To kill a paragon took far more than a regular human. Body blows would never do it. Ruptured organs could heal through the most egregious of wounds. Arn had witnessed a fellow paragon survive a knife to the heart. But one thing always worked, and that was a broken spine. Before Lendsy could move, Arn’s biceps were latched about his neck. The muscles in his arms bulged, and his jaw clenched as he steeled every part of his body. Lendsy thrashed as his face turned red. His elbows blasted into Arn’s stomach with force to dent platemail. It wouldn’t be enough to break that grasp. Arn’s arms twisted, back and forth in savage, wrenching motions. Once. Their bodies smashed into the bed. Twice. Lendsy rammed the both of them into the wall, a choked groan escaping him.

The snap came with the third. The paragon’s body fell limp, a heap of muscle and bone and loosening bowels and drooling blood from lips rapidly turning blue. Arn stared at it for a moment, ensuring the death was no act while he recovered from the struggle. Once he regained his breath, he packed his belongings and exited the room. If only he were clever enough to engineer a way to wedge the door shut from the outside. He shifted his chest of personal belongings underneath his armpit, then hurried to the deck. Half the caravel’s passengers had already debarked, the rest forming lines in front of the gangplanks. A quick glance around confirmed the ten Seeds missing, likely among the first allowed into the city.

“Damn it,” he muttered, even though he doubted any gods of Thanet remained to damn anything or anyone. “Damn it all to darkness.”

He retucked the chest under his arm so it was more comfortable and then strolled down the gangplank as if nothing were amiss. The various passengers lined up for inspection at the head of the docks. There were two lines, and after giving a glance at the men at their heads, he chose the left. Arn shuffled his weight from foot to foot, all the while dreading the cries of surprise from within the boat. During the hubbub of docking and disembarking, everyone’s attention would be on the outside, or on the cargo holds deep below. Still, a bit of bad luck, and a single crew member checking all cabins to ensure they were empty…

“Next,” said the pale man with an eyepatch.

“Meffrit Mason,” Arn said as he stepped up.

“Purpose for visit?”

“Brought in as a builder for a new temple.”

The man with the eyepatch peered up at him from his docket.

“The church brought a builder all the way from the mainland? Surely there were locals who could be more convenient.”

Arn gave an exaggerated shrug.