Sam had no idea what time it was when they arrived at Hope. He had somehow fallen asleep, despite the grinding discomfort from the horse’s spine. Sam only woke when Dave kicked him. Sam snorted as he inhaled a sharp breath, checking the situation with the floating eye above him. It looked like it was mid afternoon, and the city gate was behind them. Sam heard the bustle of the city as the troupe of twenty clopped down the cobbled stones, the wagons rolling behind them.

The citizens of the capitol shied away from the dangerous looking men as they made their way through the streets toward a landmark that Sam recognized. The tower rose up like a thorn from the earth, stretching into the sky as if to make it bleed. They offloaded him inside the tower and stood him in front of a small, bespeckled man.

“We found a man who Molted, caught him in a wagon train right after an Elfstorm, looking as fine as you please.”

“How do you know for sure he’s Molted? Could he have found the site same as you?” The bookish man said, his voice slightly muffled by the sack over Sam’s head. “And why does he have that over his head?”

“He’s a biter, and aren’t you the one to tell us for certain?” Dave said..

“Watch your tone, fool,” The little man said, casting a condescending look up at Dave.

That was odd. The thin, balding, hawk nosed little man sounded like he believed he could take on all six of Dave’s men that had managed to squeeze into his little office at the base of the tower and fit them through the mail slot. From their expressions, maybe he could.

Sam checked out of the conversation, directing his floating eye to check out the contents of the man’s desk. Mostly stationary, with a fancy glass and steel paperweight. Looked kind of like polished metal candleholder with a glass candle in the center. On closer inspection, Sam saw some kind of fluid inside the glass tube. Weird.

Sam directed the eye down beneath the desk, checking for any weapons or emergency switches the man might have in case someone tried to rob him, but didn’t see any. No bell or lever to summon the guards. It seemed pretty lackluster for an exchange that was going to involve Sam’s weight in gold. That lead a bit of plausibility to the idea that the aged librarian had molted several times himself, making him more dangerous than the thugs in front of him, which Sam found amusing. Sam cracked a smile under the hood.

“Alright, you with the hood, hold this.” the clerk said, picking up the glass candle and pushing it into Sam’s grip. At first, nothing happened, then the steel in Sam’s palm began to feel a little warmer, and bubbles started making their way up the tube. A measuring device, neat, Sam thought as his disembodied eye watched the bubbles come faster and faster.

“Alright, it looks like…” the bookish man’s words trailed off as the bubbles kept growing faster and larger, causing the interior of the glass candle to be more air than liquid. He snatched the measuring tool out of Sam’s hands.

“Show me his face.” He said, his voice grim.

Dave looked a bit miffed, but he complied, untying the chord and yanking the bag off of Sam’s head. The light hit Sam’s eyes, and he dismissed the floating eye, squinting as his own adjusted to the lighting in the office. It was an odd feeling, being stuck back in a human’s limited field of view. Better not get too used to using that spell, or he might suffer in a situation where he couldn’t use it.

The clerk carefully looked at Sam’s ears, eyes and cheeks, he lifted Sam’s chin and tapped his collarbone a few times with his fingertips.

“I don’t believe it,” he said, watching Sam with trepidation. “If I didn’t examine him myself, I would have sworn you brought me an elf. This here, this is an aberration.”

“How much is he worth?” Dave asked, directing his question at the man who was continuing to study Sam, biting his lip in concentration.

“Worth his weight in gold, at least. Although I’ll have to bring in a superior to verify and sign off on the transfer.” The clerk leapt to the other side of the room and opened a flap on the wall, exposing a brass tube. He shouted something into it before turning back to them.

“Do I get a say in this?” Sam asked as Dave’s men devolved into whoops of joy and celebratory high-fives.

“No.”

“Don’t be afraid, you’ve been delivered to us by a higher power to serve Tyranus’s will. Your power will usher in an era of peace and purity for humanity.”

Sam rolled his eyes.

“I have other places to be.” Sam said.

“Shut up!” Dave shouted, smacking Sam in the back of the head with the butt of a knife.

“Nooo!” The clerk shouted, waving his arms and coming as close to panicked as Sam had seen. “Don’t hurt him. And you friend, if you are taken in here, every need of yours will be taken care of by the state. Worry not for your family, they will be provided a stipend and moved within a stone’s throw of the tower. You will never have another worry, for the rest of your days, and if I’m right about you, your children and your children’s children will lead the charge toward glory for the human race under the banner of our Savior. Our lord will bestow great favor upon you.”

“Yeeeah…” Sam said. “I kinda burnt my bridges with him the last time we met...”

“Out of the way, scum,” an imperious voice came from behind Dave’s assembled crowd, causing Sam to wince. The rough and tumble young men jumped out of Maria’s way as if they had startled by a poisonous snake by their ankles, slithering past, indifferent to their panic. Sam took a deep breath and tried the one thing he could think of to avoid a confrontation: change his appearance.

“Which one is it?” Maria asked, coming to stand beside the clerk, her brown eyed gaze passing over them once, then returning to the clerk.

Sam struggled to keep his breathing calm. One person was easier to affect with an illusion than a large fraction of a group, after all. As long as the clerk didn’t mention any defining characteristics, to Maria, Sam would look like a mountain of a man with much fairer skin, and a different facial structure. Still naked though.

“Why is he naked… It doesn’t matter, show me the reading.” The clerk jammed the steel and glass candle back into Sam’s hand, which began to froth the liquid inside the candle. After watching it maintain a steady roil for a few minutes, Maria looked back up and Sam.

“Oh, my. Yes, authorize the payment, and publicize it. We want to be sure the public is incentivized to bring us treasures such as these.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” The clerk bowed and returned to his desk filling out paperwork, before handing a receipt to Dave. “Take that to the vault.” Sam snuck a glance at the receipt and saved a snapshot to his implant in the newly made Tower folder, under good shit to know. The clerk then began getting each of the men’s life stories, jotting down notes in order to publicize and aggrandize their achievement.”

“You, come with me.” Maria commanded, and Sam’s bonds untied themselves with a snap of her fingers. She strutted past Sam, a light smirk dawning on her face. In a moment, Maria was out the door, leaving Sam standing in the center of the room. Sam shared a glance with Dave and shrugged, clomping to catch up.

Maria walked in front of Sam, extolling Tyranus’s virtues as a god, how all magic flowed from him, how he had created the world, how they gained power simply from proximity with the dragon, how Sam would find that other initiates, and Maria would prove very receptive to him.

“Wait,” Sam said, interrupting her. “What do you mean, we gain power from being close to him?”

“I’m glad you’re curious, it makes for an excellent student, but some questions must be tempered by respect for your betters, or it will do you harm.” Maria said with a steel edge to her voice. Sam rolled his eyes.

“As for your question, surely you noticed the smooth walls of the tower, the way it seems to be grown from the ground, like the thorn of a rose?”

Sam nodded, then realized she couldn’t see him, walking in front of him as she was. “Yes, I noticed.”

“This tower was conjured, pulled from the very stone above our lord’s chamber, and the mineral lacing through it serves to insulate and contain the power that radiates from him, so that he may live in the city among us, without causing harm to his people.”

“So it’s like a chimney.” Sam said, things starting to click. As far as Sam was aware after running a casual search of a million memories, no being from beyond the gate radiated magic until it died. What did make sense was leylines.

Leylines hadn’t existed on earth, but Sam had heard accounts of them on occasion. Lines of power where the magic that had seeped into the earth flowed. Six hundred years ago they hadn’t existed, but after half a millennia of magic spilling from the gates onto the soil, they had coalesced. Maybe they had always been there, and the addition of magic was like adding a drop of food coloring to an otherwise invisible current.

If a person in normal magical atmosphere was a cup in the rain, standing on a leyline would be like standing in a significantly heavier downpour. If someone were to find a confluence and build a funnel on top of it, it would be like standing under a waterfall. That explained Maria’s eight molts.

It also explained why Tyranus lived there and fit with why he needed elves. Even spending every night at such a powerful source, he was only maintaining an equilibrium. When he left his lair, the magic in him would rapidly begin to exhaust itself, reducing until it matched the equilibrium of the outside world. In order to Molt again, he needed to stay in that chamber, shore up the magic inside him, and when it was time, sacrifice thousands of elves to make one last push, forcing himself into a Molt.

Then how did Tyranus expect to molt again afterwards? His Yuenan would become so large that he would need to consume a nation of elves in order to fuel another Molt, and they sure as hell didn’t breed fast enough. Sam thought back to his vision again, and one word crossed his mind: Livestock.

Humans bred fast enough. Breed a strain of humans with enormous reservoirs of power, high fertility, but short lives, and you had the perfect dragon’s farm animal. As far as Sam was aware from his other memories though, a dragon spurned civilization, living in a cave, accosting men and elves, stealing whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted. From that standpoint, Tyranus was a freakish aberration.

Sam imagined the dragon donning an enormous straw hat and chewing a fifteen foot stalk of bamboo while watching humans breed. It was a ridiculous image, but possibly not too far from the truth. There were a few ways to shed more light on Sam’s suspicions, though.

“Can I visit my children, once we’re done? Sam asked.

“You have children?” Maria said, her interest piqued, causing her to turn and stare at him mid-spiel about Tyranus’s greatness.

“Yes Ma’am, I haven’t been back home in days, and I’m worried sick about them.” Sam said, furrowing his brow and pouting in his best display of parental concern. It probably wasn’t convincing, as Sam hadn’t had a lot of time to practice it, but Maria was blinded by mention of his progeny.

“Of course, tell us where they are, and we’ll fetch them for you. They can share your accomodations. In fact, if any children you have share your… aptitude, you’ll be well-rewarded, and they’ll be cared for the rest of their lives.” Yep. Livestock.

What Maria failed to mention was that if any of Sam’s children didn’t share his aptitude, they would most likely die of a fever in a matter of days, sharing a room with him in this chimney that essentially baked magicians. Or smoked them like jerky, Sam supposed.

“As Headmistress of The Tower of Blessing, it’s one of my duties to see that the families of initiates are well-cared for.” So they can make more initiates, Sam added in his mind.

“Nevermind Maria,” Sam said. “I’ve heard enough.”

“What?” Maria asked, confusion and a hint of irritation written on her face. “How do you know my name?”

“My name’s Sam. We’ve met.” At that, Sam dropped the illusion. Sam had lost a lot of muscle mass, starved and strapped to the back of the horse, but Maria’s eye widened in alarm. Sam was honored. After all, he’d left an impression.

She inhaled, and Sam slapped a hand over her mouth. “I think you should know by now, Maria, that what I said about being a relic of humanity was true, given how badly I injured your god. I’m a warrior created by ancient Man to safeguard and enforce the interests of the rich and powerful. If you’re as zealous about the cause of humanity as you sound, then you should listen to what I have to say. Can you do that?”

Maria’s eyes narrowed, but she made no motion to attack him, so Sam gingerly removed his palm from her mouth. “You did no such thing, Thief. Our lord was wounded in battle, defeating a demon. A fragment of a rival god.”

“I’m sure you saw that fight with your own two eyes.” Sam said, his mood turning sour. Of course Tyranus wouldn’t admit that a human had nearly killed him. Better to describe it as a titanic struggle that mortals had no hope of interceding with or affecting the outcome of.

“As the most powerful of my lord’s healers, I had the honor of being called upon to aid in his recovery.” Mariah said, trying to look down her nose at him. It was hard to do, given his height. “His wounds were not something a mortal could inflict.”

“Oh yeah?” Sam asked. “Did you find any metal in his shoulder? Wood shards in his jaw? Maybe of the same kind as the rods I stole from your room?”

Maria blanched. “How did you know that?” she asked, her voice low.

“Because I was there!” Sam said. “That was your rod, I did wound your god, and he’s not a god, and he certainly doesn’t have human’s best interests at heart!”

“Watch your tone, Infidel! You know nothing!”

Sam grabbed her shoulders and stared into Maria’s eyes.

“I’m only going to ask you once. If your god’s interests ran counter to that of humanity, if he intended to sacrifice you all to serve his selfish ambitions, would you side with him, or with humanity?”

“Surely I cannot comprehend his will-“

“It’s not a complicated question!”

Mariah’s jaw set in stone, and her eyes turned cold. “I will always serve my lord.”

“I guess I’ve got my answer,” Sam said, stepping back from her and turning away, his peg leg clacking against the stone floor. “I’m leaving.”

“You’re not going to strike me down?” Maria asked.

“Are you going to make me?” Sam asked, glancing over his shoulder with a raised brow.

Maria chewed her lip in thought.

“…If you truly seek to aid Man, then your path will eventually lead you to ally with Tyranus. You simply need to be educated with the proper belief I will wait until such a time as you come to your senses.”

“Because you don’t think I can hurt him?” Sam asked. “Do yourself a favor and pretend I knocked you out and escaped again, your dragon god isn’t a particularly forgiving sort. I’d do it myself, but I’m not in the mood.”

Sam chuckled, turning forward and clomping down the hall, intent on the vault.

The vault was a massive steel door behind a modest desk attached to an iron cage. Sam snagged a piece of paper from a nearby shelf while the clerk wasn’t looking and clomped forward. When Sam drew close, the sound of his wooden peg drew the clerk’s attention.

“Why are you naked?”

“Long story. Guy back in receiving told me to give you this.” Sam said, giving the man the paper, an illusion cast on it duplicating the receipt written for Sam’s capture. Sam considering modifying the details, but he truly had no idea what kind of stuff was in the vault, and if he made a note asking for something that wasn’t there, or that he couldn’t have, he would be inspected more critically.

“Oh, wow, looks like you got lucky,” he said, his eyes widening at the amount written on the receipt. After a moment inspecting it, he nodded and went back to the vault, returning with a wooden crate on a trolley.

It seemed as though Dave and his men hadn’t finished with the clerk yet, eager as he was to get their story, otherwise, the man would have made a bigger deal out of the same exact payout twice in one day. The clerk pried the top off in front of Sam, and his eyes were struck by the gleam of gold bars.

“There’s your reward, two hundred pounds of gold.” The clerk said, his gaze lingering on the gold for a moment before he snapped to attention. “Would you like a trolley or cart to take them out of the tower or perhaps exchange a certain amount of your prize for land and a noble title?” The clerk pulled out a pad of papers detailing plots of land and their value, sliding it across the desk toward him.

“What’s your name?” Sam asked.

“Heath.”

“Well Heath, where I’m going, two hundred pounds of gold is going to do me a lot more harm than good, what I really need is a way to protect myself. Do you understand?”

“I’m sure you can buy plenty of gear in town, you’re a rich man now!” Heath said with a friendly smile.

“How would you like to be rich, Heath? Sam asked.

“Well, of course I’d like it, but what does that all have to do with each other?” The young man’s smile faltered, and his brows furrowed.

Sam put a finger on his temple. “Look, I’m just gonna spell it out for you, kid. I want to buy magical shit from you, using this two hundred pounds of gold. You make the things turn up missing, or checked out by a friend who you bribe, I give you the gold to do that with, and you end up rich.”

Sam was thinking of the two rods he’d stole from Maria last time. If there were more kept anywhere, they would most likely be in the vault.

“That’s… I don’t know…”

“Give me one of the bars.” Sam said. The young man handed him one of the bars through the opening above his desk, about ten pound of gold.

“Look, get me two things to increase my survivability, and you keep everything in that crate. Take it home. It’s yours.”

He looked at the gold, practically drooling, his eyes unfocused. “Survivability… yeah, um… yeah, I can get something for that.” The kid jogged back into the vault and came back with a golden amulet and a beetle-eaten staff with intricate patterns worn into its wood.

“These aren’t popular with journymen and masters, because they don’t focus Tyranus’s power, aid in it’s recovery, or have a spell enchanted, but the amulet draws from the bearer’s Wellspring to make the man’s skin more sturdy, and the staff…” The clerk tapped the staff against the deck, and a small thunderclap sounded. “Hits harder than it seems.”

“And these are the least likely to be missed?” Sam asked, and the young man nodded. “Then they’re perfect.” Sam donned the necklace and took the staff. It felt light as air in his hands, especially compared to the ironwood crook Linquala had made for him, but he was thankful for a walking stick to shore up his clumsy gait.

“Heath, there wouldn’t happen to be any magical prosthetic feet in there?” The clerk shook his head. “Didn’t think so.” Sam turned to leave.

“Just a second,” The clerk called after him. “The amulet has a very low rate of consumption given the simple enchantment worked into it, but an average person can only wear that amulet for twelve hours in a day, after that, the amulet will lower in effectiveness, and they will begin to feel extremely fatigued.”

“Not a problem.” Sam said.

“The staff on the other hand is demanding. Don’t empower a strike more than three times in a day or you may collapse. And if you died because of that, it would certainly defeat the point.”

“All that’s for an average person?” Sam asked.

Heath nodded.

“Thanks for the warning.” Sam said, signing the visitor log while Heath took the crate of gold to the vault, presumably to squirrel it away for after his shift was over. S4MDS 0003 Sam signed the paper before turning and clomping away.

Sam left the room and came face to face with Dave and the half dozen men who’d followed him into the tower.

“Dave, just the guy I wanted to see.”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Just picked up the reward for putting up with your dumb asses for two weeks, two hundred pounds of gold, signed one Darrin Greenwater.” Sam said, leaning on the staff.

Dave pulled the receipt out of his vest and glanced at it. The old man was quick.

“You bastard, what did you do?” Dave shouted, while the rest of his men glanced at each other, brows furrowed in confusion. Dave’s hand snaked down to the handle on his waist and Sam spotted the moment to act.

With a flick of his wrist, Sam tapped the beetle-ridden wood against Dave’s hand. Lightly, Lightly… with a concussive blast, Dave’s hand crumpled, the sword handle bent, jammed into his hip, which gave out under the force. The old man was slammed to the ground, shaking in breathless pain.

“At no point during our trip did you ever have control of the situation,” Sam said, watching Dave struggle to stand. “Since I was headed to this tower anyway, I figured the reward for my capture was something I earned by virtue of allowing you to capture me. Besides, you’re murdering thieves and the power behind this city is worse, so I figured what the hell, I can certainly use the gold better than either of you.”

Sam glanced up at the six men in the hall, and leveled the staff at the breast of one who seemed to be inching forward. “If the six of you like being able to move your arms and legs, I suggest you move aside.”

Dave’s six minions looked down at their boss, who was still trying to stand, his hip unable to bear his weight, then they flattened themselves against the far side of the hall. Sam walked past them, watching his back with his floating eye in case someone got brave. Sam’s clomping gait echoed down the hall, and not a single one of Dave’s men tried anything. Sam dismissed the eye when he turned the corner.

Sam stepped out into the street, past two startled guards, and took a deep breath, gold bar in one hand and staff in the other, and not a scrap of clothing between them. Sam hefted the bar. It was time to find a tailor.

Despite hundreds of double takes and whispered comments, Sam was never stopped, and within an hour, finally had some clothes. Sam walked out the gate of the city before nightfall, turning west toward the location of the Factory, embroidered green and black silk robes billowing in the warm wind. At least it wasn’t a toga made from a bedsheet.

At walking speed, the factory was three days away.