CH931 · Rewrite
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Chapter 931: Your Name

The scuffling woke Tigerclaw. He yawned and scooched close, craning to see over Snaketooth’s shoulder.

Snaketooth pushed his face away before he could drool on the paper. “What’s wrong with you? Go back to sleep.”

“I’m hungry. I want something to eat.”

“Then boil water and cook. I want oatmeal.”

“Okay.” Tigerclaw shuffled toward the stove, then stopped. “You haven’t answered my question.”

“My identity card and an offer notice,” Snaketooth said, not looking up.

“Oh?” Tigerclaw’s eyes sharpened. He was back in an instant, one arm slung around Snaketooth’s neck, shaking him. “You finally got your ID card! This needs celebrating — none of this oatmeal. Let’s go to the market. Dried fish, mushrooms, something real.”

“I’m trying to save money.”

“I’ll lend you some.” He waved the objection away. “You’ve been waiting for this for so long. Do you remember what you said the day I got mine?”

Snaketooth did remember. He set the card down.

Tigerclaw was the kind of man foremen learned to value: broad-shouldered, consistent, quick enough that output followed him around like a shadow. The third construction team’s model worker — higher wages, a bonus, and eventually a key to a cement-walled house and his own card. That day, Snaketooth had insisted on a feast and brought his things over before the evening was out.

“Fine,” he said. “We’ll go later.”

Tigerclaw beamed and rummaged through the bedside pile for something to wear. “So what’s the notice say?”

“It’s an offer from the railway construction team.” Snaketooth drew a slow breath. “I’ll be going outside Graycastle’s borders. Into the Barbarian Land.”

Tigerclaw’s hands went still. “When did you apply for that? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because you would have insisted on coming, and then the house would sit empty.”

“I wouldn’t go. No — I mean, why would anyone go somewhere like that?” His voice climbed. “You know what happened recently. There are demons outside the city walls.”

The attack had unsettled everyone. First the alarms — then strange shapes falling from the sky — then the ceremony in the square that upended everything most people thought they knew. King Roland had stood before the crowd and said what no one else had said plainly: the enemy was real, it was old, and Neverwinter would march to meet it. The land beyond Graycastle’s borders had once been called the Fertile Plains, had once held cities and millions of people, before the demonic beasts and demons pushed humanity back to what was now the Four Kingdoms. The church had built its power on that terror, calling the enemies omnipotent and the witches their servants. Neverwinter’s victory — however small — cracked that story open.

The celebration drew huge crowds. The First Army served meat porridge and roasts. The cheering lasted past midnight.

In the five days after, demons were all anyone talked about. Which was stronger, demon or demonic beast? Should Neverwinter push northwest? The City Hall’s recruitment notices went up on every board, and one of them — railway construction in the Misty Forest — had caught Snaketooth’s eye on the first morning.

He had barely cared about the debate. What caught him was something else: the sudden sense that the shape of the world was larger than he had understood. He had never thought to ask where he had come from, not really. Now he knew. They had all come from the Fertile Plains, one way or another. Their grandparents’ grandparents had been pushed back, step by step, until they arrived here. The world did not end at Graycastle’s borders.

And the pay was good.

“I know what the demons can do,” Snaketooth said. “That’s why I’ve made up my mind. Thirty-five silver royals a month. Six months’ pay in advance. And I’d be eligible for a two-room suite in the residential quarter.” He spread his hands. “Chances like this don’t come twice.”

Tigerclaw’s mouth twisted. “You and that apartment.”

“It has a hot-water supply. The kitchen and the bathroom are separate. That is what a house should be.”

He had saved close to one gold royal by now — not enough. Three gold royals for the down payment on a two-room unit was a wall he kept running up against. He hadn’t told anyone, not even Tigerclaw, that the main appeal of two bedrooms was the two bedrooms: a room each, instead of two men sharing one narrow bed.

Tigerclaw was still frowning. Snaketooth cut him off before he could start again.

“I know it’s risky. But when we were Rats, we took risks every day, and most of them paid nothing. This pays. The First Army handles security. Some of the witches will go out with the construction team. They won’t put shovels in our hands and tell us to fight demons.” He shook his head. “You all say I have a quick wit, but a quick wit is useless here unless I use it. Why did we come to a foreign city in the first place, if not to build something?”

Tigerclaw raised his hands. “I can’t argue with you. I never could. As long as you’ve thought it through.”

“I have.”

“Fine.” He turned toward the washbasin. “I’m going to clean up. Stomach’s growling. Since your pay is about to improve, I’m making the most of this meal.”

Snaketooth rolled his eyes.

While Tigerclaw washed, Snaketooth unfolded the third sheet of paper.

A transfer contract. He read it twice.

In short: whatever happened, the City Hall would not renege on salaries or rewards. A worker could designate anyone to receive their property in case of a major accident. That person would be notified as soon as the contract was registered.

He closed his eyes. Faces moved through the dark: Joe. Sunflower. Tigerclaw. Then the image settled — a girl, thin, with fair skin, a face he hadn’t seen in years.

He picked up the charcoal and wrote the name carefully in the blank space.

“Paper.”

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