Thaddeus Connington, once upon a time known as ‘Mad Thad’ to both his friends and his meager enemies, burrowed deeper into the bare warmth of his shelter. Summer was ending, and that was always the time of year that he dreaded most. It was hard to believe that only a few years ago, he had loved the Fall season around Blutstein. The weather cooled, and the trees started to turn all the colors of the sunset. Tarus would hit the Twin Brothers at a lower angle, and a great comforting shadow would fall on the city, finally granting them respite from the simmering heat of the Summer.
But now he just dreaded the Fall. It was when the world started to conspire to kill people like him, after all.
Once again, Thad cursed the luck he had been born with. He’d grown up here in the capital, and he’d considered himself lucky to have done so. When he was a lad, Thad had thought himself so above all the country bumpkins from some nowhere village in the arse end of nowhere, just because he was a Blutstinien. Oh, sure, his family hadn’t been all that well off. Thad had grown up in the lower district of the city, like many, the son of an itinerant fisherman and a weary Tailor. Whoever his Father might have been, Thad had never met the man, and his Ma’ never said a word despite all his cajoling in his teen years. She’d be a hard woman at times, his Ma’. Very close-lipped about her own family. For all he knew, they were all dead.
Not that uncommon, really.
Still, she’d done her best to provide him with a future, making sure he learned a real Profession from the Carpenters once he was Awakened. While a second one was for the nobs, a man could make a good living off of a sole Profession. He’d never be a great monster hunter with that low of a source of Impact, but by the gods had he learned how to carve a mean chair.
But then Ma’ had died, and he hadn’t been able to care for himself. It had been a complete surprise to him at the time, although there had been signs she’d been unwell, looking back. But Thad had believed his Ma’ when she told him the cough was nothing much. He’d believed her when she said it was just a bug that had been going around the workshop where she helped sew sails. These days, he could recall the way the poor old woman had clutched at her chest when she thought he wasn’t looking, or the wheeze in her laugh when he acted a fool to cheer her up. But he'd been a na?ve lad, thinking his Ma’ knew what she was doing.
And then one day, he’d woken up to go to work, and she hadn’t. He’d run to fetch old Preceptor Bill at the rundown Church in their district, and the sad old man had told him there was nothing he could do. Looking at her, the man had told him it was Brown Lung that got her in the end, something apparently common in the textile workshops.
All Thad had known, though, was that his world had collapsed. He didn’t have the money to survive on his own. His apprenticeship didn’t pay enough for that, and his boss didn’t have a place for him to stay. Thad had only been seventeen at the time, and hadn’t even had a Class of his own. At the time, he’d been saving up for a Classer to take him out and get the other seven levels he needed. He couldn’t even really fall back on his Status to save his hide without a Class. It was a sad old tale, not uncommon at all with the youth of Blutstein. And when it happened, you only really had one choice if you didn’t want to end up on the streets.
You signed up to join the Army. The nobs were always looking for more blade-slingers to become monster chow.
Only, he’d chosen a poor time to sign up. There was all kinds of commotion being caused by the AutoVants, who had apparently started calling themselves the Sculpted when they started talking. The former servants were talking about all kinds of high-minded ideals, things like ‘freedom’ and ‘self-determination’, whatever that meant. Boy, were they making a ruckus about it as they did. At the time, all Thad’d heard was that they were starting to piss off the nobs something fierce, with all their protests, demonstrations, and rabble-rousing.
By the time Thad had been done with his Army training, complete with his fresh new Army standard Pikeman class, it had all boiled over. Suddenly, there was talk about civil war in the streets. A portion of the nobility had split from the Crown to support the Sculpted and were calling themselves ‘The Uprising’, urging ol’ King Otto to grant them full citizenship.
Things got violent from then on. Suddenly, Thad wasn’t worried about dying on the end of some nasty beastie’s claws.
Now, he was sure he was going to die at the end of some other poor fucker’s pike.
Thad…barely remembered the war years. He knew he’d served through nigh on the entire damn conflict. He knew he had, somehow, managed to survive every damn major battle that had taken place, as part of the Herztalian Fifth Regiment. Names and faces and places swam through his mind, people he’d killed in battle and where he’d done it. But he always shied away from those memories.
They hurt. More than even the death of his Ma’ did, they burned him when he even thought of glancing their way. So many people he’d slept beside, fought beside, and bled beside had died in droves. And all for what? He’d never even met one of these Sculpted until he killed one in battle. The poor fucker had looked to have been thrown together from a pile of sticks, but he’d died from a thrust of a pike just like any other humie.
It was all so…pointless.
Thad shivered in his pile of blankets, shying away once again from the memories. Down that way went only pain.
The only thing that had kept him going through all of it had been the promise of the paycheck at the end. His superiors had sworn up and down that there were huge bags of gold waiting for every soldier who survived the war. Enough that you could do anything you could set your mind on. Land, business, investment, you name it, the officers whipped out talk about backpay to quell any kind of discontent in the ranks you could imagine. Former soldiers were meant to get preference in land purchases, with Enchanter services to set up proper fiefs with their own Ward Stone and everything.
Only…it had all been a lie. The amount of gold Thad had received as his discharge, once the Uprising had won the whole damned thing, had been barely enough to pay for a single month’s rent. And not even in a good place to live. Thad doubted he would have even been able to pay to live in his old Ma’s shack down near the docks.
It had broken him. Clutching his meager pay, Thad had wandered off to one of the lifts to the middle layer, and for maybe the third time in his life, boarded it. Once in the far more affluent business districts, the former pikeman had just…disappeared into the maze.
If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
At least it was warmer up here than in the lower layer. That, and it was easier to find discarded food.
Thad wasn’t sure just how long he’d been drifting in the back alleys of the city like this. How long had it been since the war was called? He had no idea, but it had to have been more than six months by now. In that time, Thad did little more than survive, oftentimes just staring off into space or huddling for warmth. He was…terrified of the coming winter months. The few other vagrants he’d spoken to had warned him to find a warm spot somewhere up here and fight for it, if he had to. It was going to be a fight for his life, from what he’d learned, and he believed it. Some winters from his youth had gotten bitterly cold.
A few of the old timers had told him about a camp for people like them, somewhere in the press of the district. Something they called the ‘Catch’. Thad had…considered going there, but he was scared of human contact at this point. There was only one other person he’d formed even a semblance of a friendship with, and he hadn’t seen them in a while.
Miserable and already shivering, Thad drifted off to sleep.
It’s not like it mattered what time of day it was.
…………………………
Thad was woken up what felt like only a half hour later, by the sound of shuffling outside the abandoned, dilapidated building he was huddling inside, near the warehouse district. He froze as he heard the shuffling of what sounded like decent boots outside ‘his’ door, something that didn’t bode well for him. He heard the plank he’d hidden the entrance with get moved to the side, and slowly stood up from his crouching position, ready to bolt at a moment's notice. He wasn’t sure if this was a guard or another vagrant looking for a place to bed down for the night.
He wasn’t sure which was worse. Both would be dangerous.
Only…a few moments later, he heard a voice that filled him with relief. “Thad?” They called up to the loft where he’d been huddling inside. “You in here?”
Thad let out a sigh of relief and poked his head over the edge. Sure enough, standing in the middle of ‘his’ home was his only friend in the world.
Another down on his luck soldier like him, a guy by the name of Matty.
Matty was another Blutstein native, just like him. He had also been turned out on the street with hundreds of other former soldiers at the end of the war, just like him. Only, Matty had been a cavalryman, someone born and raised along horses. He’d lost his mount in the war and crawled into a bottle because of it, blowing his backpay in a drunken bender before ending up on the streets.
Thad had met him while scavenging for food behind a grocer’s, and they had immediately clicked. But he hadn’t seen the other man in weeks. Thad had started to think the man had died, while quietly hoping that maybe Matty had managed to salvage his life.
And…it looked like he might have?
Matty looked like he had cleaned up, for the first time since Thad had known the man. He’d shaved his thick, dark beard to reveal a sun-darkened face, and clipped his equally dark hair short. The former cavalier was wearing decent quality, new looking clothes that wouldn’t have looked out of place on some hoity toity middle layer merchant. Only…he had one strange thing on his right arm.
It looked to be an armband. It was white and seemed to have some kind of emblem on it. It…almost looked like a star? Done in red and blue, it looked out of place in the broken-down old shack.
Something about that tickled his memory, but Thad couldn’t put his finger on it. It stirred memories about talk he’d heard on the streets when he was out begging. Still, that didn’t matter right now.
What did was both the smile on Matty’s face at the sight of him, and the wooden box he was carrying. There was an incredible smell wafting out of it. Whatever was in there smelled delicious.
Thad felt his stomach rumble loud enough to echo in the bare wooden walls, and Matty only laughed. “Get down here, ya idjit. I didn’t come all this way for nothin’.”
………………………………………
As Thad wolfed down the first hot, fresh meal he’d had in months, he learned what Matty had been up to.
Apparently, the man had joined a damned Martial Order!
“They found me, ya know,” Matty said, gesturing with the remnants of his own meal. Thad had never had anything quite like it. Whoever had the idea to sauce and grill some chicken and then put it on a sharp stick was a damned genius. Good taste, too. “I was rootin’ around behind Sylvestor’s, ya know? That one crotchety Gnoll grocer? And then this guy, he comes up to me. Says he’s with a brand new Martial Order lookin’ to help all the Soldiers who got stiffed by the nobs. He tells me they’ve got people to help me get back on my feet. A loan with no interest, if I want it, and a solicitor to help buy some land. Jobs or training too in the Order, to be anything I could damn near imagine. They told me they could turn me into a damned Classer even. Or, Hells. They even have some contacts out on the farms, in case I wanted to pull beats or somethin’.”
Thad stopped gnawing on his stick long enough to cast a disbelieving stare at his only friend. “And ya believed ‘em?”
In response, Matty shrugged. “Eh, not so much. Only…I were real hungry by that point, Thad me lad. Been damn near a week since I’d had anything more than scraps. This guy, he told me he was a former soldier in my position, and that they had a meal ready with my name on it back at their Order Hall. I figured, what the hell? Worst thing they can do is kill me. Ain’t like I had anythin’ to steal.” He guffawed.
“Was it…legit?” Thad asked slowly, curious despite himself.
Matty was quiet for a moment, just looking at him. Thad felt a wave of self-consciousness roll over him, perfectly aware of his dirty, dilapidated state. It had been months since he’d bathed by this point, and there was no telling just how long since his clothes had been washed. “Yeah,” Matty eventually said. “It was. Best meal of my life. And then…they really pitched the idea of the Order to me. I…stayed with ‘em, Thad. That’s where I’ve been these last coupla weeks. They’ve been settlin’ me, getting’ me…help. They’ve got this lady who you can just…talk to, and she’ll listen to anythin’ ya say.”
“Anythin’?”
“Anythin’,” Matty confirmed. “I, uh…I’m real grateful to ‘em, Thad. I volunteered to do the same job as the guy who recruited me. Go out into the streets and try to help stiffed soldiers like us.”
Thad looked down at the box which held the remnants of his meal, quiet for a moment. “This old soldier…” He started slowly. “He got a name?”
“What? Yeah,” Matty said in a confused tone. “Said he was with the Fifth. He was a Sergeant in the pikes. He’s workin’ the lower layer tonight, while I’ve got the middle. Name’s Richard Malholm.”
“What?” Thad breathed. “Sergeant Malholm? That…that was my squad leader. He…he said he had a family to go back to, last I spoke to ‘em…”
Matty breathed in slowly, shaking his head. “What’re the damn odds,” Thad heard him mutter before he looked back up. “Had is the right word, Thad me lad. Had. Apparently…all them monsters from the Breaks…” He couldn’t finish.
They shared a moment of silence then. When it was over, Thad set his box aside and leaned back on the dirty floors of the old storage house. “This Order got a name?”
Thad heard his friend scoot over to sit at his side. “Yeah,” Matty said. “The Order of the Polaris Reach. I ain’t got a clue what a ‘Polaris’ is, but that don’t matter to me. It was founded by some big up and coming Classer going by the name of Hart. He’s apparently the ‘prentice of Ol’ Greycton, but I haven’t met the man yet. He’s real busy runnin’ around like a chicken with its head cut off, getting’ everythin’ off the ground.”
“No shit?”
“No shit,” Matty confirmed.
Thaddeus Connington stared up at the ceiling for a few more moments, absorbing everything his friend had told him. “You mind…tellin’ me more?”
There was an audible smile in Matty’s voice when he spoke next. “Ain’t mind at all, Thad me lad. I ain’t mind at all. Now, you won’t believe the Order Hall these boys have. Apparently, it used to be some Crown-owned fort here in the city…”
