Radeon looked out through the tent at the miners gathered beyond, bodies packed close, ears tilted toward every sound.

He let his qi carry the smell of broth and herbs out into the camp.

Back when he had been an emperor, he read demographic reports the way other men read weather. Miners were efficient workers.

At work they ate what could be chewed fast. Boiled meat if they were lucky, a loaf of bread if they were not, then water to force it down.

A real meal was for feast days and days off. Luxury was something you remembered, not something you expected.

Radeon took a small bowl and ate where Fay could see. The clay pot was deliberately large. Fay understood. He wanted the people to taste.

He stepped outside. He could feel the eyes on him at once, ten thousand little measures taking his shape, his posture, his hands.

He called Biscuit over and told him to have a taste, quiet and direct.

Radeon's target was not the loudest mouths. It was the upper rungs first. The rest would follow when they saw who bowed.

The pot went out. It came back empty. Radeon watched every face that had eaten. Elation. Joy. Satisfaction. Relief.

He stored it away in his mind with the same care he used on knives.

The sun was already high up when the camp finished tidying itself.

Packs tightened. Straps checked. Children lifted onto carriages.

Radeon counted as they prepared to move. No one drifted away. No one tried to slip off.

The managers were still chewing on the meaning of being fed noodles.

Biscuit and the other mine bosses argued in low voices like they were mulling over the meaning of the dao.

Superstition ran deep in hard lives. Long noodles meant long life. Radeon had made each strand as long as a man could stand on.

The bucks were tall, a meter and a half at the shoulder, sturdy as barrels.

The bison was another thing entirely, already four meters, a walking wall.

Biscuit rode up, breath controlled, eyes sharp.

"Master Radeon," the old blacksmith said, voice like struck iron, "was it you who read our fortune?"

Radeon did not bother with games. He nodded once. Biscuit swallowed and pressed on.

"If it was you... then you gave us noodles." Biscuit swallowed. "What were you telling us by it?"

The other managers leaned in without moving closer, necks craning, ears straining.

"You're miners," Radeon said. "Not farmers. Not weavers. Not entertainers. What work do you think you'll get at Goldkeep Crownmarkets?"

"Blacksmithing. Metalwork. Building," Biscuit said, sure of it. The others nodded along.

"Fine," Radeon said. "Say you go looking. How long until you land steady work? A few months. Then you start as an apprentice. Paid like one. People trust what they know. You're new. If I'm hiring, I trust the one who's been with me for years. Maybe a decade. Think about it."

Biscuit's mouth twitched like he wanted to argue, but the logic sat on his tongue.

The men did not dawdle. A bearded man as broad as Biscuit stepped forward.

"Crust," he said. "Begging your pardon, esteemed sir. Give us counsel, if you've a mind." The words came out blunt as a hammer.

"Learn something," Radeon said, tapping two fingers to his temple. "What I've got here is craft. Brewing. Alchemy. Cooking. Even singing and dancing."

Crust looked back at the others.

"We'll need to speak on it, esteemed sir. Still... we're grateful for the chance," Biscuit replied, the disagreement kept safely tucked.

Radeon waved him off and his voice hardened.

"I don't want this back-and-forth again," Radeon said, still smiling. "Next time it's yes. Or we split at Goldkeep Crownmarkets."

The miners drifted back to their families. Radeon heard the murmur rise.

Plans being born. Fears being traded. Hope being tested like a steel.

Then he looked at Fay.

"We forgot something," he said, patting the bison's head. "You got a name for our companion?"

Fay blinked. Naming a farm animal was not unheard of, but it was something nobles did when they had too much time.

Radeon read her hesitation like a page.

"He's strong," he said, running a hand along the bison's coarse hide. "Majestic. Righteous, too."

The bison did not understand words, but it understood tone. It strutted forward and straightened its gait, proud as any prince.

Fay looked trapped by expectation. She did not want a silly name.

Her thoughts flickered through flowers and old poems, then caught on something simple, on the moment she met Radeon.

"Champion," Fay murmured. "Back then... I was mending them."

"It was then I took your stones, yeah?" Radeon added.

Heat rushed up her cheeks. Her mind betrayed her and painted Radeon in a light she had no business staring at.

Radeon nudged her out of it with a look.

"Don't get lost in useless thoughts," he said. "You're young. The road's long. Cultivate first."

Fay bristled. The words hit a soft place she did not want exposed.

"I am not some little girl, Master," she said softly. "Would you... still be willing to have me?" She looked up, curiosity threaded with a fragile hope.

"It is not that," Radeon said.

He pointed up, high above the camp, to the paling sky that looked too thin when you stared at it long enough.

"You said it yourself. This world's collapsing," he went on. "If we do this now and you carry a child... Can you live with watching them die when it all comes down?"

The warmth drained out of Fay's face. Her throat tightened. It was not cruelty. It was logic, and that was worse because it left no place to hide.

In her dreams the sky had cried for help every night, a soundless pleading that woke her sweating.

Since she had been with Radeon, the dreams had vanished, yet she could feel them waiting just beyond sleep.

They were not running from it. They were on their way to meet it. Fay bowed her head, shame and clarity mixing together.

Radeon watched her a heartbeat, then snorted softly.

"I told you. Overthinking gets you nowhere," he said, and patted her back once. Not gentle, not unkind. A grounding.

"Put that energy somewhere useful," Then he moved.

Radeon stepped onto the bison's side and yanked Fay off in one clean motion, dropping her to the ground on her feet.

At the same time he snapped his fingers and her whip jumped into his grasp by the wrist loop, stolen so fast she couldn't react.

"Show me what you've learned so far," he said, as the bracelet grew in his hands.

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