Mansion bowed to Gillian. “Anything more madam?”

“No. Well, keep Hal safe, of course.” Gillian smiled and looked back at her new home. It was a large space for somewhere so close to the palace. It had been a tiring process moving everything in.

“Of course, madam,” Mansion said.

As Mansion walked to his horse, he spotted a familiar sight from the corner of his eye. Darcy was carrying a satchel and walking purposefully to the Landoran's apartment. The sight gave Mansion a bad feeling.

“Darcy!” Mansion shouted. “What are you doing here?”

She looked at him with a hint of disdain, then went to him with a shrug. “I’ve some evidence that Lord Hal would like to see. Heard that he'd moved here.”

“Hal’s not here. He went straight to the camp.” Mansion paused. Yes, she was a bad egg. Very bad. But she was a friend. “I’m going there now, in fact.”

Darcy raised her eyebrows. “You would lead your rival to the treasure? How can I be sure you won’t… harm me.”

Mansion laughed heartily. “The only treasure you'll find will be a mouthful of dust when Hal kicks you out of his tent. But maybe that sort of thing stirs your pot..”

“You're funny. A witty guy. It'll be sad when you're left starving on the street when I take your job.” Darcy said ruefully.

They both mounted their horses and began the long journey to camp. They watched as the sun set over the city. It was a beautiful site from that high up.

Mansion moved his horse to walk beside Darcy’s. “So, evidence you say?”

“I’m not going to show you.”

“I’m Hal’s right hand. I have to see, for his safety.”

“Fine. It won’t mean anything to you anyway.” She pulled a valuable looking doll out of her satchel.

Mansion’s stomach sank. “Where did you get that?”

Darcy put it back and rolled her eyes. “Trying to stop me already, I see. I should have known.”

“Darcy, why do you have that doll?”

She looked at him for a long time, weighing him. “I took it from that annoying little bugger. Jarst, or Gast or something.”

“Dast. He was Ophelia's closest friend. We’ve all assumed he ran away, and she more than all have been very sad about it. I want you to tell me that’s what happened.”

Darcy pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows. “It would be a lie.”

“By the mother!” Mansion reared his horse to a halt. They were on a small, quiet street. The only spectator was a bored old woman hawking a cart of stale bread. “You killed him!”

Darcy looked at Mansion with mild humour. She had always enjoyed getting under his skin. “So? I got the impression Lord Hal didn’t want him around.”

“You killed a kid for no reason!”

“I killed someone with a troubled history, who had stolen a valuable item of property from a potential employer. And in any case, he was trying to stab me with a knife. It was self defence.”

“Where is he?”

“Don’t drink from any wells around here is all I’ll say.”

“You think this is funny? You killed a child…” Mansion shook his head. “You just…”

Darcy leaned toward Mansion and hissed. “Do you know Hal? The rumours? Trust me mansion, you are the only one moralising between the three of us.”

Mansion rubbed at his face wearily, then moved his horse back onto the road. He did not speak for the rest of the ride. The cutting, nauseous feeling that had taken hold of his stomach made sure of that.

Once they reached the camp, Mansion dismounted and walked purposefully toward Hal’s tent. Darcy followed close after him. “You’re overreacting! Why is this suddenly too much?” Darcy ran and stopped in front of Mansion. “Was it something personal? I’m sorry.”

“Move,” he said, pushing her to the side. She followed on, yapping like a small dog.

“Mansion please!”

He stopped a few steps from Hal’s tent. It was dark inside. He was breathing deeply.

“Mansion, I don’t want you to be an enemy. I respect-“

“No.” Mansion turned to Darcy. “You don’t respect anything. We will not talk of this again, and you will not tell Lord Hal what you have done, or what you've found.”

Darcy was only slightly taken aback. “Why?”

“If you don’t want to be my enemy, those are the rules.” Mansion stomped off without looking back.

He had to clean himself.

**********

The son shone down on the streets of the Third Ring. Through the streets and crammed alleys of the outer slums, the laughter of children echoed through the air.

Mansion passed the ball to Rudo. Since he was the quickest, he had the best chance of getting past Patches. Rudo kicked the ball up high into the air. They all watched as it made its slow descent down to the dusty, earthen road. Luckily, Patches was too distracted by it to notice as Mansion ran toward him. With an enthusiastic shove, Mansion pushed him to the ground. Rudo caught the ball and kicked it into the enemy goal.

Mansion’s team celebrated. Ever since he had started growing so tall, they had been winning most of their games. For a boy of thirteen years, having the height of a grown man was a novel thing. But their celebration would not last for long.

A big Draneer man with two stumps instead of horns walked up to the group. “Oi! Big fella! Yes you.” He was pointing at Mansion. Rudo stepped in front of him defensively. “Piss off!”

The Draneer laughed. “You have loyal friends. A good sign.”

Mansion lightly nudged Rudo away and stared at the Draneer with confidence he didn’t feel. “Who are you? What do you want?”

“I want you. I’m a rich man, and I want strong soldiers. You look pretty strong.”

“I’m not stupid.”

“That’s good as well. Tell me boy, what are you going to do in life? Work the family business? Join the army? Marry this one?” He gestured at Rudo contemptuously. The boy was beneath him. Beneath either of them. “Come. I will show you what you can be if you join me. Come!”

Mansion looked behind him, but everyone except Rudo had already run off. Rudo looked close to following though, and he was staring at Mansion like he was insane for listening at all. But Mansion was bored, and it wasn’t as if his life had any shining prospects. His father owned a butcher’s shop. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad just to look.

“I’ll be back Rudo. It’s fine.” Mansion said.

Rudo shook his head angrily and ran after the rest.

The Draneer grabbed Mansion by the arm and grinned. “You made the smart choice. I’m Martulf.”

“I’m Mansion.”

“Well Mansion, let me show you something cool.”

**********

Mansion rubbed his eyes. He was still getting used to waking up at the barracks. His stomach dropped as he looked around the small room. It was crowded with bunk beds. All empty. Nobody was there but him. He looked out the window to see brightness outside.

“Shit shit shit!” Mansion pulled on his clothes and scurried outside. Some other kids were down the hallway, talking. He ran up to them. “Hey, where is everyone? Have I missed something?”

A pretty kid, short, sneered. His voice was deep. “It’s a free day. You really are new, aren’t you?”

His companion, a dark haired boy with a missing tooth, laughed. “Take it easy Stacksy. We were all new once.”

Mansion nodded awkwardly and turned around. Where the hell would he go? He only knew the training rooms and eating quarters. He was pretty certain he wasn’t allowed to leave the base. Maybe he would ask-

“Hey! Come back!” The boy with a missing tooth called to Mansion. “We can show you around. I’m Aber. What’s your name?”

Mansion tried to suppress a smile.

**********

“Why’d you do it Aber?” Martulf snarled at Aber as he waved a glowing hot rod of iron in his face.

Mansion stood tall in the back of the room. He was the tallest soldier in Martulf’s entire operation, so he was kept close. Mansion flinched slightly as Martulf pressed the rod onto Aber’s arm. Flesh sizzled and Aber let out a muffled groan.

“Fuck you! I ain’t saying shit. No matter what you do, you’ll never find her.” Aber spat out.

Martulf nodded and tossed the rod to the ground. “Mansion?”

Mansion’s feet stepped forward and his hands grabbed Aber’s jaw open. He was a traitor.

“Last chance before I pull out the rest of your teeth,” Martulf said calmly. He had pulled out some pliers from a crowded wall of instruments.

Aber stared at Mansion with wide, bloodshot eyes. A last plea for help. A last hope.

But Mansion had run out of hope a long time ago.

**********

Mansion snuck in through the back window. The hovel was dark and dingy, and silent but for the gentle sound of breath that came from beside him. Mansion stepped back. A girl no older than sixteen was sitting on a chair facing the door. He could not see the exact form, but he suspected a crossbow was sitting on her lap. She shifted slightly. Mansion slowly reached for the weapon.

“Aber?” She said as Mansion gently lifted the crossbow and aimed it at her.

She gave a start and scrambled to a lamp, which she lit with difficulty. The light revealed an unremarkable girl with deep bags under her eyes and a room that hadn’t been cleaned in weeks. A deeply pathetic site. “Don’t kill me,” she said.

Mansion shook his head. “Why did Aber help you? This was a small operation. He was just supposed to keep you in our safehouse until your father gave in. He gave up his life for you.”

She went to her knees and covered her face. She was wearing a filthy night dress. Likely the one she had been kidnapped in. “I just told him…” She sobbed pitifully. “What my… daddy did- to me.”

So, he had objected to the part where he gave her back. Mansion did not want to hear what she had said. She was no master manipulator, that was plain enough. What could be so horrible?

“Stand up and come with me.” Mansion reached for her arm, but she clambered back.

She said her piece through the tears. Explained how far the abuse went. What the operation was really in service of. Mansion liked to think he was tough, but not that tough. And hope could never be extinguished completely.

**********

“Where are we going?” She said on the second day. Her name was Shruti.

“North. That kind man who helped us the other day said that Cliff Harbor is the biggest city in the world. I reckon that’s a good place to aim.” Mansion smiled at Shruti, but she simply nodded and chewed her fingernails.

Their cart collapsed after several days, and so Mansion walked as Shruti rode the mule despondently. More days of hard travel passed, filled with hunger and storms and an increasing lack of hospitality from the people who lived along the road. First, the mule died, then Shruti.

Mansion made it to Cliff Harbor with barely a shred of life to cling to. His first night, he could afford only to sleep out of sight and on an empty stomach. But eventually, he found work.

For a man as tall and strong as Mansion, work was not hard to find.