“So you’re alive after all.” Midday awoke to the sound of Glauster’s voice. The 15-year-old sounded tired and maybe even a little distraught. Judging from the scythe on his back, Midday assumed he had just gotten back from the fields. “We had a feeling that was the case, but nobody knew for sure last night. Gork and Romulo even went out to look for you.”

“And you stayed here?” Midday sat up and gave Glauster a weak smile. He had gone straight to Netari’s territory on the night before, not bothering to visit the cabin and explain his intentions to anyone. Midday reckoned Romulo had probably been able to guess what had happened but had ended up playing along with Gork to avoid rousing suspicion about his involvement with Netari.

“Damn right.” Glauster set his scythe down by his bed and sat down at the bedside. “You and I are alike in that regard, I think. So alike that I know better than to ask where the hell you were last night because you would just lie to my face without a shred of remorse.”

“Maybe so.” Midday sat up, feeling somewhat—though not entirely—refreshed after having slept for a good handful of hours. “How was work?”

“Pretty standard. Not really sure how much there is to say on that front.” Glauster sighed. “That said, there is some news you ought to hear about…” He looked down at a cockroach scampering across the floor and brought his foot down on it, killing the unsuspecting bug in one fell swoop.

“Oh?” Midday rolled out of bed and walked over to the center of the cabin where the short wooden table they had most of their conversations at. It was so low to the ground that it would have been impossible to slide a chair into. He sat down cross-legged and turned his eyes to Glauster, who had also seated himself at the table.

“It’s about Jenjo’s boss—or, rather, it’s about the boss of Jenjo’s boss.”

“The boss… of Jenjo’s boss? The chain of command goes that high?”

“Of course it does.” He frowned. “After all, Elvanera Group is one of the largest independent organizations in the region—probably only beaten out by The Coalition in terms of influence—and the plantation is just one of several divisions under their umbrella, so it goes without saying that the hierarchy of people running this thing is convoluted as hell.” He chuckled under his breath. “And Jenjo, that fucker, is just a worthless grunt doing grunt work for the people who actually matter. There are probably like 5 tiers of management between him and the real bigshots… So we’re really just ants, aren’t we?”

“Something like that.” Midday sighed. He had known that the plantation was just one aspect of Elvanera Group—albeit still probably the most important one—but he rarely thought about the fact that the organization was so much more than that. The sheer scale of their operations was impossible for a peasant from an isolated village with a population of less than a hundred to fathom. He sat still for a moment, trying to conceptualize just how big Elvanera Group truly was, before finally giving up with a sigh. “So, what’s the big news about the boss of Jenjo’s boss?”

“Siempre Elvanera, head administrator of Neighborhoods 7 through 12, will be visiting our section of Neighborhood 8 tomorrow. I saw the announcement in the fields today… it was painted onto the side of a giant airship.”

“Damn.” Midday had only seen an airship twice in his life: both times while working out in the wheat fields. They were an incredibly rare sight, even in the wealthiest parts of the Kingmaker Plains, and they were generally considered a technological marvel beyond what could generally be produced in the region. The only reliable way to get them, according to an old conversion with Gork, was to import them from a technologically advanced city called Xixecal—which was supposedly located several thousand miles away in one of the regions that bordered the Kingmaker Plains. Needless to say, the fact that Elvanera Group had access to airships was not to be taken lightly. “So… why is someone so important coming here?”

“Some of the more experienced slaves said that Siempre does an in-person survey of all the Neighborhoods they manage twice per year.”

“I see… And is there going to be anything special happening tomorrow?”

“You probably already guessed that there’ll be an assembly tomorrow evening, after everyone finishes work but, beyond that, it sort of just depends on how the dice roll.”

“Can’t you say that about pretty much anything?”

“Sure, but, like, I didn't mean that metaphorically. From what I’ve been hearing, this guy literally carries around a set of hundred-sided dice that he forces people to roll in order to determine their fates.” Glauster grinned. “I should add that this is the dude who came up with the three strikes wheel. It should go without saying that he’s known to be completely unhinged.”

“Fucking hell.”

“Fucking hell is right… and the worst part is that Jenjo wasn’t expecting him to come tomorrow. He canceled tonight’s Weekly Fight Club so that he could make a bunch of last-minute preparations.”

“I see.” Midday sighed. “So I guess that means you three will be here at the cabin tonight?”

“I have no clue about the others but, as for me, I’ll be at Oolong’s tonight. I want to get whatever information I can about this Siempre Elvanera fellow, and Oolong is the person to ask. I just need to whip up some sort of treat for him before I head out. That’s how you get on his good side, you know.”

“Oolong, huh? As in Oolong Tea? You’re in cahoots with someone like that?” Midday sighed. Oolong was known throughout the area for one simple reason: the geezer was the highest-level individual in the Neighborhood at an astonishing level 23. It was a number surpassing the likes of even someone like Jenjo—though Jenjo was still far, far stronger than him as a result of developing his Abilities for combat as opposed to the art of brewing delicious beverages. “Damn shame I’ll never get to appreciate his signature tea.”

“Hah, well, if it makes you feel any better, I still haven’t gotten to try it either. That beverage is way too powerful for any sensible person to give away freely. You’ve got to be in his inner circle before he even thinks about offering it to you. That’s how he keeps his people loyal to him.”

“So you’re sucking up to him in hopes of becoming his lapdog? Just how good is this drink?”

“His Dusk Night Dawn Tea is said to boost the effectiveness of sleep by a factor of 3—meaning that one can get 3 hours of energy with only 1 hour of rest.” A fiendish grin spread across Glauster’s face. “It’s a special-grade recipe that Oolong invented, and only he knows how to brew it… but, hypothetically speaking, if he let his guard down and a certain someone stole his recipe and then subsequently learned how to make it for themselves, that hypothetical individual would be able to create a faction of their own centered around the production and subsequent sale of the beverage. They would go from being a total no-name to one of the wealthiest slaves in the Neighborhood. With Romulo’s protection—which this person would be all but guaranteed to receive in exchange for access to the drink—nobody would be able to make a move against this person without risking their lives.”

Midday gazed up at the ceiling, admiring his cabinmate for having the same sort of ambition that he had. “And just how long have you been working at this little scheme of yours?”

“A few weeks.”

“And how’s progress been?”

“Steady. Oolong likes me well enough for the time being.”

“I see. Let me know if I can do anything to assist you with that.”

Glauster shrugged. “Not sure if you can, but I’ll let you know if I think of something.”

“Sounds good to me.” Midday shrugged too. He was busy enough as it was and, though he hoped that Glauster would be successful so that he might gain access to the special-grade tea the boy had described, he had enough on his plate as it was.

“Alright, well, I guess I’ll get to work on whipping up something for Oolong then. The sooner I start the better.” Glauster rose to his feet. “I’m off to collect some ingredients. See you soon.” He grabbed a pouch off the nook above the fireplace and left without another word.

Midday sat there at the table for a few minutes longer to make sure that Glauster would be out of the area by the time he left and, after peeking through a crack in the wall to make sure the coast was clear, he too left the cabin, setting off towards his garden to have another blackberry feast.