A creaking door expelled him from his midday nap in wait for the night's feast.

  He flew out of the bed. Eyes wide and clawed hand swiping the air as the bedsheets tangled around his legs. The fog in his mind cleared and he turned to the door, wrapped in the white sheets. A small figure peeked through the half-open door, one of the twins, Jonna, or maybe Jenni. She wore a horrified expression and his cheeks grew red.

  “Sorry,” he muttered.

  “You didn’t answer when I knocked and dinner’s ready,” she said in a single breath and closed the door with a hard thud.

  Not a great start.

  Untangling himself from the sheets and stepping down from the bed, he looked in the mirror. He smoothed out his hair, tugged at the waistband of his oversized pants, and rolled up the sleeves of the tent-like white shirt. The thin white fabric revealed his unimpressive frame.

  At least I look presentable.

  He gave his reflection two thumbs-up.

  He left the room and a wave of pleasant scents hit him. Seared meat, canned vegetables, warm bread and the potent sting of alcohol.

  Laying on the sofa, Elenya gently stroked a curled up Whisky. The moment she saw him, she burst into a deep laugh that startled the cat, sending it scrambling away and disappeared under the kitchen table.

  “She’s implying you should get some new clothes,” Astrid said, not looking up from where she stood on the balcony, caressing a potted plant with fiery eyes.

  “Yeah, I understood that much.” Wretch answered.

  The twins had set the table with flickering candles, polished glasses and shining cutlery clustered together on the long table. Whatever feast they had planned after the success of his first mission, it was extravagant.

  The twins glanced at him as they walked from the kitchen, carrying half a marinated chicken. Wretch offered to help the pair, trying to mend any damage his freak-out had caused. After some persuasion, they allowed him to at least carry the finished food from the kitchen alcove to the table. The scent made his head spin, and he had to focus not to drool.

  A cheerful whistle came from the stairwell. Edmund appeared up the steps, spinning a leather coin-pouch around a finger.

  He walked up to his daughters and, in one smooth motion, kissed both on the cheek. They gave angry shouts which he ignored, instead putting a finger in the sauce and tasting it.

  Nodding his head in approval.

  A twin raised a ladle and thunked it against the back of his head. Edmund didn’t even flinch, strolling out from the kitchen alcove, putting a hand on Wretch’s head and ruffled his hair as he walked by.

  Wretch gave Astrid a questioning look as she sat down next to him.

  “Captain’s weakness is money.” She whispered in his ear.

  Wretch raised an eyebrow and looked back towards Edmund. After his brief time with the captain, he had trouble imagining the man having any weakness at all.

  Edmund sat down at the table, and leaned back with a satisfied groan. Dropping a coin pouch against the wood with a rattle, his businesslike behavior was replaced by youthful enthusiasm.

  Elenya had lured out Whisky from under the table, and now held the struggling cat in a firm grip as she took her seat, whispering soft words into its ear. The cat squirmed, unimpressed.

  Wretch and the twins placed the rest of the dishes while Astrid lit the final candle.

  Still clutching the cat, Elenya reached for a bottle and poured an amber liquid into tiny glass cups. The scent was strong, with a hint of wood and cinnamon.

  She ignored the glasses of the twins and paused in front of Wretch’s glass.

  “Hey Ratty. How old are you, anyway?”

  “Between sixteen and eighteen, I'm not really sure.”

  “Let’s go with eighteen,” she said, pouring a generous volume into his glass.

  Is she warming up to me?

  “If you waste a drop,” she added with a sudden hard tone, “I’ll kill ya.”

  Maybe not.

  The group dove into the food, plates and pots filled to the brim with delicacies. Whisky reached for a sausage while the twins struggled for the largest of the potatoes. Their voices rose in laughter and teasing.

  After a few minutes of revelry Edmund raised his fork and tapped his glass. The others quieted, turning their eyes to him.

  “Tonight,” he began, "we not only celebrate a job well done. We welcome a new member of the proud Richter's company, a new hunter, returning from his first true hunt."

  From the pocket of his coat, Edmund produced a small leather badge and flipped it across the table like a coin. Wretch scrambled to catch it.

  “That’s your hunter badge,” he said with a smile that made wrinkles appear at the edges of his eyes. “Every hunter has one. It gets you through doors, literal and otherwise.”

  Wretch opened the two leather folds. The badge fit in his palm. A metal emblem sewn to the surface depicting a smoldering rock.

  An Ember

  The others watched him in silence and he gave them a glance. Clearing his throat while searching for the words.

  “Thank you,” Wretch said, standing up and bowing. “For your faith. I won't disappoint.”

  “Sit down, kid,” Edmund said with a chuckle, waving him down before continuing.

  “There’s something my father told me when I joined the company, something his father had told him. And now, I’ll tell you.”

  He locked eyes with Wretch between the candle lights.

  “Just follow our lead. And use your full name, no fear.”

  He still wore that smile. But behind it, Wretch thought he saw something else. A grey mix of grief and joy.

  The captain let the stillness hang in the air for a moment, like a performer waiting for tension to build before a show. Wretch looked over at the group. The twins sat wide-eyed. Astrid wore a courteous look. She didn’t look bored. More like she was thinking about several things at once, which was probably true.

  Even Elenya looked attentive, even if she mostly seemed interested in the amber liquid.

  The candlelight flickered in the captain’s eyes and he took a deep breath before continuing in a deep grave voice.

  “Once, the land was ours.”

  “We walked in the forests of old and played in the mountain streams. The people sang and danced, they buried their swords and gave themselves to the pen and brush. Lords of the old flame lit our land, staved off the darkness. The creatures of the night, mere children’s tales.“

  The captain looked into the eyes of each of them, a seriousness in his gaze.

  “But the land is ours no longer.”

  “It is theirs, the creatures of the night. Every Lord slain, every homestead broken.”

  Everyone at the table except Wretch beat their fist on the wooden table twice, rattling the cutlery.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  “Do you hear?” Edmund said in a grave voice filled with theatrical prowess.

  “They knock on our gates. To reap our lives.”

  “To extinguish our flame.”

  Then he quieted and leaned forward, his voice barely a whisper.

  “But Edmund the Selfless, still stands.”

  “But Elenya, Butcher of Yenvograd, still stands,” Elenya’s heavy voice followed.

  “But Astrid the Tender, still stands,” Astrid said in a soft reply, nudging his elbow.

  Wretch swallowed. “But Wretch the Rat-Eater still stands.”

  The others beat their fists on the table again.

  “They will find no weakness here,” Edmund said. “Only young hunters with unearthed swords.”

  Edmund clasped his hands like in prayer, closing his eyes. The rest followed suit and Wretch did the same. In his mind’s eye, he saw only one thing, the ember, smoldering with heat.

  “Oh Flame of Old, a new hunter is willing. He still stands.” The captain said. “Wretch the Rat-eater needs thy fire.”

  “Lend him thy strength to hold the gates, to turn the creatures of the night.”

  “So that we can walk the land again”

  There was silence for a moment. Then Edmund spoke again, and they opened their eyes.

  “To Wretch!” He called, raising his glass. “The newest member of the Richters Company. May he be our finest hunter.”

  “TO WRETCH!” the rest echoed, lifting their glasses high.

  Wretch followed, raising his glass and downing the amber liquid in a single gulp. It burned. His throat spasmed and his eyes watered as he forced it down.

  “Welcome to the crew, Ratty,” Elenya said, pounding a palm across his back, sending him into a violent cough.

  “Is whiskey not your taste?” Astrid asked.

  “It burns!” he wheezed.

  “It’s supposed to,” Elenya replied with a gleeful smile.

  The feast carried on. Jonna and Jenni complained about their schoolwork, while Edmund and Astrid scribbled numbers onto a paper while stacking coins from the pouch. The gravity of the initiation-ritual replaced by a lax celebration of success.

  Two hundred pounds from a single job, judging by the captain’s smile and satisfied hum, it was no small amount. While Wretch chewed on a slab of chicken soaked in gravy, someone pressed a stack of coins in his direction.

  “That is your share.” Astrid said, tapping the paper with a thin finger. “Now, as you can see here, a quarter is deducted by the company. But since this was a try-out, your cut’s further reduced. But, if we reference the risk table here…”

  “I see” Wretch answered, squinting at the squiggly numbers while the twins whispered to each other behind cupped hands.

  “After some basic math, fifteen pounds and five pence, all yours.”

  She slid a stack of coins across the wood, Most were of thick silver, but five were smaller with a dark shine. He squinted.

  He knew the dark ones. Pence. Ten of them made a pound, the silver coins. It was easy to remember, it was as many as he had fingers. The smallest denomination, copper, was ten to a pence, but they were missing.

  “So much,” he exclaimed.

  “Not every job pays this well,” Edmund chimed in from across the table.

  Wretch looked up at Astrid, humming as she continued to look over the numbers.

  “This might not be the time, but I want to ask something of you,” he said. “I need to learn to read, then get to the archives you mentioned. Can you help me?”

  “Sure, I helped Elenya when she joined four months ago, it was—”

  A groan came from across the table.

  “You promised not to tell anyone!” Elenya said, her cheeks already red from alcohol and embarrassment.

  “Oh” Astrid replied with a look of innocence. “Must have slipped my mind.”

  Wretch barely had time to yelp as a giant hand grabbed his collar and yanked him from his seat.

  “Listen here you little shit,” Elenya growled, raising him up to eye-level. “if you so much as whisper a word of this to anyone...” she paused for a loud hiccup, then narrowed her eyes. “I will gut you like a fish.”

  “Understood! hear you loud and clear, ma’am!” Wretch said, legs dangling.

  “Also, reading is only for the weak.” She said, loosening her grip and sending him to the floor with a yelp. “You will need some practice with a weapon if you want to be anything more than beast-bait.”

  “How about tomorrow?” Wretch asked from the ground.

  “I’ll work you to the bone. Maybe you’ll run crying back to the Lows.” She said downing another glass of the brown liquid.

  “Manners Elenya. Manners,” Edmund said without looking up, still counting coins.

  Elenya the Butcher of Yenvograd… Wretch thought. Isn’t Yenvograd one of the outer Strongholds? What did she do to earn a name like that?

  He climbed back into his chair, stuffing himself with more of the food.

  Eventually, Edmund excused himself from the table and stepped out onto the greenery-filled balcony for what he called his “Victory smoke.” Wretch watched him as he leaned on the railing, framed by leaves and glass.

  Astrid had brought forth a lute, and played a string of peaceful tunes while Elenya sat on the sofa. The twins curled up beside her and the cat named Whisky, purred in her lap.

  Wretch made his way to the balcony. Without him noticing, he walked with quiet footsteps, avoiding any creaks from the floorboards that could disrupt the scene.

  He took a step out into the chilly night air. The city spread out beneath them with the other Spires rising to the sides like trees littered with fireflies.

  “Thank you for giving me a shot.” He said. “I won’t disappoint you, sir.”

  Edmund puffed on his pipe, exhaling a plume of smoke that smelled like old wood and honey. “This line of work isn’t for the weak, or those with much to lose. You’ll fit right in. And call me Edmund. Sir makes me feel old.”

  Wretch nodded.

  “That speech, the one you gave earlier. Is it only the Richters that do it?”

  “The Hunter’s call?” Edmund asked, eyes still on the city. “Every company has their own version. Some more theatrical than others.”

  “Did we really own the land?”

  “I don’t know, kid. Now half of humanity cowers behind these walls” Edmund said, trailing his gaze up into the distance. “But, I’d like to think that we did.”

  Wretch leaned against the railing beside him.

  “What about your old man? What was he like?”

  “A Hunter,” Edmund said quietly. “The kind of man that made laughter die as he entered a room. Strong, fierce. He lived for the hunt.”

  He paused. “Still the beast gutted him in the end.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don't be,” Edmund said with a smile that reached his eyes. “I spent years trying to be him, and just as many to be his opposite. I buried both respect and anger long ago.”

  He took another drag of his pipe, the wisps of smoke flowing in the windless night.

  “So,” Edmund began. “I hear your father was a Hunter too, wasn’t he?”

  “He was,” Wretch said, pulling his shirt tight against his skin. “I have this urge to find him, as if it would fix something within me.”

  Edmund leaned on the railing, elbows brushing against the flowers and leaves. He nodded in a direction, past the walls to the moonlit mountains.

  “Do you know those peaks to the east?”

  “The Scar Spines.”

  “Past them is another city of men. The Gulschaks. They say we were one nation, but Nov Yanosk splintered off. If it’s true, they haven’t forgiven us for it, now and then they march over the mountains. The creatures thin their numbers. We fend off the rest.”

  “They’re just humans,” Wretch answered. “How bad can they be?”

  For the first time during their conversation, Edmund looked straight at him. His smile was gone, leaving him with the face of a man who’d seen too much.

  “Kid, in this wicked and pitiless world, humans can be crueler than any monster stalking the night,” he breathed out wisps of smoke. “In this line of work, it is easy to forget.”

  They stood in silence for a moment, watching the cityscape. The light from the windows and gas lamps far below twinkled, as if to mimic the stars above, while the sound of the lute and the laughter played behind them in unison.

  “After my Blessings,” Wretch said. “I feel like a path opened before me, all I have to do is walk it.” Wretch said.

  He looked back into the warmly lit room as Elenya held up Whisky by his paws like a puppet and exclaimed. “But Whisky the Toe-Nibbler still stands!”

  The twins burst into laughter and Astrid’s melody got off pace, a slight twitch at the corner of her mouth.

  Wretch shook his head, then he turned back to the night with a hardened stare.

  “And I’ll face anything to climb higher, beast or human.”

  Edmund chuckled with a shake of his head.

  "Don't worry, there lurks enough beast and human filth in this city to sate your hunger."