waste to let you die,” Adam said. “You’re useful.”
Toar felt the impact of his own words. He was filled with an emotion he couldn’t describe.
Was it hatred? Anger? Gratitude? Guilt? Envy? Self-loathing?
He didn’t know. All he knew was that with that spark of life, there came hope.
He didn’t want to die like this.
He’d thought this a suitable end, but it wasn’t.
He could be so much more than this. So much more than a dragon.
He wanted to be better.
He wanted to be more.
***
Mansol’s report-writing was interrupted by a sudden flash of motion as the tent covering of the medical area was ripped open and a body was carried through.
“What’s happened?” Mansol asked, attempting to sound worried.
“My group leader got injured,” a young, dark-haired boy answered. “We were in the mines and he—”
Wait. Mansol recognised that face. Wasn’t that the…
Then his group leader was—
Mansol tore past the Unclassed, rushing over to the mangled sight of his cousin, completely covered in wounds, who was now being laid straight down on the operating table.
The miners carrying him weren’t from Toar’s group, he was sure of it. Whatever had happened to his cousin, this boy was definitely behind it, and he seemed to have employed the help of another group in order to accomplish it.
“What happened to him?” Mansol asked, trying not to betray his concern. He couldn’t help a growl entering his tone, but that was normal for a beastkin. Surely it wouldn’t reveal their connection.
“A spider attacked him,” the boy answered, clearly feigning distress, “it all happened so fast, and—”
Mansol listened and learned. He recognised this boy. Not just his face and who he was, but who he was.
He was just like Mansol. Harmless on the surface. An actor. But this boy was behind every injury on his cousin’s body, he was sure of it.
Why hadn’t he killed him? Despite his extensive injuries, Toar was stable. A vital check confirmed as much. Why? Did he plan to subjugate him later?
He wouldn’t get that far—he’d messed with the wrong family. Ruined the wrong project. Mansol hadn’t worked so hard on molding Toar just for him to be taken apart so easily. He was his pawn. No one else’s.
“I’ll do everything I can to help him,” Mansol said. “Don’t you worry.”
The boy would suffer for this. Mansol would see to it personally.
First, he supposed he’d save his cousin’s life. The trash barely deserved it.
To think that he’d finally had some hope for him.
***
The business with the doctor resolved, and having recovered Toar’s fifty gold from Naska, I finally wandered my way back to camp.
Everyone looked worried when they saw me. I asked them what was up.
“Are you serious?” Jackal asked. Or maybe it was Ceri. It didn’t matter. “You’ve been gone for almost two days, Toar suddenly took off and he’s been missing ever since, and meanwhile—”
“Toar almost died,” I told them, ignoring the shocked expressions. “He’s in the medical facility recovering. I doubt he’ll be up and about for a long time.”
Besides Marcois, they all exploded with questions. I gave a vague, extremely fabricated retelling of events. Something about Toar taking me to a new mining area and the pair of us coming under attack, Toar fighting valiantly to kill the monster and almost dying in the process.
They ate it up pretty easy. There were plenty more questions, but I told them I was tired. If they wanted to know more, I’d answer in the morning.
I also told them to get some rest. Toar had ‘left me with instructions’, and starting tomorrow, we were going to be carrying those out.
By which, I meant I’d come up with my own plan of how to lead things without him, and starting tomorrow, I’d be implementing it.
I thought this way sounded more palatable.
Maisie asked if I needed a heal; I waved her off. I was fine. More than fine.
In fact, I felt better than I had in a long time.
I laid down to sleep, not caring about the conversation still buzzing around me. I’d been awake for over twenty hours. I could use the reset.
I thought my mind would still be racing after everything that had happened. But it wasn’t. I felt calm. Happy with my choices. Satisfied with my position.
I’d won. By the time Toar recovered, I’d be much stronger. Besides being so indispensable to the group I’d be completely irreplaceable.
If he wanted to come back after, to work for me, I might consider it. For now, I was satisfied with my choice.
Next was fixing this group. They needed improvement if they were going to be truly productive workers, and I had every second of Eric’s teachings ready and waiting to be imparted upon them.
Then it was finding a way to make consistent profit. I had a plan to get there. Time and effort were all it’d take.
Tomorrow, everything changes. Tomorrow, we begin our journey from a bottom-feeder group to a well-oiled machine that makes stacks of gold, with me at the helm driving this enterprise forwards.
Once I had this group self-sustaining and profitable, once a share was being kicked up to me, I could focus on the underground. On the quest that was still waiting for me down there. The mystery that still pervaded my dreams.
No more leash around my neck. No more petty distractions.
I couldn’t wait.
Comments
Display name
TYFTC
