Gods From the Machine Read Free

the floor up decorated the walls around them. Two ladders on both sides to give access to them all. Nick glanced at the golden cane resting on the edge of the table and couldn’t help but see the irony.
    Despite his advanced age, Peter Masters sparred regularly with the other knights as if he was still in his youth. Nick knew this firsthand. As an orphan, he had the privilege of being personally trained by the Supreme Commander of their organization. It was an honor given only to those who had shown the most potential or were extremely skilled. Unfortunately at the same time, this meant Peter was a difficult taskmaster, as his methods were harsher than others and his expectations were far more demanding. Even now, with plenty of wrinkles around his eyes and mouth, a receding silver hairline, as well as a grey beard, the man showed no signs of slowing down.
    “ You wished to see me, Supreme Commander?” Nick knelt before him. The old man’s displeasure was reflected on the white marble floor. This wouldn’t be a pleasant conversation.
    “ Rise, boy,” Peter said, gruffly.
    Nick obeyed, and stood facing him. The old man was dressed in his gold cloak. Nearby in a glass display, was a knight uniform decorated with various medals to commemorate his impressive track record. Their eyes did not meet as Peter was too busy looking through stacks of paperwork sprawled across his desk. “I want you to think for a moment about the best punishment you see fit for yourself.”
    “ Punishment?” Nick took a few moments to register what he said. “We did exactly what you wanted—we got the sword! The mission was a flawless success!”
    Peter moved his eyes from the desk to Nick ’s, his gaze piercing, “Flawless? Look at your hands and tell me that again. You were deliberately told not to handle the sword. Those orders were given to Matthew Cunningham, and believe me he will be punished as well.”
    “ Like it even matters,” Nick muttered.
    “ What was that?”
    “ Punishing me is no worse than what I’ve already been doing around here. I run back and forth with petty assignments that contribute nothing. Frankly, I’m tired of it. In fact, it seems like I’m just sitting around playing soldier behind these walls. What’s the point of keeping me here if you have no plans to send me into real combat? I can’t even use a sword. I’m the only one here who hasn’t been trained to use any weapon. I only know hand-to-hand combat. It’s clear by now that I’ll never become a knight, so tell me, what other menial tasks do you have left to humiliate me with?” Nick said.
    “ Watch yourself, boy,” Peter growled.
    “ You’re right, there is no need for an explanation because all I get are excuses anyway. Tell me why I should even bother fighting for this cause anymore because in my eyes, I’m just a waste of space here.”
    Peter gave him an unnerving stare for the longest time before finally letting out a sigh. He tented hi s fingers. “Do you know what is special about tomorrow night, boy?”
    Nick was taken aback by such an odd attempt to redirect the flow of conversation . “The New Year’s Cotillion.”
    “ Do you know what is significant about the day after?” Peter asked.
    Nick shrugged . “A drunken morning of regret? Vomit stains on the fine linen? Overall embarassment? Anything goes during the Cotillion.”
    Peter laughed heartily . “I see you’re not as vain as you look. But I’ve never known anyone to forget their own birthday! When the clock strikes twelve tomorrow night you turn eighteen and take the final step from adolescence into adulthood!”
    So it was, but his birthday was of little importance. Maybe for others it signified a milestone in their lives, but for him it was just another number. Not once in all his life spent living at the Garrison , had they been known to celebrate birthdays. He had always assumed it was to keep personal relationships from interfering with work.
    “ Eighteen