-Felix-

I pulled my arm across my chest to stretch it, sweat trickling down the center of my back. Fletcher and John had their shirts off, too, and even Cecil had pitched in to help with smaller tasks and gotten hot enough to take off his shirt. He was surprisingly toned for a mage.

Fletcher grinned as he came up to me, offering a mug. “The ladies over there got us some refreshments,” he said.

I took one and gestured with it in thanks at the three girls. They were locals to the southern district, which meant they were one step above being homeless. This area was the worst part of the city, but with the new building complete, they could get at least two dozen people off the street.

Cecil lifted his hair off his neck. He’d already tied it up into a tail, but the length of it had gotten sweaty anyway. He fanned himself as he came over, “Ah! This heat! It wasn’t so hot out west!”

“You’re a mage. Can’t you conjure some ice or something?” Fletcher asked, grinning because he probably already knew the answer to his question.

“I’m a flame mage,” Cecil said, slightly irritated.

“Then you should be used to being hot.”

I drank the warm beer I’d been given. It tasted pretty good, better than some of the swill I’d drank in the higher-income bars. “Who made this?” I asked out loud.

“It’s local, I think,” Cecil said, “why?”

“Because I like it,” I said, “And I’d like at least a barrel more if they’ve got it.”

Fletcher snorted and lifted his hands in a shrug. “Can take the drunkard out of the pub but can’t take the drunk out of him.”

“Hey, I’m only asking for one barrel,” I defended. “And I wasn’t going to drink it all at once. Freya’s hair,” I muttered and took another swallow of beer.

“It is pretty good,” John said as he came to join us, knocking back the last of it.

I looked at John with open appreciation. “He gets it,” I said.

“Wow, way to chug it,” Fletcher accused.

“Yea? Where’s yours?” John asked, wiping his mouth with his arm.

Pushing my hair back from my face, I looked at the building we’d finished. The inside still needed some work, but the building itself was complete. The locals could paint the shutters on their own time.

What bothered me was that this was the best building in the area now.

“Pitiful, isn’t it?” Cecil asked me as Fletcher and John broke into a wrestling match. “All these people, just thrown away for not conforming to what society expects them to be.”

I lowered my gaze. “Yes,” I agreed. “But building homes for them isn’t going to fix the situation that sent them here.”

Cecil smiled at me, tipping his head back. “Any thoughts on how to fix it?” he asked.

“I really… don’t,” I admitted, gripping the mug between both hands. “I’d say draft them into the army; they’d get food and training, but they’re not… healthy enough even for that. And given that I’m trying to get out of the military, I’d be a hypocrite, trying to force people to do something they may not be suited for.” I took another drink, several swallows that drained half the mug. A stray breeze curled through the shoddy buildings on the street, carrying the stench of human waste and something strangely sweet but rancid.

“Ugh,” Cecil said, “Smells like someone died.”

“We should probably deal with the corpse,” Fletcher said, having caught John in a headlock. “Leaving it is a health issue.”

I swallowed bile. “You meant… literally?” I asked.

Cecil looked at me in surprise, then said, “Oh. Right, you…” He took a breath and patted my shoulder. His expression was kind of sad for some reason. “Fletcher and I will deal with it. You and John clean up here.”

Fletcher released John and smiled at me. “Don’t worry about it, Felix.”

I frowned at them and started to formulate a response.

John grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the building we’d spent all day building. “You heard them,” he said firmly.

I sighed. “I don’t like that you guys are sheltering me.”

“I understand, but it isn’t something you can do anything about,” John said.

“And what can Fletcher and Cecil do?” I asked as I finished the beer and set the mug aside to start picking up scraps.

“Cecil will probably incinerate the corpse,” John said casually. “We had to do a lot of that on the battlefield. It’s not pleasant, Felix. So just accept us leaving you out of it as kindness.”

I tossed the scrap wood I held toward the pile we’d started. My friends loved me. They had determined I wasn’t strong enough to deal with something like that. I made myself accept that they knew me well enough. I would trust them.

Fletcher and Cecil returned a short while later, looking grim. “Felix,” Cecil said, “We’ve got our project for tomorrow.”

“What?” I asked.

“Dragging some healers down here and making them work for the taxes they get paid with.”