Chapter 6: 6. Tensions

“You’re telling me not a single person knows who did this?” Mark said, looking down at the bandaged boy in the bed.

“We can ask him when he wakes up—if he wakes up,” Mira said as she sorted her medicines.

“This isn’t just a beating,” Henric added at his back.

Mark didn’t need clarification on that. The kid had a bandage across his forehead where someone had used a knife to carve ‘heretic’ into his flesh.

This is my fault, isn’t it? Mark gritted his teeth. This went beyond maintaining order in the fort. A kid had been beaten nearly to death for following an order he had given.

“Find out who did it,” Mark growled. “I won’t have this kind of savagery go unpunished in Fort Winterclaw.”

“Remember what we talked about. They’re kids, but they’re not idiots. You can’t lead us down this road without people realizing,” Henric said.

“Do as I command. Find who’s responsible and build my palisade; I’ll worry about the rest, Arms-Master.”

Henric gave Mark a sober nod and left.

“Mira. No acolyte enters this cabin without my permission.”

“And my apprentice?” Mira replied as she readied a paste for Callum’s bruised lips.

Mark’s gaze met the gangly boy and then returned to Mira, “He can stay. No one else.”

***

“Greetings, Mighty Imperator, didn’t ‘spect to see ye again,” Weedy Eye smiled. “How can Weedy Eye be of ye service?”

“The feral who attacked the boy. You know him?”

“The one you let go?”

“I need him punished. And I need the rest of your people to understand why. I’m giving him this mercy as a gesture between us. But it should be understood that attacking my acolytes is crossing a line. Regardless of the reason.”

“Right,” Weedy Eye nodded. “I’ll cut his balls off.”

“You’ll what?”

“I’ll cut his little balls off. He cut a kid’s leg open, didn’t he?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“Right, for that, I’ll cut his balls off. It’s what I’d do—if he did it to one of me own.”

Getting used to this world won’t be as easy as I hoped. It seemed he was going to need to get used to a certain degree of barbarism.

“Fine, do whatever is appropriate.”

“That’d be ball cuttin’,” Weedy Eye grinned, pulling free a dirty shiv from his cloth belt.

***Acolytes***

“What are you two doing here?” Erald said, standing in the doorway of Mira’s cabin with the door opened enough to stick his head through.

“We came to see him; we’re his friends,” Erin said as Clay cowered behind her.

“Sorry, but I can’t let you see him,” Erald said. “Master Mira has ordered me not to let any acolytes visit the patient until either his attackers are discovered or he makes a recovery.”

“You’re an acolyte, Erald,” Erin said with a curled lip.

“You know what I meant, Erin. And if you’re really his friend, then you should respect this decision. It’s to keep him safe.”

“Come on, Erin,” Clay said, pulling on the sleeve of her robe.

Pushing Clay away with a shrug, Erin stepped forward.

“I get it, Erin,” Erald lowered his voice. “But the order comes directly from the Imperator. You’ll get the both of us punished if I let you in.”

“C’mon on, you heard him,” Clay said, grabbing her robe again. “It’s an order from the Imperator.”

“Fine, but I’ll be back,” she said, letting Clay pull her away as she locked eyes with Erald.

“Jeez, gimme a break,” Erald muttered under his breath as they left.

***

“You're gonna tell him,” Erin said, pulling Clay by his collar into an alley between two cabins.

“What do you mean? Tell who?”

“Who do you think, the Imperator!”

“What? No. Do you have any idea what Radic will do to me?”

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“Grow a spine, Clay. You think Callum wouldn't have your back?”

“I'm sorry, Erin. But I can't… I’m not strong like you and Callum. Besides, It's not like it'll make him better anyway. Callum needs rest and medicine. Let's just leave it at that,” Clay pleaded as Erin pushed him against the cabin wall.

“Why are you even here? What chance would a coward like you have to become an Imperator?”

Whimpers turned to tears as Clay replied, “It's not like I want to be. I'd give anything to be back in the Imperium. I hate this place.”

“Pathetic,” Erin released his collar. “Get a hold of yourself, or you won't make it through the winter.”

“Th-thank you.”

“Don't thank me,” Erin curled her lip. “Cowards like Radic will be the least of your problems if you don’t grow up. Even the masters are scared of winter.”

***Imperator***

“Works slowed with two injured acolytes, but worst of all is the mood it's created. There's no doubt it affected them.”

“I suppose I can’t blame them,” Mark sighed, eyeing the kids as they worked. Most had at least minor injuries: cuts, bruises, and the occasional bandaged limb.

A large kid with thick, blonde curls pulled on one of the ropes as a group of acolytes leveraged a log into place. He was clearly doing most of the heavy lifting. But what caught Mark’s attention was the bandages wrapped across his nose and the purple bruising surrounding them.

“That’s Acolyte Radic, isn’t it?”

Henric followed Mark’s gaze, “The big one? Yeah. Thank the God-Lord for that one. I don’t know how we’d ever get this palisade built without him. Has twice the strength of the other boys.”

“How’d he get that nasty injury?”

“Who knows,” Henric shrugged. “It’s Mira’s job to babysit their injuries. I’ve got enough to worry about.”

“Right,” Mark nodded as he watched the boy pull the log up and into the pre-dug trench.

***

“Come in,” came Mira’s muffled voice as Mark knocked.

He pushed through the door to find her partially shrouded by hanging herbs in the kitchen, bent over a pot as she dropped ingredients into it.

“Imperator?” She said, as their eyes caught in a gap between the hanging herbs.

“Got a moment?”

“For you? Of course.”

Mark walked around a bench that separated the kitchen from the rest of the cabin. The kitchen was just a fireplace and a few benchtops strewn with pots and mortars.

“How are your supplies going? Seems to be quite a few injuries across the acolytes.”

“Fine. But it's certainly not something we need going into winter. And it doesn’t help that my trade contacts have headed south. If I can’t restock, we’ll be in for it.”

“Your trade contacts? You mean trading with the ferals?”

Mira gave him a sunken glare, “And who else is going to collect the reagents I need, Imperator? Don’t tell me you think those kids got it in them to find what I need? Half of them would be lucky to return,” she chuckled.

“Right, understood. I wasn’t trying to suggest you send them. It’s just that tensions with the ferals are high right now. I only wondered how your trading with them might affect the fort’s mood.”

“People’s persuasions are more flexible when their health is on the line,” Mira shrugged. “They all know who I get this stuff from. And let me tell you, never heard a peep from nobody when they’re in one of these beds.”

“Sounds about right,” Mark said, running his hands through the drying herbs as he eyed the alien plants. “So, now what? I have a feeling we’ll be needing healing herbs this winter.”

“Who knows? I barely have time to think. And now I’ve got the boy to worry about,” she said, eyes shifting to Callum’s unconscious form in the bed.

“Maybe I can help? Is there anyone else who can gather these herbs for you?”

“Plenty,” Mira said, crossing the kitchen to take a ladle of water from a boiling pot and add it to her concoction. “There are more than enough ferals around who are willing to trade. The problem is finding someone reliable who isn’t heading south.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“An Imperator helping me buy herbs from the local ferals. Now I’ve heard it all,” Mira smirked as she ground the searing water into the herbs. “Was there anything else? Or you came down here just to offer me a hand, Imperator?”

“Yes. Do you know Acolyte Radic?”

“The big one, right? Yeah, I’ve seen him around. What of him?” She glanced up from the bowl.

“He has quite a nasty injury, from the looks of it. He’s got his nose all bandaged up. Mind sharing the circumstances?”

“Busted nose, huh? Well, he has said nothing about it to me. Sorry.”

“And is there any reason an acolyte might not come to you about their injuries?”

Mira shrugged. “What are you getting at, Imperator?”

“Nothing. I was just wondering.”

“Ask them. Most are fighting to get through my door. Saying things like, Master Mira, my throat hurts, and so on. They’ll find any excuse to get some of my rum.”

Whose idea was it to give rum to kids anyway?

“Thank you, Mira. You’ve been very helpful. And I’ll see what I can do about your herbs,” Mark said, waving her goodbye.

“Stop being so nice; it’s weird,” Mira called out as Mark left the cabin, nodding to Acolyte Erald, who stood stiff and saluted.

***

Mark stood, watching over the acolytes as they worked. Based on what Mira had said, it didn’t make sense that Radic wouldn’t come to her if he had injured himself.

His eyes followed the boy carefully, and when he collected his canteen to take a drink, he noticed bruising across his knuckles.

That’s got to be my guy.

Several acolytes called Radic over as he drank, and he screwed the lid and dropped his canteen. The acolytes had been struggling to shift the next prepped log into position. Within a minute or two of Radic arriving, they shifted it into position and hooked ropes around it—ready to pull it up and into the trench.

He’s useful, not just for his skills, but because without his help, the others will likely be even more demoralized.

Mark shook his head, kicking himself for getting into this situation. He had to punish the kid somehow. He almost killed a kid… no, there was still a chance that he had. Callum’s recovery was no guarantee. His punishment couldn’t be a slap on the wrist, either; doing so might cause more problems than the punishment hoped to solve. But he couldn’t risk the wall and their morale.

His gaze drifted to Clay. He was a smallish boy. Skinny with scruffy, dark hair and brown, pin-head-like eyes.

Every time Radic walked past, the boy flinched. Why had he been spared and not Callum? Mark wondered.

***Acolytes***

Passing into the armory, Erin glanced around. There was a single acolyte on watch, but the boy lay across a table near the entrance, half-asleep on his arms.

Her hand hovered over her crossbow momentarily and then shifted to the next one over. She hooked the leather strap over her shoulders and took the quiver of tagged bolts.

“Clocking in?” The boy lazily said as she walked for the door.

“Yeah, East Wall watch.”

“Right,” the boy said, scribbling her name on a notepad.

Exiting the armory, Erin headed for the East Wall. She kept her head down as she took steadying breaths and swung left—toward the West Wall. The wall that looked over the clearing.

The sun was setting, and light was low. But the lanterns hadn’t yet been lit. From the wall, she spotted him. Features were hard to spot from here, but his size was a giveaway.

“Keep it together,” Erin whispered beneath her breath as she pulled the leather strap from her shoulder and took hold of the crossbow.