The switchbacks up to the castle seemed longer than usual. But then again, they always did. The portcullis immediately rattled open as Grim led his men up the final approach. Grim looked up at the walls. The sentry seemed oddly attentive today. He walked through the gates, a nervous tingle running down his spine as he forced himself not to look at the spikes hovering above his head. The soldiers inside shot him guarded looks, likely taking in the dried blood covering Grim. Most wouldn’t meet his eyes. He supposed they already received word of what happened today.

Grim raised his hand in a clenched fist to signal a halt and turned to the men following him. Billy had yet to return from burying the bodies, so he addressed Edgar. “Make sure everyone gets some rest and something to drink,” he said, pulling his coin purse from his belt and tossing it to Edgar.

Edgar nodded, a forced smile on his lips. “Can do. Are we dismissed?”

Grim nodded and raised his voice to address the group at large. “Dismissed!”

The soldiers immediately fell out, heading straight to the barracks. Edgar lingered. “You did what you had to do, and everybody made it home. Focus on the small victories. It’s what’ll keep you sane in this line of work.” He patted Grim on the shoulder and followed the men into the Barracks.

Grim numbly watched him go. He was emotionally drained and wanted nothing more than to have a drink and go to bed. He turned to enter the Keep, but was intercepted by a Briar Guard. The man’s steel plate and golden brooch shined in the sunlight. He came to a stop in front of Grim.

Grim raised an eyebrow.

“Earl wants to see you,” the man said.

Grim sighed. “Alright. I’ll head there straight away.”

The man nodded and brushed past Grim, walking through the open portcullis and into town. Grim walked to the keep doors. He made his way inside and passed the long defensive corridor to the iron door at the end. He was surprised when its hinges began to squeal as it was pulled open before him. Grim stepped through. The two guardsmen inside saluted him fist over heart and head bowed, in the Rillish fashion. Grim nodded at them as he passed, and the men relaxed.

That was unusual. Grim made his ways through the halls. Servants who used to wave and say hello, shrunk away from him and clung to the opposite wall as he passed. The darkness of the halls matched his mood as he found the stairwell and ascended the steps two at a time. He ran into a pair of nobles on his way up and roughly shoved them out of his way. Curses followed him the rest of the way to the fifth floor.

He came onto the floor and was surprised to see Ilyena down the hall waiting outside Father’s door. His eyes met hers and she averted her gaze as she walked to meet him halfway. Grim was surprised when she embraced him in a hug. It’d been a few years. Hesitantly, he wrapped his arms around her. He felt tears come to his eyes unbidden and he blinked them away.

“I’m sorry,” she said, slowly releasing him.

Blood from his clothes stained her garb and a streak of red ran across her pale cheek. She hardly seemed to notice. He tried to wipe it away with his hand but only managed to smear it.

Grim was silent a long moment while she wiped the blood with the sleeve of her dress. “What could you possibly like about those people?” he asked.

Ilyena hesitated. Then finally met his eyes. “They’re just people Grim.”

Grim shook his head and walked past her but she grabbed his arm. She lowered her voice. “The Sons tried to send you a message. Father knows. And if I’m not mistaken, there’s a very tiny surprise waiting for you in your room.”

Grim paled. The day just seemed to keep getting worse. “Thanks.”

Ilyena grabbed his hand and squeezed, then let him go. Grim walked down the hall to his Father’s door. He paused outside the oaken edifice. The last thing he wanted to do was face his father and talk about what he had done. Grim raised his hand to the door and knocked.

“Come in.”

Grim pushed open the heavy door, its hinges squeaking in protest. The Earl sat in his usual position by the fire, but stood as Grim entered the room. A cloth bundle was in his hand. Grim approached and the Earl held the bundle out to him. Grim took it from the Earl and unwrapped the covering. The glint of gold shined in the firelight. It was one of the brooches worn by the Earl’s Briar Guards. Twisted vines of gold wrapped around each other with thorns sharp enough to cut, forming the sigil of his house.

Grim looked up to his father. “I can’t take this. Not for that.”

The Earl shook his head and Grim caught a hint of sadness in the man’s hard eyes. “You have to. This city has never had a Justicar who wasn’t a Briar Guard. Longreen made a mockery of one of our most sacred traditions. Such things were never meant to be a show.”

Grim closed his fist around the brooch, feeling its thorns prick his skin but not caring. “And yet, here we are.”

Rodger Thorne nodded. “And yet, here we are.”

A silence followed and for once Grim was grateful for it.

The Earl spoke first. “You probably don’t want to hear this, but you did well today.”

“I did my duty. What you told me to do. They treated me like an animal.”

“Animals are born of impulses. Men reject them. The ability to choose is what makes a man. I made a mistake in letting him take you, but it’s too late for regrets.”

“Plenty of time for regrets. All the time in the world.” Grim took a step closer to his father. “Now how do we make him regret this?”

“We don’t. You know what will happen If I get involved. I’ll not risk making matters worse.”

“Coward.”

The Earl’s nostrils flared, and he turned from Grim, walking back toward his chair and taking a seat by the fire. “You’re by no means the first to call me that, only the first to say it to my face in a long time.”

“Maybe you should be reminded more often.”

A scowl pierced the calm façade on the Earl’s face. “Don’t test my patience boy. You speak of things you know nothing about.”

Grim followed his father to the chairs and stood before him. “Then educate me.”

The Earl regarded Grim for a long moment, his grey eyes probing and searching for something Grim could not comprehend. “Where do you think the bread, you eat comes from Grim? The wheat to make the beer you’re so fond of? The grapes for wine? The grains for porridge?”

Grim blinked in surprise. That wasn’t what he was expecting. He shrugged.

The Earl closed his eyes. “You’ve probably never seen a farm in your life have you Grim?”

Grim shook his head. “I don’t see what this has to do with anything.”

“If you listened for a moment or paid attention to something other than the bottom of your tankard for more than a second then maybe you would.”

Grim scowled and the Earl continued. “Do you know why we used to raid the southlands?” Grim shook his head. “Because we were starving. Our land is harsh. Desolate. Nothing grows here. Only so many people can live off the sea and from herding. I’m sure you’ve heard how many men died in the war. What you don’t know is what happened when the rest came home. Our population exploded and grain from the south came pouring in to support it.”

The Earl ran a hand across the stubble lining his jaw. “Do you know what would happen if that trade dried up?”

Grim swallowed. “Famine.”

“It’d be an unmitigated disaster and make our losses in the war look like a petty border skirmish. There’s hundreds of thousands of people your age spread across the Rills. More than there ever has been. We could start the bloodiest war the world has ever seen, but we’d all be dead by winter.”

A long silence fell over the room. The Earl leaned back into his chair and Grim fell into the one beside him, suddenly thinking of all the carts of grain that were always lined up outside the city walls. “Fuck me,” he whispered.

Rodger Thorne sighed. “I’m not telling you to not take vengeance. I’m only saying to take care in how you find it. You’re a Briar Guard now and that means you now represent me more than ever. And it means you must take the oath.”

“Now?”

“Now.”

Grim rose to his feet and the Earl followed suit. Rodger held out his hand and Grim placed the briar brooch back in the man’s hand. The Earl regarded it solemnly for a moment before drawing his belt knife. He drew the blade across his hand. Blood welled up from the cut and he pressed the wounded hand to the brooch, covering its pristine surface in blood. Grim had seen the process a dozen times but never thought he would be on the receiving end. It was the highest honor his father could bestow, and he knew he hadn’t earned it.

“Kneel.”

Grim knelt.

“Give me your hand.”

Grim reached out his hand and the Earl placed the brooch in his palm.

“Now grasp it. Hard.”

Grim hesitated a moment before squeezing his hand into a fist. The sharp thorns on the brooch pierced his skin. Blood dripped freely from his hand.

“Do you swear to serve our Order until the Reaper takes you?”

“I do.”

“Will you uphold the law in my name and that of my descendants.”

“I will”

“Will you honor the Reaper in all her glory and do her work in my name?”

“I will.”

“Would you stand by my side against the darkness in men’s souls?”

“I would.”

The Earl nodded slowly. “Then rise.”

Grim rose to his feet and unclenched his fist which was now covered in blood. The thorns tugged at his flesh as they exited, and it felt as if they writhed. The sensation mingled with the pain sent chills down his spine.

The Earl put a hand on Grim’s shoulder. “We are now twice bonded by blood. Don’t forget your oaths Grim and nobody will ever call you a boy again.” His father removed the hand. “I sent a messenger to Longreen saying I require your services tomorrow.”

“What do you want me to do?”

The Earl glanced at Grim’s hand. “Get that seen to. There’s plenty of time for talk tomorrow.”

Grim nodded and turned to the door. Before he opened it, the Earl called out to him. “Grim, be careful.” Grim looked over his shoulder at his father. The man’s eyes bored into him giving weight to the gravity of his words.

He glanced at the brooch in his hand. “Thank you.”

The Earl made no response, only turning back toward the fire and staring into its flames.

***

Something poked at his side. He groaned at the unpleasant sensation and immediately started to cough. Something wet dripped from his mouth. Kid opened bleary eyes and saw a ceiling made of stone. He tried to sit up and fell when his muscles screamed in protest. Soreness mingled with a burning sensation that took his breath away. Divines, everything hurt. Then the memories of the tunnels started to come back to him. The burned flesh peeling off the boy’s skull. The slimy feeling of flesh and vomit. The burning air.

“What the hell happened to you?” a voice asked.

Kid turned his head to follow the voice and saw a bear of a man standing over him. His face seemed fixed into a grimace and blood stained his fine clothes, giving him a grisly appearance. Kid shrank away, trying to melt into the floor. His eyes were fixed on the man’s axe. He saw death.

When the man didn’t make a move to hurt him, Kid calmed enough to think. He tried to speak but his voice failed him. He struggled to get a single word out.

“Water,” he rasped.

The man took a waterskin attached to his belt and tossed it to the floor next to Kid. It sloshed as it hit the stone. Kid made a titanic effort to sit up, his muscles groaning in protest as he pulled the skin to his lips.

He drank deeply and gagged on the contents. He sputtered and spat out the liquid. That wasn’t water. The man standing above him chuckled darkly. “I’ll get you some water. I’d say don’t run, but you look like you could hardly walk.”

Kid watched the man leave the room while he concentrated on getting his breathing under control. His throat burned, his hands were bloody, and everything was covered in soot. His fingers hurt as much as the rest of his body did combined. Everything felt uncomfortably warm and ached. He shuddered at the memory of his crawl.

His throat was so dry, he was having trouble breathing. Kid's eyes found the wineskin. He licked his lips before he lifted it to his mouth and began to drink deeply of the liquid. The wine burned his throat painfully, but instinct urged him on. He needed to drink something, anything.

By the time the man returned bearing two buckets of water, Kid was lying motionless on the cool stone. The empty wineskin sat beside him, and the world was starting to get hazy. The man set the buckets down beside Kid and picked up the empty skin. “Divines boy. You’re going to have one hell of a night.”

He grabbed Kid by the collar of his uniform and pulled him upright. “C’mon you need to drink some water. That wine isn’t going to actually help.”

Kid’s was starting to feel lightheaded and some of his pain began to feel blunted. He nodded as the man lifted one of the buckets up and tilted it toward him. He put his lips to the wooden rim and began to drink as the cool liquid entered his mouth. His throat was instantly soothed, prompting him to drink more and more.

The man abruptly took it away from his lips. Kid cried out in protest. “No!” he yelled, finding his voice.

“Calm down. The water’s no use to you if you just vomit it all back up.”

Kid opened his mouth to protest once more but then he noticed his belly did, in fact, feel close to bursting. He barely noticed beyond all his other ailments. He nodded to the man. “You’re Grim, right?” he asked.

“I’m actually feeling rather sunny if you must know.”

Kid blinked at the man, refusing to so much as fake a smile at that.

The man sighed and ran a hand across his face. “Yeah I’m Grim.”

Kid reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out the letter he had been given. It was crumpled, stained with sweat and the seal had a dozen cracks in it, but he had completed his mission. A feeling of relief washed over him. It was almost over. He handed the letter to Grim.

Grim broke the seal of the envelope and pulled out the letter within. His eyes scanned the parchment. A frown creased the man’s face, followed by a grin. He tucked the letter into his jacket then tilted the envelope and a handful of silver coins fell into his hand.”

“So, you’re the little tyke who robbed me the other day.” Grim chuckled as Kid’s eyes widened.

“No No No. I-”

Grim raised a hand, cutting him off. “Calm down.” He put the coins back in the envelope and handed the parchment to Kid. “You earned it fair and square. That’s quite the mean trick they pulled on you. Amusing, but mean.” Grim shook his head. “Who sent you here?”

A tingle of fear ran down Kid’s spine. He shook his head. The room seemed to spin as he did so.

Grim spoke again, this time with iron in his voice. “Don’t test my patience. You’ll find it lacking.” He kicked one of the buckets of water over with his boot.

Kid reached out to the precious liquid as it spread across the floor then he looked up to Grim’s eyes. What he saw made his blood run cold. This was not the same man he saw on the street a few days ago. Kid tried to shuffle backwards but quickly hit a wall. Paralyzing fear gripped him as the man stood over him, bloodshot green eyes rimed in red, the smell of stale gore wafting from his clothes, the freshly blooded gold brooch clasping his cloak. He tried to speak but no words came out, only tears. He pulled his knees to his chest and tried to be as small as possible. He closed his eyes and braced himself for the pain to come.

But none did. After a long moment, Kid opened his eyes to see Grim sitting across the small room on his bed. He had a bottle of brown liquid in one hand and the other gripped the haft of the axe at his side in a white knuckled grip.

Kid slowly unraveled himself as the man took a drink from the bottle. “You’re not going to hurt me?” he asked.

Grim shook his head. “The letter said I should either send a message back with you or carve one into your skin.” He took another drink.

Kid shuddered. “Carve one into my skin?”

“If I wasn’t interested,” he said, “Death is a message of sorts. A bit final, but it gets the point across.”

Kid paled at his words. He couldn’t find the strength in him to respond.

Grim ran a hand through his hair. “Sending a message back isn’t good enough. I want to meet these people now and you’re going to take me.”

Kid hesitated. Then the memories of his crawl came back to him unbidden. His anger began to burn hotter than even those damn tunnels. Fuck em. “Fine, I’ll take you. But you already know my handler. Hilda at the Dancing Bear.

Grim’s eyes shined in recognition. He put the bottle down and stood to help Kid drink from the remaining bucket of water. Kid could already feel strength returning to his limbs. Everything still hurt like hell, but he no longer felt like he was on the edge of dying. Grim splashed the last bit of water over Kid’s head. Black soot dripped from his hair and face in dark rivulets. Divines it felt good.

Grim pursed his lips as he regarded Kid. “It’ll have to do. Stand up boy. We have places to be.”