Paragon of Destruction

As Arran approached the group, the Rangers’ leader gave him a dismissive look.

"Another outsider dog has come to join us?"

One of the Rangers chuckled, but the other three showed no response. Instead, their expressions remained cautious as they observed the situation, as if they were expecting battle to erupt at any moment.

And no wonder — even ignoring Arran, a hundred mercenaries were standing just a few dozen paces away, eyes filled with fury and with hands that were dangerously close to drawing their weapons.

Arran, meanwhile, clenched his jaw, only barely restraining himself from drawing his weapon and cutting down the Rangers where they stood. Strong though they might be, with the hidden strength he held they’d be no match for him. If there was no other choice, he wouldn’t hesitate to reveal that strength.

Yet he recognized the Rangers’ intent — to provoke a fight. And if he’d learned one thing from the captain’s manuscripts, it was to never do what his enemies expected.

Of course, if the Rangers got their wish, they would soon regret it. Perhaps their leader would even feel a moment’s remorse before he drowned in his own blood.

Still, Arran contained his anger. Whatever satisfaction killing the Rangers would bring, it would likely be outweighed by the trouble it caused.

The Rangers’ leader sighed in disgust when he saw that Arran did not respond to the provocation.

"Yet another spineless outsider," the man said, a mocking smile on his face. "Just a whiff of real strength, and you cower like dogs."

Before Arran could respond, Captain Kaleesh rose to his feet. He gave Arran a tiny nod of approval, then turned to face the Ranger, his expression calm despite the blood on his bruised face.

"If Lord Kadun is displeased with our work," he said, "we shall redouble our efforts." He paused to wipe the blood from his chin, then continued, "Though I had hoped that clearing the mine would earn us at least some leniency."

"You thought killing some diggers would allow you to shirk your duties?" The Ranger gave him a contemptuous stare. "From now on, all of you will sleep in the mines. Perhaps that will get some work out of you."

The captain nodded. "Very well. For our citizenship, a few months of hardship is a small price to pay. We will go at once."

Frustration flashed across the Ranger’s face, as the captain’s reaction clearly wasn’t what he’d hoped for. Yet after a moment’s hesitation, he scowled and said, "Get going, then!"

The captain gave him a small bow, then turned around. "Everyone, the Rangers have seen it fit to grant us new sleeping quarters. Start moving into the mines."

Some grumbles sounded among the mercenaries, though Arran suspected that this was more out of anger at the Rangers than annoyance at their new quarters. From the looks in their eyes, he knew that there wasn’t a single one among them who wouldn’t attack the Rangers if ordered.

Yet the captain’s bruised face showed no anger whatsoever. Instead, there was a cold, calculating look in his eyes, as if he was already planning his next move.

And whatever that next move was, Arran had little doubt that it would bring a thoroughly unpleasant surprise for the Rangers.

They spent the next hour moving the troops and belongings into the mines, careful not to do anything that would give the Rangers cause to act.

That the Rangers were still looking for an excuse to start a conflict was obvious — they watched the mercenaries closely as they moved into the mines, offering threats and insults at even the smallest mistake.

But the mercenaries followed the captain’s example. Even as the Rangers shouted abuse at them, they completed their tasks with stoic expressions on their faces. There were some who struggled to contain their outrage, but a few quick words from their comrades and sergeants were enough to make them hold their tongues.

While the Rangers escort them into the mines, still eager to find any cause for punishment or conflict, they did not follow the mercenaries into the mines’ lower levels.

This, Arran understood all too well. In the dark, cramped tunnels of the mines’ lower levels, even a Ranger would have a hard time avoiding a quick blade to the back. And with hundreds of furious mercenaries, there was no shortage of willing blades for such a task.

Finally, after they had settled down, turning the tunnels into improvised sleeping quarters, the captain had his commander in one of the slightly larger spaces the mines held.

Both Gar and Lasha turned red with rage when they heard what had happened, cursing as they were told about the Rangers’ threats and insults.

"If I’d been there—" Gar began, knuckles white as he gripped the hilt of his sword in anger.

"Then you would have attacked," the captain interrupted him. "Which would have caused us no small amount of problems. Their intention was to provoke us into action, so they would have an excuse to kill the five of us — and have our troops spend decades rather than months in the mines."

"We could have taken them," Sassun offered, a hint of rage even in his normally calm voice.

"Perhaps," the captain said. "But then what? We’d have been outlaws in a hostile land, pursued by Knights and Lords rather than Rangers. And once they caught us, those who survived would be punished with a lifetime of slavery."

A frown crossed Arran’s face as he considered the captain’s words. Finally, he said, "But Kadun does not intend to honor the deal, does he? If he’s gone this far, what’s to stop him from finding another excuse?"

"Kadun has little to do with this," the captain replied. "These are matters he leaves to his stewards. But you’re right — they have no intention of honoring the deal. Once the agreed five months are up, they will decide that we haven’t kept our end of the bargain."

"Then how will we get out of here?" Arran asked.

Although he could easily escape by himself, that would mean leaving the mercenaries behind. And even then, he’d still lack the citizenship to move freely in the Imperium.

At this, a hint of a smile appeared on the captain’s face, and he held up a small chunk of ore — starmetal, Arran knew.

"With this," the captain said. "These mines hold starmetal, and if I’m right, a large amount of it. In the Imperium, a mine like this is worth a thousand gold mines."

"But how will that help us?" Lasha asked, casting a curious look at the small chunk of ore.

"You will find out soon enough," the captain replied. "But first, we’ll have to fulfill our part of the agreement. Which means that we’ll spend the next few months locked in these tunnels. And while we’re here, I expect all of you to continue your training as best you can."

The captain’s words did little to satisfy the commanders’ curiosity, but he refused to reveal any more of whatever plan he had in mind — if he did, in fact, have one.

Arran, for his part, spent some time wondering whether he’d follow the captain’s orders or escape the mines by himself. Returning to the refugee camp should be simple enough, and once he returned, he would have the chance to choose another path to citizenship.

Yet after giving it some thought, he decided to stick with the mercenaries. The captain’s writings were still clear in his mind, and having studied them for weeks, he could not imagine their author being trapped so easily.

The captain would definitely have a plan, he decided. And unless he’d seriously overestimated the man’s insights into strategy, the plan would likely be a better one than anything he could come up with himself.

Moreover, as much as he disliked being stuck in the mines, the truth was that it made little difference.

His training and studies required no daylight or sunshine, and while he’d lost the comfortable quarters he’d had in the camp, the mines held numerous hidden places for him to train the Forms.

Still, he could not suppress a small sigh at the change in their fortunes. Although he was reasonably confident that all would work out in the end, it certainly would be nice if things were easy for once.

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