The kid introduced himself as Tasmaronian Barberfellow. The name was far too long to be a useful appellation, so, without his consent, I decided to call him Bab. He was a short, chubby little fellow, irises constantly flicking around like birds trying to escape their cages. The temptation to make fun of him was great, yet it was impossible not to feel bad for him. It roused a strangely maternal instinct in me. That didn’t stop me from taking advantage of his offer.

Bab worked for the Old Guard as a scribe. Or, at least, what he called a scribe; from his descriptions it sounded like his role was more similar to an errand boy or verbal punching bag than anything else. Apparently, things were much better before they entered the Foot. Here, as part of a team numbering around a dozen, most of whom hated the city as well, there wasn’t anyone to stop him.

“What’re you offerin’, then?” Blake had glared at Bab throughout the entire explanation.

Babs shifted nervously, still standing. “Um, yes. I think I could… help get one of you in? Maybe? And you could look around?”

“Wait, wait, hold on.” I squinted at the kid. “You still need to tell as what House Es-something is here for.”

“Ah, yes, okay.” Bab paused, biting his fingernails. Then bit them some more.

“…So?” Blake prompted. “Keep goin’.”

Bab jumped. “Right, yes, okay. Blood. We’re here for blood.”

“One more mystery solved.”

The kid blushed. “Okay. Um, monster blood.”

“The monsters around here are all Ravenkin.” I stated, hoping they hadn’t decided to revive the Raven cult.

He tilted his hand, as if to say I was half-right. “Most of them are, yes. However, amongst the four-hundred-thousand who fought were some ten-thousand Blooded, some of whom had significantly more divinity in them than the average soldier.” Bab inhaled. “The most potent Blooded, excepting Maja and Ignatius, were recovered, however that leaves a significant amount for various animals to feed off.”

“So some of the monsters aren’t Ravenkin, got it.” Blake rubbed his eyes. “Still, why now? If it’s so valuable, why not come six or seven years ago?”

“Uh. Too many monsters. Most of them Ravenkin, who would have absorbed the other godsblood and made it unusable. And all the Houses agreed not to try to retake losses before the battle. It was part of the Heltian Conditions.”

“Okay.” Erin nodded slightly. Did she know what that was? I had no idea, however I also didn’t care. “Got it. They found a way to fix the Ravenblood stealing power?” She paused expectantly. Bab realised moments later she was asking him, and nodded. She continued. “Why are they breaking the accord?”

Bab covered his lower lip with his upper and lowered his head, making him seem smaller than we was. “Everyone says there’s a- a- war coming soon.”

“War, alright.” I sniffed. It seemed a decent enough reason, I supposed. “Anything else?”

“Dure the Lizard is also heading in this direction.”

Bab flinched as Blake and I swore viciously. Erin groaned.

“It, um, might not come!” Bab backpedalled. “It’s just a chance!”

“Ugh, it better not, because then we have zero chance.”

We all thought about that for a time. The Lizard was one of the most scarred of the gods, having been marked long ago as the easiest to hunt. However, if it did come, Dure might simply walk through the Foot, potentially killing thousands. It would have to be corralled away, which would require the help of even more of the Old Guard.

“How can you help us?” I asked.

“Uh, I’ve been thinking about it for a while…” he paused, and licked his lips. “There are records of the specific quantities of blood lost. I’m the, uhm, the only one who has memorised them.”

“Ah, so we burn them.” I said.

He shook his hands in front of him. “No!” Bab coughed. “Sorry. It’s… they’ll know something is wrong. I can change the numbers though, so it looks like they have to get less blood. It will take much less time for them to hunt a smaller amount of monsters.”

“And you need us for that?”

“Well, yes. I, uh, they’re always locked up in the storage room. I can’t get in. And someone would need to be a lookout while I make the changes.”

“What about the Dure?”

“…What?”

I sighed, then rephrased the question. “How are you going to get Dure to move?”

“I, uh, well, that’s-” he stuttered.

“So you can’t.”

Bab’s voice had risen an octave. “Uh, maybe I can figure something out.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s not your problem to solve.” I stopped speaking, and scratched my head. Then I tried to look him in the eye, though the boy immediately glanced away. “Can you give us a bit of time to think about this?” We couldn’t decide without discussing it first.

“Uh, okay.” Bab glanced around. “Could I make an order?”

“Sure. I’ll whip it up quickly for you.

I hurried into the kitchen and quickly put together his order, before pushing him out the door. Waving politely, I watched until he had disappeared, then headed back inside.

“That boy’s shifty as a spider.” Blake commented.

Erin nodded loosely. “That opening monologue was bizarre. He’s obviously up to something.”

I agreed. “It’s still the best idea we have, though.”

“What if the little rat screws us over?” Blake spat.

“There’s no real reason for him to be doing that.” Erin explained. “Why would he? If his allegiance is to the Old Guard, then why such a torturous scheme?”

“I can think of one.” He scowled. “They want to blackmail Orvs’ Ma. If they catch us, then they’ve got one over her.”

The pair looked at me.

I rubbed my head. “I would rather do this than do nothing.”

“Orvs…”

“We just don’t get caught. That’s all.”

“What about the Lizard?” Erin asked.

“I… guess I’ll ask Jackson.” I didn’t like to go to a traitor, but there weren’t any better options. “Maybe he can convince them.” The statement sounded tentative even to me.

Blake, Erin, and I sat for a time. Eventually, I rose and began cleaning the room. Erin got up and joined me, managing to nag Blake into helping. Soon enough, the furniture was righted and the floor was free of food. The two of them departed quietly. My home looked as it should, yet all of a sudden, I was alone, and suddenly the entire world looked skewed.

Jackson came late that night. It had been a busy day – Aunt Stitch had decided to come by earlier than usual, and spent far longer with our lessons. Dirk also swung by, Pat dogging his heels. Both of them had the same piece of news: they had been contracted by the Old Guard to help support and guide them, respectively; the expedition would take several days. Ma and the twins wished them luck, and after my mother swatted me on the head, so had I.

Ma’s successor, as was custom, smacked his head against the doorway as he entered. Almost immediately, he thumped his way into the kitchen, only waving to the twins and I. While Sash and Dash swept, I inched my way sideways, hoping to eavesdrop on their conversation.

“…commissioned for you was stolen by some guttersnipe.” That was a voice like an earthquake, his baritone so deep it was almost incomprehensible without hearing it before. Jackson.

“It was made for my Oxblood.” Ma’s voice now – a distant cousin to Jackson’s; still low yet calmer, more measured. “It is yours, by right. I thought I trained you better than to lose your weapons.”

“I was busy,” Jackson rumbled dangerously, “trying to leave before my charges got lynched.”

“You are still at fault.”

He growled. “I know, Maja. I’m here to tell you, nothing more.”

“The sword is-“

His speech shadowed Ma’s. “Yours. It should have been yours.”

“It is not. I am finished with war.”

“You were-“

“Enough.” Ma shouted, loud enough to make the twins jump. “There are other matters to discuss.”

“What?”

Ma was silent for a moment. “…I am giving Dash the remainder of my blood.”

Nothing. Then:

“WHAT?!”

A sharp pain assailed my ears; I had been too late to cover them. Jackson’s cry set the building shaking, both Dash and Sash flinching. Jackson crashed back into the room, face like a thundercloud. His eyes fell on my brother, and I ran to interpose myself between the two, but he was already storming away.

I hurried after him, telling my dazed siblings to stay. His broad strides encompassed nearly three of my own and the gap between us was already large enough that I was forced to sprint to catch up.

“Jackson!” I yelled at his huge back. “Jackson! Wait!”

“Not a good time, Orvi.” He spat tersely, without facing me.

“I need help!”

“Orvi…” His tone was dangerous.

“It’s about Dure, okay?”

The giant spun, placing his hands on my shoulders faster than I could blink. My breath caught in my throat. I was completely immobilised from the waist up. My legs shook below. The show of force was immediately frightening; coupled with his flat, entirely black eyes, I came very close to screaming from pure terror.

“What do you know about Dure?” The voice was low, suspicious.

I spoke quickly. “The Lizard’s coming, right? It’s coming? You have to stop it.”

He let me go and sighed. “It’s not that simple, Orvi.”

“It doesn’t matter.” I rolled my shoulders and blinked, trying to reclaim my confidence. “We can’t survive another god. You need to move it somewhere else.”

“It’s not up to me…”

“Convince them, then. Convince someone.”

Jackson said nothing. He turned away. My fear melted into rage.

“What in the blood-“ I sneered, knowing this was a mistake “-is the point of betraying us if you don’t do anything?”

I could hear his teeth gritting. “Don’t you dare-“

“Dare what?” I shouted. “Dare to defy the mighty Oxblood?”

“You need to be quiet.” Jackson’s voice shook. “Right now.”

“Or? Are you going to kill me? Maybe betray the-“

“Orvi.” His voice was cold. Flawless. “Enough.”

I shut up. It took me several seconds to notice his hand was trembling, then suddenly his entire body was in motion, blurring. Dust kicked up, there was a sharp crack, and suddenly I felt a pain in my ear. I touched it. My hands came away bloody.

“You have no idea what it’s like,” a deep growl cut through the murky air. I coughed, something having got into my throat. “To have this much of a god inside you.”

A sudden gust of wind slid down the street, clearing my vision. Jackson’s arm was stuck in the building beside us. Cracks travelled up its walls.

“I need the Guard. The discipline.” He stopped. “The promise that if I do something, there will be enough Blooded around to stop me.”

“I’m more Enn than Jackson. Esfaria knows how to control Oxbloods. And I know that at the very top, the person giving orders is still human.”

I found my tongue again. “Isn’t there some other way?”

“Maja knew.” His voice was a whisper. “She warned me. Yet even if there was, they would just kill me and take the blood back.”

“We need help, Uncle Jackson.”

“I know. I’m trying. I just…” I could hear him swallowing. “The House doesn’t want Dure here either. The Foot is neutral territory. They can’t monopolise his blood. But… The desert past us is empty. Less people will get hurt.”

“Then our home will never be free of the Houses!”

“No one is, Orvi.” He drew in a shuddering breath. I felt my lips quivering. “Anywhere there is blood, there must be Houses. Otherwise, the Blooded will run rampant.”

“Then just-“ My voice choked. “-Just get rid of the blood!”

“We can’t.” He sighed. “We’re only human. Of course we can’t let go of a god’s power.”

I sat down, shaking. The giant turned, and squatted down, gently placing a hand on my shoulder.

“I’ll try. That’s all.”

I wept, and Jackson held me.