There had been a funeral. Thomas had dressed up in the clothing his mother usually made him wear to temple. He had considered wearing the new clothing he had received from the visius, but it had felt inappropriate. He and Anna had gone to the burial site at the foot of the mountains where the people of Maplemore had buried their dead for generations. Anna had clutched his hand when the bodies had arrived.

There were five in total. Old man Bill’s was the first one to be carried to a grave, wrapped in a white sheet he was unrecognizable, his sword however gave him away. Not much was said, there weren’t many who had known Bill well, most of those long dead. Next came William senior. His sheet had a golden sun painted on it, in recognition of his service to the church. His wife had spoken a few words, but she had broken down crying halfway through and much of them had gone unheard.

Thomas had expected to be angry at the men who had conspired against him, who had almost killed him. Standing there however, at the edge of their graves, made him realise that he didn’t feel angry at all. Instead there was a gaping pit in his stomach that swallowed all the emotions he should have felt. He barely noticed as two more bodies were given to the earth, men he vaguely recognized from temple days. Only when the last body was carried into the cemetery did the numbness recede. Will. His friend, once upon a time his best friend, had been struck down by Jared after the former had stabbed Thomas.

Why? Thomas had wondered over and over. Why had Will of all people decided to kill him? It made no sense, they had been good friends, for years. As he watched the tears stream down Mindy’s face, he wondered what he was supposed to feel. His friend was dead and he was sad about that, but that same friend had tried to kill him. A prayer for the dead was stuttered by William senior’s acolyte Julian, taking further away from the ceremony’s seriousness. Thomas muttered the words, but he had no faith in them. Empty words for an empty ceremony, perhaps it was fitting.

He locked eyes with Will’s sister, Emily, who was three years younger. There was hatred there, he could read it clear as day. As he shuffled forwards to grab a shovel to help fill up the graves with the other villagers Emily shook her head. He pressed on regardless, stabbing or no stabbing Will had been his friend and he had the right to help bury him no matter the circumstances. As his hand closed around the shovel, he felt a dozen eyes on him. With brisk movements he started shovelling dirt into Will’s grave. And with each spade of dirt he fed his sadness and incomprehension to the dark pit inside his stomach.

Mutters went through the gathered crowd, but Thomas ignored them, he had every right to be here. It was only until the mutters had increased to angry shouts that Thomas looked up. Three visius had marched into the cemetery and the people were less than happy to see them. Thomas put the shovel into the ground and walked towards the unwelcome visitors. It wasn’t hard to see which of the three was in charge. An open helmet with a large red plume on top gave him away easily. Thomas quickly eyed the two soldiers flanking the officer. Black plate, closed visors, tattered capes and silent as the graves behind him. They had become a common sight, but they still freaked him out a little.

“Sir, General Yifat, requests your presence.” The commander said briskly after saluting. That too Thomas had to get used to. Since the general had taken over, it seemed like he had been raised in rank. What that rank exactly was hadn’t become clear to him. Jared had been cagey about it, something to do with uncategorized rankings. Thomas had just accepted it as another part of his increasingly complicated world. “I’m coming, I’m just about done here.” He had said, his voice sounding cold even in his own ears. As he left the cemetery, he cast one last look at the grave of his former friend. It wasn’t a longing or lingering look and it wasn’t a look of regret and guilt. It was an acknowledgement of the fact that the world would go on and that Will’s role in it was finished.

Any feelings he had regarding his friend’s death were left there, at the cemetery. In the three weeks that followed he was far too busy to have time to think about them. His life took on a rigid rhythm, consisting out of translating, training and what Jared called his entrance into proper visius society. With spring starting most of the townsfolk were out in the fields, getting them ready for the first round of planting. This entire process seemed to puzzle the visius to no end. Every day general, no Lady, Yifat requested his presence to explain what her new subjects were doing.

“So, you throw your leavings and those of your animals over the plants you’re going to eat? That sounds like a health hazard.” She dryly noted one morning as Thomas tried to explain the use of fertilizer to her. “It makes them grow faster, gen.., your ladyship.” He answered. Jared had explained to him that visius tended to have different titles in different situations, depending on their bloodline. He for instance was some sort of tax collector when he wasn’t a scout. Supposedly one was just supposed to know what title was appropriate to use at any given moment. It sounded like contrived bullshit to him, but what could you do?

“I’m looking forwards to seeing what your people produce, I’m sure it will generate much interest at court.” Yifat said as she signed a scroll and closed it with wax and her own seal. Thomas absentmindedly scratched his leg. The clothing he was wearing felt slightly weird. Visius clothing was all a little too smooth to his liking, sometimes it felt like you were wearing fish skin. Apparently, that was sort of the case since the robes he was wearing were made from some kind of sea creature native to the visius home world.

“Now then yuelar, today I want to hear something different about your people. Tell me about your prospectors.” Whenever he talked with lady Yifat she always called him yuelar. So far, he hadn’t been able to find out what it meant exactly. Jared had described it as a title for somebody who talked to people on behalf of other people.

“Prospectors, your ladyship?” Yifat tilted her head. “People who invest in your village.” The copper piece dropped and Thomas nodded. “Well, the merchants trade luxury products for our syrup and that is about the end of it.” Yifat’s nostrils flared. “No wonder this place is so underdeveloped. We will have that cleared up in no time. Yuelar I have been summoned to the local capital by Viceroy Benroy, you are to accompany me.”

“What? But I’ve never left Maplemore. I can’t just up and leave.” Thomas blurted out. “Your ladyship.” He added after a few seconds. “You can and you will, that is an order Yuelar Thomas mon Maplemore. You are to be presented as a representative of your species. I need to be sure that the assimilation act isn’t called upon. It is in your best interest to appear as civilized as possible, slip ups like the use of the wrong titles, can have very real consequences not just for you and your wife to be, but your village and what will be left of this kingdom.”

Thomas swallowed. “It will be done, your ladyship.” He said quietly. “Good, get your affairs in order, we leave with first light. Dismissed.” Thomas saluted, turned around and left the office as quickly as he could. Outside he let out a deep breath and scratched his bald head. He turned around to look at the towering structure behind him. The tower, made mostly out of wood, wasn’t pretty, but then again that probably wasn’t the point. Jared had told him that Lady Yifat had ascended to noble rank as a reward for her military service. Her command centre reflected her origin in its functionality and defensibility.

Word was that plans were being drawn up for the construction of a fortress of sorts. It didn’t really surprise him. The “modernization” of his village, as Jared had called it, would soon start in earnest. Not everybody was happy about that. Every day more people approached him to talk about the changes, some more subtle than others. A company of soldiers halted as Thomas walked through the camp, their commander saluting him. He returned the gesture and let the company be on their way. It was strange how quickly he had gotten used to that. Apparently a yuelar was pretty high up the social ranking.

It took him forty minutes to reach the end of the encampment, passing through several checkpoints and receiving numerous salutes on the way. He preferred the western exit, because it brought him through the scout’s district. He stopped to briefly talk with a couple of familiar faces. The scouts had gotten a lot more relaxed since the main army had arrived and he had been given an official rank. Technically he was a rank above regular scouts, but since he was a civil officer they were outside his jurisdiction, which made them equals of sorts. The whole thing was rather strange and hard to understand, but it meant that the scouts were lot friendlier than they had been, which was fine by him.

He walked by a group of scouts who were playing a card game and passing a bottle around which probably contained alcohol of a sort. “Yuelar Thomas, sit with us, you want some?” One of the scouts asked, holding up the bottle. Thomas accepted the bottle and took a swig. To his surprise it wasn’t kepach, but something more familiar. “Is this mead?” The scout who had offered him the bottle laughed. “Yes, we think it is very good, we don’t have many sweet things back home. And there are no regulations regarding mead eh.” Yellow lights danced through the scout’s eyes, revealing his mirth.

“So, Yuelar Thomas, I have a question. Why are your people digging little holes in the earth?” The scout sounded genuinely interested, but there was a hint of ridicule in his tone. “You will see when the time comes.” Thomas said, raising his eyebrows suggestively, before remembering that he no longer had those. “Now, I’m sorry, but I must be moving on.” He handed the bottle back to the scout. “I’ve got some small holes of my own to dig.” There was some uncertain laughter at that, followed by haphazard salutes as Thomas made his exit.

As he left the encampment worry, like a hungry rat, started gnawing at his heart. He was going to leave, there was no doubt about that and there was no way of knowing how long he would be gone. What was Anna going to say? This trip might very well delay their marriage plans. He didn’t want to let go of it. His marriage was the only constant in his life, which had changed by an uncomfortably large amount.

“Thomas.” A nervous voice said and he looked up. Roland, wearing his acolyte robes, waved at him. There was a look of discomfort on his face that told Thomas he was about to be asked for something. “Roland, it has been a while. How can I help you?” Roland smiled nervously, something more and more people had been lately when Thomas was nearby. “Have you heard the last decrees?” Thomas snorted. “Heard of them? I translated and copied them myself.” Roland frowned. “Then you know that under those decrees temple days have been abolished as well as public worship of Soles?”

Thomas nodded, his face stoic. “Yes, and personally I support the measure. People are perfectly capable of worshipping Soles by themselves. My family almost never went to temple and we got by just fine.” An angry frown appeared on Roland’s face. “Come on man, I’ve been training as an acolyte for four years, you’re taking my livelihood away from me.” Thomas shrugged. “You are free to leave and practice elsewhere.” Roland took two steps forward and poked Thomas’ chest. “I have every right to live and work here as much as you. The others won’t say it, out of fear or respect for your father, but your position has gone to your head.”

Thomas sneered. “And maybe this attitude is why I petitioned Lady Yifat to shut the temple down. It seems to be a hotbed for traitors and rebels, both of which the empire doesn’t have time for and neither do I.” As soon as he spoke the words, he regretted them. They were neither true, nor did he mean them. For all his faults Ronald wasn’t a bad guy. Disgust spread over Ronald’s face. “Do you even hear yourself? The empire? You speak of it like you’re a part of it. Maybe you need to take a look in the mirror, you might find that the only traitor here is the one staring back at you.”

Those too were words spoken in anger and on some level Thomas knew that, but it was like they ignited a fire in him. The piling complaints, the whispers behind his back, the casual way in which his name was cursed over drinks, his worry about leaving Anna alone, the fear of meeting even higher placed visius, it all rose to the surface. Thomas felt his hand closing around the pommel of his sword, heard the blade clearing its sheath. “Those words sound a lot like treason to me.” He snarled.

White light appeared around Roland’s hands as he cautiously took a defensive stance. “You may help spread their darkness, but it will always be rebuffed by the light.” He said, but the threat was undercut by the fear resounding through his voice. Anger raged through Thomas like wildfire as he raised his blade. “You’re about to lose those hands if you don’t lower them immediately.” He growled; his eyes fixed on the acolyte. “Using the light as a weapon is a punishable offense.” The words were cold, devoid of compassion.

“Thomas, what is going on?” A soft voice asked behind him. The words barely registered as his entire focus was taken up by the white light coming from Roland’s hands. He could almost see it sear through a soldier’s armour, burning up the man inside. Almost he could hear the screams. The ghost of white-hot pain in his back. “Stay clear civilian, this is empire business.” His mouth said, repeating the phrases Jared had drilled into him. Almost.

“Thomas, honey, I don’t understand what you’re saying. Maybe we should sit down and drink some tea.” His mother said. Thomas ripped his eyes away from Roland’s hands and he turned to his mother, who stood on the edge of a small crowd that had gathered around them. What he saw in her eyes abruptly made him sheath his sword. He turned to Roland, who was sweating quite heavily. “Consider this a warning. I don’t want to hear any more about your problems and if you go about stirring up trouble, I will have you arrested. Now go.” He looked at crowd of villagers. “Don’t you all have something better to do?” He bit.

The crowd immediately broke up and soon he was standing alone in the street, together with his mother. He hurried towards her, but stopped when he spotted a patrol coming his way. The officer leading the patrol was wearing an open helmet with a blue plume it, officer in training then. “Yuelar, I heard there was some trouble and that you might need some reinforcements.” The man said after saluting. “Thank you, Junior Lieutenant Colonel, your quick response is most appreciated, but I have everything well in hand. I recommend that you inquire in camp for new orders.” The officer nodded, saluted and marched off.

Only after the soldiers had left did he hug his mother. “Mom, I haven’t seen you in a while, I’ve been busy.” He said. She carefully hugged him back. “Thomas, what just happened? It looked like you were going to hurt Roland. Why would you do that? You’ve known him all your life.” She softly said after he released her. For a second the fires of anger ignited again, but just as quickly they died out as he saw the worry in his mother’s eyes. “my anger got the better of me.” He said, truthfully. “I’m just tired. I’ve ben working hard to make this work for everyone, but all they seem to do is complain. I’m tired and I’m done with all their shit.”

Frustrated his hand went through the place where his hair used to be, finding nothing but smooth baldness. That for some reason made him more frustrated. “I miss my hair.” He said quietly. “I think we need to talk.” His mother said as she took his arm. “Your father too would like you to come home.” Thomas blinked. “Okay.” He said as he let her guard him out of the village.