I felt a rush of urgency. I still couldn’t fathom why I hadn’t shared my knowledge that Danefer was the Green Man. Maybe there was a youthful hesitance to implicate myself. I had walked and talked with Danefer. Magneblade had seen me talking with him. Magneblade himself had, strangely enough, never raised the issue, had never inquired what it was that brought Danefer and me together that day in Boston.

  I thought of fledgling Houston and how vulnerable it might be to the machinations of someone like Danefer. I thought about my journey to the Green Man fort, the villages I had passed. The stories of murder and pillage, rape and abuse still haunted me. I had thought Danefer mad when I first met him but had suspected a greater, nobler cause somewhere beneath the madness. When I discovered that he was the Green Man and understood what he allowed his underlings to do, it changed how I perceived him. Maybe he had no control over the Green Men, but it didn’t change the reality that the engine of his movement was taking a heavy toll on common, innocent people.

  The fact that Danefer had tried to kill me, had openly committed to the cause of seeing me cease breathing, was almost secondary. He was a madman. And I had started to learn that the currents and tides that ran beneath the surface of my life as a Griidlord could make many enemies. In an odd way, I didn’t hold his animosity toward me as something personal. He had said it wasn’t himself.

  But the idea of Houston, of my friend Olaf, coming under his sway set my heart beating faster.

  I said, “Wh-what have the Green Men got to do with Houston? That’s a long, long way from Buffalo.”

  The others were silent for a second. Their faces read as surprised to my eyes. Tara said, “Do you think the Green Men are a Buffalo phenomenon?”

  I said, “Well, not exactly… I know they’re a movement and they’re connected to Green Bay, but I thought… well, I don’t know exactly what I thought. I didn’t expect to hear that Houston could be threatened by them.”

  Alya said, “The Green Men are almost everywhere, even Boston. They do better in some cities than others. Their cynical message of equality between all men finds the richest soil in the minds of those worse off. It’s easier to sell the idea that the best future can be found at the end of a rebellion when people are more desperate, have greater need to believe it, have less to lose.”

  I said, “Then Boston should be rife with them…”

  Alya said, “They have been a concern in Boston for a long time. Their roots have been spreading deep in cities across the land. In the last weeks, their activity has surged in many lands. Buffalo is just the worst example.”

  I said, “I’ve heard nothing of the Green Men being more active at home. I mean, I was distracted with the Choosing, I’ve never really been plugged into current affairs, but if there were threats of rebellion you’d think I’d hear about it to some extent.”

  Alya smiled, inspecting my face. When she spoke, her words seemed to be loaded, but I couldn’t understand her meaning. She said, “The Green Men have been oddly quiet in Boston for the last weeks. The people have been resistant to them. Not just resistant—they’ve been outright rejecting them. Boston has seen agents of the Green Man beaten in the last weeks. The city watch has had names reported. The Green Man gains no ground in our city.”

  I said, "But I’ve been around, I’ve seen the other lands. Common people in Boston are pretty badly off. Why wouldn’t the Green Men find like minds among the suffering there?"

  Chowwick’s voice erupted, loud and slightly incredulous. “You really don’t know, lad?”

  I looked at him, and then to the others. They all seemed to be waiting, as though expecting to see a light bulb go off. I felt stupid and na?ve not to be able to identify what I was missing that they all clearly understood.

  I said, "No…"

  Chowwick turned his head to the sky and laughed. It wasn’t a mocking laugh, it wasn’t at my expense really. He was honestly amused. When he looked back at me, there was genuine affection in his eyes. “It’s you, lad.”

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  I felt my body recoil in surprise. I scanned their faces. They were all still looking at me, deciphering me. I said, "Me?"

  Magneblade’s voice was its usual disinterested growl. “You give them hope. You’re the People’s Champion, remember? They just saw one of their own raised to arguably the highest station in the land. Fools may have worked against your ascension, but Baltizar knew what it would do for the hearts of the people. They’ve seen a man of common birth become a Griidlord. It lets them question their own limits, gives them a belief that better things may be possible for them too. Hope is a vaccine against the whispers of the Green Men.”

  I felt a queasiness at Magneblade’s words. I said, "But that’s false. What I was able to get, this suit, this station, it’s not really available to them. It’s a one-in-a-million chance."

  Alya said, "It’s hope for them though, a one-in-a-million chance to make their lives a million times better. You have to understand, there are fathers and mothers across the city looking at their sleeping children right now asking the question, ‘Why not?’ If Tiberius could do it, why couldn’t my son or daughter one day be a Griidlord? If a common man can become a noble, what limits are there on my ability to improve my lot?"

  I said, "But it’s a cheat. It’s a lie. My father was the richest man in Boston. Every odd was against me being here in this suit."

  Chowwick said, "Ah, don’t talk like that. And it’s not just the hope that they might rise in station. Your bloody legend grows. You heard ’em chanting and hollering at you when we came back from Dodge. There’s a legend now, the Blood Butcher of Boston or whatever the fuck they call you. A Sword in his first year in the suit passing Level 20, slaying Doom, all that shit. They think there’s a brighter future for the city. They can see more Flows in the future."

  I pursed my lips, feeling my brooding, bitter thoughts returning. "That’s gone great so far."

  Chowwick leaned forward and slapped my shoulder. “Enough of that. It’s early in the season. Well as you’re doing, you’re still green. There’ve been plenty of years where we got this far with nothing to show for it. As the season wears on, we’ll get our chances. Other teams will lose members to longer injuries, or some of their asses will get killed. You just keep growin’ and learnin’, makin’ good decisions like you did today, and our chance’ll come along.”

  I said, "I don’t want Boston to pick on the scraps that stronger cities leave for us. I don’t want us to need other cities to beat our opponents for us. I want Boston to be able to lift her own weight."

  Tara leaned in. “Are you sure you don’t mean you want to lift your own weight?”

  She startled me. I hadn’t known it so clearly until she said it. Her insight shocked me. I was speechless as the reality of my own ego crystallized before me.

  Magneblade said, “You’ll get there too. We can all see it.”

  Alya said, “Your growth has been astonishing, Tiberius. You’ll make the city better, you’ll win the Flows we need. This year is a lost season—it has to be with a rookie Sword. We’ll take what we can get. But the way you’ve leveled… the question of your ceiling is a topic of great discussion. I grew quickly too, nowhere near as fast as you did, and leveled quickly. My ceiling turned out to be in the 60s. You’ve leveled so quickly, Tiberius, who knows where your level cap might lie? The 70s, the 80s? Can you imagine how rich our harvests will be in years to come with a Sword leveled in his 70s? There’s none alive with power like that. Even if it takes decades, the future is bright. But you need to stay alive to reach that point.”

  My mind was a blur at her words. I’d given no thought to level caps. I’d been singularly focused on just growing. Her words excited me and deflated me in equal measure. The notion of reaching levels like she described was dizzying. I knew Enki believed I could achieve the likes, but I had yet to really consider the possibility. Her talk of waiting decades to reach those heights and really change the fortune of the city left me with a strange, panicked feeling.

  I spoke absently, my mind wandering. “Have you all reached your caps?”

  I shouldn’t have asked it. It was a rude question, a personal question about their limitations. But they answered without much self-consciousness.

  Alya said, “Years ago.”

  Chowwick said, “I’m thereabouts. It’s been a few years since I leveled. I might have one or two left in me, but I’m what I am now.”

  Magneblade nodded, adding a gruff sound.

  Tara said, “I’m still leveling, but it’s slowed down a lot the last years. I leveled twice during the last year’s Falling. It used to be faster. I’m not far from my cap.”

  I sat there in the darkness, hearing them speak without shame or regret about their ceilings. Yes, they were gods. Yes, they had achieved the rarest feats just by becoming Griidlords. But I marveled at their ability to accept a limitation like that.

  I realized that as much as Alya had excited me by speculating on my capping out so high, a part of me resisted the idea.

  I didn’t understand how any of them could accept the concept of having a max level, of being limited.

  I couldn’t.

  Whispers in the Void | Royal Road is a book I'd been reading months back. I've fallen behind and need to catch up, but it's a blast. Get's right into the action, drives along at a terrific pace, snappy action and brilliantly executed ideas. I need to get back to it and catch up and drop a review, it's really deserving. Check it out.