He had me there. If he’d been honest up until this point, being evasive was not a good idea, but it’s not like that story was for just any ears. “Well, much like your story, that one is long and best told with a stiff drink and good food. Like you just said, I’m only a friend. If they decide to let you stay, I’ll be happy to share my story, no matter how incredible it might seem to you.”

  He seemed to take that non-answer in stride so I glanced back at Rowan to see if she was still inundated in elf. She motioned for me and I made my apologies to Millwall before making my way over. Unsurprisingly, the crowd parted as I neared with no small number of distrustful glares.

  “So, what do you think of the giant? What’s his story?” she asked quietly when I neared.

  “Well, I’ve dealt with quite a few scumbags in my life, but he doesn’t strike me as one of them. Either he’s good people or he’s an accomplished liar. Said he was a smith from some place called Cadecon.”

  Rowan eyes focused on me intensely the moment I mentioned Cadecon. “A smith. From Cadecon? Did he say he was a smith or did he use another term? Like Disciple.”

  “Both.”

  Relief filled her face. “Oh, thank the Maker. He can stay.”

  “Isn’t that a decision for the Council?” I cautiously asked.

  “Fuck the Council. Anyone stupid enough to vote against him will face a duel. There’s no way you could know, Sam, but Cadeconian smiths had a reputation, and the Disciples of the Forge even more so. Gofannon the Forgemaster is literally the human deity of the forge. Our smiths, before the fall, were good and could do some things better, but guess how many those we have here?”

  “Not many.”

  She snorted. “Zero. Not to cast shame on the smiths we do have, but Lord Cahir took most of the best with him when he answered the call. Between the keep and the last few years, the ones we have left do what they can, but none of them come near the skill of those lost. I will literally fight anyone who threatens to turn him away.”

  I wasn’t about to gainsay a damn thing, given the intensity in her voice. Motion to my right caught my eye and I spotted Quinn and her daughter as they descended.

  Rowan noticed at the same time. “Sam, go make sure nothing happens to the smith. I’ll handle these two.”

  “Copy that, Captain,” I replied.

  The conversation between the three ended up being remarkably short as both Quinn and her daughter recognized Millwall’s importance, and we ended up trailing behind the rest of the survivors as Quinn led everyone to the kitchens at the villa.

  We’d been seated for maybe all of twenty seconds when Millwall spoke up between bites. “The drink’s a bit weak for my taste, but the food’s certainly better than what I’ve eaten the last year.”

  I chuckled. He wasn’t wrong about the ale. “No kidding. I thought the beer from back home was weak. Never thought I’d find something more watered down.”

  Millwall grunted and drained half of his ale in a few gulps. “To be fair, I imagine the story behind that’s the same as it is everywhere else. People and ingredients stretched too far, but neither time, money, or hands to fix it all properly. Humanity may have bounced back faster, but I swear, only evil has prospered since that fateful day.”

  I nodded and took a sip from the tepid brew. “Can’t say I disagree. Still, you know what this ale has in common with sex in a canoe?”

  Millwall’s eyebrows came together for several long seconds before he shrugged. “No. What?”

  “They’re both fucking close to water.”

  It started with a snort, but in moments Millwall was redfaced and nearly forehead-on-the-table laughing. A good minute later, long after he’d drawn every eye in the place, he found some composure, but when he took a drink he started back into quiet giggles.

  “Sorry,” he eventually said, “I’ve never heard that one. After this long without hope, even simple laughter is a gift.”

  I’ve had deployments like that. “I can see how that works. So, how’d you end up in that situation anyway?”

  “Well, do you know the story of Cadecon?”

  I shook my head.

  “We faced much the same as the Syr, but since we’d been less mauled by the Corrupted we weren’t the first dish on the menu. The night before Rendalogue’s army laid siege, the Lord Armorer sent me away. Even though I’d taken to my boots and traveled through the night, I know exactly the moment my comrades fell. I still have nightmares about the death of our dream.”

  “Oh?”

  “Your friend, the Harvester lady, she told you about the Disciples, yes?”

  I nodded.

  “We’d prototyped a new sort of weapon, but it wasn’t ready. I’d wager by the weapon you wear at your hip, you know of the secrets of the black powder. There’s no reason for you to carry a gonne, small as it may be, if you didn’t at least know of which I speak.”

  Now fully alert, I slowly sat down my tankard. “You could say I’m familiar.”

  “Even knowing what they planned if worse came to worse, I didn’t quite expect them to follow through. I was miles away and still heard the prototype’s report. It sounded like distant thunder. To this day, I hope that blast took many to their graves. A minute later, another blast. Much louder, loud enough to silence the birds around me. Rather than let the secrets of such a terrible weapon fall into the ravenous maw of those wolves, my brothers set torch to the powder store. That, my friend, is how Cadecon fell.”

  Millwall drained the rest of his cup in one long chug. “I’ve seen what a barrel of powder is capable of. One day, I’d like to go back and see what two hundred did. It’s been years, but I can’t imagine it’s been repaired yet. Until that day, I’ll content myself knowing it cost Rendalogue most of its men-at-arms and a good chunk of its levees.”

  I let the grim moment pass with only a slow nod. When he’d finished refilling his tankard, I asked, “Why’d they send you away?”

  “I asked the same question. The Lord Armorer told me that someone needed to carry their legacy onward. I’ve been a rather poor steward, if I’m honest. Getting waylaid by bandits, sold into bondage, forced to fight in the arena, none of that was supposed to happen.”

  I frowned. “I might not know all the details, but I have a hard time seeing all that being your fault.”

  Millwall shook his head. “Fault doesn’t factor into it, Sam. The simple fact of the matter is I’m the last one. The very last. It’s my responsibility.”

  It took me a few seconds to find something to say. “That’s a heavy burden to bear, Myrddin.”

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  Millwall nodded solemnly.

  Before either of us said more, someone clapped me on the back, and I turned to find Tomas sitting down next to me with a platter of food. “Why the long faces, gents?”

  Millwall eyed Tomas blankly. Right, he doesn’t speak elven. “Millwall was telling me about the fall of Cadecon.”

  Millwall nodded.

  “Bad story, that,” Tomas noted with a sour face.

  Both froze as if they’d just noticed something that should not be.

  “What?” I asked.

  Tomas eyed the two of us warily. “I trudged through the wilderness for weeks with him and he never once spoke Syr. Why’d he understand what you just said?”

  Staring daggers at Tomas, Millwall simultaneously grumbled, “I tried talking to you for days. Now you speak my tongue?”

  I put hands between the two of them. “Alright, calm the fuck down. Tomas, I’m speaking elven, yes?”

  Tomas nodded.

  “And Millwall, I’m speaking Cadeconian, yes?”

  He nodded and the two took turns staring at each other and me.

  “Like you pointed out earlier, Millwall, I have a blessing from the Namer of Names. Both of you hear me in your own tongue.”

  “Hammer my tongs, I’ve never heard of that.”

  Tomas echoed the sentiment. “If it wasn’t happening in front of me, I’d say it was a lie. What did you do for the Namer of Names to get that gift? The stories say she’s quite the taskmistress.”

  “I—” The realization I could only run with half-truths for so long before they came back to bite me in the ass slammed home right at that moment. “Well, the truth is a fair bit more complicated than that.”

  Tomas laughed. “When the gods are involved, simplicity is the sign it’s a trap. Or so I’m told.”

  Millwall cocked his head to the side and when I translated, he chuckled darkly and agreed.

  “Okay, so, I probably shouldn’t be repeating this here, but it’s loud enough thanks to everyone you brought back, Tomas, I doubt anyone will overhear. I’m not from here.”

  “You don’t say?” Tomas deadpanned. Millwall nodded quietly, apparently demonstrating that sarcasm is a universal language.

  “When I say here, I mean I’m not from this world.”

  Tomas blinked and then squinted at me. “What do you mean, not from this world?”

  “As in a few days ago, I was travelling with my sister, the world went sideways, and when I woke up I was alone, at the base of the keep. Aoibheann told me I’d been tripped across the boundary between worlds and ended up here.”

  “Wait, wait, wait,” Tomas half stood with a finger pointed at me. “You spoke with Aoibheann? You. In person?”

  “Uhm, yeah?” I glanced at Millwall to find him staring at me intently.

  “Shit, this explains why they want to train a human to be a Harvester. Well, kinda explains it. Okay, no, it doesn’t explain it at all. Why is Rowan training you to be a Harvester, Sam?”

  I sighed. “Aoibheann and I came to an agreement.”

  Both my drinking partners’ eyebrows rose.

  “There’s a village to the west, near the rim—”

  “Yeah, Fiddler’s Green,” Tomas noted. “But what’s that got to do with you becoming a Harvester?”

  “Damnit, Tomas, let me finish,” I snapped. “Aoibheann says my sister is going to appear there week after next, the same way I appeared here. She’s going to help me get my sister back. I’m going to help her get her people back.”

  Both reached for their drinks.

  Millwall finished his first. “Your sister, eh? Count me in.”

  Tomas eyed Millwall a moment. “Did he just volunteer to help? I’m not letting the giant have all the adventure. I’m your elf.”

  Suddenly flattered, I held up a finger. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves just yet, guys. I haven’t figured out exactly what I’m going to do other than just be there on that day. I don’t know anything about this Fiddler’s Green place.”

  Tomas’s face lit up. “Oh? It’s not such a bad place if you can look past the natives. Though, that might be a bit harsh. The fact they’re assholes isn’t entirely their fault.”

  I was suddenly struck by the suspicion I was at least this annoying as a new private. Feeling sorry for my old NCOs, I left out his comment about the natives when I translated for Millwall and then cast an expectant look at the elf.

  “Well, we were on friendly terms with them until a few years ago. Then that up-jumped self-styled Count— or was it Baron? Duke? Fuck if I remember, he’s the sort that eats bananas for the shape, not the flavor. Thinks just because his father survived the Fall that makes him special. Either way, he found out there’s a pretty sizeable iron deposit not far from Fiddler’s Green and sent troops to seize the village. We had people there. They put them to the sword. We took offense.”

  I was just about to start translating when Tomas scowled and quietly added, “Technically, as close as it is to the rim, the iron is rightfully ours. We just can’t defend it.”

  Millwall and I shared a decent laugh over the banana description, but the giant’s eyes lit up at the mention of the iron and he said, “Ask him about the purity of the deposit. What’s it look like? Is it bright red? Mixed with other colors?”

  Tomas shrugged when I posed the question. “I mean, there might’ve been some red dirt? I was there just the once, right after Baron Dickhead made his move. Reconnaissance, Rowan called it. Finding it was a problem, too. I swear my compass deliberately led me away from it. In the end, it was just this outcropping of black stone. Not really impressive at all, really.”

  Now, I’d spent most of my life as a soldier, but when I reported to Benning for basic I was still very much a nerd, and I was pretty sure I knew exactly what Tomas had found. Magnetite. The moment that thought entered my mind, another appeared right behind it. Magnetite was one of the few high purity ores sought by mining concerns, mostly because of the extremely high iron content, but also because its magnetic properties.

  Millwall’s eyes glittered when I described the black stone that confused compasses. “We need that iron, Sam. Magnetite, you called it? I’ve worked lesser iron ores, but with that right here? Never again.” Millwall grew pensive a moment. “I wonder, are any of the Syr here are students of stone?”

  “Geologists?” I asked. Millwall shrugged. I turned to Tomas. “Millwall wants to know if any of the elves here are, and I quote, ‘students of stone.’ Geologists, in my world. People who understand how metals and stone are distributed in the ground.”

  Tomas tapped his chin a few times. “Honestly? That’s a Rowan or a Quinn question. I know a fair number of people, but not everyone, Sam. Even I have my limits. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone did, or if someone left behind books about it.”

  Millwall pursed his lips as I translated and then grunted. “That’ll have to do for now, I suppose. I just thought that with all the cliffs, it’d be far easier to find bounties normally hidden beneath.”

  Moving on, I turned back to Tomas. “So, how big is their garrison? Have they started mining yet?”

  Tomas grinned. “Not at any real scale, they haven’t. It cost me a decent bit of copper to get enough of them drunk enough to talk, but it turns out they have the same problem we do: they have people, but not the right people. Anyone can dig, haul, and carry, but finding people to actually refine it isn’t easy.”

  “So why take the deposit?” Millwall asked after I translated.

  “Oh, easy. He didn’t want us to have it, and their primary mine is getting close to being played out. Sometime in the next few years, they’ll be shifting all operations over here. Rowan wasn’t happy when I told her that, let me say.”

  “I bet not,” I muttered. I translated for Millwall and added, “There’s certainly going to be a war over that, even if the Syr just let them have the deposit.”

  The smith nodded gravely. “With a mine on your border, nobody likes neighbors. Though, ask him what he meant by all operations. Does he mean they’re moving just the mine workers or are they planning on refining the ore on site?”

  After another back and forth, I gave him the answer. “They made it sound like they were going to set up smelters and the like.”

  Millwall scowled. “No doubt about it, they’ll put everyone here to the sword, and they’ll do so before the mine or the ironworks is set up. If you’re refining ore to iron, especially if you’re trying to make steel, you need a lot— and I mean a lot— of wood. We had entire regions that grew wood for our forges, and that’s as a supplement our other fuel sources. Steel is a hungry master. After they clear the Syr, they’ll harvest every branch in the forest.”

  It was my turn to scowl, and when I shared the revelation with Tomas he joined me.

  “Over my fucking dead body,” Tomas spat.

  “That’s exactly the plan,” I pointed out. “Yours and those of every other man, woman, and child here.”

  He started to scoot back his chair as he said, “We need to tell Rowan.”

  I caught him by the shoulder. “She already knows, Tomas. Why do you think she’s always so irritable?”

  He blinked a few times. “Oh. Well, I guess that explains a lot. I just thought being a soldier did that to you.”

  I snorted. “It does, but shit like this does it harder and faster.”

  “You’ve much experience as a soldier? Where you come from?”

  Grinning, I noted, “I’ve spent most of my life in the Army.”

  “So, what did you do for this army? Were you part of the vanguard?”

  “Ah, well, the way we conduct warfare is quite a bit different from what I’ve seen here so far. I’ll show you why before we leave, but you could say I distinguished myself and got assigned to special units who got the harder jobs.”

  “Oh,” Tomas seemed impressed and then his expression momentarily wilted.

  “What was that?” I asked.

  “Ah, I just realized it wasn’t that long ago that my next question would’ve been if you’d killed someone. A much younger me had yet to realize the luster on that idea was a lie.”

  I slowly nodded. “A soldier’s work carries a lot of mystique for those who’ve never had to carry that burden.”

  “It does.”

  Millwall cleared his throat and I apologized for getting too focused on the conversation. When I related what had been said, he nodded grimly. “The innocent seldom have a proper appreciation for the acts done in their name. There’s no shame in it, not exactly. It’s easy to be enthusiastic when you don’t understand the cost exacted on the heart and the soul.”