Chapter 5: Three Days
The first day of training was a disaster.
Ian took Gnasher and Grip to the back field before dawn. The frost crunched under his boots. Behind him, the two Titans shuffled through the dead grass like oversized toddlers. Gnasher kept stopping to sniff the air. Grip kept stopping to touch the ground.
"We're not here to smell things or feel things," Ian said. "We're here to learn. Simple commands. Stop. Go. Scare. No bite."
Gnasher chittered. Pointed at a rabbit hole.
"No. Focus."
The Titan whined and sat down. He was already bored. Ian had been out here for ten minutes.
Grip, meanwhile, had found a rock. He picked it up with those long gray fingers and turned it over and over. Feeling the rough edges. The smooth spots. He hummed softly.
"Grip. Put it down."
Grip ignored him.
"Grip. Put. It. Down."
The Titan looked at Ian. Then very deliberately set the rock back on the ground. Then picked up a different rock.
Ian rubbed his face. "This is going to take longer than three days."
---
Marta watched from the kitchen window. She was kneading dough for bread. Her hands moved automatically while her eyes stayed on the field.
Sera came up beside her. She had a cup of tea and a ledger tucked under her arm. She didn't say anything at first. Just stood there. Watching Ian try to teach a four-meter gray skeleton to drop a rock.
"He's going to fail," Sera said.
"Probably."
"And we'll all hang for it."
"Probably."
Sera sipped her tea. "You're very calm about dying."
Marta shrugged. "I was going to starve anyway. At least this is interesting."
Sera looked at her. Really looked. "You actually care about him."
Marta's hands paused on the dough. Then resumed. "I don't know if it's care. It's something. He's cold. He's using me. He told me that to my face. But he also looks at me like I matter. Not like a servant. Like... a person. I haven't been a person in a long time."
Sera was quiet. Then she said, "I don't care about him. I care about what he can do. The Titans. The power. If he climbs, I climb with him."
"Then why did you let him touch you?"
Sera's jaw tightened. "Because I wanted to. Because I've spent my whole life being untouchable. Proper. Buttoned up. And I was tired of it. He was there. He didn't pretend to love me. He just... wanted me. For what I am. Not what I could pretend to be."
Marta nodded slowly. "That's the thing about him. He's honest about being a bastard. Most men lie."
They stood in silence for a moment. Outside, Gnasher had wandered off to investigate a bush. Grip was now touching a tree. Ian was standing in the middle of the field with his arms crossed, looking like he wanted to scream.
"He's terrible at this," Sera said.
"Terrible," Marta agreed.
Both women smiled. Small. Private. An understanding passing between them that hadn't been there yesterday.
---
That night, Ian came back to the manor covered in mud and frustration.
Gnasher had finally followed a command. "Come here." Simple. Easy. He'd come. Then he'd tripped over his own feet and face-planted into a puddle, splashing Ian from head to toe.
Grip had learned "stop touching." Sort of. He would stop. Count to ten. Then start again. Ian called it progress. It wasn't.
Marta met him at the door with a towel. She didn't say anything. Just handed it over and went back to the kitchen. The smell of fresh bread filled the house.
Ian stood in the foyer, dripping mud onto the floorboards. He looked at the towel. Then at Marta's back as she disappeared into the kitchen. Something tight in his chest loosened.
He followed her.
She was pulling the bread out of the oven. Golden brown. Perfect. She set it on the counter and turned. He was right there. Close. Muddy and tired and smelling like wet earth.
"You're dripping on my clean floor," she said.
"I know."
"You look terrible."
"I know."
Marta reached up and wiped a smear of mud off his cheek with her thumb. The touch was soft. Warm. Ian caught her wrist. Not hard. Just held it.
"I don't deserve this," he said.
"Probably not."
"Why do you stay?"
Marta looked up at him. Her brown eyes were clear. Steady. "Because you asked me to. Because you didn't lie. Because when I'm here, I'm not invisible. I matter. Even if it's just as your foundation."
Ian pulled her closer. She came willingly. Her hands pressed against his muddy chest.
"You're more than that," he said. "I don't know what. But more."
"Pretty words from a bastard."
"I mean them."
He kissed her. Not gentle. Not rough. Just there. Real. Mud and bread and the warmth of the kitchen. Marta made a soft sound against his mouth and kissed him back.
When they broke apart, she was breathing hard. "You need a bath."
"Join me."
"The water's cold."
"I don't care."
---
Sera found them later in the study. Ian's hair was damp. Marta was sitting in the corner with a sewing kit, mending a torn shirt. The room smelled like soap and something else. Something comfortable.
Sera didn't comment. She just set down a new stack of papers.
"The Duke's niece travels with four guards. Two in front. Two behind. Her carriage is reinforced but not armored. She stops at the Wayfarer's Inn on the second night. That's our window."
Ian looked at the map she'd drawn. A rough sketch of the road from the capital to Greymark. The inn was isolated. Woods on three sides. One road in. One road out.
"Gnasher and Grip can block the road," he said. "Scare the horses. Guards will panic. In the chaos, we grab the girl."
"And then?"
"Then we bring her here. Keep her comfortable. Send a message to the Duke. His secret accounts for his niece's safe return."
Sera nodded. "And if he sends soldiers instead of gold?"
Ian's smile was cold. "Then we show him what a Titan can do to soldiers."
Sera glanced at Marta. Marta kept sewing. Didn't look up.
"You're both very calm about kidnapping a noble girl," Sera said.
Marta shrugged. "She'll be fine. We have fresh bread."
Sera stared at her. Then laughed. A real laugh. The first Ian had heard from her.
"You're insane. Both of you."
"Welcome to the family," Marta said.
---
Day two of training went better.
Gnasher learned "stay." He didn't like it. He whined the whole time. But he stayed. Grip learned "come." He came. Slowly. Touching every rock and bush along the way. But he came.
By sunset, Ian could point at a spot and Gnasher would move there. He could raise a hand and Grip would stop whatever he was touching and pay attention.
It wasn't perfect. But it was something.
That night, Ian sat on the back step of the manor. The stars were out. Cold and sharp. Marta sat beside him. She didn't say anything. Just leaned her head on his shoulder.
Sera came out a few minutes later. Stood awkwardly. Like she wasn't sure if she was invited.
"Sit," Ian said.
She sat on his other side. Not touching. Just there.
They watched the stars. The stable was quiet. Even Gnasher had stopped whining.
"What happens after?" Marta asked softly. "After the Duke. After the gold. What do you actually want?"
Ian thought about it. The question was simple. The answer wasn't.
"I want to stop being nothing," he said. "I want to walk into a room and have people afraid or respectful. Either one. I don't care. Just not invisible."
"That's not a goal," Sera said. "That's a feeling."
"Then I want an empire. Small at first. Then bigger. With walls and soldiers and people who owe me everything. And at the center, a place where no one can take anything from me ever again."
"Lofty," Marta said.
"Impossible," Sera added.
"Maybe." Ian looked at both of them. "But I've got two monsters, two women who tolerate me, and a plan to blackmail a Duke. That's more than I had a week ago."
Marta laughed softly. "When you put it that way."
Sera was quiet for a moment. Then she shifted. Her shoulder pressed against Ian's arm. A small contact. Deliberate.
"I don't tolerate you," she said. "I'm still deciding."
"Fair."
"But I'm here. That counts for something."
Ian didn't answer. He just sat there. Cold night. Warm bodies on either side. Stars overhead. The distant sound of Grip touching the stable wall. Over and over.
It wasn't peace. But it was close.
---
Day three.
Ian woke before dawn. Marta was asleep beside him. Her brown hair spread across the pillow. Soft breathing. Warm skin.
He watched her for a moment. Then got up. Dressed. Went to the stable.
Gnasher was awake. He always was. Nervous energy. Grip was lying on his back, long arms spread out, touching the ceiling beams with his fingertips.
"Today we practice the real thing," Ian said. "The road. The trees. Moving quiet."
Gnasher chittered. Pointed at his own mouth. Made a biting motion.
"No biting."
Gnasher's shoulders slumped.
Grip sat up. Reached out and patted Gnasher's head. Gently. The way you'd pat a dog.
Gnasher froze. His beady eyes went wide. He looked at Ian like is this allowed?
Ian almost smiled. "That's fine. Grip is being nice."
Gnasher slowly relaxed. Leaned into the touch slightly. Then immediately pretended he hadn't.
Progress.
---
That afternoon, Sera cornered Ian in the study.
"I need to know something," she said.
"Ask."
"After the Duke. After we have gold and leverage. What happens to me? To Marta? Are we still... yours? Or do we get cut loose?"
Ian leaned against the desk. "What do you want?"
Sera's jaw worked. "I want to matter. I told you that. I want to be more than a clerk. More than a set of ledgers. I want to stand beside something powerful and know I helped build it."
"Then that's what you get."
"Just like that?"
"Just like that. You gave me the Duke's secrets. You gave me Grip. You're in. Permanently."
Sera stepped closer. "And if I want more than a place at the table?"
Ian didn't move. "More how?"
She reached out and took his hand. Her fingers were cold. Thin. She placed his palm against her chest. Over her heart. It was beating fast.
"I don't know how to do this," she said. "The soft parts. Marta knows. She's good at it. I'm not. But I don't want to be just a tool you use. I want..." She struggled for words. "I want you to see me. Not the ledgers. Not the plan. Me."
Ian looked at her. The sharp face. The eyes that never stopped calculating. And underneath, something fragile she was trying very hard to hide.
"I see you," he said. "Sera. Tax assistant. Secret keeper. The woman who screamed at my Titan and then touched his hand anyway."
Sera's lips twitched. "That's me."
"That's enough."
He pulled her in. Not rough. Not demanding. Just close. She fit against him awkwardly, like she wasn't used to being held. Her arms came up slowly and wrapped around his back.
"I hate this," she mumbled into his chest.
"Hate what?"
"Feeling things. It's inconvenient."
"I know."
"Don't let go yet."
"I won't."
They stood like that for a long moment. The study was quiet. Dust floating in the afternoon light. Outside, Gnasher chittered at a bird. Grip hummed at a rock.
When Sera finally pulled back, her eyes were wet but she wasn't crying.
"Tomorrow," she said. "We take the girl."
"Tomorrow."
"Don't die."
"Same to you."
She nodded once. Sharp. Professional. Then she walked out. But at the door, she paused.
"Ian."
"Yes?"
"The bread was good. Marta's bread. Tell her I said so."
She left before he could answer.
---
That night, Ian sat alone in the stable. Both Titans were awake. Watching him.
"Tomorrow," he said. "You do what I say. When I say. No biting. No touching unless I tell you."
Gnasher chittered softly.
Grip hummed.
Ian looked at them. Monsters. His monsters.
"We're going to scare a girl. Take her from her carriage. Bring her here. And then her uncle is going to give us everything."
He paused.
"And if he doesn't, you get to bite things."
Gnasher's beady eyes lit up. His vertical mouth opened in what might have been a grin.
"Only if he doesn't pay," Ian added quickly. "Only then."
Gnasher's grin faded slightly. But not completely.
Grip reached out and touched Ian's shoulder. Gentle. Reassuring. Like he was saying we've got this.
Ian put his hand over Grip's massive finger. The skin was cool and smooth.
"Yeah," he said. "We've got this."