I didn’t sleep well that night. I tossed and shifted, and the adrenaline never really left my body. My injured shoulder made it worse. Whenever I shifted, it stung, and I wished I could’ve had a healer like Hild to repair the injury, even if it would’ve itched.

  My instinct was to rap on the side of the wagon with my fist until that Lady Sage came out and healed us, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. It would’ve been ever so slightly too rude, and I had just enough self-preservation instincts to hold myself back.

  When the sun began rising, I sat up, lifting my head and nursing my shoulder. Ticks, Shave, and the others were already awake. They sat around the embers of our campfire, and they each tossed a copper sceat into the ash before muttering a story about Trench.

  I walked up behind them slowly, but I didn’t say anything. I just joined them in the circle.

  “...when he hit the scarecrow straight in the chest with a spear,” Romance said. “The most perfect throw I’ve ever seen. The thing toppled over and rolled down the hill, and only then did the crows finally stop pecking at Farmer Dungail’s spilled grain.”

  I didn’t know Trench all that well, but I still bit my lip. I regretted not having a copper sceat on me to throw in the fire.

  When Shave saw me searching my kit bag, he nudged me and said, “Don’t sweat it, lad. If we burn the bodies, their souls cross the great void-strait to Welkinmere on their own. But if we don’t get a chance to burn our brothers’ bodies, then we toss some coins in the fire. It’s the fee for the ferryman to hunt their souls himself.”

  I wanted to question it, to ask if they knew if any of that was real. I couldn’t exactly tell the difference between myth and an established fact in this world. But that sounded disrespectful, and really, how would anyone know?

  When Luiger woke up, we kept moving. The rest of the journey passed without incident. Slowly, the fields of dandelion fluff transitioned back into regular grass plains, then into farmland. Rolling hills, sparse trees, valleys with dark green woods trapped in them. Lines of trees separated plots of land, and the wheat was beginning to go yellow as summer drew to a close. By the time we reached Castle Urcia, the trees were beginning to show hints of yellow in their leaves, but only near the very top.

  I never actually saw Castle Urcia when we arrived. We stopped outside a border fence—technically, a fieldstone wall, but it was only as high as my waist, and it was more of a demarcation of the castle estate than anything.

  There were two guards. They were Dupes, and they looked about ten years older than I was. Both held spears in their hands and carried an unstrung longbow on their backs. Instead of chainmail, they wore heavy plate armour, so polished it glinted white in the sunlight. Their helmets seemed relatively standard, but they wore a waist cape of scale mail painted with orange and pale blue stripes, and a broad pauldron clung to their left arm, emblazoned with the raven sigil of Gate.

  “Those are sappers,” Romance whispered to me.

  The longer I spent in their presence, the greater their pressure weighed on me. I couldn’t explain it well, but it felt as though I was swimming near the bottom of a deep pool, with the water weighing down on my eardrums. Something tingled in my gut—and it wasn’t just that I was hungry.

  “They’re Bronze-tier,” Shave whispered to me.

  Both of the sappers crossed their spears in front of us, blocking an opening in the border fence. Resonance skills rippled around their spearheads, and one of them manifested a round wooden shield out of nowhere. It just appeared in his hand.

  He must've had a Skill merge and gotten himself an Art. Some way to manipulate space and pull out a shield from nowhere.

  From what I’d gathered, the Arts that us Dupes were capable of were more of ‘invisible’ powers. We weren’t going to make a flashy show of raining a firestorm down on our enemies, but we could harness some forms of magic if we put our minds to it.

  That was exactly my plan. I was pretty sure I hadn't gotten any new Skills along the way—not yet—but I’d been practicing my archery with Shave. Although I knew I had to be realistic about it, I was focusing more time and energy into learning a Skill than I would’ve been able to back on Earth. I didn’t have to worry about university lectures or wasting time with public transit, nor did I have to worry about driving to the ski-hill.

  Sure, we were escorting Lady Sage, but there was plenty of time for me to practice my spear grips and my stances, to work on hastily stringing a bow as we walked, and more. I definitely wasn’t going to specialize in archery, at least I hoped not, but as a secondary weapon, it would be incredibly useful.

  The sappers clacked their spears together, drawing me out of my thoughts. “State your purpose,” one of them said.

  Shave pulled off his helmet. “We’re escorting Lady Sage. We were told she was expected.”

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  “Did you see action?” the second sapper asked.

  Shave nodded. “Fell-fox riders. A few days back along the Urcia Road, at the fenland boardwalk.”

  “They’re getting bolder,” the first sapper said. He pulled his spear back then nodded. “Good work, soldiers. But it seems like you have been travelling with a druid, and yet you are still injured.”

  Luiger stepped forward, puffing his chest. “Lady Sage doesn’t have to—”

  “Silence, freeman.” The second sapper marched out to meet Luiger, but he didn’t even flinch. “A squad has six Dupes. Yet I only see five. One has died.”

  “Who are you to command me?” Luiger reached for the hilt of his sword. “I would cut you down where you stand, Dupe. Show our lady and her guards the respect you ought to.”

  The first sapper glanced at Shave, then said, “You were under his command?”

  Shave nodded. “Correct.”

  “How do you deem the actions of this mercenary captain?”

  Shave was silent for a few seconds, before opening his mouth and diplomatically stating, “He fought with bravery—”

  “His actions directly lead to the death of one of my squad-mates,” I said, interrupting Shave. “Mr. Sapper, sir, apologies, but if we’d listened to our sergeant instead of him, we would have been more likely to all survive.”

  I didn’t know that for sure. It was a fight. I wasn’t naive enough to think we could’ve saved everyone. But Trench had been too isolated, too exposed, because of Luiger’s plan.

  “Apologies for his words,” Shave said.

  “The manner of his speech is odd,” said the sapper. He stared right at me. “You are an Atoning, correct?”

  I gulped, trying to figure out how the man knew.

  “Your accent,” the sapper continued. “Your voice is slightly different from ours, and you called me a ‘sir’. But I am only acting with the authority bestowed upon me by the Ealdorman.”

  “He lies,” Luiger snapped. “See? You said it yourself—he’s an Atoning! Lesser than even a Dupe.”

  “Is it a lie?” The first sapper was looking directly at Shave.

  Shave shook his head, then Ticks joined him. Romance said, “It was no lie.” Elf mumbled something in agreement.

  The second sapper turned toward Luiger. “You are guilty of intentionally destroying Kingdom Property and violating the will of the Warlord.”

  “Enough!” Luiger snapped. “Get back inside your fence and let Lady Sage through, or I’ll cut you down myself.” His fingers wrapped around the hilt of his sword.

  Before he could even begin to draw the blade, the sapper thrust his spear through Luiger’s forehead. Bone shattered like it was paper, and the man fell dead on the spot. It struck with more power than a normal man could ever hope to wield.

  “Y—you can do that?” I asked. “I mean, you’re allowed to kill him?

  “All sappers are bestowed with the authority of their Domain’s Ealdorman,” said the first sapper. “Most mercenaries acquiesce after a short reminder of that, but there are some who are persistent. Bold. Who need a firm reminder that there are beings in the world stronger than mortal men.”

  “Many of these countryside guildmen have never seen the true strength of a Dupe,” the second sapper added. He dipped his head to Shave. “May your comrade be avenged.”

  I bowed my head. “Thank you.” I didn’t think they were going to kill Luiger, but now that I knew what to expect…on one hand, I was terrified. These sappers were strong. But they had a lot more freedom than us. A lot more privileges. They didn’t have to tolerate petty men like Luiger.

  And I wanted those too. I knew exactly where to set my sights. No matter what, I promised myself, I’m going to become a sapper.

  Maybe it was a little premature. I didn’t know much about this world. But that voice inside was screaming at me, or screaming in awe of the other sappers and their ability to doll out justice.

  The second sapper marched forward and tapped on the side of the wagon. “We ask kindly that Lady Sage show herself before we enter the castle estate. And we strongly suggest, on her honour, that she heal the men who provided her safe passage through these lands.”

  The back curtain of the wagon swayed, peeling apart, and a face peered through. It was the same pale, freckled face I’d seen before, rimmed with thick, brownish-blonde hair. I was expecting her to step out of the wagon, but instead, a limb made of roots stretched out the flap of fabric.

  A stool of walking roots stepped out the back of the wagon, carrying Lady Sage atop it. It was the height of a normal chair, made of intertwined branches. Leaves sprouted from its sides, and there was a tiny backrest.

  Lady Sage herself was one of the most petite women I’d ever seen. She wore a green poncho, which swayed in the wind, and a pristine white summer dress that hung over her knees—which she folded primly. At first, I almost laughed. She wouldn’t even walk on her own? Pampered little princess.

  But her legs were made of wood as well. Panels gave them shape, and vines swirled beneath, letting them sway slightly.

  She must have been a druid. I didn’t know much about magic, but I knew what druid stuff looked like when I saw it, and that looked like druid stuff. I didn’t know how it worked or what any of it did, though, and I didn’t want to be too openly rude to ask why or if she couldn’t walk. At the moment, her legs were limp.

  At first, I was skeptical. Letting someone who couldn’t walk be a sapper? But with resources as short as they were, we probably needed all the healers we could get. And—

  The chair morphed. It grew into the shape of a man, but it had a face made of bark and two glowing orange eyes. Instead of a chair, it carried her on its left arm, giving her a ledge to sit on still. And it was nearly two feet taller than me. Twisting vines and living branches made up its limbs.

  —that would also explain it. I raised my eyebrows, but didn’t comment. If she commanded that creature, then she must have been incredibly valuable.

  In a soft voice, Lady Sage said, “Thank you, Morph.” Her legs still dangled limply, but now she sat at our eye-height. “Do not move when I heal you,” she told Elf as she approached him. “Morph doesn’t take kindly to strangers, and he only takes orders from me.”

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