Kinler and Anemone had hardly spoken to each other at first. Now, three days into their trip, they chatted about from town to town, riding down dirt roads as the brick ceased long ago, heading into Dork’s borders. The third day would dwindle soon enough, and they needed to get a place to sleep before night.

But who would take them in? They were both foreigners by skin tone; Anemone was pale in skin while Kinler had a dark complexion. From what Anemone remembered, Dork skin was somewhere in the middle, honey in color. But what worried Anemone the most wasn’t the color of her skin, but her eyes.

Dork despised her, the only reason being the green around her pupils. They said Javias, one of the Seven Warriors, warned their people of the one who prevented the human race from achieving greatness. They said she was a part of the devil, all because the one who had stopped the humans had green eyes.

“Do you hate your eyes?” Kinler asked suddenly. It was like he was reading her mind, her inner emotions.

Anemone inhaled a breath, looking up and leaning backward to catch the sun fleeting behind her back. Her hands pulled at the straps of her saddle to reassure herself that she was connected and secured as she started to think. “During my Branding, I don’t think I cared at all. It was simply reality. I believed what they told me, took it as truth.” She straightened up, looking to her left to look Kinler in his brown eyes. They reflected some of her color back at her. “But should I hate them now, knowing what they did to me?”

“I can’t answer for you,” Kinler said. Every time Anemone sought an answer to a question about herself, nobody seemed capable of providing her with one. They always said she had to think for herself. “Do you hate those you grew up with? Either the ‘beasts’ or the ‘tamers.’ And do you envy kids born with green eyes who didn’t endure what you had to?”

“I don’t understand,” Anemone said. “I don’t believe I know what envy means. But, the beasts are my brethren, my kind. Even if it’s not true, we shared a bond. They worked with me, fought with me, and I fought them, but we never killed each other in our fights. The tamers said it was allowed, even expected out of us monsters. But we never went that far. Nobody wanted to kill. So… no, I don’t hate them. The beast tamers were… harsh sometimes but harmless if you performed. At least, perform how they wanted you to perform.”

The memories felt distinctly clear to her. Over the past few days, she woke from dreams about her youth. It played out linearly, starting from her first few days in the camps to a few years later when her skill plateaued. Last night in her dream, she finally figured out how to start fighting her own way. A way to subvert the style that favored the boys in the camps over the girls.

At the time, she fought boys younger than herself and girls older. There seemed to be a line, a divide between the two groups. The oldest girls could barely beat boys a year or two under their middle years. Anemone, at that point, had reached the top of the “girl” category and started clawing her way through the younger boys. It felt humiliating to be beaten by younger beasts; strength was supposed to come with age, after all. It was worse being stagnant, to see no improvement at all. She had her doubts of reaching the circle marked for those who were “Worthy.”

“What is the worst the tamers have done to you,” Kinler asked. His eyes remained on the road, which bent a little to the side. Fortunately, the horses were intelligent animals, knowing to follow the paths without being steered.

“The worst…”

“What have they done that made you feel bad, uneasy. Uncomfortable or distressed. Did they ever do anything that hurt you? Physically, emotionally, or mentally? Perhaps all at once.”

Anemone nodded. She thought back, thinking of Corden. He had always been bad, but on one night, in particular, he had snapped at her like never before. She had seen him explode in front of her, seeing a fire swallow his aging brown eyes.

“I see,” Kinler said. His eyes were forward, yet he observed her gesture nonetheless. “Are you willing to tell me about it? If not, I understand. I won’t order you to open up.” His words felt a little heavy, sounding almost more emotional requesting it than Anemone was thinking about it. She almost asked him if something was wrong with himself, but that was off-topic.

“The head tamer, Corden, he beat me front and center in front of the others,” Anemone said, telling the gist of it. Just bringing it up brought a distinct taste in her mouth. She remembered the blood she spat on the blue mats, the purple bruises that reflected off the passing river the following day.

“Why did he beat you?”

Anemone gaped, inhaling cold air into her lungs, taking in a burning sensation. “I was winning.”

“Winning?”

“I started winning matches against some of the older boys,” Anemone explained. She had always cared about her performance, but her stagnation forced her to change how she fought. They raised her to believe that any wall in front of her had to be punched down. Even though the wall, in this case, was brick and her hands were brittle like glass. Punching started to hurt herself more than it did her opponents.

But one day, she awakened. She started to hesitate often in fights due to the more recent string of defeats, but they were thoughtful seconds she halted. Every battle up to that point, she swung blind the entire time. Her success started to show, right when it felt like her eyes were finally open to see the battle in front of her.

“He beat you for winning? Explain.”

Anemone sighed. Again with the memories. It did hurt to think back. She never wanted to feel that pain again. Ranked by pain, Corden’s beating came second after the operation that implanted a Soulgem inside her stomach. At least, the first beating he inflicted. “I was ‘winning the wrong way,’ he said. And that I wasn’t fighting how a beast should fight and that I wasn’t permitted to win with my style. I questioned him when he confronted me, as I recalled the only two rules to the fights. Beat until submission, or force the opponent out of bounds. There was no rule in how you accomplished that. They often said that there were no holds barred.

“So, to counter my protest, he lifted his cane and smacked me. The first hit forced me to the ground. There, he hit me again. And again. Again. Again. And again. I remembered waking up in the middle of the night on the mat. I remembered how I had to crawl to my bed. My legs worked, but they didn’t work well enough to stand. It took me two days before I could see again. I remember my face being so swollen, it blocked my vision. I still fought the next day.”

Kinler raised a brow to her story, showing interest. What was fascinating about that? He beat her, it hurt, but why did he care? Why did anyone care? Eventually, the agent general smiled from atop his horse.

“What?” Anemone asked.

“Your story doesn’t end there, yet you speak as if it did,” Kinler said. “You eventually found your way to become Worthy, right? And you did it your way, not theirs. But this beating, what you call the worst thing the tamers had done, it didn’t stop you in the end?”

“Why would it have stopped me?” Anemone tilted her head. “They told me at the beginning, nothing a beast did could be corrected without first reaching the final ring. I couldn’t be saved before I became Worthy. He continued to beat me after, but he gave up eventually.”

“And why did he stop? You said they were insistent, enforcing, and aggressive, but he stopped? Why?”

“I can’t say for sure,” Anemone admitted. Thinking back, she remembered taking the beatings whenever they came. His cane struck like condensed fists, small in area but just as—if not more—powerful than a punch. He had beaten her unconscious in all but one of his disciplines. The last. The one where she had realized she remained conscious, so she crawled his way, demanding he finished what he started. It was among the only times it felt like she had power over him. “I think Corden realized I hated losing far more than I hated his beatings. If he wanted to stop me, well, he would have to kill me. I refuse to fight, knowing I’ll lose. It is a waste of my effort.”

Kinler smiled. “You’re very competitive. I have a similar story. I was once a slave.”

“A slave?” Anemone said, lowering her brow. A word she had heard once or twice, often referencing either herself or Pedr. “What is that?”

“A slave is sort of like a beast,” Kinler explained. “I, too, had no choice but to work. My mother was a prisoner-of-war converted to a slave, and since I was hers, and she was their property, they owned me as well. They forced my labor much like yours. Though, I was a single slave serving a single family. I was one of the few slaves permitted to hold a sword, but only to help my master’s son train. My master—my beast tamer—beat me too whenever he felt like it. And it too was for winning.

“My master’s son was two years older than me, but he struggled with the sword. I had a good relationship with him at the time, so I helped any way I could. But one day, my master saw me defeat his son and punished me because of it, saying I embarrassed not only his son but his family name. So he beat me. Not with a cane, but his fists, before he moved onto his sword… He took me to the side and demanded I cease defeating his son in practice. Otherwise, he would cut deeper the next time.”

Anemone narrowed her eyes. That did sound similar to her story, if not worse. “And? Did you comply?”

“Yes,” Kinler said flatly. “It was my first and last beating by my master. I lacked your courage back then. It took me many years to find some of my own. But, I liked my master’s son; we bonded well enough despite our purposes to his father. He was to grow up and become a noble warrior, and I was to grow up to take care of his children. At least, that was how it was supposed to be.”

“But you’re here, helping me,” Anemone said. “Are you no longer a slave?”

“No, and neither are you,” Kinler said. It felt good to hear those words. Kinler seemed normal, and if he could be normal, then couldn’t Anemone be as well?

“What happened to your master’s son?” Anemone asked. “Is he a noble warrior?”

“No,” Kinler said. “He has long since died.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Anemone said. She felt guilty about bringing him up like this, especially if Kinler liked the man. Anemone learned to appreciate Pedr, even when he worked with the tamers, and it seemed Kinler had a situation much like that but with his master’s son. For as wrong as asking felt, Anemone wanted some answers for her own curiosity. “How long has he been dead?”

Kinler looked ahead down the road, looking solemn as they neared the town approaching ahead.

“He’s been dead as long as I’ve been free,” Kinler said. He leaned forward on his horse, moving a few paces ahead. Anemone copied him, matching his speed. “Now quickly, we have to find a place to stay for the night.”

Anemone first thought Noltown was small. But here… Dorgen, as the welcoming signs said, was minuscule in comparison. There were dozens of buildings, but not enough to count up anywhere near a hundred. Where did these people sleep? Where did they shop?

Kinler and Anemone secured their horses into a stable in the middle of town, keeping them there for the moment while Kinler sought to converse with the townspeople.

“Stay close,” Kinler said, walking forward. Anemone followed behind, but a few paces so she didn’t walk side by side with him. Anemone felt it was better to appear more docile rather than walking as if she were his equal. It had been so long, but she remembered well enough how these people thought about her and her eyes.

Kinler walked directly to the first group of men he saw. One stood behind a wooden stand. His size massive, almost as tall as Pedr was, though he had all human features. Burly in size, he wore a loose brown shirt and trousers. From his biceps alone, he appeared capable of lifting a horse.

The other two leaning on the stand also wore similar clothing, but they both had black hair, while the vendor was bald apart from a single curl of hair behind his head.

“Excuse me,” Kinler said, approaching them. “I seek a place to stay the night. Does this town have an inn?”

“An inn?” one of the men in front of the stands laughed. “An inn means visitors. We don’t get visitors here, friend.”

Friend? Perhaps they don’t hate foreigners after all. Maybe only beasts…

“Then one of your homes would do,” Kinler said. “Of course, I have coins to reimburse you. Any takers?”

“Perhaps,” the vendor said. His voice was deep to match his size. “How many coins are you offering?”

“Five,” Kinler said.

“Five silver? Ha! Hardly enough—”

“Gold,” Kinler lifted a pouch from his pocket. “Just for a single night and a home-cooked meal for two.”

“Five gold coin…” the vendor grinned. “I’d happily accept. Just the two of you?”

Kinler nodded.

“My name is Meru,” he said, taking the pouch and pocketing it. “Why is she looking downward?”

Anemone’s eyes widened into the dirt ground below her. Should she look up? No, she didn’t dare.

“Nice to meet you, Meru. My name is Kinler,” he said. Kinler put a hand on Anemone’s shoulders. “She’s shy. Her people aren’t well-liked around here…”

“Wait a moment,” Meru said, his tone growing a little angry. “Look up, girl.”

Anemone lifted her head and saw three grimacing faces stare at her.

“Devil!” Meru shouted. “No way! The deal is off. I cannot partake in housing one of them.”

Anemone snapped her head back down, worried. Already, they called her out. In minutes being in Dork, she already caused trouble.

Out of everything to fear, exposed by the Dork people, she had a different concern rolling through her mind right now. Calace told her specifically not to cause trouble, yet here she was.

How did the world change so much past borders? Why were people so different despite only living miles apart from one another?

“Now, hold on,” Kinler said.

“No!” Meru snapped. “You have no morals, bringing her into our country without knowing our laws.”

“Actually, I brought her here knowing very well what your laws are, and I’ve come to a conclusion that—” Kinler stopped himself. “Forget it. Now, hand me back our pouch, and we’ll go on our way.”

Anemone peeked up, noticing Meru taking the pouch from his pocket. Despite his size and two others around him, he had some honor to him. He put it back on the table. As Kinler reached, Meru put his hand down, covering the pouch in the palm of his hand, turning his head to the side, flushing.

“These are a lot of coins to pass up,” Meru said.

“But think of what they are asking you,” one of his friends said. “They are asking you to denounce everything you believe in.”

“But it’s a lot of coins…” Meru said again. Five gold coins were a lot? That didn’t make much sense to Anemone, as Ranun and Calace had spent quite a bit on her in Falcon Hill. “How about… she can stay in the barn with your horses. I’ll even toss her some food.”

Anemone took a sigh of relief. They could compromise, more than she believed her kind ever would.

“Unacceptable,” Kinler said. “She is no animal. She sleeps under the same roof as I. Do we have a deal?”

Anemone’s heart pulsed a shocked, rapid beat. Why was Kinler going so far for her? Why didn’t he take the deal he offered?

Meru struggled, wanting desperately to accept the coins, but he eventually lifted his hand off the pouch, letting Kinler reclaim it. “I’m sorry, mister, but it just ain’t right.”

Kinler frowned. He didn’t retrieve the pouch but pulled out another from his pocket. The small bag jingled just the same. “How about two bags; ten gold coins?”

Meru looked doubly tempted. His hands squeezed under him.

“Listen,” Kinler said, “I don’t want to make this a tough decision on you, so how about we make it interesting? Perhaps it takes some of the burden of choice off your shoulders. You’re a very fit man, strong in size. How would you like to duel for this money?”

Meru lowered a brow, considering what Kinler was saying.

“Let’s settle this like warriors. And for good sport, by simply accepting this duel, you get one of these pouches no question asked. Five free gold coins. And you’ll get another if you win. But if you lose, you house us for the night.”

Meru peeked over the stand. “I don’t have a sword, and besides, you’re obviously a swordsman. And an important one, considering the blatant Soulgem sticking off the hilt. I’m not so stupid.”

Kinler’s grinned, the same kind he had whenever Anemone fell for one of his traps in practice. “Right, I have honor in that regard. So how about a hand-to-hand fight instead?”

Meru looked thoughtful. “You seem so confident for such a small man.”

“Let’s say you’re not the only one who doesn’t question his faith,” Kinler said. “So? What will it be? Five gold coins for participation, five for winning, with the worst-case scenario being you have to house an additional human being. That and looking like a fool in front of your friends.”

“Javias’ Spit! You’re on!” Meru said, circling the stand to approach Kinler. He had half a foot over him. He punched a fist into the palm of his other hand, trying to intimidate Kinler, but he held an indifferent look. “Are you ready?”

“I’m ready to watch, yes,” Kinler said, taking a few steps back. His head snapped to Anemone with a slight grin. Immediately, Anemone figured what that look implied.

Are you insane? Anemone thought, looking up at the man in front of her. No beasts she fought had ever been this large or this physically strong. I can’t possibly beat him!

“You can’t be serious,” Meru grinned. “You just made quite the donation Mr. Kinler.”

Kinler stood still, lips sealed as Meru lowered his shoulders in a bear-like stance, ready to snap Anemone in half.

In Dork, Meru and his friends were considered Valids among the beast culture—any human without green eyes. Looking at his brown eyes so much larger than hers was intimidating at first.

Until she noticed his posture.

At that moment, she already knew she had won this fight.

“On your signal, Kinler,” Meru said. “I promise not to bruise her too bad for your generosity. But devils need to be punished. I’m doing the Gem God’s work, Javias’ ambitions…”

“Go,” Kinler said, starting the fight.

Meru stomped forward. There was no ring on the floor, and the rules for the fight were unclear to Anemone. How was she supposed to win? Forcing him to the ground seemed like a good start.

That could be done.

Anemone was outreached in arm size alone, meaning she couldn’t punch and retreat out despite her quickness. But as Meru neared, Anemone found her path. She swung the toe of her left boot, striking Meru in his overextended knee, taking advantage of his poor posture.

Meru grunted, falling back a few steps to recover. For how hard it was to fight a man of his size, her feet could strike up to Meru’s knees as well as his arms could swing down at her.

Meru approached again, making the same mistake. Anemone targeted the same left knee, pushing him back once more. He grunted, growing angry. “I thought this was hand-to-hand, not foot-to-knee!”

“You should have asked for clarification,” Kinler added in. “Continue. Unless you are in over your head…”

Meru clenched his fists before coming forward in a faster, more confident stride. His legs were still vulnerable, but not to the same attack, as hitting his knee did nothing if he came in as fast as he was.

Anemone let him get close. Quite close. He swung a lone fist, but Anemone ducked under it, dashing past under his arm and dash behind him. She hopped on her feet as she waited, always ready to be on the jump. This reminded her so much of the fights, the thrill of fighting hand-to-hand against others who should, by all means, be stronger.

Meru came again, thrusting his left fist forward like a sword. Anemone lunged in, keeping her head and center of mass safely off to the side. She lifted her knee, colliding with his as they passed each other. Anemone’s thigh took half the blow, distributing the pain to be manageable. But Meru’s knee, on the other hand, took the entire blow square on the knee. He dropped to the floor, now vulnerable.

So Anemone followed the next step, which was the decisive blow. She pulled her fist back before launching her arm forward directly for the back of Meru’s head—

“Stop!” Kinler commanded, stunning Anemone in her motion.

Her hand froze, mere inches from Meru’s head. That blow would have rendered most beasts useless for the day. But a man this strong? She didn’t see the harm.

Kinler approached, standing between the two of them. He knelt beside Meru. “So close,” he said as Meru turned his head to meet the agent general in the eyes. Kinler pinched air between his fingers as if something was there. “You lost this duel, my friend.”

Meru nodded. “Fine, she can stay. But just the night!”

Kinler smiled. “Good man.”

They both recovered from the fight. Meru said his goodbyes to his friends by the vendor.

Regardless, Meru cleaned out his stand of goods, then rode a warhorse down a road, leading Anemone and Kinler down a road to reach his house a mile or two out of the town. They learned that Meru was a farmer, selling his grown crops to the community.

Kinler and Anemone rode side by side.

Their horses yawned in a horse’s way as they had been riding all day long. The night was approaching fast, and they wanted to sleep.

But Anemone felt wide awake, pumped with adrenaline. She had beat a man so tall, so strong, and it was relatively easy.

“Would you have been able to beat him?” Anemone asked.

“Yes,” Kinler replied. “But not as spectacularly as you have.”

“But why make me do it?” Anemone asked. “What if I lost? We’d have nowhere to sleep.”

“You needed the experience. Besides, if you lost, I would have as well.”

“Are you serious?” Anemone asked. She didn’t believe it. Flattering, but false. “I’ve tried for hours that night to beat you, yet I didn’t even get close.”

Kinler closed his eyes for a moment, opening them a second later. He grabbed the hilt of his sword, the Soulgem attached to the handle glowing a slight pink in the dark. “I’ve trained with the sword for as long as you’ve trained with your fists. I know tricks with the blade that will take you your entire career to learn how to execute. But if I were to try and study your tricks, I would be a frail old man before I could pull any of them off.”

“You speak far too nicely,” Anemone said. “I could be better. I can be better.”

Kinler nodded. “Initially, I had my doubts about how far you would make it, if at all as an agent. I didn’t learn the sword in a day, as you hadn’t learned how to fight hand-to-hand in one either. But you have a damn good drive. So long as you try, you can achieve anything you want in Valoria.”

Anemone paused in thought. She hadn’t known there was a destination to be. It all felt so new to her. But she liked where she was at if that meant anything. Ranun, Calace, and now Kinler? They were all comforting to be around.

“Thank you,” Anemone said, keeping her eyes down as they continued forward.

“For what?”

“For defending me back there,” Anemone said. “I don’t know why, but when you denied his offer of having me sleep in the barn, it felt… good to hear.”

Kinler laughed.

Anemone looked at him.

His hand covered his mouth as he attempted to settle down. When he stopped laughing, he spoke clearly. “I was just trying to put us both in the positions where we do our best.”

“Our best?”

“Yes,” Kinler said. He cocked a smile her way. “I’m best at sticking it to assholes while you seem to thrive in proving them wrong.”