Chương 1

The sun stared down at the column of fresh Conduits until each one began to sweat. Most came from poor, local families, gathering enough coin so that each individual had a full set of leathers or a hand-me-down weapon, but rarely both. The kids, most between 18 and 22, had spent most of the day marching up the dirt track from the Kingdom's highroad. The drill sergeant paused and shaded his eyes; ahead was his least favorite part, the rapid switchbacks to climb up to the ridge on which Peakhold sat.

The drill sergeant cleared his throat. His booming voice bounced off the stone walls.

"For better or worse, you lot are now the front line against Geometrics. You will delve into Rifts, breathing in the radical and dangerous energies of those strange environments, depleting the local monster population. You will harvest the rare treasures within. Because if you did not, the Rifts would erupt and our fair Kingdom would burn." To the drill sergeant, this was familiar rhetoric.

Every six months, when the Maester Council allowed a new batch of Conduits, he would bring an unlucky few to Peakhold, here at the edge of civilization. If he had to pick, he preferred summers to winters; two years ago, a girl slipped on a patch of ice and cracked her skull falling down the cliff. Yet now, he felt a sliver of discomfort. Because this particular group of Conduits had a small wrinkle. When the group reached the top of the switchbacks, many collapsed on the ground.

A few, with the palisade of Peakhold visible down the ridge, guzzled most of the water and poured the rest over their heads to cool off. The drill sergeant gave the group a small break before the clapped his hands together.

"Alright recruits, move." A slow smile spread across his face as he watched the Conduits stand and begin walking. This was his favorite part. Only one individual remained seated: the blonde young man who was the wrinkle in the drill sergeant's plans. The kid even had the nerve to smirk at him. The drill sergeant ignored him.

"Where do you think you are going?" All the sweaty Conduits turned around, bewildered. The drill sergeant lifted an eyebrow.

"Who said we were heading to the hold?" He could practically see the realization on their blanching faces. The drill sergeant pointed.

"In formation, Conduits. In a short while, you will have your first experience of the Rift." As best as they could, the new Conduits checked their weapons, tightened their armor, and got into the prearranged formation. Arms folded behind his back, the drill sergeant led the group.

"Before any entrance to the Rift, check your food and water. These are alien landscapes! We harvest valuable catalytics there, but use them only after they've been brought back and purified!

"Although the return stele is fixed in one location, your arrival location will be random. You will be clasping the arms of two others, so the transfer takes you together. Don't let that inflate your egos. Be vigilant. Geo-3s are more than capable of shredding 0's like you to shreds.

"Your goal is simple- make it safely back to the return stele. Avoid contact with both geos and other Conduits-- these individuals will likely have their own mission. They don't have time to babysit you. I've already distributed the pamphlet from the local Administrator. These guidelines will save your life! Follow them to the letter."

"Hey," The blonde, 18-year old troublemaker spoke at the front of the column, completely ignoring the drill sergeant. He tapped his shield against the Conduit in front of him.

"Let's switch spots." The drill sergeant raised his eyes toward the sky, his frustration building. A girl with reddish honey hair, glanced over her shoulder at the commotion next to her. She flushed and looked away; it was clear she recognized the blonde kid too. A tall, dark haired boy on the other side of the girl noticed the commotion and glared at the blonde troublemaker. The target of the request just blinked. He at least had the sense to peak toward the drill sergeant.

"What? Why?"

"It's so crowded back here. All I see in every direction is other bodies." The blonde kid complained.

"If we swap, at least in front will be open space. I crave freedom." The tall boy interjected.

"Our group will be the first through. It's too dangerous to just make a casual switch." The blonde kid just smirked at the interruption and pointed to the tall kid, agreeing with his point.

"The drill sergeant won't let us trade," The boy at the front said. But he didn't sound sure.

"Believe me, if I talk to him, it will happen." The blonde kid boasted.

"Then… okay." The boy nodded. The drill sergeant closed his eyes, allowing them to awkwardly shuffle past one another. They took each other's place in the column, blonde boy at the front, his smile widening as he looked out over the rocky path and the sheer drop to their right.

"Double time, now." The Drill Sergeant said, to remind them of their environment.

"Keep a grip on your weapons! If you have masks, put them on. A filter won't completely protect you from pollution, but they are better than nothing." The fucking blonde kid had the nerve to snort. While the others scrambled to pull on cloth masks, the boy just looked around. The Drill Sergeant gritted his teeth, but allowed the disrespect to pass. Around the Rift was a low wooden wall made of stacked logs.

A few guards, half civilians and half Conduits, saluted as the drill sergeant brought the fresh blood forward. The area was deserted; by this point, all the working Conduits were already within the Rift. The drill sergeant lifted a hand.

"Pause a moment, unbaptized. Look at Peakhold's small shard of the Great Wound afflicting our world." Most of the Conduits, aside from the blonde trouble maker, looked forward with wide eyes. A three meters tall pillar of blue light pulsed in front of the group. Occasionally shadowy ripples moved across its surface. It was luminance made liquid.

"Pretty small," The blonde troublemaker observed. By now, the drill sergeant was old hat at ignoring him.

"First few groups, prepare! Hold fast to one another. As soon as you've recovered, ascend the slope. As you've been informed, the return stele lays above the indigo mist layer. If you are close, your Council-issued bracer will guide you. Good luck." As one of the first groups, the trio of the blonde troublemaker, the tall dour boy, and the red-gold haired girl approached the portal. The tall boy hissed at the troublemaker.

"Take this seriously." Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. The blonde boy smiled.

"Relax, levy. What's the worst that could happen?"

The blonde haired teenager woke on a palette, propped up by several pillows beneath his head. He released a long breath and blinked several times. His mind didn't seem to house a single thought. He felt calm and tranquil. Above his head and a short distance away, he could see the brown fabric of the tent. In the distance he could hear several soft voices speaking and groans of pain. A frown twisted his mouth. Something was… strange.

"Young Master Albion. I'm glad to see you are awake." The teenager pivoted sideways, following the voice to the front of the tent. A chubby and smiling man in a robe walked through the entrance. The man gestured vaguely around.

"Apologies for the circumstances. The Healer could find nothing wrong with you, so you'll be out of here soon. And don't feel bad, many fine Conduits also have small episodes during their first expeditions. The nerves will pass."

"Who…" The teenager had to pause in the middle of his question to yawn.

"... is Young Master Albion?"

"Haha, very-" The robed man froze. He looked the boy over, a strange expression crossing his face.

"Do you not remember your name? Your hometown? Why you are here?" The teenager tilted his head to the side and thought about it. Then he shook his head.

"No. Are those things important?"

"Oh. Oh. I'll be right back. Ah, here, take this." The man tossed a small piece of folded paper at the base of the teenager's bed, then pushed out of the tent. His steps away crunched the dirt as he hurried away. After another long yawn, the teenager rolled sideways and pushed himself up. He reached over and picked up the paper. The teenager squinted at the paper. In dark and bold letter at the top it read: the Maester Council's Conduit Code. Below that were three statements First, no compromise of justice.

Second, glory's price is responsibility. Finally, to your fellows generosity and your foes ferocity. The teenager's pupils dilated. He read the three statements almost a dozen times, before he had thoroughly committed them to memory. He released a long breath; if anything, those three lessons seemed to settle even deeper than memory. With his emotions surging and bubbling in his chest, the teenager set the pamphlet down and stood. In a buzzy mood, he stumbled out into the sunlight.

A smile crossed his face; the sun was warm and welcoming. He exhaled a lungful of pure pleasure. Yet that same part of him that growled made him open his eyes and look around. Outside of the tent, the groans and coughing grew louder. The teenager's eyes widened as he looked around and found dozens of pallets laid on the ground. Individuals sobbed as they stared up at the sky, even as their wounds wept blood into their bandages.

"Why must this sky be unfair?" The teenager completed his spin. A woman knelt next to a bandaged man. She leaned her head against him, even as his open eyes gazed sightlessly upward. His stillness was palpable. The boy's pupils dilated.

"Why can't it be just?"

"No compromise…" The teenager whispered. Another individual walked up to her, patted her on the shoulder, and then offered her a flower. The woman broke down further, letting the flower fall in the dirt. After a few seconds, an elderly woman leaning on a staff moved forward to peer at the man. She shook her head and moved away, checking on the situation of a still living individual.

"Are you one of the new Healer's aides?" The teenager turned to find a serious looking young man staring at him. The teenager thought about it.

"Maybe?"

"Maybe?" The young man's eyes bulged.

"Sunder me sideways, the quality of you levies this year- just follow me. Do you know how lucky you are to have this job? Otherwise you'd be in the Rift, scraping moss off some angry geo's balls." The young man continued to mutter as he strode ahead. The teenager scratched his cheek, but followed. A well lounged in the shadow of the hold's stone wall, behind the tents. The young man directed the teenager to haul up several buckets of water and carry them. As he did so, the boy's hands felt strained and burnt.

He didn't flinch, just looked down at his hands in almost wonder.

"What, you don't like? Too good to carry water?" The young man glanced back and scowled at the boy.

"That's hierarchy, friend. That's how society works. We each have our own roles. I bear all this shit responsibility, and your back handles the water." The teenager felt a growl of annoyance rise from his chest, but just followed along for now. The young man led him into another tent. Unlike the tent the boy had woken up in, this one was slightly larger, but had quite a few more individuals on raised palettes. About twelve beds were squeezed into the area, although most were shrouded by a thin curtain.

Outside the tent, a harsh voice rose.

"Patrick! You lazy welp. Come here."

"Who swiped the Healer's morning hooch?" The young man muttered, before looking at the teenager.

"Hey, stay here for a bit. If anyone asks for water, bring it to them. I'll be back." The young man left. The teenager set down the sloshing buckets of water, flexed his hands, and looked around. It was quiet inside the tent. Six beds were open against the left wall, while the six on the right were shrouded. Three of the revealed beds were empty. All three others had inert individuals, but at the last bed on the left, a man sat and peered at the woman lying there.

The teenager picked one of his buckets and carried it over, taking care not to spill the liquid on the ground.

"Would you like some water?" The man looked up. He had a thin, nervous face, and dressed in leather armor. He stared at the teenager for several seconds before finally seeing him.

"A drink, is it? But no, not water. Not today." The teenager moved away, back to the space by the door and set down his bucket. More and more of the lethargy of his mind was falling away. Which left the teenager frowning and confused. When he looked at something, he understood what it was. But when he tried to think about himself, there was just emptiness. What was I called? The teenager reflected. Young Master Albion? Am I a Healer's Aide? Can I be both? The tent flap burst open.

A tall man in fine robes swung his head back and forth. His gaze fixated at the bed at the end. Without even noticing the teenager, the tall man swept past. His eyes went to the woman and simply drank her still form in.

"Is she…?"

"Stable." The nervous man confirmed. He stood and offered the other his hand.

"I am-""A Conduit. And the leader of Azure Butcher's Troop, if I'm not mistaken." The tall man didn't even glance at the other's hand.

"You are not." The nervous man cleared his throat and withdraws his offer to shake.

"Listen, I-""What were you doing in the Rift with my wife?" The tall man asked. The nervous man winced.

"Ahem. You have to understand, the season has not been a good one for my Troop. Actually, we are old acquaintances; when Sandra heard of our plight, she agreed to assist-""She has an abominable weakness of the heart," The tall man clenched his fist. The nervous man shook his head.

"Are being kind and being weak really so similar?"

"We've had our share of troubles. Disagreements, over her retirement." The tall man took several steps toward the bed, until he stood over his wife. The teenager couldn't see his expression, but he leaned forward and pressed a hand. Not against his wife, but with his fingers splayed wide against the covers.

"I had hoped- if I provided a reliable home and income, those problems would work themselves out."

"Was it the weather?"

"What?" The tall man pivoted and glowered at the nervous one. The nervous one let out a small chuckle.

"Ah. That's just- that's the only problem that resolves itself. The weather. Heh." As the teenager observed and absorbed this, the tent flapped opened once again. A woman in an ornate white robe looked around, than narrowed her eyes as she looked at him.

"Young Master, you shouldn't be up." The two men pivoted and looked at him. The woman offered him a small bow.

"I'm Administrator Ranya. Please, follow me. We have much to discuss."

"That's Kirk-fucking-Albion," The tall man goggled. The teenager scratched his cheek. I am… Kirk?