CHAPTER 5: Kings Without Crowns

Mouse stepped toward the mouth of the mine—and stopped.

The moment he crossed the threshold, something hit him.

Not a blade or a fist. Something he couldn't see.

The air itself seemed to press against him, heavy and suffocating, as though an enormous weight had suddenly settled over his shoulders.

Mouse stumbled, his breath catching in his throat.

What the hell?!

He tried to draw another breath. The air felt thick. Wrong.

Every instinct in his body told him to retreat into the tunnel.

Then he remembered Garran's warning.

Magic density so strong you'll want to throw up.

So this is what he meant...

Mouse swallowed hard. He'd felt magic before, but never so much gathered in one place. It pressed against his skin and churned his stomach.

Beside him, Garran stepped into the clearing as casually as though he were taking an evening stroll.

Mouse stared at him.

How is he not feeling this?

He forced himself to straighten and look up. His eyes struggled to make sense of what lay before him.

Men were everywhere.

Some fought in scattered pockets across the clearing. Others were packed so tightly together that Mouse couldn't tell where one side ended and the other began.

Swords flashed beneath the moonlight. Arrows cut through the smoke. The ground had been churned into a muddy mess beneath hundreds of boots.

And everywhere he looked, someone was dying.

One man swung a mace into another's head. The sickening crunch reached Mouse even over the shouting.

A few paces away, an archer loosed an arrow into a charging soldier's chest. The man stumbled, caught himself on one knee, and tried to rise.

A second arrow struck him before he could.

There was no elegance to any of it.

No glorious duels. No heroic last stands.

Just men desperately trying to kill the person in front of them before that person killed them first.

Mouse's stomach tightened.

He had imagined battles before. Of course he had.

Every child in Blackfen had heard stories of great warriors, legendary swordsmen, and mages capable of bringing entire armies to their knees.

But this?

This was nothing like the stories.

There was only one word he could think of.

"Carnage."

The word slipped from his mouth.

Beside him, Garran nodded.

"Carnage," he agreed.

Mouse barely heard him.

His attention had settled on a mage standing near the far edge of the clearing.

The man raised a hand.

A cluster of soldiers rushing toward him suddenly collapsed beneath a violent burst of magic.

Three fell immediately. Another staggered backward before being struck by a second spell.

The mage didn't even wait for them to hit the ground before turning toward his next targets.

Mouse recognized him.

The alley.

The memory made him grimace.

The mage swept his arm outward. More men fell, and a dull pressure pulsed through Mouse’s ears.

Mouse swallowed.

He'd known magic was dangerous.

He hadn't understood just how dangerous.

Then a roar rose above the battlefield. Mouse turned toward the center of the clearing, eyes widening.

There, surrounded by fallen soldiers and broken weapons, stood two figures.

One was enormous.

An Oni.

The creature towered over the men around him, his massive frame covered in battered armor. A greatsword rested in one hand, its blade so large that Mouse doubted most men could lift it, much less swing it.

Yet the Oni was on one knee.

And standing before him was a rat.

Fitch.

Mouse blinked.

No way.

The same rat who had been kneeling and begging in the office only minutes earlier now stood over an enormous Oni.

Fitch's clothes were torn in several places, and blood stained one sleeve.

But he was smiling.

The Oni raised his head.

"You think you've won, rat?"

His voice carried across the clearing.

"My men will fight to the end! Even if you defeat me, both our guilds will be crippled by this battle!"

Fitch's smile widened.

"Crippled?"

He tilted his head.

"My guild?"

The rat began to laugh.

It was a low, ugly sound that grew louder with every breath.

Then he spread his arms.

"MY RATS HAVE INFESTED EVERY GUTTER!"

His voice thundered over the battlefield.

"EVERY SEWER!"

Nearby soldiers turned toward him.

"AND EVERY GODDAMN CRACK IN EVERY BUILDING IN BLACKFEN!"

A roar erupted from the men bearing House Vyre's colors.

Weapons rose into the air.

Fitch pointed toward the kneeling Oni.

"You think killing a few hundred of my men will cripple me?!"

His whiskers twitched.

"When this battle is over, I'll swarm your hideouts!"

He took a step closer.

"I'll crawl through your walls! I'll drag your men out of whatever holes they think will keep them safe!"

Another step.

"AND I WILL BECOME YOUR PLAGUE!"

The clearing erupted.

House Vyre's men cheered, shouting their guild master's name as the fighting surged around them.

Mouse stared.

That's the same rat?

Fitch had looked ready to faint in the office. Now he seemed to command the entire battlefield with nothing but his voice.

Then an arrow flashed through the air from beyond the crowd, aimed directly at Fitch’s chest.

Mouse saw it.

Barely.

Before he could even open his mouth, Fitch's tail snapped upward.

CRACK!

The arrow spun away, knocked harmlessly aside.

Mouse's eyes widened.

His tail?!

Fitch hadn't even looked toward the archer.

"You asked me whether the rat would be all right?"

Mouse turned.

Garran stood beside him, watching the battle with an amused expression.

Mouse opened his mouth.

Garran didn't bother finishing the thought.

He simply laughed.

At the center of the clearing, the Oni's expression twisted with rage.

"YOU FILTHY LITTLE RAT!"

He surged to his feet.

His greatsword rose with him.

Mouse had expected a weapon that enormous to be slow.

He was wrong.

The Oni swung.

The blade carved a tremendous arc through the air, moving with a speed that seemed impossible for something so heavy.

Fitch leapt backward.

The sword struck the ground where he'd been standing.

BOOOOM!

Earth and broken stone exploded outward.

Mouse flinched.

Before the dust settled, the Oni was already moving.

He twisted his massive shoulders, dragging the greatsword upward and into another swing.

It was wild, violent, and somehow beautiful.

The Oni wielded the enormous weapon in ways Mouse had never seen a swordsman move.

A normal man would have needed both hands simply to lift it.

This creature swung it as though it were an ordinary blade.

I guess that's what happens when you're that strong.

Mouse watched the greatsword sweep through another impossible arc. The weight in the air deepened; he braced a hand against the mine entrance without realizing it.

Maybe Ren could do that.

He considered it.

Actually... yeah. Maybe Ren.

The thought almost made him smile. Then the Oni charged again, driving Fitch back.

For the first time since Mouse had begun watching, the rat seemed entirely focused on defense.

The Oni’s greatsword crashed down. Fitch slipped aside, then narrowly escaped the next swing.

Then Fitch reached into his coat.

Something small struck the ground between them.

POOF!

A thick cloud of smoke erupted outward.

In seconds, the rat disappeared. The Oni charged straight into the smoke with a furious roar.

Mouse leaned forward.

Where'd the rat go?

A sharp mechanical click answered him.

Then another.

And another.

THWIP! THWIP! THWIP!

Crossbow bolts burst from the smoke.

The Oni raised his left arm.

Several bolts struck it in quick succession.

With the bolts buried in his arm, the enormous warrior lowered his shoulder and charged deeper into the swirling cloud without stumbling.

Mouse held his breath. For a moment, nothing happened. Then a dark figure burst upward from the cloud, rising so quickly that Mouse nearly lost sight of it.

Fitch.

The rat soared into the night sky, his coat whipping violently behind him.

And for one perfect moment, his body lined up with the moon.

Mouse stared.

The silver light outlined Fitch's long tail, pointed ears, and outstretched limbs. Far below him, the smoke continued to churn across the battlefield.

It looked like something from one of the stories Ren used to tell.

"Awesome."

That was all Mouse could manage.

A wide, ridiculous grin had spread across his face without him noticing.

Only moments ago, he'd been sickened by the carnage. Now he couldn't take his eyes off the rat flying through the air.

"He's awesome!"

Garran chuckled beside him.

"He is, isn't he?"

Mouse glanced up.

The stranger was smiling too.

"Fitch spends most of his life worrying about tomorrow," Garran said. "Always planning. Always thinking about what might go wrong."

His eyes followed the rat overhead.

"But during a fight?"

Garran's grin widened.

"That's the one time the bastard actually lives in the present."

He cupped his hands around his mouth.

"COME ON, FITCH!"

Mouse blinked. Garran was actually cheering.

The same man who'd casually threatened to slit Fitch's throat was now shouting encouragement at him like a spectator at a festival tournament.

Mouse didn't know what to make of that.

But he found himself looking skyward again.

At the height of his ascent, Fitch grabbed both sides of his billowing coat and threw it wide open.

Beneath the fabric, Mouse glimpsed rows upon rows of tiny metallic points.

Fitch whispered something.

Mouse couldn't hear the words.

But he saw what happened next.

The air around the rat shimmered. Mouse’s skin prickled, and the next breath caught high in his chest.

Then the needles came.

Hundreds. No—thousands.

They erupted from beneath Fitch's coat, spreading outward before turning toward the ground.

For an instant, they glittered against the moonlight. Then they descended in a silver rain.

Mouse's mouth fell open.

There was nowhere to run.

The Oni stood directly beneath the attack, still surrounded by the smoke Fitch had left behind.

Even someone that enormous couldn't possibly avoid so many projectiles.

He's dead.

Mouse was certain.

"No."

Garran's voice was quiet.

Mouse turned toward him.

"What?"

Garran wasn't smiling anymore.

"Watch."

A brilliant flash illuminated the clearing.

Blue, gold, and violet erupted beneath the falling needles.

The smoke was swept apart, revealing a vast, shimmering barrier stretched above the Oni.

Thousands of needles struck its surface.

TINK! TINK! TINK! TINK!

The sound became a continuous metallic roar.

Mouse stared.

Someone stood beside the Oni, one arm raised toward the sky.

A mage.

Mouse recognized him immediately.

The man from the alley!

The mage’s face was twisted with concentration. Colorful streams of magic flowed from his outstretched hand, feeding the barrier as the needles hammered against it. Each flicker tightened the pressure behind Mouse’s eyes. He clenched his jaw and kept watching.

For several seconds, the entire battlefield seemed to glow beneath the spell.

The last needle fell. The barrier flickered and vanished, leaving Mouse’s ears ringing in the sudden release of pressure.

Fitch was descending now, his coat trailing behind him.

Below, the Oni remained standing.

But something was wrong.

His greatsword hung loosely in his right hand; his left arm was drawn close to his body.

The mage turned toward him.

"Boss!"

The Oni's breathing had grown heavy.

"What's wrong?"

For a moment, the enormous warrior said nothing.

Then he looked down at his left arm.

"Poison."

Mouse's eyes widened.

Poison?

His gaze darted toward the Oni's arm.

The crossbow bolts Fitch had fired through the smoke. The Oni had allowed them to strike him, and Mouse had thought the warrior simply didn’t care.

Those bolts were poisoned.

The Oni tightened his grip on his greatsword.

The mage stepped closer.

"Boss, we need to..."

Without warning, the Oni raised the enormous blade.

Mouse barely had time to understand what he was seeing.

The greatsword swept downward toward the Oni’s own left shoulder.

SHHNK!

The arm fell.

For one stunned heartbeat, Mouse couldn’t make a sound.

Blood spilled down the warrior's armor as his severed limb struck the ground.

The mage stumbled backward.

"BOOOOSS!"

Around them, nearby soldiers faltered.

Even some of House Vyre's men stopped fighting long enough to stare.

The Oni stood amid the scattered needles, his greatsword still clenched in his remaining hand.

His chest rose and fell.

He hadn't screamed.

He hadn't fallen.

He had simply removed the poisoned arm.

Mouse’s smile vanished. His stomach twisted.

Just like that.

A moment ago, he’d been certain Fitch had won. Now he wasn’t certain of anything.

What kind of monster does that?

Above the bleeding Oni, Fitch continued his descent.

"Garran, we need to do..."

Mouse turned. Garran was gone.

In his place stood the girl.

She had her arms crossed and was glaring at him.

"What the hell are you looking at?"

Mouse blinked.

"Where's..."

"You want to call me fat and sit on me for another ten minutes?"

Mouse stared at her.

Again?

He could already feel a headache coming on.

"I wasn't calling you fat!"

"Then why did you say I weighed a million pounds?"

"BECAUSE I THOUGHT YOU WERE ASLEEP!"

"That doesn't make it better!"

Mouse opened his mouth to argue, then stopped. While they’d been bickering, the clearing had gone quiet. Far too quiet.

The screaming had stopped.

The clash of steel was gone.

Even the soldiers who had been fighting only moments earlier stood motionless.

Every face was turned toward the center of the battlefield.

Mouse followed their gaze.

And his mouth fell open.

While Mouse’s back was turned, the Oni had raised his greatsword to meet Fitch’s descent.

The massive blade pointed skyward, positioned directly beneath the descending rat.

He had been waiting.

One final attack.

Fitch would have fallen straight onto the sword.

But someone had reached the Oni first.

A man had swept the enormous warrior's legs out from beneath him.

Before the Oni could recover, a knife was pressed against his throat.

Mouse recognized the man immediately.

Garran?

But that wasn't all.

Another Garran stood behind the mage, one hand gripping his shoulder while the other held a blade against his neck.

And in front of the now-kneeling Oni, a third Garran squatted comfortably, looking up at the enormous warrior with an amused smile.

Three Garrans.

Mouse’s eyes darted between them.

What?

The one in front of the Oni smiled as though he’d stopped by for a friendly conversation. Around him, an entire battlefield stood frozen.

Then Garran broke the silence.

"I think that's enough, Gozan."

His voice wasn't particularly loud.

It didn't need to be.

The Oni looked down at the man squatting before him.

His remaining hand tightened around the hilt of his greatsword.

But he didn't swing.

Above them, Fitch completed his descent.

The rat landed beside Garran, his coat settling around him.

Mouse barely noticed.

How did he get over there so fast?

He'd been standing beside Mouse only moments ago.

And now there were three of him.

Are those clones?

Mouse squinted.

Illusions?

But the knives looked real.

And the Oni certainly wasn't treating them like illusions.

Mouse's thoughts tangled together.

How many can he make?

At the center of the clearing, Gozan finally spoke.

"G-Garran..."

His voice had lost its thunder.

"I knew you two were working together."

Garran tilted his head.

"Actually, no."

He smiled.

"This was just you being an idiot."

For a moment, Gozan stared at him.

Then the enormous Oni's shoulders sank.

"Yeah..."

Mouse almost laughed.

Almost.

The same warrior who had just hacked off his own arm was now being scolded like a child.

And somehow, he seemed to be accepting it.

Garran rose from his crouch.

He looked around the clearing.

Hundreds of soldiers stood among the fallen, their weapons still drawn but no longer moving.

House Vyre's men watched their guild master.

The Black Hooks watched their Oni.

Everyone watched Garran.

"I think this is where you take your men and we end it here, Gozan."

Garran brushed a little dirt from his coat.

"Unless you're trying to die."

His smile remained.

"And if that's the case, I can fulfill that wish."

No one laughed.

Gozan drew a long breath.

He looked across the clearing.

At his men.

Some could barely stand. Others leaned against their weapons, blood staining their armor. The wounded lay scattered among the dead; another charge might break those still on their feet.

Gozan had promised they would fight to the end.

Looking at them now, he could see how close that end had become.

His gaze shifted toward Fitch.

The rat stood beside Garran, watching him.

For a brief moment, neither spoke.

Then Gozan looked back at his soldiers.

He raised his voice.

"ALL BLACK HOOKS, RETREAT!"

The order echoed across the clearing.

For a moment, nobody moved.

The mage turned sharply.

"But, Boss..."

The Garran standing behind him pressed the knife harder against his throat.

The mage froze.

Gozan's expression darkened.

"ALL HOOKS RETREAT!"

This time, the command was a roar.

"THAT'S AN ORDER!"

The first Black Hook soldier lowered his weapon.

Then another.

Across the clearing, men began pulling away from their opponents.

Some hurried toward the wounded. Others helped their comrades stand.

A few looked back at the Oni, unwilling to believe the battle was over.

But Gozan had given his order.

And no one dared disobey it.

From the mouth of the mine, Mouse watched in disbelief.

A battlefield that had been tearing itself apart only moments earlier was beginning to empty.

All because one man had decided the fighting was finished.

Mouse looked at the three Garrans.

Then at Fitch.

Then at the enormous Oni kneeling in the dirt.

He'd thought the rat was incredible.

He still did.

But Garran...

Mouse swallowed.

What the hell is he?

"HEY!"

Mouse jumped.

Across the clearing, Garran stood beside Fitch and the kneeling Oni, waving toward the mouth of the mine.

"You two! Get over here!"

Mouse looked at the girl.

She looked at him.

Neither seemed particularly excited about walking across a battlefield.

Then she started forward.

Mouse watched her step between the scattered weapons and retreating soldiers. She moved carefully, avoiding the wounded and keeping her distance from anyone still holding a blade.

A few paces into the crowd, she stopped.

She turned.

Mouse was still standing at the cave entrance.

The girl looked at him for a moment, then gave a small nod toward the clearing.

Come on.

Mouse frowned.

Don't tell me what to do.

He followed anyway.

Getting across the battlefield was considerably less exciting than watching it from a distance.

Up close, there was no escaping the smell.

Smoke. Blood. Sweat.

The ground was torn apart beneath his boots, and every few steps he had to avoid something he didn't want to look at too closely.

Men dragged their wounded comrades toward the trees. Others searched among the fallen, calling names and waiting for answers that sometimes never came.

Mouse kept his eyes forward.

The girl walked a few paces ahead of him.

Neither spoke.

By the time they emerged from the thinning crowd, Mouse found himself standing before three people he'd never imagined meeting in his entire life.

A massive, bleeding Oni.

A rat beastman who had nearly brought down that Oni.

And Garran.

Whoever Garran actually was.

The Oni looked even larger up close.

Blood ran from the stump of his left shoulder, darkening the armor beneath it. His greatsword rested against the ground, its enormous blade almost as tall as Mouse.

Mouse tried not to stare.

He failed.

"Took your sweet time getting over here, didn't you, brat?"

Mouse turned toward Garran.

"Get off my back!"

Garran grinned.

Gozan looked between them.

"Who's this?"

Fitch opened his mouth.

"Garran's new apprenti..."

One of the Garrans standing nearby hooked a foot around Fitch's ankle.

The rat stumbled.

"GAH!"

He caught himself before falling, then whipped around.

"GARRAN!"

Garran ignored him.

Mouse blinked at the other Garrans.

He’s still doing that?

He’d nearly forgotten. How did someone forget something like that?

Gozan studied Mouse a little more closely.

Then he turned back to Garran.

"Garran, I thought you were done having... you know."

"I am done," Garran snapped.

Gozan raised his remaining hand slightly.

"All right."

Mouse looked from one face to another.

What are they talking about?

An apprentice?

Did they think he was Garran's apprentice?

He opened his mouth to correct them.

Then stopped.

Something else was bothering him.

Only minutes ago, these men had been trying to kill each other.

Fitch had sworn to fill the streets with Black Hook blood.

Gozan had promised to fight until both guilds were crippled.

And Garran had threatened to kill the Oni if he refused to retreat.

Now they were talking and arguing like men who’d known one another for years. Mouse couldn’t understand it.

He looked toward the clearing.

House Vyre's men were gathering their wounded. Black Hook soldiers were disappearing into the trees, helping their injured comrades as they went.

Some still glared at one another.

A few looked ready to start fighting again.

But nobody did.

Weren't they just at war?

Garran noticed his expression.

"Confused, Mouse?"

Mouse looked up.

"A little."

Garran chuckled.

"This world's a big place, Mouse."

He glanced toward the retreating soldiers.

"Enemies become friends. Friends become enemies. Sometimes all in the same day."

Mouse frowned.

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Of course it doesn't. You're nine."

"HEY!"

Garran ignored him.

"When people reach a certain level of strength, murder becomes a second thought."

He gestured toward the clearing.

Hundreds of men moved among the wounded and dead.

Some carried their comrades.

Others carried bodies.

The cheering had stopped.

Only the groans of the injured, the occasional shouted order, and the rustling of the surrounding trees remained.

"Look around you."

Mouse did.

"These men fought because their leaders told them to. They killed because someone decided there was something worth killing over."

Garran's expression grew a little more serious.

"And now they're stopping because those same leaders decided the fighting was finished."

Mouse watched two soldiers lift a wounded man between them.

He thought about the man he’d killed inside the mine—how frightened he’d been, how difficult it had been to make himself move afterward.

And now he stood in a clearing where hundreds of men had been doing the same thing.

Garran looked back at Gozan.

"Gozan."

The Oni raised his head.

Their eyes met.

Garran's smile disappeared.

"I'm only going to say this once."

Gozan said nothing.

"Leave the city."

Fitch's ears twitched.

Garran continued.

"Take your guild and go to another country. Heaven knows there are plenty of others to choose from."

The clearing seemed quieter for a moment.

Gozan studied him.

He didn’t argue, threaten, or ask what would happen if he refused. He simply nodded.

Then he closed his remaining hand around the hilt of his greatsword, lifted it from the ground, and turned.

Mouse watched him walk toward the trees.

The Oni's men parted to let him through.

Some bowed their heads.

Others hurried to follow.

Despite his missing arm and the blood running down his armor, Gozan walked without asking anyone for help.

He never looked back.

And slowly, the last of the Black Hooks disappeared into the woods.

Mouse watched them go.

Something about the way the soldiers had parted for Gozan stayed with him.

The Oni had lost an arm and the battle, yet his wounded men had hurried to follow him despite barely being able to stand.

Mouse turned toward Fitch.

The rat was already barking orders to his men. Wounded soldiers were being gathered, weapons collected, and the dead carried from the clearing.

Everywhere Fitch pointed, someone moved.

Every command was answered.

Mouse thought back to the rat's speech.

How his men had cheered.

How they'd raised their weapons and shouted his name.

Then he looked at Garran.

A man who had stopped an entire battlefield simply by stepping into it.

They're almost like kings.

The thought surprised him.

Not kings with crowns or thrones.

But kings all the same.

Gozan had commanded loyalty even in defeat.

Fitch had inspired it in the middle of slaughter.

And Garran...

Mouse wasn't entirely sure what Garran was.

But he'd seen how both guild masters looked at him.

For the first time, Mouse understood something about the men who ruled Blackfen's underworld.

They weren't simply the strongest men in their guilds.

They were the men everyone else looked toward when things fell apart, trusted to lead them even into a battle they might never return from.

Mouse looked across the ruined clearing once more.

A small part of him understood why.

And that part frightened him almost as much as the battlefield itself.

As House Vyre’s surviving soldiers carried their wounded toward the trees, the space around Mouse began to empty. Fitch watched over the work.

The rat's voice still carried across the clearing.

"GET THOSE MEN MOVING! AND SOMEONE FIND OUT HOW MANY WE LOST!"

Even after everything, he sounded as though he had enough energy to fight another war.

Mouse watched him for a moment.

Then he looked around.

The other Garrans were gone.

He hadn't seen them disappear. One moment there had been several of them, and the next there was only one.

How does he keep doing that?

Mouse was beginning to think he'd never get an answer.

At the center of the ruined clearing, only Mouse, Garran, and the girl remained.

For a while, none of them spoke.

The distant voices of Fitch's men drifted through the night. Somewhere beyond the trees, an injured soldier groaned.

Then Garran broke the silence.

"What's your name, boy?"

Mouse looked up.

He blinked.

Seriously?

They'd been through an entire mine together. Garran had watched him fight, helped him steal a box, and dragged him into the middle of a guild war.

And now he was asking his name again, as though he hadn’t been using it all evening?

"Mouse."

Garran tilted his head.

"Mouse..."

He repeated it slowly, as though testing how it sounded.

He examined Mouse from his boots to his clothes, then his face, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

Mouse shifted uncomfortably.

"What?"

Garran finished looking him over, then smiled.

"Well, Mouse. I think it's time you headed home."

Mouse stared at him.

Home.

The word took a moment to settle in his head. Then...

"HOME?!"

His eyes widened.

"AHHHHH, SHIT!"

Inside Mouse's head, the courtroom erupted.

Little Mice shouted, argued, and threw papers. Two had started fighting near the judge’s bench, while one particularly unhelpful little Mouse had begun setting fires.

HOME!

He was supposed to be home!

Ren was waiting!

Lys was waiting!

And Mara...

OH MY GOD.

MARA!

Mouse could already picture her expression.

The crossed arms.

The narrowed eyes.

The terrible silence before she started shouting.

She's going to kill me.

He'd been sent on his first solo mission.

His first real request.

And what had he accomplished?

He'd broken into a smuggling operation, released a monster, killed a man, discovered a girl inside a box, witnessed a guild war, and somehow ended up standing beside one of the most terrifying men he'd ever met.

He didn't even have the box!

"WHAT ABOUT MY MISSION?!"

His voice cracked.

Garran raised an eyebrow.

Mouse's eyes darted toward the girl.

The girl immediately took a step back.

"Don't even think about touching me."

Mouse opened his mouth.

He had several very good things to say about that. But he remembered her fist—and his stomach.

He closed his mouth.

Garran chuckled.

"Don't worry about your mission."

Mouse turned toward him.

"How am I supposed to not worry?! I don't have anything!"

"You're going to take this."

Garran reached into his coat.

When his hand emerged, something blue glittered between his fingers.

A necklace.

Hanging from its chain was a polished blue medallion, its central jewel catching the moonlight.

Mouse stared.

The stone was beautiful.

Even in the dim light, it shone with a rich blue color that seemed almost too bright to be natural.

Garran held it out.

"Tell your guild this was the reward."

Mouse looked from the necklace to Garran before accepting it carefully, letting the chain gather in his palm.

The medallion had a pleasant weight to it.

"What is it?"

Garran shrugged.

"No idea."

Mouse blinked.

"What?"

"I stole it from that Oni bastard, so I know it's worth something."

Garran smiled. Mouse stared harder.

You don't even know what you stole?

What kind of moron steals something without knowing what it is?

He considered saying that aloud.

Then remembered who he was talking to.

Actually, never mind.

He slipped the necklace into his pocket.

Whatever it was, he hoped Mara would accept it.

Because if she didn't...

Mouse shuddered.

Garran turned toward the girl.

His entire manner changed.

The relaxed, sarcastic stranger disappeared, replaced by a gentleman so theatrical that Mouse almost expected music to start playing.

Garran bowed deeply.

"Well, my lady."

He extended one hand toward her.

"Are you ready to depart for home?"

The girl studied him for a moment.

Then she turned toward Mouse.

Mouse blinked.

What now?

She approached, keeping a little distance. Apparently, she still hadn’t forgiven him for sitting on her.

"I'm not going to thank you for sitting on me."

Mouse frowned.

"Here we go again."

"Or for insulting me."

"I DIDN'T..."

She raised a hand.

Mouse stopped.

The girl hesitated.

For the first time since she'd climbed out of the chest, her expression softened.

"But..."

She looked at him properly.

"I will thank you for saving me."

Mouse stared.

He hadn't expected that.

The girl gave him a small smile.

"I hope our paths meet again, Mouse."

For once, Mouse couldn't think of anything clever to say.

He just stood there.

The girl turned back to Garran and placed her hand in his outstretched one.

Garran straightened.

"Shall we?"

She nodded.

Together, they turned toward the trees.

Mouse watched them go.

The girl glanced back once before disappearing beneath the branches. Garran followed.

And just like that, Mouse was alone.

He stood in the middle of the ruined clearing, surrounded by the fading sounds of House Vyre gathering its wounded.

The moon hung high overhead.

Smoke drifted between the trees.

Somewhere in the distance, Fitch was still shouting at his men.

Mouse reached into his pocket.

His fingers closed around the strange blue medallion.

He pulled it out and held it beneath the moonlight.

The jewel gleamed.

He turned it over in his hand.

What even is this thing?

He still didn’t know how the girl had ended up in that box, who Garran really was, or how the stranger had appeared in several places at once. And he certainly didn’t know how he was going to explain any of it to Mara.

Mouse stared at the necklace.

Then toward the path leading back to Blackfen.

For a long moment, he said nothing.

Finally, he sighed.

"Shit."

He pocketed the necklace and started toward the path home.

"BOY!?"

Mouse nearly jumped out of his skin.

He spun around.

Something enormous was racing toward him across the clearing on all fours.

WHAT NOW?!

Mouse stumbled backward, one hand flying toward his weapon.

Then the creature skidded to a halt in front of him.

Fitch.

Mouse stared.

Does everyone in this place enjoy scaring me?

The guild master straightened, brushing dirt from his coat.

"Heading back to Blackfen, are you?"

Mouse blinked.

"Uh... yeah."

Fitch glanced toward the trees.

"Then I'll escort you to the walls."

Mouse looked at him.

"You will?"

"Of course."

The rat gave a small shrug.

"Wouldn't do to let you wander through these woods alone after a night like this."

Mouse wasn't sure what to say.

Only minutes earlier, he'd watched Fitch nearly kill an Oni.

Now the same guild master was offering to walk him home.

Fitch tilted his head.

"Well?"

Mouse straightened.

"Right!"

He hurried after the rat as Fitch turned toward the trees.

They hadn't gone far when Fitch glanced down at him.

"What's your name, boy?"

Mouse looked up.

"Mouse."

The rat's ears twitched.

"Mouse?"

"Yeah."

Mouse hesitated.

"You can call me Mouse."

Fitch considered this.

Then nodded.

"Very well, Mouse."

He placed a hand against his chest.

"And you may call me Fitch."

Mouse stared at him.

For a moment, he wasn't sure whether the rat was joking.

Fitch's nose twitched.

Mouse pressed his lips together.

Don't laugh.

The nose twitched again.

Don't.

It was an enormous, terrifying guild master.

A warrior who'd stood against an Oni.

A man whose followers would probably kill anyone who insulted him.

And his nose kept twitching.

Mouse looked away.

I'm going to die.

Fitch seemed not to notice.

He retrieved a torch and led the way toward the forest.

Together, they stepped beneath the branches.

The torchlight danced across roots and fallen leaves, illuminating a narrow path through the darkness.

Behind them, the sounds of the battlefield slowly faded.

Ahead lay Blackfen.

And somewhere beyond its walls, home.

For the first time on the journey home, Mouse wasn’t walking alone.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

The forest was quiet compared to the battlefield they'd left behind.

Their footsteps crunched against fallen leaves, and the occasional snapping twig sent Mouse's eyes darting toward the darkness.

Fitch walked beside him, holding the torch high enough to illuminate the narrow path.

Every so often, his ears twitched toward some distant sound Mouse couldn't hear.

Mouse had hundreds of questions: about the battle, Gozan, the needles that had poured from Fitch’s coat. Most of all, about Garran.

But he wasn't entirely sure which question to ask first.

Judging by the occasional glance Fitch gave him, the rat was having a similar problem.

Eventually, Fitch broke the silence.

"Soooo, Mouse."

Mouse looked up.

"What guild do you belong to?"

"Oh."

Mouse straightened a little.

"It's a small guild in the Lower Slums, sir. Called the Rags."

"The Rags?"

Fitch repeated the name thoughtfully.

He raised his free hand and began stroking the fur beneath his chin, almost as though he were a man playing with his beard.

Mouse watched him.

Does he even have a beard?

"Hmm."

Fitch scratched beneath his jaw.

"Can't say I've heard the name."

Mouse wasn't surprised.

"But the Lower Slums, eh?"

"Yeah."

Fitch glanced down at him.

"Not exactly the friendliest place to grow up."

Mouse shrugged.

"It's really not as bad as you'd think."

The rat looked at him for a moment.

Then smiled.

"You're a tough one, aren't you?"

Mouse wasn't sure how to answer that.

Fitch looked ahead.

"Not many people can say that about the Lower Slums."

His smile faded slightly.

"Not many people are alive to say it."

Mouse's steps slowed.

He knew what Fitch meant.

He'd seen enough people disappear from the streets to understand.

"Yeah," he said quietly.

For a few moments, they walked in silence.

Then Fitch spoke again.

"Your leader must be strong."

Mouse thought of Mara.

Her fiery hair.

The way she could silence an entire room with a single look.

The way she always seemed to know when someone was lying.

And how, whenever things went wrong, she was the first person everyone looked toward.

A small smile appeared on his face.

"Yeah."

Fitch noticed the smile.

But he didn't comment on it.

Instead, he shifted the torch to his other hand.

"So..."

Mouse looked up.

"About Garran."

The rat’s voice had changed slightly, but Mouse noticed.

"When did you two first meet?"

"Tonight."

Fitch stopped walking.

Mouse took another step before realizing the torchlight had stopped moving.

He turned.

The enormous rat was staring at him.

"Tonight?"

Mouse blinked.

"Yeah."

"You met Garran tonight?"

"That's what I said."

Fitch continued staring.

Mouse frowned.

Why's he looking at me like that?

The rat lowered his gaze to the ground, thinking hard, before looking back at Mouse.

"You're certain?"

Mouse crossed his arms.

"Pretty sure I'd remember meeting him before."

Fitch let out a long breath.

Mouse studied him.

There it was again: that strange reaction people had whenever Garran’s name came up. Fear. Respect. Sometimes both.

Mouse hesitated.

"Who... is Garran, Mr. Fitch, sir?"

"Fitch is fine."

"Right. Fitch."

The rat looked into the darkness ahead.

"Garran is..."

He stopped.

Mouse waited.

Fitch opened his mouth, then closed it. His whiskers twitched.

For the first time since Mouse had met him, the enormous guild master seemed genuinely unable to find the right words.

"Garran is..."

Another silence.

Mouse tilted his head.

Is he broken?

Finally, Fitch sighed.

"Listen, Mouse."

Something in his voice made the boy straighten.

"For now, there's only one thing you need to understand."

Fitch looked down at him.

"Out of every guild, every king, every lord and lady I've ever known..."

He paused.

"The only man who can strike fear into me..."

His expression darkened.

"And I mean genuine fear..."

Mouse held his breath.

"...is Garran."

The forest seemed a little quieter.

Mouse stared at him.

Garran?

He thought of the man who'd stolen a mysterious necklace without knowing what it was.

The man who'd laughed while threatening to slit Fitch's throat.

The man who'd bowed dramatically to a girl after spending half the night insulting Mouse.

That Garran?

Mouse looked up at Fitch.

The rat had nearly killed an Oni.

He'd commanded an army.

He'd stood in the middle of a battlefield while thousands of needles fell from the sky.

And he was afraid of Garran.

Mouse couldn't make sense of it.

Fitch resumed walking.

After a moment, Mouse hurried after him.

The torchlight swayed between the trees.

Neither spoke for several minutes.

Then Fitch's ears shifted.

"Wait."

Mouse looked up.

"If you weren't there with Garran..."

The rat glanced down at him.

"Why were you there?"

Mouse hesitated.

Where do I even start?

He scratched the back of his head.

"Well..."

And so he told him.

He told Fitch about his first solo request: retrieving a box. About sneaking into the mine and discovering that things were considerably more dangerous than he’d expected. He told him about the monsters, meeting Garran, and finding a girl inside the box instead of whatever he’d been sent to collect.

Some parts came out quickly. Others took longer, and a few things were difficult to say.

Fitch listened, occasionally asking a question or grunting.

Once or twice, he gave Mouse a look that made the boy suspect he'd done something particularly stupid.

Which, Mouse had to admit, was probably fair.

By the time he'd finished, nearly ten minutes had passed.

The trees ahead were beginning to thin.

Through the branches, Mouse could just make out the distant outline of Blackfen's towering walls.

Home was close.

But before they reached the edge of the forest, Fitch stopped.

"Mouse."

The boy turned.

The rat was looking at him seriously.

"I'm going to give you some advice."

Mouse straightened.

Fitch crouched slightly, bringing his face closer to the boy's.

"Never get involved with the great merchant families."

Mouse blinked.

"What?"

"Stay away from their business. Their contracts. Their little games."

Fitch's voice had lost its earlier warmth.

"You probably weren't the only ones they hired to find that girl."

Mouse stared.

The merchant families?

Everyone in Blackfen knew about them.

They had money, influence, and enough powerful people working for them that even the Lower Slums heard stories.

The Rags were small.

They survived by taking jobs, avoiding unnecessary trouble, and knowing when to run.

Getting involved in the affairs of the great merchant families?

That was the kind of mistake people didn't get to make twice.

Mouse thought of the girl.

Her pointed ears.

Her expensive clothes.

The way Garran had bowed to her.

She's one of them?

His stomach sank.

Who the hell was that girl?

Fitch rubbed a hand over his face.

"I'm just glad Garran's on his way to sort this mess out."

His short chuckle sounded forced, as though he were trying to laugh away something that frightened him. Mouse didn’t like it one bit.

Fitch straightened.

"Well, Mouse."

He pointed toward the thinning trees.

"Just beyond there is the wall."

Mouse followed his gesture.

Through the darkness, he could see the enormous stone structure rising above the forest.

Blackfen.

He was almost home.

"I'll leave you here," Fitch said.

Mouse looked back at him.

For a moment, he didn't know what to say.

Only an hour earlier, he'd watched this enormous rat fight a monster of a man.

He'd been terrified of him.

Now Fitch had walked him through the woods, answered his questions, and warned him about dangers Mouse hadn't even known he'd stumbled into.

Mouse lowered his head.

"Thank you, Fitch."

The rat looked at him.

Mouse bowed a little deeper.

"For walking me home."

Fitch was silent for a moment.

Then he gave a small nod.

"Get home safely, Mouse."

Mouse straightened.

"I will."

Fitch turned toward the darkness.

His long tail swept behind him as he stepped off the path.

Mouse watched his enormous shape disappear between the trees.

Then he was alone again.

He stood quietly, thinking about Fitch’s warning, the merchant families, the girl, and Garran.

The only man who can strike fear into me...

Mouse shook his head.

He'd had enough mysteries for one night.

He turned toward Blackfen's walls.

Home was waiting. But when Mouse stepped through the last of the trees, he stopped.

He'd expected to find Ren waiting somewhere near the wall.

Perhaps Lys too.

Maybe the others, if they'd grown impatient enough.

Five Rags.

That was what he'd imagined.

Instead, there were seventeen.

Mouse stared.

At the base of Blackfen's towering castle wall, a crowd had gathered beneath the scattered light of torches.

They were fastening armor, pulling leather straps tight, and passing weapons from hand to hand.

Someone was checking the edge of a sword. Another was helping a younger Rag tighten a piece of armor that looked a little too large.

What...?

He took another step forward.

The gathering was anything but quiet.

Orders were being exchanged. People argued over equipment. Someone called for more torches.

Mouse recognized people he’d eaten beside and worked with, people who’d shouted at him for stealing food off their plates.

Almost the entire guild was here.

Why?

He looked from one face to another.

There was something strange about their expressions.

They looked frightened. It was different from the fear he’d seen when a soldier realized a blade was coming toward him. These were people waiting for terrible news, afraid of what they might find.

Mouse didn't understand.

Then he remembered.

The battle outside the mine. Hundreds of men. Steel clashing, magic tearing through the night, the shouting and screams.

And the walls of Blackfen were barely a mile away.

Of course.

Ren had been supposed to meet him near the wall.

Lys would have noticed he was missing.

They would have heard about the fighting.

They would have known something was wrong.

Mouse looked at the weapons, armor, and torches. Seventeen Rags preparing to march into the darkness. Suddenly, he understood.

They're here for me.

The realization settled in his chest, holding him motionless.

They were going to come get me.

Before he could think another thought, a voice rang out across the gathering.

"IT'S MOUSE!"

Mouse flinched.

He recognized the voice immediately.

Tavin?

He searched the crowd but couldn't see him.

"IT'S MOUSE! HE'S BACK!"

The effect was immediate.

A sword stopped halfway into its sheath.

Someone dropped a leather strap.

A conversation broke off in the middle of a sentence.

One by one, heads turned toward the trees.

Toward him.

For a heartbeat, nobody moved.

Mouse stood at the edge of the torchlight, dirty, exhausted, and staring back at them.

He watched confusion give way to disbelief, then relief and joy.

"Mouse?"

"He's alive!"

"That's him!"

People began moving toward him.

Someone laughed.

Someone else shouted his name.

Mouse barely heard them.

Because one person had caught his attention.

Mara.

She stood near the center of the gathering.

For a moment, she didn't move.

Her eyes were fixed on him.

Mouse felt his stomach drop.

Oh, no.

He knew that look.

Or at least, he thought he did.

He’d been gone far too long, missed his meeting with Ren, and gotten caught in a battle between two enormous guilds. He still had no idea how to explain any of it.

Mara's going to kill me.

Then she started running.

Mouse straightened.

Oh, she's definitely going to kill me.

But Mara wasn’t shouting or pointing at him. She didn’t even look angry.

As she came closer, Mouse saw her red eyes and the tears beneath them.

Mouse blinked.

Mara...?

He’d seen her furious, exhausted, laughing so hard she could barely breathe. He couldn’t remember the last time she’d looked like this.

She was crying.

Because of him.

Mouse opened his mouth.

"Mara, I..."

He never finished.

Mara slammed into him.

Her arms wrapped around his small body, and suddenly his feet were no longer touching the ground.

She lifted him into a fierce embrace, holding him so tightly that he could barely move.

Mouse froze. He’d expected shouting, questions, punishment.

He'd prepared a hundred excuses on the walk home.

But Mara wasn’t asking him anything. She was just holding him.

Mouse could feel her trembling.

Her face was pressed against his hair, and her arms refused to loosen.

He stared over her shoulder.

Beyond her, the Rags were gathering around them. Ren. Lys. Kael. Tavin.

His family.

They'd all come.

They'd been ready to march toward a battlefield filled with men far stronger than themselves.

For him.

Mouse's throat tightened.

He'd spent the night sneaking through darkness, facing monsters, watching men die, and trying desperately to act like he knew what he was doing.

He'd been brave.

Or at least, he'd tried to be.

But now, with Mara's arms wrapped around him, none of that seemed to matter.

He didn’t have to think about the mine, the blood, Garran, or the strange necklace resting in his pocket.

He didn't have to be clever.

He didn't have to be brave.

And all at once, Mouse was nine years old again.