Heavy knocking resounded through the entire farmhouse. Three slow thuds made by sharp knuckles on the old wood. The potion icon - the Maurish religion with its Emperor as the figurehead - hanging above the doorway trembled and shook with each vibration.
Amos and Ink could hear it from upstairs.
They can't know about you yet, Amos. You've only just become Drai. It's impossible.
"Yeah, there must be another reason for these guys to show up," Ink chimed in.
For his part, Amos began to hyperventilate.
Leila saw me. The Eclipse. She knows. She's too religious. She'll let it slip. She-
Stop.
She won't say anything.
"How do you know?" Amos asked, out loud more for Ink's benefit than anything else.
She's my mum. She loves me. You.
Ink laid an awkward hand on Amos' shoulder and patted it with too much force. He gave a big smile, meant to encourage Amos. It worked a little.
You have to go down there and meet the Trenmir. Play the part of the normal farmer's son.
"Okay," Amos said, "So business as usual?"
Exactly.
Except I'm here to help.
Amos took a few deep breaths. Below, he heard the door swing open. There was a cry of joy, muted voices, and the scraping of chairs. He even heard Kien's weakened and raspy voice drifting up the stairs.
Ink patted his shoulder softly. "I'll stay here," he said, "you got this!" He gave Amos a gentle shove forward.
Into the viper's pit.
Amos descended the stairs with a ginger step. As he got closer, he could hear snippets of conversation.
"-couldn't be prouder of our boy!" said Kien, followed by a laugh that turned into a cough.
"Tell me about life on the farm. Anything strange lately?" inquired a weaselly voice.
"Oh, plenty. Two strangers looking for directions. one sped off after speaking to our other son, the other we hired to help work on the farm, temporarily," Leila supplied.
"Putresco," Kien ventured, "It's getting late. Will you be staying the night?"
"Oh, Mr. Aquila, your dwelling is lovely, but the caravan suits me just fine."
Amos stepped into the room. They had candles lit, the orange glow throbbing gently from multiple light sources. Around the table were his parents, a man in a strange mask, and Yakob.
Yakob was wearing a uniform. It looked strange on him. Not too big; too professional. From what Amos knew of his brother, he was dishevelled. Intelligent, of course, but never so neatly dressed. As if he had never any reason to concern himself with matters of the physical, his head in the clouds.
The uniform was a dark affair; fully black. A knee-length, leather coat embellished with brass buttons down the middle and adorning the cuffs covered yet more black clothes. The top he wore was a tight fitting fabric. His neck was covered by a stiff collar, ribbed. The only splash of colour on the ensemble was a pair of bone white gloves, and a blue gemstone on a leather cord around his neck.
As Amos took this all in, Yakob caught sight of his brother. His face showed recognition first, joy, love, then a flicker of concern that didn't reach the smile on his lips. He leapt from his seat at the table and rushed to his brother, taking him in a big bear hug.
Amos grunted at Yakob. The brother relented, holding Amos at arm's length. His eyes were sparkling.
"Get into a fight with the ra, Amos?" Yakob asked with a grin.
"Huh?" Amos said.
Yakob laughed and touched the bruises and cuts scoring Amos' face.
"Ow," Amos winced. "Sore topic."
Yakob shrugged.
"So, Trenmir, huh?"
"You know I've always wanted to make a difference in the world, Amos. This is how I can do that. By destroying the Drai," Yakob winked.
He's bullshitting. Play along.
"Yeah..." Amos said, "stupid Drai. Hate those guys."
Never mind. We need to sew your mouth shut.
Shush, you're distracting me.
"Yakob," the voice of the masked man wormed its way between the two, "Introduce me to your brother."
Yakob stepped aside, providing Amos with a view of everyone seated at the table. Kien was pale as ever, clutching a mug of something warm. Leila sat primly, probably wishing she had dressed up for this occasion. On the other side of the table was the Putresco.
He wore a similar, stiff uniform to Yakob with the exception of a knot of black cord on the shoulder. A white ceramic mask covered one half of his face. The other was just as bruised and bloodied as Amos'.
"Amos," Yakob indicated behind him, "Meet Putresco Darian of the Tomb Order Trenmir. My supervisor for this outing and direct superior. Putresco Darian, meet my brother Amos."
Darian...
Shit.
The masked Putresco laced his fingers and leaned forward on the table. "Hello, Amos," he drawled, savouring the name. His thin lips quirked upwards. Amos knew they would match the exposed bone of the skull beneath the mask on the other side of his face. "Sit with us."
Amos sat without a word. His parents were beaming. Yakob looked pensive as he took a seat next to his brother.
Darian broke the thick silence casually. "So, Amos. Are you proud of your brother?"
"Of course," Amos said.
"Fantastic. Perhaps one day, you will follow in his footsteps and serve the Emperor's will?" Darian was prodding. He knew. How could he not?
"One day," Amos said noncommittally. "I'm needed on the farm for now."
Darian nodded. "A dutiful son. You have raised them both well, Kien and Leila."
"Thank you, Putresco. It's a real honour to have you here," Leila said. She wouldn't look at Amos, but her eyes slid between Darian, Kien, and Yakob.
Darian waved her pleasantries away. "Tell me, Amos," he said, "is rural labour so unforgiving?"
"I'm sorry?"
"Putresco Darian is asking what happened to your face, Amos," Yakob interjected.
Amos' hand instinctively went to the bruises and split skin left by Darian's fists in the Infinite Lake. He winced at the memory.
Don't answer. Deflect.
"It must be dangerous working as Trenmir," Amos said, indicating the wounds he had given Darian himself. "Will Yakob be safe with you?"
Good.
"Amos!" Kien warned, "Don't be rude."
Darian's countenance displayed a flicker of annoyance before he forced a chuckle. "Fret not, Kien. The boy is simply concerned for his brother."
"We're sorry for him, Putresco," Leila added.
"Please, enough. Trenmir field agents often find themselves in altercations. If not with Drai, then brigands or MutaBeasts," Darian turned his piercing gaze to Amos and added, "The Emperor's reach is vast. The Trenmir are but the fingers his muscles pull upon to effect his will. We are the protectors of the people and do our duty with pride."
"So no harm will come to Yakob," Amos said, rather than asking. Threateningly.
"He is interred in the Civilian Corps of the Tomb Order." Darian's statement was met with a quizzical look from Amos.
He sighed and began to explain before Yakob jumped in. "It's mostly clerical work, some patrols. I won't be in contact with any rogue Drai, though, so you don't have to worry about me."
Yakob hates the Empire. The taxes they levy on the farm...
He would never join them. Not willingly.
Something's wrong here.
He winked at me earlier. I think he's planning something.
"Yakob, why didn't you tell us about this before you left?" Leila asked.
"I didn't want you to worry-" Yakob stopped himself. "I mean, I didn't want you to get your hopes up. In case I failed."
"Ha! Failed?" Kien almost burst into another fit of coughing. "Not my boy!"
"Indeed, Yakob had nothing to fear on that front," Darian said. He reached into the depths of his coat and placed a small sack on the table. Yakob went as white as the ceramic mask Darian wore. Without acknowledging the sack, Darian continued. "Tell me about Yakob's childhood."
"Well, Kien used to take the boys up the river when he went for supplies," Leila answered, "they would always come back with an extra book or two. You could always find Yakob with his nose in the pages. Amos, on the other hand preferred the outdoo-"
"I'm asking after Yakob. This is a perfunctory post-recruitment interview to ensure he will be a good fit for the Tomb Order moving forward. Does Yakob have any significant relationships?"
The colour returned to Yakob's face - from white to red. He looked down at the table.
It's good that he's ignoring us, but that is a weird question.
"Oh, the lovely Arria up in Botre Village!" Leila said. "Dear, you were supposed to bring some cake from her on the way back."
"Sorry, mum. We were in a rush." Yakob wouldn't lift his head.
"Interesting," Darian nodded, "We may have to pay her a visit on the way back to Tarton."
"You're going back soon, then?" Kien asked.
"Of course," Darian said, then met Amos' eyes "The Drai seem to gravitate towards larger populations. Yakob will most likely be sent to Port Ryndem to continue his work by my own superiors."
Amos returned the gaze. His parents were too crestfallen to notice the electricity in the air between the two.
"I'll send a portion of my wages to you," Yakob said, "whatever I don't need. The Trenmir pay well."
Darian opened the sack he had placed on the table earlier and dumped the contents onto the table. Shards of grey stone and more than a little bit of dust fell unceremoniously. Tiny wisps of blue smoke or steam curled around the rubble.
"This is the remains of a mana battery used in the recruitment process for the Trenmir. Your son was tasked to infuse it with all the mana he had at his disposal. The purpose of such a task is foremostly to determine one's capabilities for Alchemy," Darian said.
"Why is it broken?" Kien asked.
"Yakob has an incredible well of mana. He would be an incredibly strong Alchemist. Most likely stronger, even, than myself."
Leila looked at Yakob with squinted eyes.
"Yakob has expressed interest in the path of Tomb Alchemy. This visit is to inform you of the associated... costs." Darian removed his ceramic half-mask and placed it next to the rubble on the table.
Amos and Yakob were prepared for it, had seen Darian before. Kien and Leila gasped at his grotesque appearance. Immediately, they were apologetic.
They had probably heard rumours or some such about the Tomb Trenmir, but never seen one in person. Never seen the gangrenous skin or exposed bone or blackened, rotting, muscles.
Darian's skeletal grin was indifferent. This is what Yakob would become.
This isn't right. Look at him. Yakob's face...
What do you mean?
You were right, Amos. He's planning something.
"I-" Leila started. She was silenced with a darting glance from Darian's single, authoritarian eye.
"The decision is Yakob's to make. The process his to follow. You have no choice in matters of the Empire."
"Yes, Putresco," she said in submission to the higher power.
"It's late," Darian said, he stood and scraped the chair harshly along the floor. "Before I go, I believe there was an eclipse path above this location earlier today."
Amos gulped.
Leila nodded wordlessly.
"Were there any unusual occurrences?" Darian pointedly avoided looking at Amos.
Silence.
Come on,Mum...
Then...
"No," Leila said, "we saw the Umbra coming across the fields and bowed our heads. To pray, as the Emperor teaches."
I knew it.
Darian's gaze lingered on Leila. His exposed skull belied no emotion. His human half twisted into a sneer. He snatched his mask from the table and fixed it back over the gore, wincing as he brushed his injuries.
"Yakob," he said with his back now turned to the group, prepared to leave. "Arrest Amos."
"What?" Yakob asked.
"Arrest him," Darian said again. "Prove your loyalty to the Emperor."