The morning fog clung to the edges of the Settlement like wet cloth, faintly silver under the anemic Dream Realm sun. I stood beneath the warped awning of the little shrine they'd given me — "Father Adam's Corner," someone had painted on a plank above it, horribly crooked — and handed out small packets of food one by one.
"Next," I said cheerfully, passing a wrapped piece of dried meat and a handful of something vaguely bean-like to a Sleeper. "Eat it slow, or your intestines will file a complaint. Trust me."
The woman laughed. A few others in the line chuckled as well — some soft, some weary, but genuine enough. The Dream Realm rarely offered moments light enough to laugh about, so I tried to force a few into existence wherever I could.
It helped that I could skim their surface thoughts without much effort.
A flicker of fear in that man? Make a joke about Sasrir's stern face.
A bloom of embarrassment in that young girl? Pretend not to notice she came back for seconds.
Lingering grief in another? Offer a quiet word, a touch on the shoulder, a reassurance.
Mind-reading made most of this easy. Not heroic, not particularly divine — just practical.
"Here you go," I said to a tense-looking man. "Enjoy it while it's warm. Warm enough, anyways."
He snorted in spite of himself and walked off, tension loosening a little.
Behind me — or rather, looming over me like a very stylish gargoyle — Sasrir stood with arms crossed, face carved into the sharpest "don't try me" expression imaginable. Shadows clung to him like a second outfit, and every time he shifted, the Settlers in line shuffled nervously.
He didn't say anything, but he didn't need to. His mere presence kept troublemakers away.
Or, at least, it kept them alive by discouraging them from trying again.
A group of rowdy Hunters had once tried to snatch our supplies. Sasrir had sent them home with broken arms and horrible trauma. The Settlement never forgot.
Still, today was different.
Today, I wasn't just here to hand out food and fake priestly wisdom.
I had… an agenda.
And every time I smiled gently at someone, every time I placed food in their hands, every time I let the persona of "Father Adam" radiate calm and comfort…
…I stole little glances at the Settlers' thoughts.
Because Kai had been clearly upset yesterday, and had refused to tell me or Sasrir what happened. And the Guard refused to talk, too — which meant something was wrong, and someone was hiding it. Which meant I had to investiage things myself.
In the novel, Kai rarely lost his composure. When he did, it mattered.
Which was why I was here, wearing a warm smile and a holy aura, while mentally combing through the minds of every person in this queue like I was sorting laundry.
Sasrir leaned slightly toward me. "Your face is too calm," he murmured quietly. "You're scheming."
I passed a food packet to a young man and lowered my voice. "Of course I'm scheming. Why else would I wake up early on a day we're supposed to rest?"
He grunted. "I had hoped you'd say 'I enjoy helping people.'"
I shot him a flat look.
"…Okay, stupid hope," Sasrir admitted.
I resumed handing out rations, all smiles again.
While I did get a certain pleasure from playing the Good Samaritan-nothing perverted, but geniune happiness at doing some good in the world-that wasn't all I was here for.
My charity today had two goals:
Feed the hungry.
And find the bastard who upset my future teammate.
One of those goals was just a bonus. The other was mandatory.
The morning passed in its usual rhythm. I moved through the Settlement outside the Bright Castle with a practised calm, handing out small packets of food to the Sleepers clustered around me. I cracked small jokes here and there—gentle ones, timed just right—and the people around me brightened in ways that never failed to lift my own mood.
Maybe I was a bit of a natural empath.
Once the last packet was given out and the small crowd dispersed to eat, I lingered. I gave them a few minutes, then drifted casually into their midst, sitting on an old crate and sparking light conversation. I warmed the air with easy humour, gentle questions, a little harmless gossip—nothing out of the ordinary.
And when the atmosphere felt just right, I slipped the bait in.
"You know," I said with a light shrug, "I met a young man the other day. At the Castle gate. He was arguing with a Guard—seemed pretty upset about something. Don't know the fellow, never seen him before. Anyone know what that was about?"
I said it with perfect bland curiosity. Not too pointed. Not too innocent.
There was a ripple among the group—quick glances, a hesitation I immediately felt through the surface of their minds. One woman, older and worn but sharp-eyed, finally exhaled and spoke.
"That man you saw… that was Kai." She glanced around, as if confirming they were safe from eavesdropping. "Kai Nightingale. The singer. The famous one. He's been here… a year? Yeah. Six months before you and your friend arrived."
I widened my eyes slightly, tilting my head in mild surprise. "Is that so? I wouldn't have guessed."
"He doesn't flaunt it," she murmured. "Keeps his head down. Helps people. Has friends—and a lot of women who still pine after him." A small, humourless smile. "But one of the closest ones… she was hurt."
The air shifted. Everyone else pretended to focus on their food, but I felt the spike of dread and anger roll through their thoughts.
"Hurt?" I echoed softly.
The woman swallowed. "Two nights ago. A pair of Guards—drunk, stupid, and cruel—cornered her. She fought back. They nearly killed her for it. I heard she survived the night, barely. But I don't know if she made it since."
Silence settled like dust.
"I don't think Kai's handling it well. He's been trying to see someone, but the Guards won't let him inside the Castle even if tries to pay the fee. He was at the gate yesterday begging to be allowed in."
I let a thoughtful frown crease my brow, as though I were only now grasping the seriousness of the situation. But inside, gears were already shifting. Planning. Calculating. The moment I had heard the first hint of Kai's panic at the gate yesterday, I had known something was wrong.
Now I knew exactly what.
And I knew what I was going to do next.
My expression darkened—not theatrically, not for show, but with a quiet, controlled anger that made the small cluster of Sleepers fall still.
"What were their names?" I asked.
The woman stiffened. "Adam… don't get involved in that."
"I'm already involved," I replied evenly. "What were their names—and where is the girl now?"
A few others shifted uncomfortably. A man to his left muttered, "She's somewhere in the Settlement. Too poor to afford the Castle's medical fee. Kai's been buying scraps of medicine for her. It's… bad."
"But the Guards—" someone began.
"Names," I repeated, voice soft but unyielding.
The woman hesitated, lips tight. "Ardan. And Malik. They're both stationed near the Outer Barracks. They drink too much and throw their weight around."
I nodded once, storing the information away. "And the girl?"