I glanced at Shave. Galliard would give us the reading slate right away? Not just at the top of the month? I wasn’t going to complain—at least we wouldn’t have to wait. But I also got the sense that this was a one-time offer.

  I waited until the others reviewed their main status, then took hold of the slate and checked my progress. The slate read:

  Name: Levi Gordon (ID#: DD-333)

  Class: Soldier

  Rank: Man-at-Arms

  Tier: Copper

  Vitality: 1

  Agility: 3

  Strength: 2

  Perception: 1

  Focus: 2

  Presence: 0

  Skills: Skiing (Apprentice), Eye For Framing (Novice), Stealth (Novice), Spearmanship (Novice), Archery (Novice)

  I’d accumulated a decent amount of skills, and I had a total of nine attribute points. I would need ten, and at least five in one area, to get to the Iron tier, but that didn’t matter when my Presence was still zero. I was hoping to have a point of Presence, or some recognition for my efforts.

  “Don’t worry, lad,” Shave said. “You’re certainly close to Iron.” He leaned over my shoulder. “You have a partial point of Presence—I guarantee that. But the system won’t display partial points of anything. You’ll only gain a point once it’s full.”

  I nodded. I was so, so close. But come on, the System didn’t have to be so stingy about increasing Presence.

  “Good work, you five,” Commander Galliard said. “Sir Aldhelm has awarded me extra pay for our assistance, and I’ll distribute it out to you. This month’s wage for your squad will be amended to three silver sceats and fifteen copper. I’ll also put in a request for a replacement for Trench, but it might be a while.”

  We all dipped our heads and thanked the commander, and he dismissed us. It was late, but I still cleaned up in the stream. It had been a while since I’d bathed, and I wanted to make sure I was keeping up my hygiene. Besides, with Welkinmere in the sky, it was hardly dark. The pale purple light reflecting off the gas giant was brighter than most moons.

  My bathing wasn’t perfect, but with my extra pay, I decided that I’d go into town tomorrow and find some soap. I doubted I could afford the high-end soaps, but I’d do what I could.

  After washing up, I returned to the camp and returned to our squad’s tent. I pushed my kit bag under my cot and dropped down. Elf was snoring, Shave rolled back and forth, and Romance was out cold.

  For a moment, I didn’t question that Ticks’ bed was empty, until a few voices began whispering outside. It was a few tents over, but I thought I could hear Ticks’ voice among them. I blinked. Should I even have been able to pick out a voice like that?

  But I’d gained yet another point of Focus, and though my Perception was lacking, it seemed to be the Focus that aided my mental capacity and actually let me process who was speaking, to identify the subtle differences in our voices.

  I rolled off the cot, wearing just my trousers and tunic, and crept outside the tent, rolling my heels with each step. Apparently, [Stealth] was coming in handy, but I reminded myself that it was just a knowledge Skill. It didn’t actually change the world around me to make me more stealthy—it just represented knowledge that I’d accumulated in the Labyrinth.

  I barely made a noise as I snuck through the camp, navigating toward the voices. There were still a few Dupes out, tending to the fires or keeping watch, and Ticks sat around a campfire with a few other Dupes who I didn’t recognize. They were all from other squads. I hid behind a stack of barrels, keeping myself out of sight.

  “I’m sure you could’ve found an opportunity somewhere,” one of the Dupes said. “You got into a fight with fell-foxes. Shave wasn’t looking. You could’ve stuck the Atoning in the gut and no one would’ve been the wiser.”

  “Like I said,” Ticks countered, “it was a mess, and I was too busy trying to stay alive. I didn’t have time.” He stood at the edge of the cluster, backing away, as if trying to leave.

  “Remember your place,” a different Dupe said. He had a scar across one of his eyes and a tattoo of a lion’s head on his cheek, and he wore heavy plate armour on his chest. “He’s no brother of ours. Either you’re with us, or you’re with him. Get rid of him. He’s a drain on the entire battalion. It should’ve been him dead, not Trench.”

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  “I remember, Scar,” Ticks said.

  “What happened to just accusing him of desertion?” a different Dupe asked. “Then, kill him right then and there?”

  “Nah, it’s too late for that,” said the Dupe with the scar on his eye. Scar—of course that was his name. “He’s been with us for weeks now, and he hasn’t deserted. Galliard wouldn’t buy it.”

  “I’ll figure something out…” Ticks muttered.

  “Good,” Scar snapped. “Don’t let us think you’re being disloyal again, or perhaps we’ll have to report you for whispering some terrible things about the Warlord. Next time you go to battle, he better disappear.”

  “I won’t fail my brothers,” Ticks said quickly, then turned away from the fire and walked back in my direction. I pressed my back up against the stack of barrels and fell deathly still, and Ticks walked past me without even looking.

  Once he was gone, I exhaled in relief, then snuck back to the tent. As I approached our squad’s tent, I heard Ticks ask, “Where’s Levi?”

  “Cleaning himself in the stream,” Shave replied.

  “Crazy, that kid,” Elf mumbled back. “Cleaning himself every day, where he could. He’s going to get himself let by leeches.”

  “Actually, I was just coming back,” I said, ducking into the tent. I navigated around Ticks and sat down on my cot again. “Sorry about the wait.” We weren’t specifically waiting for anything, but I knew how annoying it could be trying to fall asleep with five others around you tossing and turning.

  But at least we had proper beds now. No more sleeping out on the cold, hard ground, roots always sticking into your back. I stayed awake for probably another hour after that, just trying to relax enough, and wondering about what I’d just heard about Ticks. Was his apparent change in heart toward me just for show? Was he just trying to lull me into a false sense of security with that talk about me having a fresh start and all?

  Or was he actually lying to Scar?

  I could confront him about it, but if he was truly with Scar, then I’d be in trouble. He’d know that I heard, and he’d get desperate. Right now, I had leeway. I just had to wait and watch. I consoled myself with the knowledge that he wouldn’t do anything yet. He was still waiting for a good opportunity. A battle, something to make it look more plausible.

  Still, I couldn’t get complacent.

  The next morning, I woke up with the sun and got my breakfast early. Shave found me and sat with me, and I debated telling the sergeant what I’d learned, but I decided against it. I didn’t need to make more enemies by tattling on the other Dupes, especially when I was still the new guy. Even if Galliard and Shave took my side, they wouldn’t get all of the conspirators, and I’d probably end up making some of the non-conspirators mad at me.

  I turned to Shave and asked, “So, I’m close to Iron? I need to get a few more attributes, and I’m sure I can work on that. But something’s a little odd. I mean, I’ve only been here for like seven weeks, and I’m getting close to Iron. And…so yeah, I get that after that, Iron to Steel requires a hundred points, but I still can’t help but wonder why we don’t have more Steels, considering how fast I’ve been going.”

  Shave chuckled. “I have about twenty points in total. Levi, for most of us out here…the drive dries up at about twenty points.”

  I tilted my head in confusion.

  “There’s a reason we learn martial arts, lad. It’s supposed to teach us discipline. Focus. Consider what you accomplished in the Labyrinth. You gained attributes and Skills from combat and situations where your life was on the line. Without combat, without immense drive, the will to improve fades away. Not everyone has the will to advance higher than Iron. You’ve been advancing quickly because you’ve been pushing yourself, and because you’ve been in true life-or-death situations.”

  “You guys don’t exactly seem like…proper martial artists. No offense.”

  Shave snorted. “Perhaps not. But we were taught certain fighting styles at Homecamp. Most of the best trainers are busy with the more important northern battalions. I’ve tried to pass on what I can to you.”

  “Don’t get me wrong, I’m thankful,” I replied. “I’m just curious, that’s all. So, you’re saying that you guys lack drive?”

  “I’m sure most of us would die for Gate. Without it, we wouldn’t exist. You should be thankful, too, I suppose. Without the Fleshknitters, you would just be a lost soul wandering the endless expanse between here and Welkinmere. But there’s a difference between the average soldier and the true legends. We are all capable of immense growth—the System and the Path it’s built on doesn’t favour any one of us more than another—yet not all of us have the same experiences, nor the same will to keep pushing.”

  It seemed rather obvious, but I hadn’t really considered it before. Clearly, the Fleshknitters couldn’t alter a Dupe’s mind—we all had different souls. Different personalities, different experiences in life that shaped us. That meant not all of us had the will it took to be powerful.

  “You need a reason to keep growing,” Shave said. “Otherwise, at some point, you’ll stall out and hit a plateau.”

  “But you still train, don’t you? Why wouldn’t you keep slowly gaining Skills and attribute points?”

  “Slowly is the key.” Shave laughed. “If you want to advance, you’ll find a way to go faster. Nothing can stop the truly motivated.”

  I ran my tongue over my molars and considered that for a moment. I didn’t want to wait any longer to reach Iron. After a few seconds, I asked, “Where’s the nearest Labyrinth entrance to here, then?”

  “Three leagues west, or half a league east. But east, you’ll cross over the Thelea River and end up in the Bane-lands.”

  I had to figure out a way to get into the Labyrinth again. If that was the best way to gain Skills and Presence, then that’s what I’d do.

  But what Shave had said created a lump in my throat. Without any true reason to keep growing, would I just stall out a quarter of the way through Iron like the rest of them? Spite was a powerful tool—I couldn’t deny that. But I was going to need to find something more stable if I actually wanted to keep growing.

  Becoming a sapper, that was what I wanted. The more important question was why?

  As I went about my morning chores, I considered the civilians as we’d brought back the prisoners. Families reunited. Children would grow up with both their parents around…unlike me. I’d helped so much, and no one else here really would understand. They were just created.

  Then I thought back to the sappers, with their immense strength and the ability to act on it. To do justice.

  If I could combine both of those, I could actually make a difference here. I could make my life mean something.

  Already, I had a few plans bubbling up in my mind.