The taunt hit first. "Hey, look, it's the Bloodless Hollow!" Then the shove came, a rough hand between his shoulder blades that sent Artemis sprawling forward. He hit the dirt fist-first, the impact jolting up his arms. As he tried to push himself up, a reinforced boot drove into his stomach, stealing his wind with a brutal whuff.
Garet stood over him, smirking, his lips pulled back to show off his bronze canines—the mark of a Brazenmarked.
"Even with that type of kick, he still isn't bleeding," another boy observed, his voice tinged with morbid curiosity.
Why did Rox make me pass this alley? Artemis thought, curling around the knot of pain in his gut. His eyes flicked to the fresh bruise blooming on Garet's cheek.
So his dad drank too much again,
I guess that explains why he's extra physical today.
"Listen up," Garet announced, pulling a small coin purse from his pocket and giving it a shake. "I won fifty Ruki gambling. Half of it goes to whoever can make the Hollow here bleed."
A pale-skinned boy stepped forward, grinning. "I'll go first."
Artemis watched him approach.
Really? You're a Fleshborn, like me. The thought was a bitter pill as the boy's kicks began to thud against his ribs.
Pathetic fool. Can't even fight for yourself. The voice in his head, the one he'd learned to ignore, echoed with cold disdain.
After half a minute, the boy stepped back, panting.
"Waste of my time. I should kick you like I kick him," Garet said, shoving the boy aside. He scanned the other five onlookers. "Anyone else want a turn?"
"Garet!, you bastard!"
The new voice cracked through the alley like a whip. Arthur stood at the entrance, vivid blue eyes twitching with rage. He lunged, his bronze-knuckled fist swinging for Garet's face. Garet caught the blow easily on a forearm already sheathed in dull metal.
"Arthur. Why the face?" Garet's smirk didn't fade. "Just having fun with your friend."
"You want me to tell your dad what you did to his ale keg yesterday?" A knowing, dangerous smile spread across Arthur's face.
Garet's expression curdled. He unformed the bronze from his arm. "Let's go, guys. We're done with Bloodless anyway." He shouldered past Arthur, the rest of his pack trailing behind like shadows.
"Artemis, are you alright?"
As usual, you can't even save yourself. Why don't you just end it?
"I am fine. It doesn't hurt as bad as it looks," Artemis lied, climbing to his feet and adjusting the ragged cloth tied over his mouth. "How'd you know I was here?"
"Rox told me he sent you to get petrol to power the Reculatorr, I figured he told you to take the shortcut."
"You really didn't need to come; He'd have gotten bored." he replied while holding his stomach.
"And let you become a punching bag?" Arthur shook his head. "Besides, Lyra would actually kill me if she found out."
"Thanks. So what exactly did you catch Garet doing?"
"Oh," Arthur's anger melted into a wicked grin "I caught him taking a piss in his dad's ale."
"Wow. His dad would possibly kill him," Artemis said as they both walked to Rox's house.
***
"You are late," Rox's voice was a gravelly pronouncement from the deck of the Whalebone. He was a mountain of a Silverstone man, skin the color of earth at dusk, muscle carved by five centuries of life. His vivid white hair contrasted with a face set in a permanent, grumpy scowl.
"How hard is it to get a bloody keg?" He glared but stopped short, his sharp brown eyes catching the way Artemis cradled his stomach. "Ugh, never mind. We will get a better catch when the sun sets anyway." He turned to the helm. "Arthur, go fill up the Reculator; we're dredging Deep-Skates today."
Rox untied the ropes of the boat.
As Rox untied the mooring lines, Artemis's stomach dropped again—this time with dread.
Deep-Skates. Silver-spined terrors even Brazenmarked fishermen feared. Their salvation was the Reculator: a hulking steam engine bolted amidships, its pistons hissing like an angry serpent. Its articulated arms could plunge deeper than any net, snagging the thrashing fish and trapping them in an electrified brass cage.
Without it, Ocelas would have starved a generation ago.
Artemis and Arthur had been working with Rox for five years since they were ten as a way to help their families. The job was simple because most of what they did was carry the fish to their customers and operate the Reculator.
Artemis loved this part—the moment they cleared the harbor. He let the wind hit his face–the part that wasn't covered by the rag–breathing in the salt that smelled like clean freedom. He watched Rox pour a cup of ale over the gunwale into the sea, a ritual he performed every time they set sail. They never asked why. The rumors about the fall of his Noble House were answer enough.
It was a fact that scared Artemis. If a man as strong as Rox could be broken by the world, what hope was there for a Fleshborn like him?
""Old Man," Arthur called out, maneuvering the Reculator's claw over a promising shadow. "Are the rumors true? The Holy King's War… it's starting?"
"Yes." Rox didn't look up from the water. "The trumpets sounded two nights ago. Every kingdom is sharpening its blades." He finally glanced at them. "You two are fifteen. Planning on enlisting?"
"And waste our lives on a pointless war?" Artemis said, Arthur nodded firmly beside him.
Rox raised his head, a little shocked by his answer. "Don't you want glory? It's the commoner's dream—to distinguish yourself, rise above your station." He turned the wheels.
"Please, what will a defective Fleshborn or a Brazenmarked like us going to do in a war of giants? Become cannon-fodder." Artemis scoffed, checking the secure fit of his face-mask. Rhea was adamant he wear it, blaming his "defective teeth"—Enamel Hypoplasia, 'a dental disease that had to do with teeth blackening.' she said, always averting her eyes as if the words hid a sharper truth.
"Don't sell yourselves short. There are many Fleshborn and Brazenmarked soldiers who distinguish themselves in battle and get the chance to marry into Noble Houses. Change their bloodline."
"And become a Noble's puppet?" Arthur chimed in. "No, thanks. What about you, Old Man? Will you fight?"
"I'm a Colonel. I'll be called back when the war fully—" He snapped his head around. "Fathom the shallows!"
Arthur hauled the sounding line, his bronze-knuckled grip steady. The lead weight hit bottom. Twenty fathoms—Deep-Skate territory.
Artemis tensed. The Reculator's pistons hissed like a sleeping beast; its arm lurched. Too loud. Too hungry. A Deep-Skate thrashed against the mesh.
"SPINES!" Arthur yelled.
Artemis ducked. A fan of razor-sharp fins sliced the air where his head had been and clanged against the brass cage. The steam-gauge spiked. With a final, convulsive shudder, the machine captured the massive, silver-flanked fish, electricity coursing through the mesh to still its fury.
"Whew! A big find there," Arthur whistled. "That's two hundred cowries easy."
""Shut up. And there are more," Rox said, heeling the boat hard."We go back with ten more, or not at all."
"For a Noble, he's quite greedy," Arthur whispered.
"Aren't they all?" Artemis murmured back.
"I don't pay you to chit-chat. Artemis, steer the claw to starboard. My senses say there's something there."
"Yes, Sir."
***
Three hours later, with the sun bleeding into the horizon, Rox turned the Whalebone toward home. Then a shadow fell across their path—a larger, dirtier ship with tattered sails and a grinning skull on its flag.
"What in Glass's name are the Marines doing?" Arthur grimaced, pointing to the empty patrol lanes. "They're supposed to be here!"
"Probably paid off for a window," Artemis said, a grim satisfaction in his voice. "But of all the boats to hit… they chose the one with Rox."
"Hello, hello, my good sirs," a dark-skinned man said from the helm of his boat, giving an exaggerated, mocking bow. He continued, "Call me curious, and as you have guessed from our modest flag we're entrepreneurs of the sea." revealing a mouthful of bronze teeth.
"So what say you hand over your catch and we can avoid any unples…"
The silver projectile tore through the air with a sound like ripping silk. Curious dodged, but the glancing blow spun him sideways and left a burning scratch across his cheek.
"By Heaven's breath," Curious gasped, clutching his face
"So you aren't half bad," Rox grunted. He planted a foot on the gunwale and leaped. His impact on the pirate deck landed like a cannonball, making the ship list violently. "I do not have the strength for pointless conversation, so let's get this over with."
Thirteen against one. Curious staggered up, his arms flowing into a broad bronze shield.
The others—six Brazenmarked, the rest Fleshborn—closed in. Rox's hand solidified, forming a blunt silver club.
He moved with terrifying, economical speed. The hilt of his club dropped two Fleshborn before they could blink.
He sidestepped a sloppy bronze short-sword from a Brazenmarked, parried twice, and drove his fist into the man's gut, dropping him like a sack.
Four heartbeats. Twelve men littered the deck, groaning.
Curious lasted a moment longer. Rox shattered his bronze shield with an overhead blow and laid him out with a precise crack to the jaw. He bound them all with ruthless efficiency and jumped back to the Whalebone.
"For a five-hundred-year-old, you're still quite nimble," Arthur taunted.
"We need to get back to shore and inform the Marines," Rox ignored him, taking the wheel.
"Wouldn't they just ignore us?"
"No. They were paid for time, not for treason. Arresting these fools now covers their tracks. They'll do it to save their own skins."
Artemis laughed, the sound hollow. "So they enforce the law because they have more to lose. Corruption is truly fascinating."
***
"Thank you for the report. We will… take care of the rest," the Marine officer said, his eyes avoiding Rox's
"See that you do."
He walked back to his ship.
"Too late for market. Artemis, ice down the catch in the cold room. Arthur, scrub the blood and offal from the deck. Unless you want rust-sprites eating through the hull by morning."
They both nodded and hastily went on to carry out their jobs.
An hour later, Artemis and Arthur–tired and hungry–got to the front of Arthur's house. A big woman came out of the door; she wore a long, faded wool dress with loose sleeves and a frayed hem, tied at the waist with a thin rope belt. Her distinctive yellow hair matched that of Arthur.
"Artemis, will you be joining us for dinner tonight?" Arthur's mother asked with a smile on her face.
"No, thank you Yaya Anne; my mum is waiting at home, so I won't…" He turned to Arthur "see you tomorrow. Wake up early; we need to get the fish to the distributors before we go fishing," Artemis said, waving to Arthur as he walked away.
"I should be telling you that!" Arthur shouted to him.
Artemis entered the wooden house with plastic windows where he and his mom–Rhea–lived together alone. He had never met his father; all he knew was that he was a Brazenmarked soldier. His mum never even spoke his name, as though just the pain of saying it was too much for her to bear, so Artemis never asked.
The smell of rice and stew came rushing at him as he walked into the house.
"Mum, I'm back!" he said, removing his mask.
"Arty, welcome! How was work?" Rhea's voice called from the kitchen, which was also the dining room.
"Quite hectic; we caught some big fish, so I am expecting a good commission! And... never mind," Artemis hesitated to tell the story about the pirates because he didn't want his mum to worry. "So, how was the farm?"
"It was stressful. Luckily, we're in harvest season, so it was mostly the harvesters that we used," she replied as Artemis walked in and started preparing the table for them to eat.
They were eating plain rice and stew, but even that was something Artemis looked forward to every day, like a ritual he knew there was nothing better than eating with his mum.
As the cold seeped in, dropping his plate Artemis went out to cut wood for their fireplace—though heaters existed, it was just not something they could afford. There was something of simplicity in having just enough to survive which Artemis was content with.
But Rox's words today talking about the war stayed in his mind. One thing he always wanted was to provide for his mum so she wouldn't have to work for too long. At first, he thought he could just work long enough for Rox to create his own fish shop and get enough money to get a better house.
He looked at the humble house, at his mother's cold hands. His deepest desire wasn't for glory; it was for enough. Enough to give her rest.
He walked inside, back to the table, "Mum, I have been thinking of going to military school," Artemis said, picking up his plate.
Rhea's spoon froze midway to her bowl "Why?" The word was too quick, her fluster poorly concealed.
"With the war coming… even a clerk's salary from the military could be enough. We could move, get a better place. You could stop working."
She drew in a breath—a deep, shaky thing that seemed to hold the memory of easier times—and exhaled into the anxious present.
"Well, if that's what you want to do, I will support you." She said it, her voice a flat—deliberate—stone dropped into still water. Her hand, resting on the table, did not tremble. She willed it into stillness, a final act of control before the coming storm. The numbness was already seeping up her arm, a premonition of a cold she knew too well.
"Thanks, Mum." He stood, taking his plate to wash.
Behind him, Rhea sat back, trembling hands covering her face, lost in the memory of a day long past.
***
"Rhea, by the Glass Heavens, what type of teeth is this boy growing?" Silvia, Rhea's sister, said, pointing to Artemis.
"Please don't tell anyone. They will take him away from me," she said, on the verge of crying.
***
Oh Holy Glass, protect my son, Rhea prayed in her mind as tears trickled down her face.