Hickory woke up just as early as he always would, did his chores proper, the new ones like filling up the generator, and he was working through what he was gonna say - so if he mumbled a bit while he moved about?

Well, he grew up lonely at times, that chickens are great listeners, that he didn't know a tree to ever worry, and the river always laughed, no matter how bad anyone else said his joke was -

Now of course that meant his jokes couldn't be bad, now could it?

"Hunter, I just am gonna tell you that you're my good close buddy and that you selling all that fishing stuff to trick me out of marbles hurt my feelings, cause if you wanted marbles I'd of given you every single one I own."

The chickens cocked their little heads, looking at him -

"Ya don't think I'll tell em, do ya? Well I ain't chicken, I'll tell him straight up and if he don't like it, well he don't have to be my friend anymore though it'd kill me to know that, but I'll tell you I can't have this hanging over me, that it feels like I got marbles rolling around in my head."

That Hickory was so hurt, that he didn't even want to fish. Cause he was gonna have to use all those fishing poles, be surrounded by reminders that maybe Hunter wasn't the friend he'd thought he was, that he knew he needed -

"It's just awful." Hickory nodded, "I din't have no brothers growin up, it was just me and Ma, and I'd never complain bout that, wasn't her fault Da had to go off 'en die, protectin' good folks freedom and making sure them pretty girls didn't have to wear those bed sheets over their heads. Black sheets, in a desert! Can you just imagine how hot that would be?"

Hickory shook his head -

"That Hunter was the one that took my little hand and put a beer in it, that he taught me a good bit of the ropes and a few knots he knew, that all them guys are my brothers now, and I know that brothers be quick to spat, and I ain't saying any one of us is perfect, but to go mucking about with fishing poles and marbles, and I just always considered them as close as kin -"

Hickory lowered his head,

"And maybe you are right, maybe it is my fault I didn't tell 'em all that, that I thought they knew it, but maybe they don't know, maybe Hunter just goes around thinking I ain't nothing but just a casual buddy like how I thought Weston was before I knew Gage was noodlin' him, that he's damn near a brother, too - maybe I need to be a better person."

That had to be it - that, he'd been so caught up, that he hadn't even realized how selfish he was being, that he'd not done anything special for them buddies, putting his whole mind to May, and then with the fun of his hatchery - could it be possible that they'd done had their feelings hurt, too - and that this was the result -

"I need to do something for them boys so they know just how much I care." Hickory said, standing up - the chicken he had in his arms fluttered and squawked from suddenly being dumped on the ground, "I'm gonna tell 'em all, not just Hunter, I'm gonna tell 'em I'm doing them a solid so they have not the smallest doubt that they mean just as much to me as May and fishing."

And with that Hickory grabbed his dirt bike, that he pushed it all the way out to the road before he kicked it on so as not to wake Ma up - that he did it without even thinking about it...

Weston woke with a splitting headache, naked, light burst in his eyes as he tried to focus, memories jumbled into his conscious as he felt his body being held down, felt pain - he'd been captured?

"Don't move -" He was being tied up, Weston struggled, bucking up, flaring - he was so weak - "Chill, chill -."

"Gage?" Weston croaked, heart hammering - only to feel something shoved into his mouth, "Don't move, don't speak, you're bleeding but safe, you need to stay still so I can check you over."

He felt four hands pressing down on stinging wounds, felt the swimming delirium, his terror at the abrupt return to consciousness, the agony, the strangeness, and tried to reach for the person he felt closest to -

What would he have said if Gage hadn't been fast enough with that gag?

Coherence, recent events slowly shuffled through Weston's thoughts, Gage must have carried him to the truck because he didn't remember getting here, Gage tried to kill Jared, tried to shoot him -

The fight, everything was a blur, it had to have lasted days, yet it was but a single strange snapshot, a panoramic of ideas and concepts as he tried to clutter the pieces together, moved past the realization that he was laying naked in the back of his truck, that both Tate and Pierson was there - and that Gage had acted quickly not just to save him, but to safeguard his dignity -

Gage spoke to him like he was a horse, lifting limbs to be wrapped, pressure tied off for hands to become free, to find new holes to plug - the first aid kits he'd packed and Gage's action, that it sounded like he was tearing through Christmas morning with all the wrappers rattling and flying, his quick breath nearly excited but Weston heard it skirted concern, became more regular through the mummification -

He bit down on the gauze, the pain, even his dick had been pierced, he realized, and was thankful he was in so much pain. He rolled so his back and ass could also be patched. Gage had Pierson wiping the area down with alcohol that stung each fierce cut newly, then switched to Tate when Pierson vomited -

How bad - he could have lost his vision if the vine had climbed any higher, he was lucky to have not lost his balls - They killed a man this night, this morning now -

Weston laid on his stomach, used the pain to distract his mind from that, he'd thought it, no, Weston had known that was possible, that he'd been even willing, but that was when it had been some abstract future event, not now, not already. Not when he could still see it, in his mind a ravaged neck, pulped skin, bright white vertebrae like a golf tee after a long drive, a perfect hit, the ball -

He'd awakened his Blood...

He had a second power, now, but how had that pulled the Font? And it was so much power - that everything Weston had thrown in the fight felt like a child playing with matches compared, he couldn't imagine it, it must have been because he had so many family members who had drank, it was the only thing that made sense...

That it was going to be a shame to lose that power, at least a large portion - with what he intended to do next -

Gage rolled him back over, carefully checked Weston's eyes to verify they were focused as he continued to fiddle with bandages, Gage blinked, and Weston blinked back, then he removed the gag. By that time Weston had organized his thoughts and gathered up the parts of his plan he could still use, he adapted the rest, he was so focused -

"You want my shirt?" Gage asked.

Then Weston remembered that he was still naked, that not everything had been wrapped, and added another step to his plan -

"Pierson, your pants."

His cousin had finished being sick, Gage and Tate were washing the blood off their hands with alcohol and water, then helped him dress, and Weston quickly gave a summary of what was going to occur -

"Tate, take the truck to Grandfather's house, you are to tell the family men that we'll need defenders for the Font and I'm declaring a Chief Burial, you are to wake them, give them directions to where we are at, then take the time that you need off to decide if you will enter my service as a Hand. I will forget any past allegiance only because of your diligence to you duties, I will not do so again so don't let me regret this decision."

Weston watched the man's face, good, he understood - waited until he left, and spoke clearly. Slowly. Without color, just the words - as Grandfather would do -

"Nephew, get the stationary under the drivers seat. You're going to copy what I read to you."

Pierson paused, and Weston gave him a second to process it, didn't turn to look to see if his directions were followed, that he made sure to keep his breathing relaxed and steady, that so much was depending on -

"Yes, Uncle."

Weston detected the confusion in his voice but he was at least willing, acclimatizing now that things had calmed down - perhaps he'd even put together what was happening, though Weston doubted he fully understood - or he would have already been calling him Uncle, perhaps Grand Uncle, perhaps...

"Gage." Weston said -

Gage turned to him, he had a strange look, Weston knew this was happening quickly, that Gage didn't understand his families business as completely as he needed, but...But his eyes held a fierce concern ridged by his heavy, dark brow -

"Will you be my Right Hand?" This is all I can offer you my friend, I hope you understand this is everything, that this is more, the most. I hope it's enough - I need -

"Which hand you wipe with?" Gage asked, and it completely destroyed the moment, that this would probably be what he remembered most.

"Thank you. I probably needed that." Weston laughed, and Gage flicked that spot where he'd been wounded, and once more Weston wondered who was really in charge around here -

Hickory sat at the bar, just waiting - that he was actually a bit excited now that he'd figured it all out, that he was sure it had all just been one big ole misunderstanding, and that today they would have the day off, that they would all just hang out and be buddies and make things right.

He kept waiting.

And it wasn't like it was a job or nothing funny like that, they could come whenever they wanted, but somehow they all ended up there not a long bit after sunup each day or said if they couldn't make it. Sometime they sat about drinking a bit of tea or juice, having a snack and sharing them things going on in a fellas life before they went out risking that very life -

But it'd been a long bit after sunup, Hickory realized, and no buddies were there but him. And that could only mean one thing, for not one of them to be right here - they were somewhere else. That they had gone and decided to do something all together. Without Hickory. Not saying a word...

"Nah, don't be stupid, they ain't like that." Hickory said, even though the country music that was playing was them sad songs, playing them cheatin' songs, it's what ya called em' and the lights were getting dim, they'd gone just a shade of blue that made the inside of this bar look even grayer -

That when you were with your buddies, surrounded with all them pretty girls it didn't matter a lick what the place looked like cause nobody was looking at them walls, not with all them women about, but right now all alone, nothing to look at wasn't it a bit...

"I ain't lonely, they gonna come here any minute and I'm not gonna be sitting here like a woman that can't make a sandwich, I'm gonna have a beer and when they walk through that door and see me smiling, they gonna be sad they didn't get here sooner. One beer!"

Hickory watched the cup take shape and fill with beer, ice cold, and he was grinning, cause no matter what else was going on in a man's life, how could he not look at an ice cold beer just waiting to be sipped on and not thank every flower and flying thing that went into making such a nice thing happen -

"Just jealous as can be, they gonna say - Hickory, you drinking without us? You hurt our feelins, they'll say it just like that, and I'm gonna say well I wanted you to be here, you're all my best good buddies..."

Weston took a long breath before opening the Book, if his hand's trembled, his heart thundered? He'd lost a lot of blood. He began to read, Pierson's pen moving in a neat script where he copied the information, the tailgate down as a table, Weston stood on the bed of the truck, using the cab for support.

Gage was keeping a lookout for monsters.

"Right of Razing, zero, raze the settlement of Jared's Land destroying all structures and claiming forty percent of the build cost for the actualizers Font over a period of ten days, time remaining to perform Right of Razing - forty-five hours..."

And suddenly Weston wasn't sure he wanted Pierson to know all this, not if he changed his mind, that perhaps he would have to depending on what else was in the book? Weston held up a finger signaling a pause when his nephew finished writing and began to flip through the book -

It took a moment to realize what was happening because the Book wasn't clear, there was a whole sections blurred out, while other structures provided almost inane amounts of information - such as the Material Reclamation and Reprocessing Center, he spent nearly a minute wandering over the simply massive amount of material that had been put into it -

Not only that but the 'Rewards' it had unlocked. Iron, copper, and nickel deposits, a crystal cavern, Gemstones added to deposits...and a random award from 1,000 Tons of Material - Gemstone Quantity + 5%.

Altogether the Scrap yard had produced 93,128 build points! Which he realized was a huge amount when he compared it to the cost of the average structure? Less then 500 points...

That he was correct in his assumption, it showed that a choice had been made to turn the material into 'Building Points' and no marbles had ever been produced, or ^ they were abbreviated like at the market -

What was even more telling was that the Bank, the Market, most of the buildings from Red Hills and their descriptions, including the Hatchery weren't there...

Weston also looked at the Town Hall that Jared had built, the one law - to not take the Fontiff's name in vain, and also the upgrades it had - Civil Planning, which allowed simple roads to be built and a plethora of basic options, from underground sewer systems to signs, benches, and statues - pipes to bridges...

It only cost 500 points! Same with the Basic Residential upgrade...

Basic Residential allowed the construction of houses, including the 'Complexes' which were basically massive housing units. That explained the buildings they'd seen. The biggest problem though was the massive structure, really what Weston was most interested in, was almost completely blurred out:

The Grand Cathedral of the Red Waress:

Undergoing automatic deconstruction process to Chapel.

Time Remaining: 9 Days, 22 Hours.

Reason: Font Conquest

Points Generated from demolishing:

56,013

That number chilled Weston, it meant that roughly 60% - that pretty much this entire town's wealth, was being destroyed. That Jared had invested almost completely in this singular structure showed how important it was, and Weston wasn't even able to see what it had been capable of. Would perhaps never know -

That it also had a certain logic, from a faith perspective, it would make sense that there were secrets, differences between Fonts. Different belief systems, perhaps? Except flipping through, the language was only loosely religious, aside from Font, and then the title of Fontiff - which only implied...

He stopped analyzing and did a read though to get a big picture, and from there he began to understand how the Book worked, and between the difficult language and the obvious lack of knowledge he felt his mind split between how incredibly...genius? Weston couldn't believe he was applying it to Hickory, but it was difficult not to -

Perhaps it started as luck, but, there was so much more to it, the telling point was that it appeared you didn't know what options would come after a building was built, for instance this Book didn't offer a Bank and that was the second building Hickory had put in, which meant it was only offered when the marbles were put into circulation by the scrap yard.

It was the only explanation since this town had a scrap yard and no marbles, and the Bank wasn't an option. What was even more telling was even with the Scrap Yard accounting for a large amount of the points it was clear it hadn't produced all of them, which meant...

The monsters!

Hickory had said that the marbles started splashing after the Bank was built! How mad was he going to be when he realized that those marbles could have been build points! If he hadn't built the Bank they would have just gone to the Font...

Probably not mad at all, actually...maybe he already knew, he'd stopped complaining about the marbles as soon as people started putting stuff in the market... He could have changed the Scrap Pool at any time, he could have dropped his marbles into the pool at anytime and used them for build points...asked all of them to put them in...

Or did he even know, or was there another...the fishing poles! Hickory had stopped complaining about the marbles as soon as they started selling fishing poles in the market!

So many questions - and why was the Book so intentionally obfuscating? Why did it not explain those things clearly...

The next thing that Weston noticed was that this book had only 213 listed under the word 'Font' which had to be the people who had drank. Weston knew the last time he'd checked the Town Hall their population number was well over 3000, probably closer to 4000 now -

It wasn't clear if it mattered - and yet, if it was in the Book? It had to be important, the number of people that drank.

And it was obvious why Red Hills was so much higher, the Skill Store of course, people had to drink to use the marbles to get a skill, but it was even more then that.

That Weston knew that people fished every day for food, that nobody was hungry, that the church had been able to serve a fish chowder and fish cakes from open to close. But even beyond that - they probably could have done the same at least short term without the hatchery, but by introducing the marbles people were involved in the community, they were trading goods at the market, solving each others problems -

That a person could go there and buy plenty of fish, and that wasn't all, people were selling things, they weren't hoarding, they were working together - and even if it was just for money, wasn't that the whole point of capitalism?

The Skill Store, this town didn't have that either, how could it without marbles? How many people had been able to learn fishing for the 100 marbles, go out and fish for themselves, that a family of four, one could take fishing, another gardening, and...just for their jewelry, electronics or a vehicle they might never need again...

This place had none of that, which explained the bored, almost waiting people they'd driven by, hopeless - All because Hickory chose to not keep all the points for himself.

There was so much more to analyze, because Weston also saw the flaws, that while Hickory had jumpstarted a local economy it wasn't without cost, his lack of investment in the Civil side of things had obviously stagnated quality of life, they could of housed the refugees that lived in tents, most were still without power if they didn't have a generator, and the sewage plant wasn't working.

But Jared hadn't done much better, roads and the work he'd started there...it wasn't power. And did they even need power if the 'Complexes' just worked?

That's when Weston noticed the Upkeep costs...1 per length of road which didn't seem like a lot, but...too many questions. Did Hickory not make some of these choices because of that fear? Of debt? That it was obvious that Jared would have to - that Weston, now - would have to contend with...sure he was getting a big pile of points from the Cathedral destruction, but how often did the upkeep come?

The only true mistake he believed Hickory had made was not building the school, if he'd unlocked that? And it had Weston rolling his eyes, it was so cheap - How much had that hatchery cost? For all those upgrades?

Even with that Weston was going to hug Hickory the next time he saw him. No, he was going to demand his family acknowledge the debt, because Hickory had truly acted as a custodian of the Covanger lands, and his Grand Uncle had been right, the two percent they'd lost had truly been nothing...

Weston tried to understand his friends logic, tried to put himself in Hickory's shoes and to understand his thinking as he looked through the options, the information available, but it was impossible. On the surface level he appeared to be as clear as water, as predictable as the river, but when it rained?

How was he not stressed out? How did Hickory handle all this pressure? Not feel like a dam about to burst - Weston felt that pressure looking at the choices he'd have to make...

Weston read the book to Pierson, he put his thoughts aside because he realized he'd wasted nearly an hour already, just reading, thinking - without doing anything. This was a time for action and all he was doing was finding more questions -

"Nephew, you are the first in our family to recognize my leadership, to face the unknown and be a part of the victory we share this day. It is only right that you should be the first rewarded."

Pierson stood in his briefs on the tailgate, finishing Weston's dictation and now looked up, surprised, to where Weston towered above, dressed and wiped clean, injuries concealed, May's shirt dark enough to hide the blood - Weston looked like the ordeal hadn't happened, hadn't been dying in the back of the truck, stripped naked and weak as a baby - though the bed was still slick with his blood.

Pierson looked at the Book Weston held out to him - good, he could see it when offered - he'd feel stupid if not...

"Truly, Uncle?" His voice wavered with disbelief, he knew what this meant, knew that he didn't deserve it, that he owed everything that would follow to Weston. He knew that Weston had left with just Gage and conquered an entire settlement - knew that Gage's power was not awake. Knew what that meant, what would happen, how easy it would be, if he forgot who was strongest -

"It is yours to refuse first, you've earned it."

Pierson swallowed, then accepted. The Book turned Blue.

"Well..." Hickory said, opening his book just out of boredom mostly, "I reckon that's just about the way these things can go..."

That perhaps he'd been avoiding the book, not wanting to think about it - that there was something in there that bothered him a good deal about that Chapel, that it offered him a Throne...that Hickory thought maybe since he was already sour now would be the time to look over it proper - a mood couldn't get no worse now, could it?

Something had changed -

It didn't make no sense. That the way he'd been lookin is the book was like climbing a tree, you climbed it and it gave you branches, maybe? That after he'd built the Hatchery he had some choices to buy some upgrades and of course he did.

That there had been a few choices for the Town Hall, but Hickory wasn't much of a planner...

This wasn't like that - this was a whole new tree -

Barracks

Cost:1000 | Upkeep: 100

A structure that provides military living quarters for 20 individuals.

"Now where in the hell did that come from?" Hickory thought, turning the page -

Embassy

Cost: 500 | Upkeep: 50

An improvement that allows the appointment of a Diplomat and provides a framework for interacting and managing relationships with other settlements.

Spiked Head

Cost: 0 | Upkeep: 0

Type: Trophy

The preserved head of Fontiff Jared presented on a wooden stake.

"What..." Hickory whispered, "What's a picture of some nerds head doin in my book! And why's he got glasses on, he cain't read like that!"

That Hickory almost tore it out, then realized what would happen if he did - it cain't stay in there, he'd have to look at it every day...

"I cain't stop lookin at it right now." That he felt something wiggle in his stomach, something, he did turn the page -

"Well lookie here! You got to be kiddin' me!"

Blueprint: Chicken Coop of Consideration

Custom Structure:

A 12'x12' modular structure designed for rapid deployment with accompanying penned yard, designed to house up to thirty chickens. The structure uses a system of ramps and gravity in order to collect eggs, as well as automate feeding and watering. The wired pen is designed to both keep chickens contained within a large roaming environment as well as prevent predatory animals from entering. The layered framework is constructed to allow ample visibility and minimize potential anxiety that can be experienced from prolonged enclosure.

"Well, ain't that something - it's exactly what I need!" That Hickory jumped right on that dirt bike without paying no attention to what was missing, what was different - but he didn't need much excuse for a distraction as he hurried on home because there was something nagging him, something he didn't want to think about -

There was a truck in his driveway, a truck he knew - and that wasn't nearly as surprising as -

"Bout time you got here!" Chase said, "Thought we were gonna have to go out searching."

"Hey - hey, what's wrong?"

"I don't know." Hickory said - "I just got a bug in my eye riding here or something. Ya built this for me?"

"No, we built it for them chickens, but hell, I still got my tools out, I can throw a cot in there for ya." Hunter said.

"Why?"

"Why? Cause you love them damn chickens so much, you - Hickory, what's wrong, brother?"

"I'm jus stupid and it's been something else and them fishing poles and I din't know you built this coop here, and there I was thinking nobody wanted a thing to do with me and somehow I done killed Jared."

"Whoah, whoah - let's have a sit down, we'll get a swaller of water, and we're all just gonna wait here a minute and sort this shit out."

Hickory nodded, sitting right down in the grass and acting silly, he had to plug his nose and shoot that leakin snot out - feeling stupid, he'd been stupid as all hell.

The Covanger's came - and Weston felt a strange anxiety for what he had to do, that it hadn't been done for generations - and he wondered if Grandpappy had felt the same way, as he got in the back of his father's truck.

It didn't surprise Weston that the sheets were already laid out - that they looked like plain bed sheets - in that they were white, Weston knew that they weren't plain. That they were over a hundred years old, sewn by hand and perhaps loomed by hand as well - it would be to his mother to replace them since he was unmarried - it was an unfair burden.

That truly the man's work was the most straight forward here, that she would have to read the journals, the histories, include a passage, record the events, have her name there...

When Grandpappy had killed the Three Chiefs, when Weston had first heard the story, when he had thought about it - it had been a different time in his life. Those words -

'We bury our enemies.'

Those words had given a context to so much, to the rest of the sayings - that it seemed obvious, to be ruthless, to not stop until your foe was dead. And it could be true - but it was a half truth -

That there was something desperate - in those words.

The sheet was important, cloth was important, something made by a Man's wife, to wrap an enemy in that - to dig the grave by hand, by yourself - as the first official act after killing them, before any work is done for wealth or gain -

The Three Chiefs had not been kind men to Grandpappy, that Weston didn't think a Man would judge if Grandpappy had pissed on those graves - had left them in the fields where they fell to rot -

He didn't.

Pulling up to the Font Weston saw they had weapons - Weston got out of the truck alone, people were gathered, staring - some seemed curious or in shock, perhaps surprised to see a funeral procession, the Font turning Blue - nobody tried to stop him as he lifted up the corpse of Fontiff Jared.

Weston looked for the pieces as well, but there was nothing...he'd been steeling his stomach -

He hated that this was something he was being judged on because he performed the actions that were in his heart. He hated that it would be discussed, be debated - and planned around, that every move he made from here on out would be scrutinized by ignorant eyes -

Perhaps they would understand one day, perhaps they would see, that he loved his family, and also knew they needed to change? That his father's actions had made that clear. They needed to reexamine Grandpappy's words and understand they are for the outdoors, not the office - they needed context. Weston knew what he was doing was right. Necessary. If the Covanger line was to last a generation more -

That he expected them to kick, and scream, and hate him - few people liked Grandpappy.

Weston wrapped the sheet around the body, stood in the bed of the truck - tapped the roof.

All those natives - watching him, bodies in the bed of a wagon.

These folk didn't mourn or follow, not like they had.

The grave was easy to dig, too easy, with his strength. That he could feel his body already healing, that he also felt an incredible thirst that wouldn't slake from plain water?

The pain that remained, his headache, his thirst - that too was important, he lived, his enemy was dead...

The purpose of this ritual was for introspection, and perhaps to not make killing easy - this service was performed for an equal, a foe of greater power, this it was an honor - for all parties.

It said nothing about Jared as a person, that Weston had nearly been bested in battle, had nearly died, that Jared was a land owner, even stolen land, their land - that it had been intentional, open and fair combat -

Weston didn't like him - didn't respect him.

In a way, it made it easier - in a way it was a shame, to give such a man this honor, and that in itself was a reason to not kill if it can be avoided. These were the thoughts that Grandpappy wanted his descendants to have after an event such as this - that was the purpose, to learn. And to teach. To understand and improve, to keep the words and traditions true.

Not to win - 'Winning is necessary.' Necessary, because to survive, you must win - but you didn't always have to fight, that's the point, what went unsaid. These words weren't a sentence they were a song - you needed the music of life to accompany it, to understand, the music of trees and grass, cows calling, a river rippling, a wild wind whispering -

Not a stock ticker.

Weston didn't pray, didn't have a moment of silence - after the last shovel full of dirt was laid, the grave packed by slapping the shovel, he turned to the rest of the men - gathered in a V, Grandfather in front.

"I claim this land in the name of Covanger. May it always prosper. May we guard it with our lives."

"The land is our life." The Men said.

"I leave this single acre to be left bare of industry. To be a place of reminder. To be named Fontiff Park."

"As is your right, Covanger."

And that was it - there was silence, until they'd walked the distance, another expense - to turn good land into nothing - land that could have made money, fed families...it was a burden to your heirs, that if every acre held a corpse -

The women would handle the history, the park design, what touches were needed. They would handle the story.

That talk was hushed, serious, once the necessary distance was walked off. Each man was processing the events, weighing each other's opinions, trying to get a read from Grandfather's impassive face. Weston didn't speak to his father, he didn't speak to anybody, he was careful to keep his head clear of his crown -

It felt like it should be over, this chapter closed...that this was just the beginning, the easiest part?

It was the life of the Covanger - the life he would own.

"I didn't mean nothing by those fishing poles, and it was selfish, stupid selfish, and I feel bad about it now, but I'd not tell you what to spend your marbles on and I thought if you were going to spend them anyway, that it was better to keep them with us you know? It was done dirty, and damn, I feel worse the more I talk about it cause there's no excuse for being so greedy, can I just tell you I'm an idiot and that I'll try harder not to be, at least not to you."

"No, you had it right, Hunter, I just was more mad that ya'll didn't tell me I was being stupid I guess, that all this shit with the book, it scares me, and if I don't got ya'll to tell me when I'm fuckin up -"

"You ain't fuckin up." Chase said, giving Hickory's shoulder a shake, "That's why all them people movin' out here, tryin to get away from folk that are."

Hickory nodded, "But you'll tell me, even if it's bad, even if it hurts?"

"Yes, course we'll keep ya grounded, brother, but Hick - I think you're worryin' too much, ain't no way you killed someone. I mean, if you don't even know where the body is so we can bury it and you ain't been nowhere, think about it?"

"That ain't how it works, I'd give a good deal of anything for ya'll to be right about it, but it don't feel like a fib, I'm sure that somehow I know I done kicked off poor Jared."

"Well, what if he was a baddie."

"That ain't the point, the point is that I don want to kill nobody, that - that I'll end things if a problem comes up, sure if a critter is after something it's a bit different when it's a person, when I don't even know why I did it -"

"Hickory - the law!"

"Say what?"

"Can you break the law, at the Town Hall, it says Murder is illegal."

"You're right." Hickory said, standing up - "You're right! I ain't no murderer, it woulda smote me or something. Oh lord, that has me feeling better somehow, I didn't think I would of done something like that, but since I didn't know - a part of me, well, I'm just a great deal relieved right now."

Hickory opened up his book and before anybody could say anything -

"That's a - a head!"

"On a stick!"

"You said you didn't know where the body was!"

"I don't, that's just the head."

"It's - Hickory, we have got to hide this."

"Why does he have glasses?"

"That's just what I said when I saw him in the picture!"

"Go get a sheet or something -"

"I ain't wastin' one of Ma's good sheets, she'll have my ass."

"Well, we got to do something with it."

"I don't know, now that I know I didn't do nothing wrong I'm thinking of keeping it - that I spent a good part of the day talking to myself -"

"We're gettin you a joke book."

"Ya'll already back to being spiteful."

"Damn straight, but we still gonna help you bury some fools head."

"Ya know, I love ya'll. That -"

"Shu-"

"No. I'm telling ya now. I love ya'll, and you're my brothers, nothing closer, my best good buddies, and I want you to know that. That there ain't a thing in this world that I'd put in front of any one of ya, and that I couldn't ask for no better."

"Uh...damn."

"Right."

"Shit, Gage's so damn much better then this stuff then me, but Jesus, Hickory, I love ya, too, you know that - I know we say it and usually it's after ya done something stupid and it's to make fun, but that don't mean it ain't true."

"Yeah, Hick, I reckon I'm bad at it, but I'm thinking it's just a man thing, it's a stupid thing for sure, but I don't know what love even is. I'd fucking die for you. I'd kill for you. I wouldn't chop my dick off, though - I'd probably give a hand, maybe an arm."

"Just an arm? For Hick?"

"Well, probably not but you got to draw the line somewhere, I mean - shit, there's got a be a limit on these things and a finger ain't enough, I'd give a finger just for a decent half hour with Ashley."

"Ashley A or K?"

"Well, either now that you mention it, maybe just the pinky for A, my left pinky, I don't use it that much, but for K, maybe anything but a thumb."

"Your trigger finger? You're disgusting."

"I use a bat."

"If you had a bat you'd of had Ashley A by now."

"Shut the fuck up, let's go bury this head, I think it's looking at me."

"Alright, I'll get a shovel, just let me use that saw real quick."

"What, Why?"

"That's a good stick, that's damn near half a fishing pole and I ain't wasting it."

The table was set -

Weston wore his shirt - it came clean with one dunk in the water, still smelled of grass, of the land - of home. That just beneath it now was a whiff of blood, even faint?

The shirt had changed. It truly was his - and he saw himself wearing it for the rest of his life, to be buried in it - there were no holes, it'd healed as he had -

That it had already saved him once. Another debt - a large one, for sure.

He was thinking too much. That he snapped into focus, as he approached the table, Grandfather took the head, they filled in by rank and Weston sat once the Grand Uncles chose. Pierson sat to his left at his turn to enter, that both his left and right were open before that - that Pierson knew his place without being told -

Then the ladies brought the plates in, setting them in front of their Husbands, returning for their own - that Mother instead had to put Weston's plate down before his fathers. He knew she was proud of him, but they would both have salad - that Weston should, too.

This was the Ladies Dance - as Weston considered it, that it was usually too subtle for the men to follow, most of the Kitchen work was - but occasionally, it was blatant - and that shift, because it was so out of place, so unusual - was like screaming!

For Weston it came first from Pierson's wife, it was a sourdough bread knot placed upon his plate - which was already obvious since everybody else had just a regular roll. It had rye seeds and cranberries baked in - perhaps more. Everything meant something, but Weston didn't speak that language, he could only guess and guessing when it came to the ladies was dangerous - feminine.

If they wanted you to know -

It was that she leaned down and kissed his forehead, the left side, and her lipstick was one of the lightest in the rooms - for right now, but it was there. Fealty. Public. Irrevocable.

This was done and watched in silence. Also expected - that all the women at the table put something on Weston's plate. Something they made, by hand - and it was unique to the course - his and only his asparagus had a sprinkle of parmesan. His and only his cherry tomato had been cut into a rose - the women circled the table leaning gracefully and imparting something to chew over.

Pierson also got extra attention as well. The servants came in next with wine and drinks - then they helped themselves to the other foods arrayed on the table, like the salad.

Weston left that plate empty. It was - incredibly bold. Arrogant. He felt uncomfortable doing it because he didn't want to be that person - he saw his father's salad plate was piled higher then even he'd expected, perhaps as an apology to him over Peter, it would take more then that -

"No, no, no!" Grandmother said shouting, getting up out her chair, she clutched the salad bowl in exaggerated antics, "No salad today! Not today!"

She moved as though frantic, a panic - a show -

"Today is special, today...it's a holiday or something, who can keep track of the days when nothing is working right, as it should be, who can keep track with all these changes happening so fast, so sudden? That Grandma knows when a day is special, it's in her blood."

The table was silent.

Too much power. Too quickly. Nobody said it. Nobody could stop it -

"Not that any day isn't special with this family, it's just this day is more special, and I'm so proud of you all I could just kiss each and every one of you over and over - I'm too old, too much excitement, Pierson's closest, the poor thing -"

Pierson's line raised glasses, his wife beamed, he was still in shock -

She doesn't want to kiss me - I should have been first -

Weston somehow felt it, as Grandmother circled making a show - delaying - grabbing the salad and dumping it in the bowl before coming back around, his plate was empty, she stared at it...

Weston had forced the issue. That his plan had been clear - if he had kept the book, it would have made him look power hungry, self serving -

By giving it to Pierson, he did several key things that announced that not only was he about to get a kiss, but that he was about to viewed as a Covanger heir - likely The Heir -

Pierson's wife kissing him was a formalization of his offer to Pierson, serve me and prosper, discussed as a family and ratified publicly - But, you can't serve a person of equal rank. So by her kissing him before meant that Pierson couldn't be promoted higher then Weston...

That Weston had made Pierson as powerful as a Grand Uncle by giving him the book - it was impossible not to promote him to second kiss, and at the same time the family didn't want him as a Granduncle, he wasn't capable enough, and because he'd given Weston fealty - they didn't have to worry about him becoming one - but he still had to be promoted...

That if Weston had the Book, he would have gotten a nice pat on the head, and then his Granduncles would have swarmed him, tied him down - Hickory probably forgotten, and them using him, Weston, as a patsy for their plans and strategies - it would be a mess, the end of his power, an impossible position, even with the Book - just as it was for Pierson, now. Weston's servant...

The last thing - and in his mind, the most important - was the message. That if you swear fealty you will be rewarded, that it didn't matter - that Weston could take the lowest ranking person and raise him with hardly a blink - make him a prince.

Which is why Weston downplayed everything, why he made it look easy, an afterthought -

"It's just, I say to myself, I kiss Pierson and how can I leave Weston out! He's right there. So young, so handsome, I see them sitting together - they all want him, it's enough to make a Grandma sick with worry that he works so hard, he'll never have time to marry!"

There was that -

"I can't keep him forever, not to myself, as much as I want to I can't be so selfish! I have to teach his wife how to cook, to make sure he's taken care of - I won't be around forever. But I will kiss him and hope, hope he doesn't wait too long so I can bounce the grandbabbies and kiss them, too, read them the stories each night."

Grandmother kissed his forehead, dead center.

Tactfully done - the speech was clear, Weston was now an eligible heir, without a wife or kids. The first time in Covanger history, that should something happen to Grandmother before she had the chance to prepare his wife, who was already behind by three ranks, and Weston ascend - that she feared for their future as a family if he took the reins.

And there was nothing she could do about it -

Perhaps she'd prepare mother as a stop gap, but there were things only the heirs should know, that Mayor Covanger's wife was helplessly fuming at the raised competition and her in last place now, a green olive stuffed with garlic was what she'd put on his plate - Weston ate it first.

He was still exhausted, but made it through dinner hiding it, made sure to eat every bite - then it was time for the study where he said just enough, then left - Pierson would handle the rest, it would be his 'Nephews' first true test:

"With Pierson's loyalty and my own Hands, the Font fell to Covanger control, a prospectus will be made up of what is to occur for my review, I will use the wisdom of Grandfather to guide a strategy for the area.

"The most pressing issue is getting the population to commit to our leadership - all immediate considerations should be predicated on that goal."

Grandfather nodded once - and Weston left his brandy untouched, his cigar unlit, and had an employee drive him home. He fell asleep on the way thinking about how much he had to do, minding his herd -