We’re not the only ones awake at this hour. The door to Amaya’s bar bangs open, and three ranch hands slide out into the slick shadows, laughing and singing the wrong words to “The March of Ashes.” Farian hums the tune long after we’ve passed them.

Down the road, a pair of postmen trot past on slender mounts. Both tip their brims, looking like any other riders but for the government-issued gloves threaded with gold and the sacks full of letters strung to their saddles. We arrive at the ranch well before sunrise. It’s dead and dark, quiet-like. The stars are fading.

“Looks empty,” Farian says. “Only Martial is out there.”

I squint, but Farian’s eyes have always been better than mine. I can’t make out much beyond the nearest row of fence posts, but there’s nothing surprising about the quiet. It’s a holy day. “The Ashlords only bow to the gods,” I remind him.

He snorts but says nothing. We’ve caught hell for skipping Gathering the past few years, but we both know it’s the only way to get any respectable riding time. Martial owns the only Dividian-friendly ranch in the district. He won the Races about twenty years ago and used the prize money to build his own ranch and buy his own herd of phoenixes. He promised it would be a training ground to hopeful Dividian riders who couldn’t afford their own horses. Like him.

It was a stunning kindness.

Until the money started running out. It always does. Gold is worth less when it’s in Dividian pockets. Not to mention they tax Dividian landowners twice as much. A few years back, Martial opened the ranch to some of the lesser Ashlord nobles. Carved out just a few days of the week at first, but it wasn’t long until he was booked solid. I don’t blame him, either. Ruling-class gold pays too well to turn down.

“What’s it going to be today?” Farian asks, glancing back again. “Something new?”

“Something old,” I reply with a smile. “Something long forgotten.”

We head in different directions. Farian strides out to talk with Martial. He’s been working up to asking the old champ to do a biopic, but Farian’s about as careful as thunder. Won’t make any noise until he’s sure lightning’s already struck. I leave them to it, heading for the stalls.

Martial might have sold out to the Ashlords, but there’s still no ranch like his. As a Dividian, I get to ride his phoenixes free of charge. And he slashes component prices by half. He even lets us pay off all the expenses through a little side work. I’m pretty sure there’s no better setup in the Empire, at least not for a Dividian like me.