The next morning, Cebrice could hardly eat his breakfast. He sat in the mess hall with the bugmeat on his place, never lifting it to his mouth. He’d be going to see Elder Issik as soon as he could. He knew that the elder didn’t like waiting. He had seemed to want to talk about something in depth and frankly Cebrice would have liked to get it out of the way.

Runiek had slept well, it seemed. Her hair was a mess of straw and she still had pillow marks on her cheek. While the other two were still in bed, she had gotten up and piled her plate high in the mess hall with some fried bug. “Your prey tastes like crap,” she told him mid chew, but she was impressed all the same, which was a fresh sensation for Cebrice.

Even so, he shrugged, unable to eat from something he had shared a mind with. Instead he looked at Rune to make sure she was okay. She had been pushing herself too hard and it had made her brittle that previous night. Elder Issik’s insult against her intelligence still rang in his ears.

Unfortunately, she was listening and became flustered at his thoughts. She could hardly believe that Elder Issik would have said that! Her focused shifted to Cebrice. “And you didn’t challenge him?”

Ceb’s jaw dropped, “Wha- but he’d have killed us! Would you have stood up for me if we had swapped places?!”

“I would fight and kill anyone for my pack,” she said factually, but even reading minds he couldn’t tell if she was serious. She said it because that is what is said, and she didn’t think any harder about it in that moment.

“Easy to say.”

“Yeah it is, doesn’t make it less true.” She ripped the meat in her hands apart with her fingertips.

Her rage had him on the defensive. “I wasn’t the only one there you know, I don’t see you going after Mofrim with this!”

She saw his deflection for what it was. “That’s because Mofrim isn’t a wimp.”

“B-but he still didn’t defend you!”

The thought made her sad, but not angry. “And I’m sure he had his own reasons for that. Maybe he agreed with him…”

“And I couldn’t?”

She went silent for a minute, taking that in. He regretted it instantly. Her emotions boiled. She pierced his mind loudly. “Are you saying you think I’m stupid too?”

“N-no! Not stupid, but-“ She should have head back when she knew she was exhausted. Her staying had been reckless, and since she hadn’t the energy to keep up with a fight, it made the situation more dangerous when she had to be pulled out of it. What he meant by these things was that she shouldn’t push herself so hard. The image of her on the bed had made him upset for her. But that was not what she understood, and her thoughts became far louder than his between their minds.

“How dare you?! Better to be stupid than a coward. Don’t you act mighty when we both know who you are. You’re pack, but I’m still your better, and we all know it. We’ve always seen it.”

Runiek usually wasn’t so mean and hurtful. She’d poke fun sure but this seemed out of place for her. He found himself shrinking in his chair at the onslaught. She was right of course, he thought, but she never had to say it. As upset as he was of this turn in her, he was deeply concerned for her all the same.

Rune never took kindly to concern. It seemed to her like condescension. It always set her off. Her thoughts ran wild. How dare he think that he was their equal now; kill one fucking bug, and suddenly not only did he own the place but he was looking down at her? Maybe he always did. She threw the rest of her meal in the waste bin and stamped out of the room.

But he didn’t feel that way, and he wanted her to know that, but she wasn’t listening to his feelings. She was too busy having her own.

He sighed at the now empty room. What could he do to have her listen to what he meant? She was beating herself up for what happened, but he couldn’t fix that. He sat for a few minutes in the silence before quietly gathering his things.

It was a sad start to the day. He did like Rune, even if she was mean sometimes. He just hoped that things could be made right between them. Maybe she just needed to cool off. But she had never been that mean to him before, at least, not directly. And maybe she was right about him.

And what if last night was just a once off? It's not like he had fundamentally changed. He just got lucky.

He wondered what the Elder would say to him. Perhaps it was some wisdom to share now that he showed potential. The thought made him smile a little bit, but Rune’s words stayed with him.

He got ready, dressing himself in a tunic and linen pants both the natural colour of oatmeal, with deep scarlet boots and matching cape with the family insignia on bronze clasps. He pulled on a pair of dark brown leather gloves as he went out the door as well. Even managing to brush his hair a little bit, his tussle of dark curls forming little ringlets which he pulled like springs in the mirror before moving on. He wanted to look his best for going to see the elder after all.

Down and around he wove through the various halls of the Bheorse house. The polished stone halls with etchings and tapestries added to it over their epic history. For once they didn’t seem to be looking down at him, but just watching. The eyes of the heroes seemed to be paying him active attention. He kept his head down and tried not to look at them.

The Elder’s door was open at the end of a long hallway so that he could watch a visitor's approach. It made the walk up to him feel exceptionally awkward. Cebrice bowed as he entered the room.

The old man wasn’t interested in the formalities, it seemed. Since Cebrice wasn’t able to read his mind, he couldn’t be sure. “Yes, yes, Cebrice is it? Sit down.”

Cebrice did as he was told. The seat was harder than he'd expected. The room of Elder Issik was a neat box of stone, covered in the heads of various creatures drilled into the walls. Paintings of violence and ancient battles were slid into any wall-space they would fit. His bookshelves were filled with poetry. Cebrice only got a glance before he was addressed further.

“You slept poorly, I see. I do hope your worries about your future performance are unfounded. You see, after your display last night, I believe you might have something to offer the Family. You’re nearly graduated your training now, aren't you? Yes. I propose to you a specialized training regimen for this year, after which, if you have proven yourself truly, you will be given a very important job and be respected by any who may cross you.”

It sounded amazing to Cebrice, but he worried about what it meant for this year. He would refuse if he had to be separated from his pack for it.

“Oh no, of course not,” Issik said without bothering to let Cebrice speak, “This would be work aside from your main studies with experts in the Family to help focus your communions. It would make you a better pack member. We try to have packs work together through their careers, and to have varied skills within each pack. A team’s bond is vital to what make the Bheorse effective.”

He tried at those words not to think of the fight he had with Runiek earlier. He clearly didn’t try hard enough.

“Oh that girl again. She is a fool. You must bring her back from all that nonsense, you and the rest of your pack. What a disappointment.”

Cebrice couldn't allow himself to let her down twice, not after she said that she would die for him. So he forced himself to speak, “No she-“

But Issik’s eyes bulged at the word. Cebrice’s words died in his throat.

“Oh?" Issik said in Cebrice's silence, "You are loyal to her? You would die for her like she says she’d die for you?" Cebrice started to feel ill. Issik continued to speak, "Dying for one’s pack is noble, but perhaps you misunderstand something truly vital...”

That illness grew into a sharp pain which pierced Cebrice's stomach with as much brutality as any dagger. Something was very wrong. His thoughts were a jumble. He couldn’t put a single thought right in his head, and started to sweat in a blind panic. His own body was at odds with itself. He wasn't sure if he was breathing. He wasn't sure of anything anymore. Where was he? His heart ached and he wanted to scream. He wasn't sure how.

Then, all of a sudden, Elder Issik slowly spoke again: “Loyalty has a hierarchy.” The experience disappeared.

He was there. Everything was fine. Loyalty had a hierarchy.

“You should know better than to be contrary to your Elder.”

Cebrice had to catch his breath. He clutched the arms of the chair to hold himself steady. Elder Issik took up a pitcher from his desk, filled an empty glass beside it with fresh water and handed it over to him.

Cebrice took it gladly and sipped it with nervous hands. How kind of the Elder to offer him this glass, after what he had done. A kindness, after that. His fear of retribution accompanied a keen sense of embarrassment. He was sure that he deserved that.

“Where were we,” Issik rubbed his beard casually, “Yes, that offer. Do you fancy that future within the Family? Or had you other plans? It was only an idea I had, after all.”

“I.. I’ll do it. Of course, yes, Elder.” Not only was the concept of saying no to him again at that moment inconceivable, but he was still keen to try to make something of himself. If he could.

“Good, good. Now, I will let you go. After all, you have to deal with the Dar Yi now, I pity you that,” he laughed.

Cebrice carefully got up, as if his body was more delicate than it had been before. The Elder watched him do so.

He had been wrong to contradict Elder Issik, and he regretted it. The sharp pain he had experienced he hadn't felt since they were much younger, not yet used to training, and not yet loyal enough. He pushed it out of his mind. He would not think of it. All he could do now was try to please him, to please the Family. Hopefully his new assignment would be something he could be good at. He focused on his excitement about it, whatever it would entail.

That's right. He had to go to the market from there. Maybe there was some way that he could use the chitin to make up to Runiek somehow. He did need to share the spoils with his pack, after all. He brainstormed as he moved, and the incident was buried a little deeper with every step he took.

Once he left the Bheorse Home, he followed the long road to the main Family gate. To either side he could see the small houses of the workers and their livestock in the distance. Some children were shouting at each other in the shadow of his Home, fighting over some toy or other until a nearby adult told them to share.

How strange it was to see the scene now that he was more grown up, almost to be assigned work by the Family. He couldn’t imagine now being without his magic, yet he spent his first 12 years without it. All those years, never knowing what others were thinking or feeling. Was he more lonely then? He could hardly remember, so much had changed since.

He followed a well-tread tunnel for a stretch with cerulean algae glowing along its walls to come to the opening out onto the largest pocket of the undercity.

The market was where all the families gathered. The pillar of the Church surveyed all of the families doing their business below. The market was divided up into segments, so that each family was given the same amount of space to sell their wares, but customers from any house were welcome to intermingle for trade. Every family specialized in different areas, so it made sense to arrange it so.

His path led him to the Bheorse stalls first, all red and bronze banners and butcheries. It smelled of cooked meat, raw metals and heady spices. There were small businesses which instead of being in stalls were in small shacks here and there. It was in those that more particular jobs for the family were procured in intimate dealings. It had been a while since they went to the market. He couldn’t remember the last time he went here on his own either.

A throng of people wove through the markets in every colour. It could have been easy to get lost. With so many people came so many thoughts, all clamouring against each other but without hearing.

Cebrice passed a few stalls selling fresh barbeque and his stomach rumbled. It reminded him of how little he’d eaten so far that day. He got himself a large rabbit kebob with bag of fried purple potato to nibble as he went through the stalls. He took a messy bite and felt a line of grease slide down his cheek. Ravenously he took another and followed it by pouring a bit from the bag of diced fried potato into his mouth directly. People not from the Bheorse family who were there to get their meats for the week moved slightly away from him as though his mess might land on them. Their minds were loud and self-absorbed things, and Cebrice found their constant foreign stream a little exhausting, but did his best to ignore it.

Cebrice wiped his cheek with his sleeve and tossed the remains of his late breakfast into a bin before he moved on to his goal there that day. The various banners painting the space would guide him.

The Bheorse were closest to the Sot’s market, filled with potions and tinctures and strange smells from the outdoor bars. Various charms and totems were hung up by the vendors. The Sot’s market was probably the loudest of them all, and probably one of the busiest with recreation being their main export.

Passing them were the Eazu in blue and white. People often went straight from the bars of the Sot family to the Eazu’s tents where healing could rid them of alcohol’s effects before going home to their units. The Eazu stalls were filled with their own good luck stalls with highly advertised signs lit up with magic. Fortune telling and appraisals were also done here, and the Eazu's gentle faces thanked the patrons for their payments. What they might call Kindness and Ambition, others called extortion.

The colour coding made finding the Dar Yi’s market easy. It was done up in silver with touches of black, and everything was polished to perfection. The Dar Yi moved with efficiency and seemed quite busy. The small Bheorse looked around in wonder. Their magic over matter had their wares floating through the air to be better seen by customers. The only thing they bothered touching with their hands was coin. Their stalls smelled of soap and soil. Vegetables, tools, and household essentials were their forte. Their farms were the largest in the underground, although all houses dabbled.

After a small bit of wandering, he saw the large exoskeleton arranged behind a stall selling furniture. A cloth across his table had the Dar Yi motto written on it, 'Integrity. Pragmatism'. Cebrice approached the salesperson to discuss what he wanted. He had gotten an idea of what to do with the chitin, and looked forward to putting it into action.