Part III: The Angels of the Golden Sun

 At first, Carter felt afraid and confused, for all he could not remember where he was or what he was doing, and he could see was deep, all-consuming darkness that persisted for what felt like an eternity. He tried to move his body, only to realize he couldn’t. He heard a faint voice, though he did not recognize nor understand it. He could feel what little senses he had slowly fading away as the seconds went on, he then felt a set of hands wrap around his shoulders and under his arms before lifting him up and moving him off from wherever he was located, with last thing he felt before losing his consciousness completely being the feeling of the back of his feet being dragged on the ground.

Carter would not feel anything for some time, and by the time his senses returned to him, he found himself overwhelmed with fatigue and feeling as though an unimaginable amount of time had passed. He opened his eyes slowly as he realized that he was lying on something stiff and warm. He then moaned as he wiped his face with his hand. He felt his fatigue slowly dissipate as he sat himself up and wiped his eyes with his hand. He then blinked several times before finally looking around and examining his surroundings. He was sitting on top of a thin, worn mattress held by an iron bedframe with a chair situated next to it. The room around him was small, with green and white walls and a black wooden floor riddled with chips and cracks. The only source of light came from a barred circular window near the ceiling. He also saw a small iron heating vent attached to one wall with a shelf of medicines nailed above it and a bucket and broom stuffed near the corner next to a door, which appeared to be the only entrance and exit to the room.

He tried looking into his own mind in order to find some clarity regarding his current circumstances, yet he found nothing, he realized he did not know where he was, and he could not even remember where he had come from. He then looked down at his lap and noticed a large brown object next to his feet, obscured by his view of the bed. He leaned forward and looked to down at the object, only to realize that it was his leather suitcase, the one that he had kept under his bed for years and his shoes, which were placed neatly next to it. Immediately, he grabbed the suitcase, put it on his lap and undid the latches. But as he opened it and went through his belongings, he heard a lock turn, followed by a creak as the door to the room swung open. He then swiftly closed the lid and locked the suitcase as he turned his attention to the door as a man slowly walked inside. He was an old man, dressed in a red uniform with a pin attached to the side and cap with a long and fuzzy moustache on his wrinkled face.

“Oh, you’re awake.” He uttered softly with a raspy voice as he stared at Carter with a surprised expression. Carter opened his mouth to say something, for his mind was brimming with questions. However, before he could even say a word the old man turned around disappeared into the other room and locking the door behind him, leaving Carter alone once more.

Carter wasn’t sure what to do next, at first, he thought about going to the door and demanding that it be opened. However, seeing as the man was wearing the same uniform as the guard who had accompanied Mr. Oswell, he decided that it was not the best course of action.

Mr. Oswell.

It was at that moment that Carter’s memories started returning to him. He remembered the Administrative Wing, the strange man who called him the Rook of Renanberg and the toast they made after he had signed a contract. Yet, even with all that, he still could not remember what happened after the interview and how he got into this strange little room. However, seeing as he was essentially trapped with no available exit, he realized that the only thing he could do was wait. So, he took a deep breath and calmed himself before once again undoing the latches on his suitcase and diving into his belongings to make sure everything was accounted for.

Eventually, after some time had passed, he once again heard a key turn as the door opened once again. However, instead of the old man from before, another taller, much younger man with a beard stepped inside whilst the old man stood a few steps behind him. Carter, who was still sitting on his bed, looked up at the man only for his eyes to widen and his heart to fill with relief as he recognized him, for he was Mr. Oswell.

“It’s you, sir!” he gasped as he shoved his suitcase aside and stood up.

“I see you’re up and well, Mr. Carrington.” Mr. Oswell replied with a smile as his eyes examined him from head to toe. “Tell me, how do you feel? From the looks of it, your memory is already recovering, which is already a very good sign.”

Carter didn’t particularly like the implications of such a statement; however, he decided not to dwell on it for now. “I feel perfectly alright, sir!” he answered sternly. “But if I may ask, w…”

“Good!” Mr. Oswell exclaimed, cutting Carter off mid-sentence as he then turned to the old man standing behind him. “If you’ve already conducted all the required physical tests, then I think it’s time Mr. Carrington here was released.”

The old man glanced at Carter for a second before nodding reluctantly, he then turned around and walked away, leaving Carter alone with Mr. Carrington. Despite Mr. Oswell’s calm and cheery demeanor, Carter could help but feel a little uneasy. He knew the only way they could’ve moved him to this unknown location without his knowledge was through the use of some nefarious method. And seeing as the interview was the last thing he could remember; he suspected that Mr. Oswell was the one who had done something to him. That alone made him wary and untrusting of Mr. Oswell, though he knew that showing such feelings openly would be unwise.

“Pick up your things and come with me.” Mr. Oswell instructed as he began walked towards the door.

Carter replied with a nod as he quickly sat back down on the bed and put on his shoes before grabbing his suitcase and following Mr. Oswell through the door. The moment he stepped outside the room he was met with a long hallway with one side lined with identical doors and the other with windows that showed that the sun was almost halfway to the western horizon. He then saw several men dressed in uniforms like the one worn by the old man entering and exiting each room, with some carrying trays full of iron syringes and all sorts of medical equipment.

“Do try to keep up, Mr. Carrington.” He then heard Mr. Oswell say as he walked briskly in the opposite direction whilst glancing back occasionally to see if he was being followed. Realizing that he wasn’t going to slow down for his sake, Carter reminded himself not to dwell on new scenery as he hastily turned around and ran in order to catch up to his recruiter. Once he did, he noticed that Mr. Oswell was carrying a file, like the one that he had seen during his interview. It was at that moment that he decided that now was the perfect time to get some answers.

“Sir, if I may ask, where are we?”

“Oh, would you please refrain from addressing me ‘sir’? Now that you are here, you are officially under my supervision. Any troubles you may come across you may refer to me and any trouble you cause will be in my name. As such I demand your absolute trust, and one cannot fully trust anyone they cannot refer to by name, understood?”

Carter nodded along, partially because he could see no reason to refute Mr. Oswell’s logic but mainly because he did not want to risk angering the only man he knew in this strange place. “Apologies, si…I mean Oswell.”

Mr. Oswell let out a chuckle as he kept his head facing forward. “As for your question, this wing is where we heal our sick and wounded and have our new recruits examined before they are admitted into our ranks.”

“So, an infirmary? Like the one at St Annalise’s House?” Carter asked swiftly, though the moment he heard his own words he realized it was a rather insulting comparison.

“I… suppose you could make that comparison.” Mr. Oswell answered after a brief pause, for he was seemingly less than flattered by Carter’s words. “But you’ll find that our facilities and physicians are far superior so that they befit the heroes that they serve!”

“I see, but I’m afraid that’s not the answer I was hoping for.” Carter continued, which made Mr. Oswell glance to his side and raise his eyebrow, which increased Carter’s nervousness by multiple magnitudes. Yet, he decided that finishing his question was better than suddenly going silent. “I was hoping you would tell me exactly where we are.”

“Unfortunately, that is not something I can divulge at this very moment, for there is urgent documentation we must first get through.” Mr. Oswell reassured before looking over his shoulder. “And for your own sake, I must advise you to remain silent going forward. Though I may not mind our conversations, where we are going is not a place where free chatter is tolerated, understood?”

Carter could feel severity of his warning behind his calm tone, which made his body feel tense. Still, he tried not to appear intimidated, so he nodded and kept looking forwards as they finally reached the end of the hallway, where they were met with a large open, asymmetric room with two doors, one being set of wide double doors with the words ‘Enlistee Examination Division’ written above them whilst the other being was smaller single door embedded with a plaque that read ‘Bill of Health Issuances Office’.

Mr. Oswell chose the latter of the two options as he turned, opened the smaller door and marched into the office. However, the moment the door opened, Carter’s ears were assaulted by the chaotic mixture of sounds. For, unlike many of the other offices he had seen, this one was not composed of a singular occupant, going about their business behind a singular desk. Instead, it consisted of several large desks, all arranged in a maze-like manner with small crowd of men in black uniforms operating amongst them. Some scribbled and typing words on pieces of paper with their quills and typewriters before striking them with their large iron staple presses, their desks having file stacks that nearly reached their noses. Some ran about with yet more documents while others wrote numbers that Carter did not understand on a blackboard that hung from one of the walls. Indeed, it was a messy scene. However, it was a scene that Mr. Oswell seemed incredibly familiar with, for his face did not react in any way when he laid eyes upon it. He gestured Carter to stay by the door before calmly sitting down at one of the desks and talking to the man who sat behind it, a man that Carter recognized as the old man who had first entered his room. Whilst he and the old man then conversed with each other, Carter simply stood by the door silently and watched, trying his best not appear uncomfortable or get in anyone’s way. Finally, after some time, he saw the old man stamp a piece of paper and hand it to Mr. Oswell, who then stood up and bid the man farewell before turning towards the door.

“Here.” he said, slipping the document into his file before handing them both to Carter as they both walked away from the office. “You can hold onto this for now, after all it is your file.”

Carter nodded and took the file into his hand. He was curious as to what the document Mr. Oswell had received contained, however he was annoyed to realize that he could not open it whilst having his favored hand be burdened by his suitcase. And he had no time to put it down either, for Mr. Oswell continued his exhaustingly brisk pace as they then exited the Enlistee Examination Division via the other door.

Immediately outside the division entrance, Carter was immediately met with a large, old lobby. Ahead of him, it stretched out into a long corridor with each door labeled with a number. The back wall had a wide, wooden staircase that led into the second floor and across from it was large double door topped with glass panes through which Carter saw sunlight. Its sheer size and grandeur of the space impressed Carter in awe and made his regret his earlier comparison to the St Annalise House infirmary even more. To add to that, this place was far busier. He watched as hordes of people, some in black uniforms, some in red ones, and others in large white shirts and pants with bandages on their bodies, march in and out of each corridor, their expressions displaying varying levels of urgency. However, once again he was unable to stop and observe the scene as Mr. Oswell kept glancing back at him, which kept him from slowing down as he followed him through the exit.

The exit led them to a stone paved courtyard, occupied by several black vehicles, and surrounded on three sides by the three-story grey walls of the building whilst being separated from the open street by an iron gate and fence. Carter couldn’t remember the last time he had been outside, and the sudden bombardment of sunlight on his face made him squint his eyes. They walked across the heated stone to one side of the courtyard before going through another door that led back into the dreary government complex. There they were met with more, slightly less crowded, hallways and Carter’s pace began to falter as he felt the narrow-eyed and unfriendly gazes and glances of passersby bear down onto him. He had never had so many strangers stare at him before, and it made him feel unnerved. He couldn’t even find a suitable distraction he could use to divert his attention, for even the windows they passed showed nothing but the mundane cityscape and the cloudless evening sky above. Their attention towards him was seemingly brought about due to Mr. Oswell, for nearly all of them would step aside as he marched passed them, for his mere presence seemed to make them cautious. Yet Mr. Oswell paid them no heed as walked as though the hallway was empty. They then made their way through this endless series of offices and hallways until they finally reached a door that bore the words ‘Office of the Rook of Renanberg’.

Prior to the office was a small waiting room, its walls covered in wooden shelves full of messy papers and a row of chairs. Next to the door was a desk with a typewriter, and behind that desk sat a woman in a dark gray coat who eyes immediately fixed onto Carter the moment he came within view.

“That is my secretary, Miss Haybridge.” Mr. Oswell stated as he then leaned down and whispered something into the woman’s ear, which made her stand up and open the door for him. She then bowed her head at Mr. Oswell before swiftly exiting the lobby, her face having only a blank expression, which left Carter feeling somewhat confused.

“Leave your belongings here.” Mr. Oswell then ordered, to which Carter nodded before placing his suitcase on one of the chairs. He then stretched out his hand in a welcomed Carter into the office first before he himself entered and closed the door behind him.

“I humbly welcome you to my corner of the kingdom.” He invited.  as he hung his coat and cap on a wooden stand before sitting down behind a well varnished desk. “You may have a seat.”

 Carter nodded politely before sitting across from him in the only other chair in the office. Unlike the waiting room outside, Mr. Oswell’s office was tidier and more organized. It was lit by a singular window and its area was occupied by lamps and several pieces of old furniture. However, the most striking object of all was the banner that hung on the back wall above his chair, for it bore a symbol that Carter found vaguely familiar, a golden sun with an open eye in the center.

Mr. Oswell then held his hand and gestured towards the file, which made Carter hand it over. He then sat there silently and busied himself by observing the contents of Mr. Oswell’s desk whilst Mr. Oswell put down the file, reached into a drawer and pulled out a slip of paper. He then took a quill, dipped it into an inkwell and began writing something on the paper. It was only after a few minutes did he finally glance up at Carter with a raised eyebrow and noticed his cautious and somewhat bored expression.

“Would you like something to drink?” he asked. “I keep water here in case some poor fool decides to pay me a visit.”

He then reached into his drawer once again and pulled out two glasses and a large decanter. Carter stayed silent, for he was hesitant to accept any drinks from Mr. Oswell given his previous experience, yet he was also too afraid to refuse outright.

“I assure you it’s untainted.” Mr. Oswell then stated, noticing the reluctant look on Carter’s face. However, seeing that his words had little effect, he then opened the decanter, poured its contents into one of the glasses and held the glass up to Carter before drinking it himself. He then filled the other glass and slid it over towards Carter, who, realizing he no longer had any reason to refuse, took the glass into his hand and quietly took a sip whilst trying his best to appear thankful. Mr. Oswell then glanced at the door briefly before returning to writing, and Carter once again returned to sitting silently with his eyes staring down at his lap.

“Well, now that we are here and our time together is fast approaching its end, I suppose it’s time I answer your earlier question, hmm?”

His sudden willingness to answer his queries took Carter by surprise as he then looked up at him with an attentive expression. However, whilst he was desperate to receive any kind of information, he suspected that this was simply another attempt to gain his trust. In truth, his initial misgivings about Mr. Oswell had softened now that he had spent all this time with him. And though part of him was still wary, he also understood that, at this point, he was the closest thing he had to an ally.

“You see, we are now in the heart of Georenberg, inside the Rook’s Nest, the mighty stronghold of the Order of Man!” Mr. Oswell announced grandly before stretching his arm out towards the banner behind him. “We operate under the jurisdiction of the Office of the Crown, hence, unlike our law enforcement peers, we do not bend to the whims bigheaded bureaucrats their inept lackeys, for we are above them, we even predate them!”

Carter blinked several times. “Georenberg?” his mind rang, for it was at that moment he realized just how far away he was from everything he had once known. Never had he thought he would find himself in the heartland of the whole of Hatlynshire, and it made him wonder just how long he had been asleep. Aside from that unbelievable revelation, there was also something else that Mr. Oswell had said that piqued his interest.

“The Office of the Crown? You mean like the Grand-Prince?”

“Indeed.” Mr. Oswell answered whilst still staring at the banner. “These, Mr. Carrington, are the holy halls of the righteous! And we are the angels of the golden sun, having risen to guard the state and the people like in the myths of old!”

He then looked back at Carter. “We are the successors to the legacy laid down by King Hatlyn and his legendary host! And now, you too are one of us! The newest fellow of this scared order.”

Carter replied with a slow nodded, for though he did not fully understand everything that Mr. Oswell said, he understood enough to see the imagine Mr. Oswell was attempting to weave. An imagine that looked almost like a fairytale, a stark contrast to the reality that Carter had so far witnessed. And though he found Mr. Oswell’s vagueness annoying, he was still satisfied with the miniscule amount of information he did receive. Frankly, out of the questions that lingered in his mind, there was only one that he desperately wanted answered, one thing that Mr. Oswell had said during their interview that had plagued his mind since the moment his memory came back to him.

“Oswell, I have another question I would like to ask.” He began, seizing what he assumed would be his last opportunity to speak freely. “May I?”

 “You may.” Mr. Oswell replied, raising his eyebrow in intrigue.  

Carter shuffled in his seat, for just before the words could leave his mouth, he began to feel a slight hesitation. “Back in the interview, you mentioned something about a secret war. What did you mean by that?”

“Oh that.” Mr. Oswell uttered in a low, serious tone. “Yes, we are indeed in the midst of a war, a war that has been raging for quite some time, one that we have sworn in oath to keep away from the eyes of the masses.”

“But who are we warring against?” Carter pressed further.

Mr. Oswell paused. “That is… a sensitive question.” he deflected. “And I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to answer it in any meaningful war seeing as you are still a mere rookie. I think it would be best if you hold onto such queries and ask them from your captain.”

“Captain?” Carter uttered softly. At that moment, there was a knock on the door.

“Ah, what good timing!” Mr. Oswell exclaimed. “Enter!”

The door to the office then opened, and in walked two people. One was Miss Haybridge, whilst the other was a man Carter had never seen before. He was taller than him and looked visibly older, the lower part of his face was sprinkled with the beginnings of a beard, and he wore an ornate cap over his brown hair, and a white shirt under a black shell jacket, like the ones worn by many of the people Carter had seen roaming these halls. Like them, his was adorned with a silver pin bearing the same symbol as Mr. Oswell’s banner, and below was another pin that bore the number fifty-five. The man looked down at Carter with a cold expression as Mr. Oswell stood up from his seat.

“Here, Mr. Carrington, let me introduce you to your new superior officer, Captain Claude Flintlock of the Fifty Fifth Company of the Battalion of Saint Wren. Mr. Flintlock, may I introduce you to your newest subordinate, Mr. Carter Carrington.”

Carter immediately stood from his seat as Claude reached out his hand towards him. “Pleasure to meet you.” He then said with a plain expression, his voice devoid of excitement and enthusiasm.

“You as well.” Carter replied nervously as he stiffly shook Claude’s hand, for he did not feel entirely comfortable around Claude’s stony demeanor. They then let of each other as Mr. Oswell grabbed the slip of paper he had been writing on and handed it to Claude.

“Now then, be sure to take this to Procurement and Distribution, and show Mr. Carrington to his new quarters.” he instructed, to which Claude simply nodded obediently.

“Will do, Oswell.”

Mr. Oswell then turned back to Carter. “Well, Mr. Carrington, it appears this is where we part ways for the time being. Best of luck to you!” he wished as he shook Carter’s hand.

“Thank you, Oswell.” He said whilst bowing his head slightly. He then turned away from Mr. Oswell and followed Claude as Miss Haybridge ushered them both out of the office before returning to her seat. Once they were outside, Claude put the slip of paper into one of his pant pockets before making his way back into the labyrinth of hallways without even glancing at Carter. Seeing Claude’s rushed movements, Carter swiftly grabbed his belongings from the chair he had placed them in and tried his best to match Claude’s pace as they walked through the dizzying, timeworn interior of the Rook’s Nest.

At first, the only sound that either of them made was the sound of their own footsteps as neither of them spoke a word to each other. Carter noticed that, unlike Mr. Oswell, Claude did command the same presence. Very few of those they passed by would glance at them, and almost none of them stepped out of their way. However, now that he knew his captain was someone who was much closer to his age relative to Mr. Oswell, he felt somewhat more confident about asking his questions, though part of him warned him to be cautious given the distant attitude Claude has so far displayed. Unfortunately, that part of him was soon overruled by his barely satisfied desire for answers.

“So, I take it you’re a foundling as well?” he asked awkwardly, for it was the best opening query he could think of.

“Yes, I am.” Claude answered in a stern and uninterested tone, which was still more than what Carter initially expected. “You won’t find many regular people here. At least, not here at the bottom of the ladder where us lowly folk dwell.”

“And they all work for the Crown?” Carter continued.

“Only in a technical sense, though in reality, it’s not that simple.” Claude answered once again, though his voice sounded a tad more impatient.

“What do you mean by that?” Carter pried further. “Oswell told me that…”

“Oswell says a lot of things.” Claude uttered in a much harsher tone as he cut Carter off mid-sentence. “Word of advice, Twig, pay little heed to the words of the Rooks, they take pleasure in bending the truth a thousand different ways and telling you anything you want to hear. They’re all silver-tongued fiends.”

“Oh, I see.” Carter muttered, fearing that any other response would provoke Claude even further. Having been told that the man whom he had previously trusted was nothing more than a lying snake made him somewhat frustrated, though he made sure never to show it on his face. However, before he could dwell on his grievances too long, something Claude had said perplexed him. “Hold on, did you just call me a twig?”

“Gosh, you’re chatty.” Claude sighed. “Didn’t Oswell tell you that this isn’t a place for wanton jabberers?”

“He did, though from what I just heard, I shouldn’t give much heed to the words of Rooks.” Carter retorted without a second thought, his inner feelings bubbling over the edge of his calm demeanor. His quip made Claude’s steady, disciplined fall apart as he came to a sudden halt and turned around to face Carter with a frown on his face, the sight of which made Carter quiver and tighten his lips in regret. He expected to be scolded, but instead, Claude then closed his eyes let out a deep breath whilst shaking his head, his lips bordering on what could be considered a smile and his expression appearing almost amused.

“Well, perhaps this won’t be as difficult as I thought.” He muttered, observing Carter as if he was an exotic insect, his tone containing both sadness and relief.

“I… I apologize for my rudeness.” Carter pleaded in a repentant tone, though Claude’s reaction made him doubt whether such sincerity was even necessary.

“It’s alright.” Claude assured, his voice now sounding much kinder. “I know better than to squash what little bit of humanity that they let you keep. Believe me, you’re going to need it if you are to have any hope in surviving within the great machine.”

He then glanced at the people around them before putting his hand on Carter’s back and lightly pushing him forward as they both began to walk again. “Listen, Twig, consider this my first order as your superior, till we’re out of this pit of pompous paper pushers, don’t speak until you’re spoken to. Here, appearing improper is almost as grave a sin as treason, and that is an absolute truth.”

Carter then impulsively opened his mouth again in order to once again ask Claude what a ‘Twig’ was, but Claude was seemingly able to predict such a response, for he immediately gave Carter a strict glare and placed his finger on his lip, which was enough to stop him before he could blurt out a single word. Carter then took a deep breath and stayed completely silent as they made their way to an unknown destination.

Eventually, they’re journey led them to a yet another set of double doors, similar to the ones he had seen at the entrance of the Enlistee Examination Division, except these doors displayed the words ‘Department of Procurement and Distribution’ on them. Claude pushed open the door and let Carter inside, and there he was met with a quaint, yellowish green room containing by a single long desk partitioned into ten wide segments which each segment being fitted by a pane of translucent glass that stretched all the way up to the ceiling with a small arched window at the bottom. Peering through the gap, Carter could that each segment was occupied by a man and a typewriter, with nine of these workers already attending to people who had entered before them. Aside from them, the only other thing of note being yet another set of doors that led to another room in the back. Claude gestured Carter to stay back as he made his way over to the desk and was greeted by a middle-aged man in a white shirt, brown suspenders and a brass monocle. He then reached into his pocket and took out the piece of paper that Mr. Oswell had given him and handed it to the man, who held it up to his face and read through it carefully.

“A full set, eh?” he asked. Claude answered with a nod before gesturing towards Carter.

“It’s for the new Twig, the Rooks brought him in just this morning.”

The man then gave Carter a brief glance before placing the slip of paper on the desk, closing the window with a barred iron gate, and walking off towards the other set of doors. He disappeared into the room in the back for a few minutes, leaving Claude to tap his finger on the desk as he patiently awaited his return. He then turned around towards Carter and, using his finger, gestured him to come closer to which Carter obliged.

“This is where we come to get our equipment.” He explained whilst pointing at the slip of paper, which Carter could still see through the gaps of the iron gate. “Back there is a storeroom stuffed with everything you’ll ever need. But they’ll only give it to you if you have a Release Order that’s been signed by a Rook.”

Carter nodded along to everything that Claude said, for unlike with Mr. Oswell, he actually understood what was being told to him. “So, it’s like a shop then?”

“Exactly right! Except here, everything is on the state’s dime, provided you have a Rook’s approval.” Claude continued, his expression appearing somewhat miffed. “They may be lying snakes, but we always try to curry their favor, for being in their good graces lessens our own hassles.”

Hearing that made Carter’s mind recall so many memories. “This doesn’t sound all that different from where I grew up.” He said with a reminiscent smile. That response made Claude let out a light chuckle. But before they could talk any more, the man from before reappeared behind the counter with a large brown leather bag in his hand. He then placed the bag on his side of the table before grabbing a nearby wooden stamp and using to strike the slip of paper with a red seal. He then put the slip of paper into a drawer before opening the window and sliding the bag towards Claude and Carter.

“Here we are.” Claude sighed as he grabbed the bad and handed it to Carter, who now had both hands burdened by luggage. “This your equipment, handle it with care. The Rooks aren’t too fond of the absentminded.”

He then leaned towards the window whilst glancing warily at the people around them. “Say are you all out of ‘black powder’?” he asked the man. Carter raised his eyebrow, at first, he assumed he was talking about gunpowder, but the strange tone of his voice made him skeptical, for it was almost as though his words were disguising something else entirely. The man then shook his head, which made Claude appear genuinely happy.

“Excellent.” He said in a near-whisper as he reached into his pockets and pulled out a small leather coin purse. He then reached into it and took out a handful of silver coins, that were, by Carter’s own estimates, worth at least twenty-five Sorasy, and put them onto the table. He then swiftly stuffed the coin purse back into his pocket, placed his palm over the coins and quietly slid them towards the man.

“I’ll take one.” He requested. The man then gave him a single nod before taking the coins and putting them into his own pocket. He then kneeled and reached into a bottom drawer before standing back up a few seconds later with a small cloth pouch tied by a string in his hand. He then quickly handed the pouch to Claude who then immediately shoved it into his other pocket before turning away from the man without giving so much as a thankful nod. Carter’s face was now riddled with puzzlement as he looked back and forth between Claude and the table with his mouth slightly open. However, even though he had just witnessed something that contradicted what he had just been taught, he remembered Claude’s first order, and so he did not try to ask what had just happened. Fortunately, it didn’t take long for Claude to notice his confused expression.

“Slight amendment to what I said before, there are some things that the government won’t give us, and so we get our hands on those via…alternative methods.” He explained in muted tone before leaning closer to Carter’s face. “I’d appreciate it if you pretended you didn’t see that, for both our sakes.”

Despite his peaceable demeanor, Carter couldn’t help but feel a little threatened. However, he could not dwell on that feeling for long, for immediately after his non-threat, Claude turned and began to walk towards the exit whilst gesturing Carter to follow him once again. The added weight of the leather bag made keeping up with him even more difficult for Carter, yet he persevered as they entered the winding maze yet again. At first, travelled back in the direction of Mr. Oswell’s office, however Claude soon made an abrupt turn into a new hallway that led them directly to a staircase. Once they had reached a few dozen feet beyond this staircase, Claude made yet another turn, but this time something felt different. For the moment Carter stepped into what he thought was yet another hallway, he felt the floor beneath him creak as his footsteps sounded suddenly became louder, as though the space beneath them had suddenly become hollow. At first it somewhat startled, but as he looked around, he realized that there were now windows on either side of him, and when he peered through them, he realized that he was standing on one of several skybridges, all which were set between two buildings, reached across a long and narrow chasm with one end leading to a black iron gate that led to the outside world, whilst the other led to a gargantuan yard. Directly beneath them was a line of black vehicles that stretched almost the entire length of the gap, their headlights pointed in the direction of the gate. The entire scene was almost mesmerizing in both its scale and repetitiveness. Unfortunately, Carter couldn’t stop and watch in awe, for Claude kept him moving.

“These are the Battalion Quarters, where all us common peons get to reside.” He explained whilst stretching out his arms in a grand introduction once they had made it a few steps past the skybridge. “This here is our little bastion of freedom, so you may speak freely here.”  

Carter replied with a nod, for though he had previously been eager to bombard Claude with his endless questions, the weight of his luggage and the length of their walk had made him tired, hence he decided it was better to wait till they reached the end of their path before delving into the mysteries of this strange world.

Soon after they crossed the skybridge, they entered a wide arched corridor, which was teeming with people. One of the first things Carter noticed were banners, similar to the one he had seen in Oswell’s office, hang from the ceiling, and amongst those banners, in the middle of the corridor, was a large black and gold clock with four faces. He also saw that the doors on either side of him were also labeled with numbers. He also noticed that a majority the people around him all wore uniforms similar to Claude with only minor differences between them, whilst the remaining few wore plain white shirts. Many of them had brass badges pinned on their chests and less ornate caps, but what Carter found strangest of all was the fact that nearly all of them appeared to be around the same age as him and Claude.

Carter once again felt the weight of many eyes fall on his shoulders, however unlike the strangers from before, the people in the corridor seemed to look at Carter with looks of innocent curiosity as they whispered amongst each other, and the atmosphere around them came off as far friendlier than what Carter had experienced previously.

“Hey, Flintlock, looks like you got yourself a new Twig!” one of them shouted enthusiastically as took a step towards them both.

“Indeed, I have, Willingham.” Claude replied with a mild grin as he continued walking.

“What do you say we make a bet on how long this one will last, eh? I’ll give you two black powders if he makes it to Mask Day, what’s say you?” Willingham asked as he stepped directly in front of Claude, which made Carter notice that he had a pin bearing the number fifty-two on his chest.

“Gambling with a blind on as always, I see.” Claude replied jokingly. “It’s a tempting offer, but I’m afraid I’ll have to decline this time, I have no need for your powder.” He answered before nudging the man aside.

“Doubting your new man already? Gosh how, how unfortunate!” Willingham exclaimed as both Carter and Claude walked away from him. Claude did not respond back, instead he simply looked over his shoulder and towards Carter and muttered. “Ignore him.”

Finally, they arrived at a door that had the number fifty-five stamped above it in brass letters.

“Welcome to your new home, Twig.” Claude stated as he opened the door and waited till Carter went inside. Upon stepping into through the door, Carter was met with a quaint room with three bunkbeds lined up in a row next to the door. Across from them was a large window that beamed sunlight into the room and next to the window was a clock similar to the clocks that Carter’s old dorm had had, and below both the window and clock a desk with a green lamp and a chair next to it. On one end of the room was a heating vent, above which hung yet another banner, whilst on the other, stood a what looked to be a thin bookcase, though its shelves had more trinkets than books. But aside from these sparse material possessions, the room was completely empty.

“The rest of the company must still be out marching in the yard.” Claude mentioned as he looked around the room with confused frown. “I suggest you make yourself at home while I go see to them. You may take that bed.” He then instructed as he pointed towards a bunkbed located near back of the room.

“Thank you.” Carter replied graciously to which Claude replied with a single nod before he swiftly turned around, walked out of the room, and closed the door behind him.

It was at that moment, when he was finally alone for the first time since he had woken up in this strange place, that Carter felt truly relaxed. He quickly made his way over to his new bed and sat down whilst placing his luggage down in front of him. He looked up and let out a sigh as his arms were finally freed from the weight of both his old and new belongings. He then stared at the leather bag Claude had given him, and, realizing that he had nothing else to do at the moment, decided that it was time he found out what it contained.

He reached down towards the bag, grabbed its handles, and proceeded to yank it open. The first thing he was met with was a pile of folded clothes, which was about what he had expected. He then slowly and neatly took out the bag’s contents and placed them on the bed next to him. He saw that he too had received a black uniform similar to Claude’s and all the other soldiers he had seen, along with brass pins, with one bearing the symbol of the Order of Man, and other the number fifty-five. He had also received a black waistcoat, undergarments in the form of a white shirts and pants, a pair of tall laced shoes and socks and a large black cloak that ran all the way down his feet. Finally, at the bottom of the bag he found one last item, an item that nearly startled him and made him blink several times in disbelief when he first saw it. He then reached down one last time and took out what looked to be a leather belt connected to a holster, and in that holster was a shiny and empty long barrel revolver.

Carter had thought he’d get to see a real gun up close, and the mere sight of it made him gulp. The closest equivalent he had ever had were the wooden toy guns that he had played with back when he was among the youngest boys of St Annalise. However, his curiosity at that moment was far stronger than his irrational fear. So he swiftly put the belt on his lap and undid the holster pin holding the gun in place. He then slowly wrapped his fingers around the hilt and pulled the gun out of the holster before raising it up this face and examining it. The gun was far heavier than he had expected and holding it the wrong way made his wrist ache. He also noticed the letters ‘R&W’ etched on a small metal plate at the base of the hilt. Despite the fact that he had never held one before, he did know how it functioned, for he had spent many hours listening to the incredibly detailed stories of famous heroes and their mythic duels and brutal battles. He pointed his new firearm at one of the walls, placed his thumb on the hammer and gently pulled it back until it stuck in place, he then wrapped his finger around the trigger and slowly squeezed it. Once he pulled it back far enough, the barrel then let out a loud and hollow click sound which startled him and nearly made him drop the gun entirely. The sound then faded away moments later, and he let out a deep breath as he pulled back the gun and placed it his lap.

However, though he fiddled with the revolver as though it was some ordinary everyday object, its presence made him feel a deep feeling of dread, for it was a sobering reminder of the true nature of the organization that he had was now a part of, an organization sailing amidst the bloody tides of a war he still knew nothing about. His death was not something he often thought about, but the more he stared at the weapon in his hands, the more those thoughts enveloped his mind. In all the stories of war he had been told, lying beneath all the valor and heroism were piles and piles of the fallen, and the idea that he might soon be one of them was realization he hadn’t entirely been prepared for. And yet there, in the eerie silence of the empty dormitory with a gun on his lap, he came face to face with this incredibly frightening revelation.

Suddenly, just as he was sinking further and further into cold depths of fear and dread, he heard the door open, followed by the sound of multiple voices. He gulped and, without even thinking twice, swiftly shoved the gun back into the holster and threw into the leather bag, his previous thoughts having been completely drowned out by a sudden wave of nervousness. Just as the gun struck the bottom of the bag, three men entered the room, their attentions all occupied as they conversed with one another. Among them was Claude, followed by two younger men in black uniforms, one with long black hair that completely covered his ears and another with blonde hair, and the moment they both saw Carter their mouths immediately went still, and their conversation halted. Claude then briefly directed their attention onto himself by clearing his throat before pointing his hand at Carter.

“Oz, Reuben, meet the new Twig.” He announced in professional manner. “Twig, these are your new comrades, Oscar Burgess and Vice-Captain Reuben Dobbs.”

Carter gave them both a nod, though the two men did not nod back. The blonde man, Reuben, gave Carter a brief, uninterested glance before looking away and making his way to his own bed whilst the black-haired man, Oscar, walked towards Carter, his eyes running up and down his body whilst he sat there with a plain stare, his hands held to together, his lip slightly contracted and his mind struggling to read the expression on the Oscar’s face. Oscar then leaned closer towards Carter’s face. Which prompted him to lean back as a feeling of discomfort slowly creeped down his spine.

Finally, after a few silent and rather awkward moments, Oscar frowned, he then suddenly raised his arm above head as though he was about to strike Carter, a motion that immediately made Carter hide his face, close his eyes, and raise his hand in order to shield himself. However, upon seeing his reaction, a smile appeared on the Oscar’s face. And, instead of striking him, he slowly put his hand down and let out a chuckle.

“I see we got a man of mischief in our midst!” he exclaimed cheerfully as he turned around towards Claude. “You were right, Captain. He’s a good one!”

“Must you conduct your silly hand test on every poor soul you come across?” asked the Reuben as he pulled his shoes off his feet and undid his belt. “Surely there are less childish ways to gage someone’s character.”

“Well, let me know when you find one, Reuben” Oscar replied, his voice sounding mildly offended. “Until then, don’t question my methods, because they are never wrong! Never once have they failed me!”

Reuben responded to declaration with a mocking scoff, which Oscar seemed to completely disregard as he shoved Carter’s leather bag aside with his foot, sat next to him on his bed and wrapped his arm around his shoulder.

“So, Twig, tell me, what dingy old hole did Oswell drag you out of, eh?” he asked with a joyful grin. “Was it some dilapidated shack full of rod-happy self-righteous twits?”

“Um…No?” Carter began, unsure of whether that was the proper answer. Frankly, he was unsure of whether he even believed what he was saying, yet it was the only answer he felt he could say. “I suppose it wasn’t that bad.”

“Oh, so it was nice place then, eh? That’s even better!” Oscar exclaimed as he patted Carter’s shoulder and smiled approvingly. “You must have been a real bad egg! Cause you see, when I raise a hand against an obedient, rule-abiding prick, they all squeal and protest at the injustice. Especially pompous pricks like Reuben here even yell and strike back, but troublemakers, they’re used to it, they’re tough ones. They don’t whimper or argue, they just defend themselves just like you did!”

He then leaned slightly closer to the side of Carter’s face. “Troublemakers are a dime a dozen if you come from a rundown, dingy foundling house like me, but a troublemaker from a nice house is a rarity. So, tell me, what were your favorite sins, hmm?”

“Alright that’s enough, Oz.” Claude interjected as he stood leaning against a wall. “It’s best you don’t overwhelm are soon to be brother-in-arms with all this frivolous talk of the old life, you know such things are best left behind and forgotten about.”

“Fair enough.” Oscar conceded with a sigh as he let go of Carter and stood up from his bed. “At least it’s good to know Oswell can still pick out tough ones, tough ones last the longest out here after all. I mean look at me, a real old hand!”

“Oh, for the love of the Saints, what nonsense is that?” Reuben shouted with a laugh, though his voice carried an undertone of ridicule, for he was seemingly offended by Oscar’s statement about pompous, obedient pricks. “You barely have half a dozen years under your belt! Both the Captain and I have been here longer than you! You’d be the youngest here if it weren’t for Danny!”

“Well, even lasting that long is quite an achievement nowadays, is it not?” Oscar shot back, sounding a little irritated. “There’s certainly a yard full of pretty, polished stones that would agree with me.”

That last statement made Reuben go silent, indeed at that moment a sort of uncomfortable tension seemed to cloud the room. Yet Carter hardly noticed this shift in atmosphere, for Oscar’s words about troublemakers had made him remember things, things from his life before the interview. Most of it wasn’t very clear, however there were specific moments and faces that came appeared to him clear as day. And it was at that moment he felt as though he had been misunderstood, which was something he wasn’t going to let stand.

“You’re wrong… about me.” He stuttered, which made all the eyes in the room immediately fall onto him. “I’m no troublemaker. If anything, I was the friend of troublemakers, a doubtful accomplice at best. I doubt I’d qualify as a ‘tough one’.” He shrugged with a look of self-pity. “My apologies.”

“So would you look at that; Oz was finally wrong about someone.” Reuben commented snidely as he lied on his bed with his hands and head resting on his pillow. “This calls for a celebration if you ask me.”

“No.” Oscar replied instantly as he turned and pointed his finger at Reuben. “I may be wrong in my assumption, but my conclusion remains true because reflexes never lie!”

He then turned and looked at the Carter once more. “You’ve known the rod, which means you must have been a quite a loyal accomplice and not some tow-bit coward or tattler. I’d say that alone makes you tougher than some people here.” He expressed whilst shooting a glance at Reuben. He then once again patted Carter’s shoulder. “So, fret not, my Twig friend.”

“Uh… thank you.” Carter replied graciously with a chuckle and smile, even though he was still not used to Oscar’s energetic way of going about things. Oscar then proceeded to walk over to and sit down on his own bed, which was situated next to Reuben.

“By the way, why does everyone insist upon calling me a twig?” Carter then asked, their whole conversation having made him feel far more confident around these people he barely knew. Frankly he had expected a den of battle-hardened soldiers, yet everyone he had met so far appeared to be the complete opposite. He then recalled what Claude had told him about needing humanity in order to survive, perhaps this was what he had meant by that.

“Oh what, the captain didn’t tell you about that?” asked Oscar, to which Carter shook his head. To which Oscar then looked at Claude with an expression of disappointment, to which Claude responded with a grimace.

“It’s what we call those who just arrived here.” Reuben then answered. “We’re in the Rook’s Nest, nests are made by birds using twigs, hence any new man the Rooks decide to bring in are called Twigs.”

“Alright and how long do I have to stay a Twig?” Carter continued, nodding along to everything Reuben said.

“Oh, we’ll start calling you by your real name come tomorrow, cause that’s when you’ll begin training alongside us.” Reuben replied as he took his hands out from between his head and his pillow and began to unbutton his jacket whilst still lying on his bed.

“Indeed, I suggest you enjoy the repose of today as much as you can. First days on the yard are always the hardest for Twigs.” Oscar added.

“I see.” Carter muttered as he stared down at the floor in front, his mind finding it difficult to imagine what trials awaited him tomorrow.

“Speaking of enjoyment, hey Captain, did you manage to get your hands on some powder from the toolman while you were down there?” Reuben then asked.

“Indeed, I did.” Claude replied as he put his hand into the pocket where he had put the pouch from earlier. “But it’s best we wait till Danny shows up before we start using. For saint’s sake, he should’ve come here by now.”

“Time is never a concern to him when he’s being all lovey with his sweetheart.” Oscar chuckled. “I imagine he’s already we exist.”

Claude put his palm on his face, seemingly out of frustration. “I thought I told him to stay away and not to play with fire, that imbecile.” He said with a sigh.

“Oh well, it seems the words of us mere mortals do not compare to the whims of the heart, eh Captain?” Oscar joked, which even made Reuben snigger.

“Well, until one of you mere mortals decide to go over there and gets him, or he decides to show up on his own free will, no powder.” He huffed as he sat on the chair next to the desk, to which both Oscar and Reuben appeared incredibly disappointed.

“What is this powder you all keep talking about?” asked Carter.  “Isn’t black powder just another name for gunpowder?”

“Well hopefully that’s what all the Rooks think.” Oscar answered. “We call it black powder as a disguise. Show him, Captain.”

Claude nodded and reached into his pocket once more and pulled out the pouch. He then loosened the rope that kept it tied and pulled two ends of it apart until its contents were wide open to the outside. He then held the pouch up to Carter, who looked into it and saw that it was filled with what looked to be little black scraps of paper or tiny pieces of heavily charred bark.

“That, Twig, is the finest pipe leaf in the entirety of the Rook’s Nest.” Oscar explained. “Drinking his forbidden in these halls, courtesy of the stuffy lords wanting us to be strong and sober, so this is now our only vice.”

Claude then reached down to a bottom drawer of the desk and pulled it open before reaching inside it, pulling out a clay pipe and a metal lighter, and placing it on the table. “This too is forbidden, for it is actually stronger than any whiskey, but unlike bottles of whiskey, its easily concealed.” He then added.

“And what happens if you get caught?” asked Carter, feeling wary just listening to all this.

“Well, we are yet to find out.” Oscar replied, his expression lacking even a hint of seriousness. “The toolmen are very good at their job, and none of us would ever betray our comrades, and the few higher ups who do know tend to turn a blind eye because they fear we may revolt. It runs like clockwork as long as the highest echelon doesn’t notice, understand?”

Carter nodded, and Oscar nodded back whilst Claude put the pipe and lighter back into the drawer. Oscar then leaned back and rested his back on the wall next to his bed. “Laughs and leaf, Twig, those are things that keeps the all-consuming madness that all of us good men face from swallowing us whole.” He sighed as he closed his eyes. “Trust me, you’ll certainly get a taste for it once you’ve tried it, if only Danny could stop messing around with the Georenberg Rook’s secretary and get over here.”

Claude then glanced down at the empty leather bag next to Carter’s feet before looking towards the pile of clothes on his bed. “I see you’ve already unpacked most of your new things.”

Carter’s shoulders clenched slightly as he glanced back and forth between Claude and the messy pile of clothes and pins sitting next to him, for he was unable to determine if Claude’s comment was meant to be considered good or bad. “Uh… yes, yes I did.” He nodded with his hands held together on his lap.

“Well, what do you think of it all, hmm?” he asked, place his elbow on the armrest of the chair and resting his head on his hand. “How does it feel? Going from a foundling’s outfit to being handed a soldier’s attire?”

Carter tried his best to smile as he looked down at the floor and let out a light laugh. “It feels the same, yet finer.” He replied. “Though I imagine the rules of dress are far more complicated here than they were in the houses.”

“Oh, not at all!” Claude insisted whilst shaking his head. “The rules of dress here I as simple as they can be. You wear none for the masses, one for the Order, and one for the enemy. That is all there is to know.” He recited as he directed Carter with his eyes, first towards the shell jacket and then towards the cloak.

Carter ran his hand along the surface of the cloak as he went stared at it in silence, for Claude’s words had reminded him of something he had overlooked, one of the last and most important pieces of the truth that he was still yet to receive and one that, so far, none were willing to give him.

“And who are our enemies, Captain?”

Claude paused, and Carter could see both Oscar and Reuben both turn their attention towards both of them as they stared with intrigued eyes and raised eyebrows, seemingly wondering how their captain would answer the question.

“Captain, you don’t have to burden him with all of that right now, after all this Twig’s only been here for a handful of hours. Afford him this day of ignorance. Even for Danny, you at least waited until he had had a full night’s sleep.” Oscar chimed with a sympathetic look on his face.

“Well Danny never asked me any of this on his first day, now did he?” Claude replied sternly. “It is clear that he wants to know, and I am not one to leave my subordinate’s queries unanswered?”

He then turned and stared directly into Carter’s eyes whilst Carter tried his best not to gulp, for he was already beginning to regret asking such a question. Yet, at the same time, part of him did not care for Oscar’s warnings, for it desired, above all else, answers, no matter what those answers may be.

“Our enemies are all those who oppose us, those who oppose the machine that rains prosperity on the people. They are our enemies. Among them are both men and beasts, and we hunt them all.” He uttered with a tone of grave seriousness.

“Beasts?”

“Beasts, yes, they are our biggest and oldest foe. They are ones from the stories and myths, the ones that Saint George defeated at the Field of Triumph.”

“The Field of Triumph? What, you mean the Peoples of the Arylmoor? The Woodland Folk? But…they’re all dead!” Carter exclaimed, finding Claude’s words to be utterly preposterous. If there was one thing that his teachers had taught, it was the history of their land. And in all the stories he had been forced to read, they all said the exact opposite of what he was hearing now.

Claude shook his head. “Unfortunately, they’re very much alive, though they go by a different name now. They fester in the shadows and in gilded halls, tormenting us and trying to bring down the state. And now that the saints are all gone, we their kin are the only ones left to face them.”

“But if they’re all alive, then how come no one know about them or has seen them?” Carter asked frantically.

“Because they hide, Twig. They look like us, they talk like us, and they dress like us, and they shelter in hidden places where no one can reach them. And it is we who must find them and vanquish them. For we are Hunters, and they know it, for that is what they call us.”

“Hunters…” Carter repeated, his mind unable to conjure an image of himself that would befit such a title.

 “And we must do it away from the eyes of the regular people because we do not want them to know the truth and despair, it is burden that we alone must carry, understand?”

Carter paused for a moment before nodding reluctantly. His mind still unable to make sense of it all, for in the span of a few sentences, Claude had practically shattered his entire world. And Claude could apparently see that, for then leaned towards him and patted him on the shoulder before grabbing the side of his neck.

“I understand that this is quiet for one evening.” He uttered sympathetically. “To be frank, I had that same look on my face when my captain first told me. And just like my him, there is something that I must make clear to you.”

He then reached down towards Carter’s leather bag and took out the leather belt. He then put the belt on his knee and took out the gun from the holster before holding it up to Carter’s head. “If you do share our burdens with any outsider, the Order of Man will have you shot using your own gun, understood?”

Carter gulped, and once again he nodded once again, which was seemingly enough to satisfy Claude, for he then placed both the belt and the gun on Carter’s lap before taking his hand off his shoulder. “Good.” he exhaled as he patted his own thighs and nodded.

Suddenly, at that very moment, the entrance to the room swung open once again. And it walked yet another man in a black uniform, except this time he had black hair with bits of ginger. Once he stopped walking, he stood with a crooked posture and had an exhausted look on his face.

“Danny, welcome back!” Oscar shouted with a wide grin. “Finally, had enough of fooling around under the Rook of Georenberg’s nose, eh?”

“Oh enough, Oz!” Daniel rebuked. “What Penny and I do is none of your concern!”

“Well, we’d all appreciate if you were to be quicker about whatever it is you both do.” Reuben advised, backing Oscar. “All we ask is that you show your comrades some consideration.”

Daniel scoffed. It was only afterwards did he seem to notice Carter, for he eyes then immediately fixed onto him as his eyebrows rose and his mouth fell open slightly.

“Who’s this?” he asked, his tone dangling somewhere between friendly and unfriendly. Claude then got up from his chair and approached Daniel, he then put one hand behind his back and nudged him towards Carter whilst he used his other hand to point at him.

“Danny, this here is the new Twig. Twig, this is Daniel Moss.”

Carter gave Daniel a nod and extended his hand out politely. “Pleasure to meet you.”

However, he noticed that Daniel’s expression towards appeared neutral at best or cold at worst. He did not exhibit the same level of curiosity that Oscar had, nor did he show the uninterest that Reuben had displayed, he simply looked at him with a blank gaze and a slight frown. Yet, he still reached out and shook his hand.

“The pleasure’s all mine.” He replied with obvious feigned enthusiasm before letting go and turning towards Claude. “I see Oswell wasted no time finding yet another poor soul to replace the last one, eh?”

“That’s enough of that!” Oscar interjected as he got up on his feet. “Now that you’re introduced, it’s time we indulge ourselves!”

He then walked over to the desk, opened the drawer, and took out the pipe and lighter. “I think I’ll take the first breath. Now give it here, captain.” He requested as he held his open palm out towards Claude. Who let out a chuckle as he took out the pouch and gave it Oscar, who then immediately emptied of it into the pipe, put the long end of the pipe into his mouth and lit the powder with the lighter before switching on the flame. He then stumbled back onto his bed as he put out the lighter, took the pipe out of his mouth and bellowed out a great big plume of white smoke. He then let out sigh as he leaned back, smiling ear to ear as his body movements slowed down immensely.

“Oh yes!” he rejoiced. “Oh! This is g-good stuff indeed!”

“Alright, now hand it over, it’s my turn now!” Reuben then demanded as he lunged his arm at Oscar and snatched the pipe from his grasp without his feet even touching the floor. Fortunately, Oscar was too relaxed to fight back. Claude then stood up and opened the room’s only window as smoke slowly began accumulating inside the room and make the rays of late evening sunlight visible to the eye. Reuben then let out a relieved moan as too leaned back with smoke rising out of his mouth like a chimney.

“Now y-you, Danny!” he panted as he held out the pipe towards him, his hand shaking as he did so. Daniel was quick to take the pipe from him, yet instead of using it immediately, he paused whilst looking at it with a narrow and hesitant expression.

“What’s w-wrong, Danny?” Oscar suddenly asked, sniffling, and giggling like a drunkard. “Did your…s- shiny penny tell you not to take the l-leaf?”

“Shut up, Oz!” Daniel snapped as he then angrily rubbed the tip of the pipe on his sleeve and placed it in his mouth, and when he took it out, he coughed and when he exhaled, the cloud of smoke that came out was less impressive that either Oscar or Reuben.

“G-Good man! Now then… give it to the T-Twig!” Oscar then ordered as he pointed his wobbly finger at Carter. “It’s always the most s-spectacular for… f-first timers!”

Daniel gave Oscar a doubtful look before turning towards Claude, who in turn looked down at Carter. Carter realized then that he had a choice to make, though his mind was conflicted between the fear of what the leaf might do to him and the fear of his refusal offending his newfound comrades. Then, whilst in the midst of frantic thought, as his mind took shelter in his past memories, he recalled something that had, up until that point, been pushed into the murky depths of his memory by Mr. Oswells drugs and all the news things he had seen. He remembered a promise, and he remembered that there was still half a bottle of whiskey that awaited him in Renanberg. And, at that moment, he realized if he wanted to reach it, he needed to survive in the Rook’s Nest and face the madness that Oscar had warned about, a task for which he knew laughs alone would not suffice.

Thus, with a bit of reluctance, he nodded at both Daniel and Claude. Daniel then once again wiped the tip of the pipe before handing it to him. Claude then took the pouch and lighter from Oscar and proceeded to put more powder into the pipe and light it before leaving Carter to do as he wished. After a few seconds of bracing, he inhaled as much as he could. And almost instantly he felt a bitter taste flood his mouth and nose, which caused him to lurch forward as he coughed out the smoke. Claude was quick to take the pipe out of his hand as he then fell backwards onto his bed, his mind overtaken by sudden numbness. Soon, his entire body began tingle with a feeling that was nothing short of euphoric, all his pains and tiredness, for a short moment, completely gone. Yet, at the same time, he couldn’t move even a single muscle. 

“See? Spectacular!” Oscar laughed, and both Daniel and Reuben laughed alongside him. Carter himself could not help it, for he too began giggling almost involuntarily whilst his mind was still enveloped by a blinding yet relaxing cloud of pure tranquility.

They would continue to pass around the pipe for till the end of dusk as the smoke would pour out of their window in a steady stream like train engine, though Carter himself would refrain from taking a second puff. Yet even with that, the feelings of dizzy euphoria would last for quite some time. So, when his physical mobility and his mental clarity did finally come back to him, he rose up from his bed, only to find out that the clock’s hour hand had passed the number seven. In front of him was Claude, still sitting on the chair, his face now lit by the light of the lamp next to him, with a small tin cup in his hand.

“Salutations.” He said with smile as he handed Carter the cup, which Carter took whilst rubbing his eyes. “Here, take this, it will clear your mind faster.”

“Thank you.” Carter uttered weakly, for the euphoria was soon succeeded by a feeling of intense exhaustion. He then looked around the room, noticing that it was far more silent than it had been prior to his fall into drug induced numbness. “Where is everyone else?” he asked before drinking the entire cup’s contents in one gulp.

“Reuben went off to the lavatories to relieve himself, Danny went out for a walk to clear his head, and Oz is out cold.” Claude answered as he pointed to Oscar’s bed, where Carter saw him lying with his mouth open and his unbuttoned jacket draped over his torso. “I went to fetch some water.” He added, gesturing to a metal tray situated next to him, carrying a half-empty tin jug and four other cups.

He then stared into the lamp and let out a chuckle. “I must congratulate you; it seems that all of other men have already taken a liking to you even though you’ve barely been with us a day.”

“Really?” Carter asked, genuinely surprised.

“Indeed, our company hasn’t been spared tragedy of late, and suffice it to say, some of us are less acquainted with it than others. I feared it may have tarnished our unity, though thankfully, it seems I was wrong.”

Cart paused for a moment as he thought of the most appropriate response to his captain’s words. “Well, I suppose that is to be expected, is it not?” he expressed as he handed the tin cup back to Claude, who then raised his eyebrow, seemingly intrigued by what Carter had said.

“I too have been through some dark days, captain. I mean, what foundling hasn’t? And unlike regular people, we don’t have blood kin by our side, so, in the end, all we have is each other, no?”

Carter expected to his words to life Claude’s spirits, however, they only managed to make his smile falter. “That is a nice way of viewing things, Twig.” He sighed. “But in my experience, even foundlings aren’t that simple. We are more than capable of hate and selfishness.”

Before Carter could even open his mouth to respond, Claude stood up and took the tray into his hands. “I need return this now. And it’s best you get some sleep now.”

He then turned around and walked out of the room, leaving Carter alone with a slumbering Oscar. At first, Carter did nothing but stare at the door, for some of the things that Claude had said to him had struck him deeper than he had expected. They lingered in his mind, warring with his own beliefs. He remembered the day he had made a promise, and, for a moment, he felt hope. But then he remembered the last time he saw the faces of those he had made the promise to, and it was at that moment that part of him began to feel the chilling touch of doubt.

He looked down at his feet and saw that luggage was still lying by his bed. Feeling the desire for some reassurance, he grabbed his old suitcase, pulled it onto his lap and opened it. He then dug through his old buildings, pushing aside everything until he reached the bottom, from there he pulled out a very familiar book titled The Canterberg Tales. Carter then placed the book beside him before turning to the pile of clothes and pins that was taking up one end of his bed. Once he had placed all of it back into the bag, he removed his shoes, his coat and his waistcoat. He then hung them by his bedside before taking the book into his hands once more and rested his head on his pillow whilst placing the book upright on his chest. He felt the pages with his finger until he found a gap in the mid-section of the tome. He then opened the book to that page, and sure enough, wedge between two pages that detailed the story of some outlaws, who heeded the words of a whispering cat and plotted to steal the riches of the Bird King, was a coin denoting the value of a single Sorasy. Carter swiftly grabbed the coin and held with two fingers. Even in the dim light of the room, he could easily make out the outline of the Grand Prince’s face and the words that surrounded it, for the surface around them was blackened by coal.

The sight of both the book and the coin brought joy to his heart and rekindled his faith, they made him believe that he was right, even though a small bit of fear and doubt still persisted in his head. He then placed the coin back between the pages and closed the book before placing it beside him. He then laid there, staring at the bottom of the bed above him as he let the exhaustion overtake him and carry him away into a deep slumber.

However, he did not get to rest for long, for after what felt like only a split second of peace. He was disturbed by a sudden storm of loud noises, and almost immediately afterwards, someone grabbed him by the arms and pulled him out of the bed and onto the floor. He yelled out as he awoke in a panic and immediately started flailing and struggling as whoever had grabbed him pulled him across the room and out of the door into the corridor where his ears were instantly overwhelmed by flood of cheers and laughter. Finally, once he had been dragged to the middle of the corridor, the hands finally let him go. And once they did, Carter immediately attempted to get up on his feet, but before he could, the hands returned, grabbed him by his shoulders, dragged him down onto his knees and held him there. It was in that trapped state, whilst breathing rapidly in order to calm himself and regain his composure, did he finally look around him. He saw that he was surrounded by men from all the companies, all of whom were barefoot, with most of them wearing nothing but white shirts and pants as they all clapped, laughed, cheered and howled at Carter. He then looked at the arms that held him down and followed them until he saw who they belonged to, only to be shocked and baffled when he saw that he was being held down by Oscar and Daniel. He then noticed that above him was the four-faced clock, with its hands having gone past the number twelve. And at that moment, a shadow loomed over him as Reuben approached him with a smile on his face and his expression carrying an undertone of pity.

“Welcome to your initiation, Twig!” He proclaimed, which caused everyone gathered in the hallway to let out a thunderous applause.

“What? What is going on? What initiation?” Carter gasped, completely and utterly confused.

“The Painting of the Twigs!” Reuben answered whilst holding out his arms as he faced the crowd. “It is one of our most time-honored traditions! Oz, would you care to explain?”

Oscar then kneeled down next to Carter, whilst still putting all his strength into the arm holding his shoulder. “You see; our contracts contain a formality that states than anyone who signs has the right to change their mind before midnight. And now that that time has passed, they can never fall from the nest, they are forever ours!” he explained cheerfully as he shook Carter with enthusiasm.

“Indeed, and so our predecessors made this ritual, so that we may make it official!” Reuben announced as he turned around and pointed to the crowd directly in front of him. Carter then watched the men in that part of the crowd nudge and shove each other as they hastily split in both directions creating a gap. He then heard the sound of footsteps as, from that gap, emerged Claude, his hands holding a long, black branding iron bearing the glowing orange, palm sized, symbol of the sun and eye.

The moment Carter laid eyes on the horrifying instrument, he immediately began struggling and fighting his comrade’s grip with all his might. However, no matter how hard he tried, he could break free from his grip.

“Do not try to resist, it will only make this more painful.” Reuben advised as he bent over towards and grabbed him shirt with both his hands and ripped the buttons apart. Carter let out a gasp and lowered his head as his body went still. He realized that Reuben was right, there was no way he could escape this, even he fought with all his strength. And so, he did nothing as Oscar and Daniel proceeded to pull down his open shirt, exposing his chest as Claude got closer and closer.

“Do it! Do it!” the crowd chanted as they began clapping in unison. Reuben then stepped aside as Claude stepped in his place and both Oscar and Daniel pulled Carter back until his chest faced his captain. Reuben then raised his hand in the air, which caused the entire crowd to fall into silence.

“Here, in the name of the Crown, the institutions and the people of the Great City of Hatlynshire…” Claude began as he slowly brought down the brand iron until its burning symbol was only a few inches away from Carter’s skin.  “…I, Claude Flintlock of Renanberg, Captain of the Fifty-Fifth Company of the Battalion of Saint Wren the Compassionate, hereby induct you into the hallowed ranks of the Order of Man!”

Then, in one swift push, he brought the searing iron down onto the left side of Carter’s upper torso. Immediately, Carter felt a pain more intense than anything he had ever experienced, and he began to scream in agony as Oscar and Daniel tightened their grip on him. Fortunately, Claude removed the iron from Carter’s body after only a few seconds, at which point both Oscar and Daniel let go of him. However, the unbearable pain still lingered and the moment he was let go, Carter immediately fell face down onto the hard floor.

“May the Saints bless your soul.” Claude finished as he looked down at Carter with a cold expression. He then turned around and walked away, the branding iron still in his hand.

“Long stand the Order of Man!” some of the crowd yelled as they all began to cheer the moment Carter stopped screaming, yet Carter could not hear them for the pain was so excruciating that it made his ears ring. Shortly afterwards, they began to disperse and return to their rooms. Meanwhile, the rest of Carter’s company stayed. They surrounded him and looked down at him with cheerful smiles as Carter slowly and painfully rolled on the floor until his face was facing the ceiling.

“Well done, Twig! You did it!” Oscar congratulated as he patted Carter’s arm. “I must admit, you did quite well, not a single tear came out of you! I knew you were a tough one!

“Indeed.” Reuben agreed, as he clapped several times. “And now no matter where you go, you will be one of us, a Hunter!”

Carter let out a whimper, for that he was about all he had to say on such a matter. Reuben then got down on one knee next to him. “Well, Twig, seeing as tomorrow has now come, it is time you tell us your real name.”

Carter once again opened his mouth as Oscar too got down on his knees and brought his ear close to Carter’s lips.

“It’s Carter.” he gasped as loud as he could. “Carter Carrington.”

He then saw all three of them whisper, glance, nod and at each other as both Oscar and Reuben got back on their feet.

“Well, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Carty.” Reuben then greeted whilst Oscar chuckled and Danny grinned. Carter himself tried his best to smile and appear amused even though part of his chest was still burning like hot coals.

Reuben then clapped his hands together one more time with a satisfied look on his face. “Well, it is time we go off to bed again. Now tradition dictates that we leave you here until you join us on your own. So I must bid you good night.”

Reuben and the rest of company all began to walk away from Carter, leaving him lying on the cold floor, writhing in slowly fading pain. “Good night, Carty!” Oscar exclaimed before reaching for the door, meanwhile Danny did not say a word to him, he only looked at him with a tired frown and an expression of pity. The last thing Carter heard was the echoing sound of the door to their room shutting before he was completely enveloped by silence. And so there he laid, his eyes wide open and staring at the banners on the ceiling, with nothing but his thoughts to distract him as he waited for the pain to go away. In that time, he recalled the interview he had had with Oswell. He remembered being promised certainty regarding the future, a promise that Oswell’s words had made him wholeheartedly believe. Yet, now that he was here, in this mysterious place full of dangerous people deep within a machine he could not even comprehend, he realized something.

He was more uncertain than ever.

 

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