Chapter 2: Proposition.

HIS BATTLE DRESS was borderline disgraceful. Render ran a shining cloth over the breastplate with his family crest, but that was the most he could do currently. As disheveled as his appearance was, he faced the fact that he didn’t have time to polish or re-braid his hair. He needed to get to the orphanage.

Glancing around his simple one-room house, Render spotted his swords on the stand near his small stack of underclothes. Picking up the weapons, he quickly slid them into the sheath on his back and strode straight to the front door. His weapons were sharp and soot-free.

That was enough.

Time to go. Anoka was waiting.

Throwing open the door, he paused. Standing at the threshold was the tall and lean figure of master bladesmith Meccan.

Render held in his groan of despair.

“Armorer Meccan. Nice to see you,” Render lied with his hand still on his door handle. “I was just leaving.”

Render glanced around at the sky as the light slowly began to darken. He prayed those words would get Meccan to leave, but he knew it was a hope in vain. Honestly, he didn’t understand why he bothered. He would simply have to put up with the metal worker.

“You can give me a moment, Warrior Render.” Meccan pushed the wood aside and entered the house. The latch clicked closed behind the tall, lean armorer as Meccan set his hand on Render’s chest. The man pushed.

Meccan was tall but wasn’t strong or skilled, and he had no battle techniques or fighting abilities. Even though the male was willowy and could be easily beaten, Render let the landowner walk him back toward the wall.

No point in putting up a fight. He needed a place to live.

“Payment?” Meccan stated the word with a smile like a sickly gaskin.

“Tell your sister that I will get the marks soon.” Render would get paid again from the learning temple. He still had a little faith that someone would take classes from him.

“You know what I really want, Render.”

Today was not a good day for listening to sexual propositions from his landowner. Anoka had been steadily worsening, and Render needed to go to the orphanage to check on her. The assigned caregiver insisted, and Render even left the learning temple early to get there.

Still, his landlord probably wouldn’t let him out of this very quickly. Render knew how this would play out. It was always the same.

“I’m going to get paid.”

“You said that last time. My sister doesn’t believe you.” Meccan stepped closer to him. “I don't believe you either.” The blacksmith began to pet the breastplate of Render’s armor and trace the design of his family crest with his fingers. Render leaned back and bumped into the wall. “I could take something else as payment.” Meccan dropped his voice softly. “I can get my sister to leave you alone.” The bladesmith chuckled. “Maybe you have something you could do for me. I could take care of this.” The twinkle in Meccan’s eyes Render had seen many times before. He sighed. “You wouldn’t need to pay me marks if you give me what I want.”

Yes. Render knew exactly what Meccan wanted. The whispers that Render liked men had never faded, and Meccan specifically seemed to have his eye on him. The metal worker pretended to be interested in female warriors, but that was a façade.

Render knew the truth.

As a master swordsman and an advanced warrior, Render could effortlessly snap Meccan’s neck. But unfortunately, he couldn’t do that. Meccan’s sister was an incredible fighter. The female warrior's fire was a formidable inferno. Not only would killing her brother have Render’s death as a foregone conclusion, but Render would also look guilty. People would say he killed Meccan to hide how much he wanted a male sexually.

He sighed again. The stories about him never died, even if he'd never looked at a male.

“I can get the payment,” Render tried to move around the metal worker. “I have to go.”

Meccan took another step and pinned him solidly to the wall. Render gritted his teeth. The tall, thin male dipped his head to Render’s throat.

Pushed backward like he was, there was no place to go. Render’s hands curled into a fist at his sides. He took a settling breath so that he didn’t hit the swordsmith.

Chuckling, probably because Meccan knew he had him trapped, the metal worker pressed his mouth to Render’s neck. A wet tongue swished against the skin and traveled under his ear. The touch felt slimy and wrong. Meccan began to press sloppy kisses along Render’s skin wherever his mouth could reach. Never had Render been so happy that he wore armor. Albeon armor wasn’t easy to get off and if Meccan tried to enter his body, the gear would stop the action. Meccan would need Render’s consent to remove the outfit, especially the pants.

“Tell your sister I will have the money for her,” Render tried weakly as Meccan slobbered on his mouth. He turned his head, but that only got Meccan to start kissing his cheek.

“You know you want it, Render,” Meccan whispered. The hot breath on his skin made Render’s stomach hurt. The swordsmith set his hands on either side of Render’s shoulders keeping him trapped flat to the wall. All his body weight pressed to Render’s frame. “I can take care of this. Just take off your armor. You will enjoy it.”

Why did they have to keep doing this? Render was so tired of fighting off Meccan. The only way to stop this cycle was to get a hefty set of marks. He had no idea how to get the coins he needed. Render worked at the learning temple as a teacher and made almost nothing. What he eventually collected went to the care center for Anoka. That didn’t leave much left over. And he definitely didn’t have money for the tiny house assigned to him after he got out of the reformatory. It was only a matter of time before he would be kicked out and end up on the streets. No one would rent or offer a place to a disgraced warrior.

But he wouldn’t have sex for a place to live. Besides, Toren owned his heart. The monk always would.

“I know you want me,” Meccan said silky. “I can satisfy you.”

Before Render could open his mouth to respond, there was a knock on the door. Render wanted to thank the Lord and Lady of Light for whoever was here. Simultaneously, he couldn’t figure out who in the blue blazes would be at his home. He had no friends or family.

“Excuse me, Meccan.”

This time, Render stepped around Meccan. The landlord let him get to the front door. Opening the entrance, he found three female Albeon warriors. And this wasn’t just any warriors.

His jaw dropped. Everyone on the planet knew about the three Fire Elders. Dilma, Payson, and Rolla stood at the door of his little house. The three warriors were powerful guards of the Pachan Fire.

People often referred to these females as the right hand of the queen. Their fire was feared throughout the entire planet of Albeon. They might look like small young ladies in flowing black robes, but they were assassins gifted with unmatched fire skills. Why were they here? His birth fire crackled in his chest.

“Warrior Render Jay Zell?” Rolla scanned him. Her bright, flickering eyes drill into every smudge of dirt, soot, and dent in his armor. She didn’t appear pleased. Understood.

“Yes, Warrior Rolla.” Render bowed. “I am Warrior Render Jay Zell,” he muttered, although he suspected that Rolla already knew who he was.

Now, his eyes flipped over the women as they entered his place one by one. The elders looked young but were older than almost every Albeon warrior on the planet. The Panchen Fire they carried was straight from the heart of the holy temple and not gifted to them in their teens like regular Albeons. The flame made their skin smooth like a young girl, but the light in their eyes was old and wise.

Each one had silver hair, the color of the second moon, and the tone accented their youthfulness and old age.

“You are a difficult warrior to catch up with.” Payson stepped past Rolla and then glanced at Meccan. “We need to speak to the warrior, Armorer Meccan.”

“Out now,” Delma said as she began to walk about his little home. She wrinkled her nose at his unmade bed on the floor. She then held up his underclothes with holes in the pants.

Meccan seemed so shocked at the whole thing that the tall man nodded. He bowed awkwardly. Render felt like Meccan looked. The man slipped out the door without a sound. He understood that. In his experience, having these three know your name was never a good omen. If he could leave, he would as well.

“This is the new beginning you were given after you were freed from the reformatory?” Rolla asked as she stood by the door.

Render nodded woodenly. This interruption was sent from the Lord and Lady of Light because the Fire Elders got rid of Meccan, but at the same time, the question put him on edge. He didn’t like to talk about his time in the joint.

“This is it?” Dilma muttered. “Your new beginning is abysmal.”

“I am well aware,” Render sighed.

“Warrior Render, Queen Shay wants to see you.” Payson regally waved to the door.

Again, Render simply nodded. He suddenly felt like he might burst into flames. The fire in his bones crackled with fear. He prayed this wasn't another interview or questioning over what he'd done in his youth. It seemed to him that one moment in his life was haunting him. He’d had one second of weakness, got caught, and now that interaction followed him around every day, every hour, and every second.

“Your fire fears us.” Dilma watched him closely.

“Is this about the reformatory?” Render had to ask.

“The queen will speak to you immediately.” Rolla didn’t answer his question. “We will escort you to the palace.”

They weren't going to tell him what this was about, so he would have to go. Render bowed, and then they all headed out the door. As he walked next to Dilma, he agreed with her.

His new beginning was abysmal.