Two days slipped by like spilled water. Arin's right hand finished knitting itself back together, no grind in the wrist, no thread of pain up the forearm. Since awakening, his body felt clearer, as if someone had trimmed the noise inside his muscles. He moved, and the movement answered.
He washed, pulled on a clean shirt, and went to wake Raul. Raul was facedown on the cot, one arm over his eyes, breathing systemically. Arin called his name twice. Nothing.
He looked at Raul's face, and the idea came easily.
"Sorry, man," Arin said, half-smiling. "No other option."
He raised his hand for Raul's own signature slap.
Before the slap landed, Raul's body jerked awake. He caught Arin's wrist midair, turned his hips, and pinned him to the mat in one smooth motion.
"Time over! I give up!" Arin wheezed, half-laughing.
Raul blinked, then grinned. "You think you can prank me that easily?"
Arin swore under his breath. "To hell with your spidey sense or whatever."
Raul frowned. "Spi...what now?"
"Nothing," Arin muttered. "Get off me."
"Sure, princess." Raul rolled away and sat up, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.
Arin stepped outside, stretched, and ran through his drills, footwork first, short cuts next with his wooden sword, then guard changes. The right hand is healed now. The blade felt like it remembered.
They ate bread and a strip of dried meat, then headed for the smithy. The outer ring was already awake: smoke from cook fires, carts grinding past broken housings, a dog trotting with a crust in its mouth. Victor's place looked the same from outside, lintel cracked, awning gray with ash, but the inside was clean as before.
Victor stood behind the counter, hair tied back, hands chalked. He lifted their blades with care and placed them down like setting quiet words.
"Edge straightened, balance reset," he said, tapping Arin's sword. "Guard pinned new. Scabbard stitched and reinforced. Don't jam the throat; let the collar guide it."
He turned to Raul's knife. "Tip reprofiled, won't snap under a twist. Wrap replaced. You're good."
Arin weighed his sword. The blade sat honestly in the hand. He slid it home and felt the collar catch and center. "Solid," he said.
Raul tested the knife against a strip of leather. It bit clean. He nodded. "Good work."
Victor looked pleased but didn't overplay it. "If anything shifts, bring it back. No charge for small corrections."
They paid and left. Fifteen copper felt like a fair trade for steel that wouldn't fail.
Money was low. That made the next step simple.
___________________________
Ashenvill's Adventurers' Guild sat near the inner square, three floors of stone and wood with the organization's mark carved above the doors: a stylized road crossing a blade. In Solkara, guilds shared records and rules; the tag you wore worked anywhere the mark hung.
They checked in at the desk. A clerk eyed their tags, iron rank II, and stamped their Ashenvill entry. Raul was sixteen, Arin fifteen. The clerk didn't comment on ages. He'd seen worse.
They went straight to the board. More jobs than Riverdale's posting wall, ink fresh, notes tight. Bounties for wolves, escorts for caravans, retrievals from the ash pits, a nest-clearing in the old quarry, and three goblin exterminations.
Raul ran a finger down the listings. "Warm-up?"
"Warm-up," Arin said. "Goblins."
He pulled a slip and read it:
___________________________
Small group reported near Holbrook's fallow fields. Sightings at dusk. Tracks suggest seven to ten. No shaman noted.
Reward: twelve copper per ear, two extra for the leader.
___________________________
Raul tilted his head. "Fields are flat. Good lines of fire. If they've been raiding, they'll hide in the irrigation ditches or crawl under the broken wall."
"Seven to ten we can handle," Arin said. "No shaman's a gift, if true. We bring smoke anyway."
Raul nodded. "We'll take it."
They brought the slip to the desk. The clerk stamped the job onto their tags and slid a thin map across the counter. "Holbrook's fields are two hours east," he said. "Report back with proof. If you encounter a shaman, withdraw and call it in. Guild policy."
"Understood," Raul said.
They stocked light, smoke pots, coarse bandage, an extra water skin, two loops of wire, a small hammer, and a sack for ears. Arin bought a packet of bitter powder to clear the lungs after smoking the area. Raul picked up chalk to mark lines and exits.
On the walk out, the road widened, then bled into farm paths. Stubble fields stretched both sides, the stalks cut low and neat. A broken wall ran along the southern edge of Holbrook's land; irrigation ditches carved shallow lines toward a dry basin.
Raul stopped, crouched, and pointed. "Tracks," he said. "Small feet, four toes, splayed. Recent. They came in along the ditch and circled the wall."
Arin looked where he pointed and saw it, the smudge of dirt where small heels dug, the light scratch of a toe pivot. "How many?"
Raul counted with his eyes. "Nine. Maybe ten. One heavier set. Could be the leader. They drag the left foot a little, injured or old."
"Good," Arin said. "Leaders who limp give orders from shadows. We make them move."
They walked the line. Raul marked the ditch edges with chalk, small, fast strokes. Arin set smoke pots in positions that would push air into the ditch and under the wall. He placed wire for trip-lines where the ground pinched and checked his angles.
"Tactic," Raul said. "Smoke, they can't see through. Pressure from two sides. When they run, we funnel them into open ground."
"And if they hold?" Arin asked.
"Then we wait the smoke out and let the wind work for us," Raul said. "We don't chase into holes."
Arin nodded. "No holes."
They sat on the broken wall and ate half their bread. The wind pulled steadily from the west. It would carry smoke across the ditch and back toward the basin. That suited them.
Arin watched Raul chalk another small mark and felt the weight of the words in his chest, the ones he hadn't said. He'd lied to Raul before, calling his awakening talent swordsmanship. It wasn't. He could read people. letters at the edge of sight, names, ranks, talent, potential. Lord's Eyes. The gift helped, and it could help Raul, but gifts changed a man's shadow when spoken out loud.
Raul looked up and caught Arin's face. "Why do you look constipated?" he asked, deadpan.
Arin huffed. "I'm thinking."
"About?"
Arin weighed the truth and the cost. Raul had stood beside him and fought. He stayed even in such difficult situations.
"About telling you something I should've said earlier," Arin said. "I told you my talent was swordsmanship, right?"
Raul didn't flinch. He tossed the chalk, caught it, and set it on the wall. "It isn't?"
"No," Arin said. "It isn't."
Raul waited, quiet.
"I can see things," Arin said. "Names. Ranks. Talents. Potential." He held Raul's eyes. "It helps. It helped at the smithy. It helps pick fights we can win."
"Not only that, I can imprint someone as a subordinate, and their growth becomes faster, and they gain full control over their Talent."
Raul breathed out, steady. "So if I'm your subordinate, I get stronger faster than others?"
"Yeah," Arin said. "But it's not free. It's a bond so no betrayals. In a fight, you follow my call."
Raul rolled the chalk between his fingers. "Terms are simple. I don't like dying. If this keeps us breathing, I'm in."
"It's a mark, not a collar," Arin said. "You can walk away before I set it."
"I won't," Raul said. "Set it after the goblins. For now, show me where you want the second smoke pot. And tell me if they're nine or ten."
Arin looked at the ditch. The marks sharpened. "Ten," he said. "Heavy one leads. The smallest runs on his right."
"Runner first," Raul said. "Leader Last. Keep the rest in the funnel."
They placed the second pot and checked the wind. Arin tied the wire trip-lines and tested their give. Raul set the hammer near his knee, where his hand would fall without thinking.
"Ready?" Raul asked.
Arin rolled his shoulders and let the blade sit. The right hand is healed. "Ready."
They lit the smoke and watched it pour across the ditch like gray water. The farm lane filled with a low hiss. Somewhere inside that haze, small feet began to move.