I looked at my father and could tell he was worried. Not nervous—worried in a way that made it seem like he was expecting something terrible. I'd never understood that feeling. I'd always been carefree. Life had a way of working out for me.
"Oren," my father said quietly, "promise me something. No matter what happens, you'll stay strong."
Why was he saying this now? I'd always been able to take care of myself. Still… the look in his eye lingered. Like he had seen something I hadn't
"Dad," I said, trying to sound reassuring, "I don't know why you're so worried. I'll be fine." I handed him his fishing net.
Honestly, I understood why he was worried. Lately, the Society had been roaming the western part of Riverdale. My father had always tried to protect me from the worst parts of life… but he knew I could handle myself.
A sharp knock came at the front door, shaking the flimsy walls of our house.
"Oren, you in there?"
I groaned. "That's Valor. Guess I'm off, Dad." I stood and put a hand on my father's shoulder.
I barely got the door open before Valor pushed past me.
"Hey, Lucas. How's it going?" he said as he walked inside.
Valor sat down, propping his feet up.
"Oh, just living," my father replied. "How about you? Still eyeing that Eratiell guard position?"
Valor laughed, crossing his arms, his grin full of confidence. "As if there was ever any doubt." He glanced at me. "Oren, you coming?"
"Yeah… sure." I hesitated before stepping toward the door. A flutter of nervous energy ran through me. Something about today felt different–important, though I couldn't put my finger on it.
Valor's smile thinned. "Alright… let's get going."
He stepped out first, stretching and letting out a loud yell. A dock worker passing by bumped shoulders with him and grunted, "Watch it, boy," before continuing without another word.
"What was his problem?" I asked as I stepped outside. The streets smelled of salt, smoke, and fried food, the sun glinting off the cobblestones and stalls crowded with people shouting for attention.
"So, what was that about? You don't seem like yourself today," Valor said as we walked down the dirty cobblestone road, casually weaving around groups of merchants selling their catch of the day.
"Oh, nothing, man. I'm just worried about being accepted. I heard they only take the best."
We turned the corner onto Western and Main. The streets were already crowded, as usual—but today was different. Today was the Job Festival.
A week-long event featuring every profession you could think of: knighthood, blacksmithing, farming, stoneworking, architecture and building, assassin work—everything a fifteen-year-old could try. Flags flapped overhead, merchants shouted at the top of their lungs, and the crowd pressed so close that I had to sidestep a cart full of barrels.
We turned onto Main and were met with a wave of shouting and advertisement.
"Now hiring stoneworkers!" one voice called.
Another shouted louder, "Fair work for a fair wage!"
I smiled and looked at Valor. He was beaming. Even among the crowds, he stood out—a confidence that few had.
"Do you see the Eratiell signup?" I asked, trying to see over the overflowing groups of people.
Valor tapped me on the arm. "It's probably that one." He gestured toward a long line leading to a grand stone stall. A banner hung above it reading, Eratiell Knighthood Apprentices Wanted.
Next to it, equally grand, stood another stall marked with strange lettering– somehow, I could read it:
Society of Assassins.
No advertisement. No help wanted. Just a stall—and a surprisingly long line.
It was understandable. The Society was the best-paying job you could get, even among the higher tiers. Still, there was something about it—an eerie calmness, a magnetic pull I couldn't explain. My chest tightened as I stared, a flutter of instinct telling me this was… important.
Valor walked ahead of me and stood in line for the Royal Guard. He looked back, waiting for me.
I stepped up beside him, waiting my turn—but something caught my eye at the Society stall.
They were pricking people's fingers and collecting their blood in small vials. From watching, I could tell they were searching for something. Magick, probably.
"I'll be right back," I said, as my feet moved on their own toward the stall.
"Oren, you'll lose your spot," Valor shouted, reaching for me—