The smoke was thinning, and Dorian could see the impression of a crowd at the crater’s edges—a smattering of damp wraiths staining the gray air. There was a warble of shouts and screams.

staining the gray air. There was a warble of shouts and screams.

“I must admit,” said the Oasis Lord, lips pursed, “That your sudden appearance has been a great surprise.”

“A good one, I hope,” said Dorian with a smile.

The Lord sized Dorian up with flat eyes. He looked at Dorian and as though Dorian were a cut of fish, and he was trying to guess the freshness of its meat. Uh… Dorian did not like that look. Not at all.

Then the Oasis Lord broke into a toothy grin. “For your sake, I hope so, too!”

Well! That’s… hardly reassuring.

Bin Heilong, meanwhile, was still steaming. “I must insist, Governor,” he snarled. “That you leave the premises posthaste. An intruder has broken into Heilong grounds and stolen Heilong goods. His fate belongs to the Heilong Family—and no-one else! Not even you have the right to interfere.”

The Oasis Lord frowned. “Maybe. If this were any ordinary matter. But the birth of a Hero of the Age concerns all of us, don’t you think?”

Hero of the what now? Dorian perked up. Huh. It was dawning on him just what the hells was happening.

My breakthrough seems to have triggered a reaction from the plane. That purple air. Usually this sort of thing only happened in the Celestial Realm—but triggering one this early was still possible. Unlikely, perhaps, but possible.

And now it’s got two of the most powerful men in the Oasis thinking I’m a hotshot? Because of… colored air? Dorian stifled a snort. Oh, mortals. You come up with the silliest superstitions.

As though he could hear Dorian’s thoughts, Bin barked a laugh. “Hero of the Age? Nonsense! A children’s tale! Bait set for knaves and fools!”

The General’s face was pale. His lips trembled as he spoke. He protests, but he believes in it. Why?

Dorian was baffled. Couldn’t this all be due to a huge underground gas leak? Or perhaps some flatulent Sinkhole whale? Surely there were more plausible explanations than ‘a hero is born!’ for ‘big poof of qi!’. But both old men seemed weirdly sure of themselves.

“The signs are there, are they not? The stir of Fate, Purple Air from the East…it’s precisely as the records describe. Precisely as I recall seeing with mine own eyes, lo those centuries ago, when your ancestor, the Moondragon Knight, crossed the edge of Profound! Long as I live—and it has been very, very long indeed—I’ll never forget sight. Why, it’s one-of-a-kind.” The Lord chuckled.

Bin stiffened. His breaths came in shallow gasps.

“Let us drop the act, Bin. Would the child still be breathing if you did not know what he is? What has the potential to become? It’s quite the windfall.” The Oasis Lord grinned, scanning the wrecked estate. “Heh. Windfall. A little wordplay to lighten the mood, eh?”

“Don’t you test me, Nala,” Bin growled. He looked one taunt away from attacking the Lord outright. “Not now.”

“Very well. Then let me be straightforward.” The Oasis Lord met the General’s eyes, unflinching. Then he glanced to Dorian—there was that appraiser’s gaze raking over him once more. He looked satisfied. Far too satisfied. A pit dropped in Dorian’s stomach.

“You wish to claim him for your own,” said the Oasis Lord happily. “But your scheme, I fear, neglects the common good.”

There was that fish-market look again. Except this time it had a certain hunger to it, a hunger which gave Dorian pause.

“Such a useful asset is to be requisitioned by the state, for the welfare of us all!”

Fuck.

“You!—“ The general was in fits.

Dorian frowned. So the jolly dwarf is not here to save me after all.

Or, rather—he was here to save Dorian for himself.

Either way, it made little difference. Was there a way didn’t end up as some old man’s property?

“Look, sirs,” said Dorian with a weak laugh. “Surely there’s been a mistake. I’m no Hero.”

Both men promptly ignored him. He sighed. As expected. I’m too weak for my opinion to matter, apparently! There was something darkly amusing about watching, helpless, as your fate is decided by two ornery old men stuck in a catfight. Though Dorian was more used to seeing it happen to countries than people.

The air had cleared enough that Dorian could make out the outlines of people, big and small, huddled around the crater. Bin opened his mouth to splutter a reply but the Oasis Lord was already turning to face the crowd, a smile lighting his face.

“Rejoice, citizens of the Oasis!” he crowed, and his voice took on a booming quality. “Today, for merely the fourth time in the history of Azcan, we stand in the presence of a Hero of the Age!”

Murmurs of confusion. Of disbelief. Wide, staring eyes, hundreds of them, all fixed on the Lord’s smiling face. In the half-light what little of his skin peeked out beneath his tangle of hair was too-smooth and shiny. As he spoke, he seemed a doll come to life.

“The Hero brings fortune wherever he goes. He is a supreme talent at whatever he chooses. Each time such a man has arrived, the fate of the Oasis itself changed. The first was the Azcan Emperor, who drove out the Beast-Kings and founded our Oasis with his two bare hands! The second was venerable Jani Zhang, the mother of Artificing, who bequeathed us the steels which undergird our way of life! And last is the Moondragon Knight—a man who I am honored to have called a mentor and friend. A man who would leave us to ascend to Godhood—but not before leaving behind the most fearsome military the Desert has ever known.”

The Lord’s eyes swiveled to Dorian. The eyes of the crowd, hundreds, wild, swiveled to him too, and Dorian felt them like a swarm of insects crawling up his skin. Just what is he playing at?

“And now we have Io Rust. Our Fourth Hero of the Age! What will this young man do for us? Fight back the Ugoc scourge? Deliver us a new era of Artificing? Of Alchemy? Or something more? Something new entirely, which will raise the Oasis to greater heights than ever before?”

The crowd’s murmurs rose. Dorian saw silk-laden citizens, hair blown wild by the winds, looking to one another, nodding, pointing, whispering.

“Can it really be?”

“Is it true?”

“A Hero, like in the myths?!”

The Lord turned to Dorian, a twinkle in his gaze. But it was no longer a starry-eyed twinkle. Instead it reminded Dorian of the glint of a polished knife. “Whatever it is, I can assure you, my friends, that the Governor’s palace shall not let such a man go to waste. I have served the Oasis all my life. I have been your Lord for the past quarter century—and before that, I served as the Head of our crown jewel, the Artificer’s Guild, for a century beyond that! Suffice it to say, I know how to make best use of raw metals. Rest easy, citizens of the Oasis, for the light-soaked days are coming! I shall make sure of it.”

“Three cheers for the Lord!” cried a voice. “Three cheers for the Hero!” cried another. A throng of uneven shouts rippled down the crowd. “Hear, hear!”

They sounded weakly optimistic. Mostly baffled. Dorian felt the same way.

If I’m not mistaken, Dorian thought, bemused, I just got publicly claimed. Curious. He wasn’t sure how to feel about it. If it was a choice between being taken by the military or the Governor, he supposed he preferred the latter. There were worse fates than joining the most powerful man in the Oasis. Better than being thrust out on the front lines, at least?

“Objection!” Bin had spoken up, screeching to make his voice heard over the din. Compared to the General’s deep boom, his voice was but a shrill squawk. “When we face our fiercest threat, the military should have first pick over all resources! These are dire times. We are at war, gentlemen! War!”

Resources? Really? “I do have a name, you know,” Dorian sighed. “And shouldn’t I have some say in this? I am, after all, the resource in question.”

His words were like a hot breeze flying straight over their heads. They didn’t even look at him. Dorian rolled his eyes.

“What are you saying, General?” snapped the Oasis Lord. “That you do not trust your own clan Patriarch to stamp out a few unruly savages from the North? That you truly need a Hero at your disposal?”

He shook his head slowly, like a parent addressing a petulant child. “No. I think not. It seems to me, my old friend, that you are caught in a fit of passion. Such a transparent power grab is beneath you.”

But before Bin could bite off a response, a chortle wafted through the air.

Both men’s faces snapped up. Dorian’s did too, and he had to stop from snorting aloud at the sight. Don’t tell me a third cat is entering the fray?

The sound had come from a plump old man with slicked-back hair who could’ve strolled straight out of a dinner party. He wore a sleek, silky suit and held a thick cane drowning in golden stylings. He sauntered down to them from the skies, head held high, the single button on his collar struggling mightily against the flopping of his double chin.

“I daresay, Governor—isn’t that a mite hypocritical?” His voice was a reedy drawl.

Behind him was a bald, squat, bespectacled man bulging out of a tight white suit. The man cleared his throat. “Presenting his eminence, Finance Minister Ouyang, Keeper of the Gold Bullions, Head of the right honorable Merchant’s Guild and of the right honorable Royal Bank of Azcan!”

“Thank you, Renford. You may withdraw,” sniffed the Finance Minister.

Now Bin looked even more displeased, if that were possible. “What nonsense is this? You have no business here, Ouyang!”

“I run the Bank, sir Heilong,” said the Minister, a brow cocked. “Please. I have business anywhere commerce flows—which is to say, everywhere in this Oasis. What sort of banker would I be if I did not attend to the creation of new capital?”

His beady eyes locked on Dorian.

“It is the opinion of the bankers’ and merchant’s guilds, for whom I represent a unitary voice, that the boy ought to come to us. We shall make of him a titan of industry unlike any this Oasis has seen.”

Bin stared. “Wh—“ he spluttered. “You greedy rat! What the hells would a horde of sniveling cheats do with a Hero?!”

“Though I would not phrase it as harshly as my colleague, I must agree,” said the Oasis Lord, crossing his arms, eyes narrowed. “Back off, Yin. This matter is none of your concern.”

“Damned right!” piped up a voice from behind them all.

Dorian whirled around. Another one?! Really? How many of these assholes are there?

It was gruff voice from a gruff-looking man, stomping across the ground, sending up big poofs of dust with each step. He was shaped like one huge hairy block of cement, twice as tall as anyone here and thrice as wide. Dorian recognized the gilded badge on his thick Artificer’s leathers. Behind him trailed Martial Elder Kal, looking harried. Dorian frowned. If he’s a Grand Elder and he’s trailing behind, then this man must be…

Kal cleared his throat. “Introducing his eminence Thon Wang, Head of the honorable Artificer’s Guild—“

“That boy came to us first!” bellowed Thon. His fists were clenched so tight his veins stood out like steel pipes on his arms. “He’s an Artificer, through and through! Blood runs hot with molten metal!” He thumped his chest, burping. “He belongs to us, you hear? Us! With a Hero in the Guild, forging us great new weapons, this Oasis can conquer this whole blasted desert! Nay, the world!”

Dorian’s head was starting to pound. This is getting absurd.

Then—as though on cue—yet another voice spoke up.

“Truly?” From a far side of the crater, a troupe of men and women descended upon the crater. They were dressed in moss-green robes etched with curling silver—the robes of the Alchemist’s Guild. At its front was a little old lady with a cane, hair tied back in a tight bun, looking cross as all hells. She drew her gaze across the awkward gathering, her lip curling. “What a banal aim. An alchemist Hero would advance us to a new Era of medicine, and save countless lives. Who among you dares deny us that? The Alchemist’s guild is late to the negotiations, it appears. Hmph. If any of you think this is an excuse to cut us out of our rightful share of the prize, you are sorely mistaken.”

“Your rightful share?” snarled Thon, rounding on her. “Your rightful share, Mala, is zero! Fuck off!”

“Truly?” said the Alchemist’s Head, cocking a brow. “Who supplies the Oasis its healing elixirs? Who gifts its citizens the pills they require to fast, and fly, and cultivate? We of the Alchemist’s Guild have long been the unsung heroes of our state. Refuse us face and you shall not like the consequences.”

“Unsung heroes?” screeched Bin. His hair, once neatly combed, was now a frazzled thicket. “The Oasis shovels thousands of lira to fund your silly experiments, and you pompous asses think yourselves martyrs?! Despicable! Wanton! Inconceivable! The true unsung heroes in Azcan are the military—we who brave the dangers so you can live your ingrate lives!”

“Gentlemen, gentlemen, at ease!” cried the Oasis Lord, waving for silence. By the frown on his face, he was well aware things had slipped away from him. “Surely we can come to some amicable solution—“

He halted, frowning, and squinted at the sky. Dorian did the same, and his eyes widened.. This time, he couldn’t keep from snorting. Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.

The patchwork of pink-and-black smoke had given way to a blue sky blotched with drooping, leaden clouds. And in that sky, spearing through the clouds, were the prows of airships.

Blimp-like ships built of huge sheets of bolted steel, trailing rivers of smoke. They were fitted with billowing white masts—masts painted with emblems. There were over a dozen in total, and Dorian saw that each was of a different noble family of the Oasis.

And on each ship, standing at the prow, was a pissed-looking old man or woman in needlessly posh garb. A dozen Heads of a dozen families. And Dorian had a sneaking suspicion he knew why they’d come.

He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

At this rate, the only way this ends is if they cut me up into ribbons! Only then can all of these fuckers get a slice of me!