Venture nodded to himself, rubbing his bearded chin in thought as he stared at the old Ministry building. It was tall and ominous, despite—or perhaps because of—its disuse. "Your men look well trained. I didn't expect that. Do any of them have battle experience?"
Druffel snorted quietly, indicating that he thought this stranger had no business being so nosy.
"Our men have fought enough to be dangerous, stranger," Fatren said. "Some bandits thought to take rule of the city from us1. They assumed we were weak, and would be easily cowed."
If the stranger saw the words as a threat, he didn't show it. He simply nodded. "Have any of you fought koloss?"
Fatren shared a look with Druffel. "Men who fight koloss don't live, stranger," he finally said.
"If that were true," Venture said, "I'd be dead a dozen times over." He turned to face the growing crowd of soldiers and townspeople. "I'll teach you what I can about fighting koloss, but we don't have much time. I want captains and squad leaders organized at the city gate in ten minutes. Regular soldiers are to form up in ranks along the bulwark—I'll teach the squad leaders and captains a few tricks, then they can carry the tips to their men."
Some of the soldiers moved, but—to their credit—most of them stayed where they were. The newcomer didn't seem offended that his orders weren't obeyed. He stood quietly, staring down the armed crowd. He didn't seem frightened, nor did he seem angry or disapproving. He just seemed . . . regal.
"My lord," one of the soldier captains finally asked. "Did you . . . bring an army with you to help us?"
"I brought two, actually," Venture said. "But we don't have time to wait for them." He met Fatren's eyes. "You wrote and asked for my help. And, as your liege, I've come to give it. Do you still want it?"
Fatren frowned. He'd never asked this man—or any lord—for help. He opened his mouth to object, but paused. He'll let me pretend that I sent for him, Fatren thought. Act like this was part of the plan all along. I could give up rule here without looking like a failure.
We're going to die. But, looking into this man's eyes, I can almost believe that we have a chance.
"I . . . didn't expect you to come alone, my lord," Fatren found himself saying. "I was surprised to see you."
Venture nodded. "That is understandable. Come, let's talk tactics while your soldiers gather."
"Very well," Fatren said. As he stepped forward, however, Druffel caught his arm.
"What are you doing?" his brother hissed. "You sent for this man? I don't believe it."
"Gather the soldiers, Druff," Fatren said.
Druffel stood for a moment, then swore quietly and stalked away. He didn't look like he had any intention of gathering the soldiers, so Fatren waved for two of his captains to do it. That done, he joined Venture, and the two walked back toward the gates, Venture ordering a few soldiers to walk ahead of them and keep people back so that he and Fatren could speak more privately. Ash continued to fall from the sky, dusting the street black, clustering atop the city's stooped, one-story buildings.
"Who are you?" Fatren asked quietly.
"I am who I said," Venture said.
"I don't believe you."
"But you trust me," Venture said.
"No. I just don't want to argue with an Allomancer."
"That's good enough, for now," Venture said. "Look, friend, you have ten thousand koloss marching on your city. You need whatever help you can get."
Ten thousand? Fatren thought, feeling stupefied.
"You're in charge of this ci1ty, I assume?" Venture asked.
Fatren shook out of his stupor. "Yes," he said. "My name is Fatren."
"All right, Lord Fatren, we—"
"I'm no lord," Fatren said.
"Well, you just became one," Venture said. "You can choose a surname later. Now, before we continue, you need to know my conditions for helping you."
"What kind of conditions?"