The events of the 10th of Opal, 1070
"And how are things going, love?" Sgt. Pepper asked, his deep voice filled with fondness. He stroked one gloved hand down Archin's back, pressing his palm into the small of it.
She looked up at him, at his scared and battered mask, and smiled wryly. "Decently. There are no more seeds left; at least, none that can be used for food. It's all the chaff, so to speak, the worthless ones fit only for the tailors."
"What have you been doing with all of them?"
"Mostly throwing them into the magma, or grinding them up to be used in the meals. I certainly haven't been planting them."
Sgt. Pepper thought this over, giving great tugs to his matted, blood crusted beard. "Does Telemon know of your antics?"
"I've neglected to tell him; he has more important matters to concern himself with. He spends most of the nights in the Quarry with the buildings... it's of no concern. This will only help his goals. Now I know we have nearly 6000 units of meals, but the alcohol reserve is running dangerously low, and I think if..."
Even with his mask on, she could hear the leather creak, and see it shift slightly upwards. His eyes, blank and white behind the slits, crinkled as he smiled. "A simple fire should fix all of that nonsense, now shouldn't it? And the new DUke will be remiss to explain to the population how it happened; and Aryn will be blamed as this recession of goods started under his watch. Excellent, love. Very excellent."
***
"Adol, is that you?" Maggarg croaked. He was brown, his skin cracked and blistered by the sun. Even staying in the shade as often as he could, there was no way to get fully out of the sun and by now he was a sun burnt mess. There was a faint knock from the other side of the wall, followed by his friends voice.
"Sure is, buddy. Sure is... here, get ready to catch..."
Maggarg groaned and shifted, and when he saw the glint of glass in the moonlight, held his shaking hands out in front of him. By the grace of the Gods, he caught it, and frantically pried loose the cap to guzzle the meager amount of water. It did little to quench his thirst, but it was enough to sustain him a while longer.
"I think I'm dying," Maggarg admitted. "I stopped sweating a few days ago, and my piss is just dribbles of near brown goo..."
"That's... not good..." there was a pause, and Adol whispered, "I can't stay long, I'll be back tomorrow night, I'm sorry."
"No, wait!" Maggarg was nearly frantic. "You have to get me out of here. I'm going to die. I've started... I think I'm starting to hallucinate."
Humoring his friend, Adol stayed, even though he could sense the eyes on him. He hoped it wasn't the Hammerer, he didn't wish to share the adjacent cell, but he couldn't just leave his companion, his partner, his brother-in-arms alone. "What have you seen, buddy...?"
"I've seen some freaks in masks and capes running around the grounds killing Dread Camels. They sometimes sit on top of the watch towers, and they watch the Fishers skulking around in the sands. There's... there's some little bitch with a burned face, down by the magma. She keeps staring up at me and sometimes she waves... I've waved back a couple times and she just laughs and vanishes."
"I'll get you out of there," Adol said. "I swear to you. I'll have you out before the months end, even if it means..." he gulped, hating what he was about to say. It went against everything he stood for, and as one from a noble line and a proud family, it struck him as near heresy to say. "I'll kill the Hammerer if I have to, to get you out of here."
"If you don't, I will," Maggarg said. "And that asshole Riddlewire. I'm going... to drink his damned blood."