by Nick Martell
Did that make me a horrible person? Maybe.
There was a glass ring at the bottom of the envelope. I pocketed it, then took most of the papers in hand and began to read, continuing a conversation with Kai at the same time.
I think I’m going to die today.
Everyone’s heard stories about Mercenaries when they go to war, but nothing could have prepared me for this. The Mercenaries of Tosburg Company are besieging Hollow Academy. All the teachers have been killed… they died getting us into the Hollow Library. We have barricaded all the doors and windows, but I don’t know how long we can last without help. Word has been sent to the king and Malcolm Kingman to raise the armies, but I don’t think they’ll get here before the Mercenaries break through. Even if we gathered all the High and Low Nobles’ guards and knights, I doubt we would stand a chance against a Mercenary company. This place will be my grave. I know it. My only consolation is that when someone finds this they will know what happened to us… I don’t want to be forgotten.
“Do you have a plan for the future?” Kai asked. “If you can’t aid the Royal Family as your ancestors did, what are you going to do? Do Kingman know how to stay on the sidelines of history?”
“No idea,” I said. “What do you hope to be? Is someone in your family a Fabricator?”
As he replied, I returned to reading, saying something every now and then so he didn’t catch on to what I was truly doing.
It’s been a short amount of time since I last wrote. The Tosburg Mercenaries have us surrounded. They haven’t attacked yet, but all the students are growing restless. There is no sign of any help coming. I think we may be on our own, though no one is brave enough to admit it yet. We all keep saying Malcolm Kingman will come for us, with an army behind him. I’ve been trying to keep everyone calm and they seem to be buying it, but… but I am terrified of what will come.
I don’t want to die like this.
* * *
No one believes anyone is coming to save us. The Ryders and the Low Noble families under them charged into battle and were decimated. I’ve seen people die before… but not like that. It was a massacre. They were crushed like ants. The Mercenaries mounted the knights’ heads on pikes around the library. Antonio Ryder was among the fallen. The Mercenaries kicked his head around before placing it with the rest and Alexander isn’t taking it well. He’s demanding blood and I’ve been trying to calm him down, persuade him to wait until we have backup. But it’s hard to convince someone who’s staring at his older brother’s head on a pike. He’ll snap, sooner or later.
I have no idea what I should do next.
But if Malcolm Kingman is coming for us, it will take time. Strategies will be built, and he’ll gather double the number of troops he thinks he needs to guarantee a victory. Sadly, the longer it takes, the less likely there will be a positive outcome for us. I just wish I understood why these Mercenaries haven’t made any demands yet. Is there something we’re missing here? Are we just bait? What are they after?
* * *
I figured it out. I know why Tosburg Company is here.
They’re after something in the Archives! The Archivists have been silent throughout all of this, and only started talking after I slammed one of them against a wall. The Mercenaries want something called The Journal of the Archmage. They won’t tell me what’s in it, but it doesn’t matter. I have leverage now. I know what those leeches are after. I’m not waiting around for them to kill us anymore. This is my war, and I’m going to win it.
* * *
I’ve met with the leader of Tosburg Company and told him that if they don’t retreat, I would burn The Journal of the Archmage. He was pissed and threatened to cut off my cock and feed it to my friends while I watched. Obviously, we didn’t reach an honest agreement. As if there was any chance of that anyway. More importantly, I know where his troops are gathered, and we’re preparing to attack. We’ve speculated that we have roughly the same number of students as they do Mercenaries. They have a lot more experience than us, and I’m the first to admit attacking them verges on suicidal, but we’ve all agreed it’s better to die on our feet than sit idly by for our executioners to arrive. William and Alexander are already talking about how they plan to change everything. They want to reform the government, the army, the noble families—all of it. They won’t die here, I’ll make sure of that.
I have a plan.
I’ve been spreading rumors that the ground the Hollow Academy Arena was built on is a hot spot for Fabricators and that if we make a stand there it will elevate our powers. It’s nonsense, but I need to lure the Mercenaries into the arena and couldn’t think of anything else to tell the students. Was I supposed to tell them that the arena is the only place on campus that we can surround them in? Or that if we don’t, we’ll be killed? No, this is better. Let them believe in a lie. Let them find strength in it. Few of them know that some of the Mercenaries are Fabricators, too.
At first light, the vanguard and I will draw them into the Hollow Academy Arena, where William and Alexander will be waiting with the students and Archivists who choose to fight with us. Alexander will be with the archers in the stands. William will be waiting to ambush the Mercenaries. The vanguard will take the brunt of the battle, and I hope the others get to us before the Mercenaries slaughter us all.
There’s a good chance this will be my first and last battle… Most of the vanguard won’t survive this… We’re few in number, as no one was forced to join. Everyone who volunteered did so knowing the risks. They’re the bravest people I’ll ever know. Alexander and William both tried to join, but I told them they couldn’t. There aren’t enough people with leadership experience to command the other students, and they’re needed elsewhere. They need to live. For the future of Hollow.
In case… in case this is my last day… I want there to be some record of my life. That’s why I’m leaving these messages in my favorite book in the library. Ma… Da… Sis, if you’re reading this, know what I do here is to protect everyone. I’m the only one with the military experience to command the vanguard. I learned from the best. I can’t leave the protection of Hollow to someone else.
I hope we meet again, be it tomorrow or on the other side. I hope you’ll be proud of me, no matter what happens.
I love you all, never forget that.
So, please don’t forget me.
I flipped to the next page, but it was blank. There was no clue to what Dark wanted from these pages, and they didn’t contain the line about my father and Davey either. The only Kingman mentioned was my grandfather, Malcolm.
All that stood out was the mention of The Journal of the Archmage. Was Dark after it, as his Mercenary brothers had been? What was so special about it that they attacked Hollow Academy and the library to get it?
I tuned back into Kai just in time: “—and that’s what I want to do once I learn to control my Sound Fabrications. I think I can make a difference, even if I did lose my sight when I was young. That’s actually why my eyelids are open instead of closed like they would be for someone who was blind since birth. In case you were wondering.”
There was another paper left in the envelope I hadn’t read yet. “How’d you lose your sight? Was it an accident?”
Kai shook his head slowly. “I used my Fabrications as a child. It was for a good cause… I saved a friend’s life. It just cost me a lot to do it.”
“What? I thought Fabrications only cost memories. How can they take away your sight?”
“Excuse my bluntness, but you are thinking too simply. There are many types of memories: of how your body moves, of how your organs work, and your memory of how events occurred being some of them. How terrible is that? That someone could use a Fabrication one day and forget how to walk the next.”
Maybe I didn’t understand the cost of Fabrications like I thought I had. It could be more than losing the memory of how someone looked or how an event unfolded. Considering the deal I had made with Domet to learn how to use th
em, I hoped the power would let me protect those I cared about like it had for Kai.
“Yeah, definitely terrible,” I said. “Since you’re a Fabricator, are you going to join a High Noble Fabricator army and fight the rebels?”
As he spoke, I read the final document. I had searched every public library and collection for a glimpse of some record of my father’s trial. None of them had anything that even mentioned him; his past and accomplishments erased from history. Except for this.
David Kingman, right hand to the throne, was found in the room where David “Davey” Hollow was murdered, holding—as surgeons later confirmed—the gun that killed him.
Henceforth, the deceased will be referred to as Davey Hollow to avoid confusion between Davey Hollow and David Kingman. The bullet extracted from the body had a crown held by a pair of hands scratched into it. It is not the Kingman family’s sigil—being the open palm presenting a crown—but it has enough similarities to be deemed suspicious and presented as evidence.
We have been unable to locate the manufacturer of the gun or bullets, and the initial suspicions that it came from New Dracon City were quickly disproved. Further reports will be made when we discover where the gun was manufactured. Due to its unique caliber, design, and sophistication, we have faith that we’ll be able to track it down eventually. No one with such advanced technology could hide it forever.
It should be noted that David Kingman was arrested without problems: he didn’t run or attack those who discovered him, which speaks in his favor.
David Kingman was found by two of our primary witnesses: Kendra Blackwell, one of the King’s Ravens, and Colton Blackwell, her husband and heir to the Blackwell Low Noble family. In their testimonies, they both reported entering the Star Chamber as the murder took place. As neither David Kingman nor Davey Hollow had any reason to enter the Star Chamber that day, there is still much speculation as to why either was there. David Kingman later claimed he was there to meet a man named—
“What are you reading?” Kai asked.
I looked at him, snapped back into the moment. “What?”
“What are you reading?” he repeated. “You’ve been reading the whole time and I wondered what it was.”
The door opened and my brother came in with a woman on his arm. She was beautiful and looked very much like Kai, with her dark-blond hair in an updo and small diamond studs in both her cartilage and her earlobes.
It was only then that I recalled who the Ryders were. They were one of the oldest High Noble families in Hollow, their only competition for the title being the Kingman family. I still had no idea why Lyon and I were here, and it was starting to worry me as I saw how calm my brash brother was with the girl on his arm.
“Michael,” Lyon said, “this is Kayleigh Ryder, Kai’s older sister. She’s also… uh, I’m not sure how to say this, but… she’s my… or she’ll soon be my—”
“Wife. The word he’s looking for is wife.” She pressed one hand down over her stomach. “And the mother of his child.”
I didn’t hear anything after that. The world had gone silent as I watched High Noble Kayleigh Ryder’s lips shape polite nothings. My brother stood next to her, blushing and rubbing the back of his head every so often. Refusing to believe what I had just heard, I struggled from my seat and screamed, “You’re really bringing another Kingman into this city, Lyon? Are you mad? You’re really going to damn another innocent with our cursed last name?”
I couldn’t stop myself, words coming out of my mouth unfiltered. “Kayleigh, don’t have this child. You’re making a mistake. Even if it doesn’t end up branded like we were, it’ll still be doomed the moment it learns about the Kingman legacy. There is no freedom for those who share our blood, and the pressure to be as flawless as our ancestors is…” I gulped. “…suffocating.”
They all looked at me in shock. My face felt hot and I knew my words were unforgivable, but it was the truth and I couldn’t take them back. I stuffed Dark’s papers and ring back into their envelope and left. Alibi be damned.
I’d gone less than a block before my brother caught up with me, grabbed my shoulder, and punched me in the face. It sent me to the ground. As Lyon stood over me, he said, “What the fuck was that, Michael?”
“What the fuck is wrong with you, Lyon? Doesn’t our family have enough problems without you getting a High Noble pregnant?”
“The pregnancy may not have been planned, but I still love her! I don’t care if she’s a High Noble and she doesn’t care if I’m a Kingman! I have the right to be happy, Michael. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life taking care of…”
I returned to my feet. “You don’t want to care of who, Lyon? Me and Gwen? Because it’s been years since you’ve had to give either of us anything. We take care of ourselves. Or were you talking about our mother? Don’t want to be burdened by your Forgotten mother anymore? Tired of contributing a portion of your lapdog pay to house her in an asylum?”
“Don’t make me out to be the villain, Michael. I took care of you all for years while you and Gwen were too young to do anything except cry about losing our father.”
“What are you saying, then? That you’ve done your time and you can wipe your hands of her?”
“She’s never going to get better, Michael. Whatever happened to her mind is permanent. We have to accept that.”
“So we should abandon her? Our father always said family was the most important—”
“Our father was a traitor!” he screamed at me. “That bastard murdered a child and cursed his children with these brands. I’m done with him and the Kingman legacy. Unlike you and Gwen, I’m trying to move on, to find my own place in the world. This is the start of that.”
“And I guess we’re just obstacles to your new life?”
“We’re family,” he said. “But eventually, like me, you’ll see that all we can do for our mother is make sure she’s comfortable and that our father deserved what happened to him. He destroyed the family legacy, and that doesn’t mean we’re responsible for fixing it.”
“Kingman don’t abandon family.”
Lyon shook his head and turned his back to me. “None of us have been true Kingman since he was executed. We won’t lead the king’s armies, we won’t be sent all over the world to foster relations with other countries, and our generation won’t be remembered as anything more than bystanders. It’s time you accepted that… and until you do, don’t come near Kayleigh or my child. We’ll be your alibi if you need it, but we’ve already agreed our child will be born a Ryder, not a Kingman. And once it’s socially acceptable for me to do, I plan on renouncing the Kingman family name and taking hers.”
“That’s the coward’s way out.”
“Then I will be remembered as the Cowardly Kingman, and I will wear that title with pride. Just as the Heartbroken Kingman wore hers.” A pause. “I just want to be a good father and husband. No matter the cost.”
“You know what happens if you walk away, right?”
“Yes,” Lyon said. “But you always wanted the legacy on your shoulders, didn’t you?”
My brother left me as he’d found me earlier in the night, sitting on a curb somewhere in the west side of Hollow, alone and flustered. Now I had an alibi, but I had destroyed my relationship with my brother. And if he was serious about taking the Ryders’ last name, I would soon be the heir to the Kingman family.
How would history remember me?
As I began to calm down, my thoughts still on my family, I took out the page I’d been reading.
David Kingman claimed he was in the Star Chamber to meet Shadom, a pseudonym for an unidentified High Noble famous in the East Side for their generosity. Uncovering their identity will be a primary focus of this investigation.
End of Part 1 of the report concerning the murder of Davey Hollow, Heir to Hollow. —Evoker Division leader, Idris Ardel.
I looked at the page in disbelief. Domet believed my father had been framed by a High Noble, and now
I had independent information suggesting it was possible. I had a duty to investigate—no matter what Lyon said about our father’s guilt.
It was time I cleaned up the Kingman family’s tarnished legacy.
THE FABRICATOR AND THE HISTORIAN
In Hollow, a good baker could tell someone the district news about who was pregnant, who had been hanged in the past week, and where to get illegal goods in the time it took them to wrap a loaf of black bread to go. And since the Fisheries had the best bakeries, that was where I went for news of Sirash.
“Sorry, Michael, Sirash ain’t here,” Becca said. “Isn’t even set to work until next week. I can let him know you were looking for him when he comes in.”
“No, it’s fine,” I said. “Was just hoping to ask him a quick question.”
She put a loaf of rye bread on the counter. “Sorry I couldn’t be of more help. But—”
A voice yelled from the back of the store. “Becca! Ask him about the thing!”
“I was just about to, Da!” Turning back to me, she lowered her voice. “Michael, we got a lot of people asking about the rebels, trying to figure if they should hunker down or make a break for greener pastures. Have you heard anything from your fake da that might help them make a choice?”
“Low Noble Bartos’s banner has been seen flying over their encampment.”
She rolled her eyes and leaned closer. “I knew that already. Anything else?”
“Not really. Sorry.”
Her face fell. “Shame. It’ll be a penny, then.”
I put a bronze penny in her palm and then took the bread. “If I hear anything, I’ll make sure to tell you.”
“You better. Wanderer guide your path, Michael.”
“You too, Becca.”
With the loaf of bread in hand, I left the bakery. Gwen was waiting outside for me.