Orconomics (The Dark Profit Saga, #1)

by J. Zachary Pike

The farmer was as gnarled and leathery as the turnips strewn around his field. He was the sort of rural soul who had more fingers than teeth—and he was missing several fingers.

He was sick of drinking, and sick of being sober, and regretting that those were essentially the only two options he, and everyone else, ever had.

Marten thought Damrod was smiling for the first time that night, but it was hard to tell because the alleyway was starting to run together like ink on a damp page. The ground fell away from him until he caught up to it, and then he was gone.

“Oh, there’s always a choice. Choice is a constant.” Flinn grinned, a cold glint in his eye. “It’s consequences that vary.”

“Ah, but law is an interesting thing,” said Mr. Flinn. “It only works so long as people want it observed. Those regulations nobody wants have a habit of slipping, no? Nobody obeys the old statutes on not selling meat on temple days, you see, because people enjoy steak regardless of how holy a festival is.” The

Gorm cringed at the thought. Just a few months ago, the well-regarded Silver Slayers were rumored to have met an unlikely end when their junior member broke rank and charged through a hatchery with an ill-advised war cry, awakening several Acid Drakes and their hungry progeny. “Let’s hope not, aye? Come on.”