The Wandering Inn: Book 1
Date: 2018-07-31T18:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fantasy; Adventure; Young Adult; Science Fiction
Description: “No killing Goblins.” So reads the sign outside of The Wandering Inn, a small building run by a young woman named Erin Solstice. She serves pasta with sausage, blue fruit juice, and dead acid flies on request. And she comes from another world. Ours. It’s a bad day when Erin finds herself transported to a fantastical world and nearly gets eaten by a Dragon. She doesn’t belong in a place where monster attacks are a fact of life, and where Humans are one species among many. But she must adapt to her new life. Or die. In a dangerous world where magic is real and people can level up and gain classe

The Wandering Inn

pirateaba

© 2018 pirateaba

Cover art by John Anthony Di Giovanni.

Cover design by Shawn King.

This novel is the e-book version of the free web serial. You may read the entire ongoing story at wanderinginn.com free of charge.

Contents

1.00

1.01

1.02

1.03

1.04

1.05

1.06

1.07

1.08

1.09

1.10

1.11

Interlude

1.12

1.13

1.14

1.15

1.16

1.17

1.18

1.19

1.20

1.00 R

1.01 R

1.21

1.22

1.23

Interlude – King Edition

1.24

1.02 R

1.03 R

1.25

1.26

1.27

1.04 R

1.05 R

1.28

1.06 R

1.29

1.30

1.31

1.07 R

1.08 R

1.32

1.33

1.09 R

1.10 R

1.34

1.35

1.11 R

1.12 R

1.36

1.37

1.38

1.39

1.40

1.13 R

1.41

1.00 H

1.01 H

1.02 H

1.42

1.43

1.44

1.45

Author’s Note

1.00

The inn was dark and empty. It stood, silent, on the grassy hilltop, the ruins of other structures around it. Rot and age had brought low other buildings; the weather and wildlife had reduced stone foundations to rubble and stout wooden walls to a few rotten pieces of timber mixed with the ground. But the inn still stood.

It was waiting. Not in a sentient, thinking way, but in the way all buildings wait. It was waiting for someone to find it. For wasn’t that the purpose of an inn? And someone did find it.

A young woman stumbled through the grass, up the hill. Her knees were shaking and she was gasping for air. Her lungs burned. Her right arm was burned. Smoke was still rising from the charred fabric on one shoulder, and her legs were bleeding. Several shallow cuts had torn open her pants at the back of the legs.

But still she climbed the hill. Because of the inn. After all, there was no mistaking it. Despite the years, the building stood among the rest of the ruins, mostly untouched by the passage of time. The construction of this inn was superior to the other buildings. Or perhaps something else had kept it standing.

Regardless, that was not what attracted the young woman to it. It was merely a thought.

The inn. In every world, the inn was a symbol. From a place to meet and rest, to a meeting point from which epic quests could begin, the inn’s hearth fire and warm glow at night was a beacon for the weary, the hungry, and the desperate. But this inn was dark.

The signboard over the inn was rotted, and years had worn whatever name it held away long ago. The windows were dark and shuttered, but the girl, the traveler, had nowhere else to go. Slowly, hesitantly, she stumbled towards the door and pulled at the simple handle on the door.

Nothing happened.

After a second, she pushed and the door creaked open. Mustering her courage, the young woman peered into the black room beyond. Her instincts told her it was a common room, a place where food or drink would normally be served. However, the inn was long deserted and a thick layer of dust covered every surface.

“Of course it’s empty.”

The intruder sighed and leaned against the doorframe, her strength exhausted. She rested her forehead on one arm, wincing as she felt her burns and the cuts on her legs. She tried not to cry. She’d known the inn was probably deserted when she’d seen it from afar. She’d known, but she’d hoped—

“Ever since I came to this world, everything’s been going wrong, huh?”

Slowly, she pushed herself back upright and walked further into the room. The inn gaped darkly around her, absorbing her footfalls, looming. It had been built to hold huge crowds of people, and it was cavernous in the night. The young woman felt as if the building might swallow her, but where else could she go?

Inside was darkness. Outside was worse. There were things outside. Monsters. She’d seen them. Monsters, and an unfamiliar world. A world that wasn’t hers.

Slowly, the girl stepped over to a chair and collapsed into it. A plume of dust rose and she burst into a fit of coughing. The dust was overwhelming. But she was tired. So very tired. And though it was empty, deserted of all life, and dark, the inn still called to her. Its walls offered some safety. So the young woman sat and closed her eyes for a moment.

It began to rain outside. A cold, hard rain that pattered on the rooftops and seeped through cracks. Tapping, dripping. The young woman’s eyes opened a crack as the pattering became a rush of sound. The shower became a heavy downpour. That was one misfortune avoided, at least.

It was peaceful. The young woman sat back and felt the pain of her injuries fade, at least for a moment. The rainfall became background noise and she felt herself relax for the first time in what felt like ages. She decided to rest here, at least to begin with. But a thought nagged at her, something she could only voice now, in safety. So she opened her eyes and addressed the empty room.

“I’m really hungry.”

1.01

After a few minutes, the traveler sat back up. No, not a traveler. She hadn’t intended to travel anywhere tonight. The young woman frowned as she rubbed at her face. She’d been going to the bathroom and…she must have taken a wrong step somewhere.

A really big wrong step, because instead of walking into her bathroom and seeing the comforting sight of porcelain, she’s suddenly found herself in a cave, nose-to-nose with a—

Dragon.

The young woman shot to her feet, heart pounding. She looked around and remembered she was in the inn. But the memory was fresh, and her burned arm—she felt at it and winced.

“This is no dream.”

But it felt like one. It felt like she was in a dream, because that would be so much easier to explain than reality. The reluctant traveler took a deep breath, and then another, and coughed.

“Dusty. Ahem!”

She tried to rationalize what was happening. First things first.

“Who am I? I’m Erin. Check! We’re off to a good start.”

She smiled weakly. That’s right. Her name was Erin. Erin Solstice. It wasn’t an easy name to forget. And though it was hers, she did object to parts of it. For instance, Erin could have been a boy’s name, and she was a girl. At least, she had been a girl. Erin poked herself with a frown.

“Yep, still a girl. Glad to see that didn’t change. Now…inventory check.”

She felt at her pockets. She had…two empty pockets. Wonderful. Erin had hoped her smartphone would be with her, but who carried their phones to the bathroom?

“Everyone sensible, that’s what.”

Most people began their journeys well prepared. If Erin had known she would have ended up in this place, she would have brought along a backpack crammed full of essentials. And a gun. To fight off the little green men. But she hadn’t planned this adventure. She hadn’t known it was going to happen.

How did one travel to another world, or another…another place? Erin’s forehead wrinkled as she thought. This was clearly no virtual reality,  she didn’t remember being drugged or abducted, and she was fairly certain she wasn’t crazy, although her present situation made a good case to the contrary. But if any of those logical, real-world explanations didn’t fit, that only left…

Magic. Erin didn’t believe in magic normally, but seeing a Dragon an hour ago had changed her outlook on the existence of the fantastical quite rapidly. And yet…there had been no summoning portal, no mystical ritual or feeling of stepping into the void. Heck, there hadn’t even been a loud ding to indicate something had happened.

“I just wanted to go to the bathroom.”

She hadn’t opened the wrong door or stepped into a wardrobe. Erin clutched at her head. This was impossible. She was going insane. No, she’d already gone insane and this empty inn was her mental depiction of the padded room they’d tossed her in. It was as plausible an answer as anything else.

However, if she was insane, she was still sitting here in her head. So Erin looked around cautiously. The inn. What a strange place it was. Erin had never been in an inn—or even a building made exclusively out of wood before. But there it was. Wooden walls, wooden beams in the ceiling, wooden staircase leading up…

“Am I in some kind of medieval world? Some kind of fantasy world?”

The haunting emptiness of the inn struck Erin harder the more she looked around. At first, she’d just been pathetically grateful to spot any kind of structure in the rolling grasslands she’d found herself in. Erin had run towards the inn full-speed. But now, having found herself in the inn, Erin was ill at ease.

It was so empty. So dusty, too. Really dusty. And although the inn’s common room was large and spacious, the large round tables and chairs made it feel smaller. A long counter at one end of the inn gave Erin the impression of a bar. She felt there should have been a bartender behind it, polishing a mug and serving her a lovely cool drink of—

Erin sighed and slapped herself lightly on the head. Now she was thirsty. And hungry. Time to think of something else. She took a deep breath and coughed. Then sneezed.

“This place is disgusting! Someone should clean it up!”

She paused. After a second Erin looked around.

“…I guess that means me.”

There wasn’t much confidence in her words. Why bother cleaning up a place like this? On the other hand, it was so dusty that Erin was sure that if she tried to sleep she’d choke to death or cough her throat raw in the night. Plus, it would be nice not to raise a cloud of dust every time she sat down.

“Besides, this is a good place to rest. If no one’s here, then I might be able to…”

To do what? Hide here? Live here? Where is here exactly and what’s going on?

Erin tried not to panic as uncertainty gripped at her heart. She could not panic, not now. It wasn’t that she wasn’t terrified out of her mind, but rather, her instincts were telling her that panic was not an option. No one was around to help her, she was lost by herself—panic was a luxury she couldn’t afford.

So Erin fell back on the one truth she could cling to. If a room was dirty, it should probably not be. So she decided to clean it up, and made her first conscious decision since coming to this world. It was a simple goal, a humble ambition:

Find a dustrag.

Certainly, it wasn’t the most inspired of decisions, but Erin had an entire plan based around that simple action. First she’d find a dustrag, and then she’d look for a bucket. But even if she didn’t find a bucket she could probably just go outside and wet the rag in the rain. After that she could clear off a few tables and maybe then she’d come across a mop…

The first place Erin looked was behind the bar. It was a promising place to start, but she found only more dust and cobwebs there.

“Drat.”

Next, she checked the door behind the bar and found it opened up into the kitchen. In there she found several old, rusty pans and pots and even the desired bucket, but no cloth of any kind.

“Damn.”

Feeling increasingly desperate, Erin grabbed the bucket and towed it outside. She set it upright to collect water and returned to the common room. Well, that only left the upstairs.

It was a very dark stairwell that looked down on Erin as she put her first foot on the stairs. The young woman looked up and gulped. Due to the size of the ground floor, the second floor was quite high up and the staircase was…ominous, to say the least. It looked like the bones of some gigantic monster in the darkness.

Cautiously, Erin ascended the staircase. It seemed as though every second stair creaked or groaned loudly as she placed her weight upon it, and the sounds echoed in the dark inn. To Erin, it felt like she was stepping on landmines—each time she heard a loud creak her heart sped up and her heart caught in her throat.

“Come on. Come on. You can do this.”

Erin whispered to herself, keeping her voice low so as not to—to wake up anything that might be up there. At that thought her heart skipped another beat, and she paused halfway up the stairwell, shaking slightly.

“This is stupid. There’s nothing up there. Nothing!”

She paused.

“Okay, maybe there is something. I don’t know. There could be—more of those Goblins? But there’s probably not a Dragon, right? Right! Don’t be stupid.”

Hesitation. Another step.

“But a Dragon could be up there.”

Erin took a step back down. The stairs creaked. She scolded herself as her heart thumped painfully.

“Don’t be stupid. How would a Dragon fit up there? But Goblins?”

She paused and shuddered at the thought. The Dragon was one thing. Her left hand touched at the burns on her right shoulder and she bit her lip at the pain. But then the cuts on the back of her legs twinged and she remembered. The Dragon had burned her as she’d run away screaming. She’d run and run, and then the small green men had found her and chased her.

Goblins, not aliens, that was. Actually, aliens probably would have been better. Aliens didn’t try to stab you with knives.

“Or maybe they do.”

With a small laugh, Erin gazed upwards. The darkness on the second floor waited for her. Long shadows made the chipped and faded wood ominous. But it was just an illusion, a trick of the mind. She knew there was probably nothing up there. If there was, wouldn’t it have tried to eat her already?

But this was a different kind of fear that held her heart. It was the fear of children, the fear of the dark and the unknown. So, Erin hesitated. But she knew she had to climb.

After a minute she began talking to herself quietly.

“Dustrag. Dustrag, dustrag, dustrag…”

Erin muttered the word like a mantra. Somehow the thought that she absolutely needed to find one gave her the strength to continue climbing the stairs.

One step. That was the hardest. Then two steps. Erin’s heart jumped as the stairs creaked underneath her, but nothing terrible happened. So she kept climbing.

However, if the sketchy staircase was the first hurdle of the mind, the empty corridor full of shadows and darkness was an entirely new level of intimidation.

It was so dark. Even when her eyes adjusted, Erin could barely see five feet in front of her. But having come this far, she was committed. So she kept going with her heart pounding out of her chest.

“Dustrag, dustrag, dustrag, dustrag, dustrag, dustrag, dustrag, dustrag, dustrag, dustrag, dustrag…”

The first room she came to was very, very dark. Erin crept inside and froze as she heard a sound. Was that…rustling?

No. No, it was just her imagination. She could hear the storm passing outside with the rain making a racket on the roof overhead. The wind was blowing against the inn, that was all. It was probably just a leaf—

Rustle, rustle.

That was definitely a sound. Erin’s heart was playing the drums in her chest. There was something in the room with her, and she really hoped for once that it was just a rat. Something—it sounded almost leathery, like two wings unfurling…

“Dustragdustragdustragdustragdustra—”

In the distance thunder rolled and a gust of wind blew hard against the inn. Something pale and white unfurled itself in the darkness and flew at Erin. She screamed, flailed wildly at the thing and crashed to the ground with it in her arms.

For a minute all was confusion and noise. Erin fought wildly against the monster attacking her as rain started pelting her face and it wrapped itself around her arms and head. She eventually threw it off her and scrambled to her feet to find the terrifying creature was—

A curtain.

For a few seconds Erin just stared at the faded fabric in her hands in complete shock. Once her heart had decided to stop running a marathon she exhaled.

“Curtains.”

She picked up the pale bit of fabric and studied it. Well, it was a curtain. That was about the extent of her detective skills. It was a white curtain—or at least it had been white a long time ago. Mildew and dirt had turned it grey, but at least it was fabric.

“Okay, okay.”

Erin’s heart was still racing far too fast. She looked around. The room was still very dark, and the wind coming in from outside was making the windows shudder in a very eerie manner.

Erin closed the window. That stopped the noise, at least. But it was still way too dark to make many details out. Now, she could keep exploring the second floor. Or, having found a dustrag she could go back down to the bottom floor. The comforting, familiar, dusty ground floor.

The room was very dark. Erin took another look around and quickly went back downstairs. She tossed the curtain on one of the tables next to the bucket she’d found and looked around.

“Let’s see. Where should I start, then?”

Really, the better question was where not to start. Aside from the walls, everything was covered by a thick layer of dust. In the end, Erin started with the table she’d sat at.

The wet curtain…rag raised a cloud of dust into the air, making Erin stumble away, coughing and hacking. But the actual task of cleaning was in fact very easy.

Mainly, what Erin did was push the dust off the side of the table and onto the floor. After that she went back over the rough surface with another pass of her cloth until the table was clean. Then she cleaned her rag in the bucket with some water and went on to the next table.

After a while, the water in the bucket began to turn grey with all the dust. Erin opened the door of the inn, tossed the water out and sat back in one of the chairs until the bucket had filled up again. Then she started cleaning once more.

There was a rhythm to it. In no time at all Erin had cleaned the tables, so she decided to clean all the chairs as well. And once she’d finished with that, it only made sense to clean the bar top as well.

The long counter was made of some kind of high-quality wood. Erin admired the way the faint light from outside made the rich wood glow after removing the dust. The bar was long enough to accommodate at least twenty people at a time…or fifteen if they were picky about elbow room.

That done, Erin cleaned the barkeep’s shelf below the bar and the other surfaces in the common room. When she was finished, the inn seemed far warmer than it had before, as the newly-clean surfaces reflected the fading light from outside.

However there was one place that Erin had avoided the entire time. Namely, the floor.

It was only natural. Erin had nothing like a mop and she’d been pushing all the dust onto the floor the entire time. As such, huge piles of wet dust clumped together everywhere.  Erin kicked at a pile and shrugged.

“Well, when you compare it with the tables and chairs…”

She could only laugh at her strange results. Clean tables, dirty floor. You could eat your dinner off the tables, at least. And who cared about floors? Floors were for stepping on, not sleeping. Erin wiped at her forehead and found she was covered with a layer of sweat. And—was it nightfall already?

Yes, sometime in her cleaning efforts the rain had ceased and the visible light had decreased until the inn was nearly pitch dark. Now, instead of everything being a mass of shadows, there was nothing to see at all.

“So it’s not scary, but terrifying. Great.”

At least the ground floor was reassuring. Erin looked around the room, her eyes spotting the moonlight reflected off the smooth tabletops and chairs. Yes, this room did feel a bit better. She’d cleaned it and thus made it hers, in a way. That made it safe. At least, she really hoped that was the case.

Erin sat back down in a chair and found she was exhausted. She leaned back against the table and sighed. If ever she needed proof that she was terrible in a survival situation, this would be it. Here she was, lost in a terrifying world without a clue where she was, and what was her first move? Clean the room.

“At least Mom would be happy.”

Erin laughed to herself. She closed her eyes, overcome by exhaustion. Time to rest. Maybe tomorrow everything would be better. Maybe this was all just a dream. Probably not, but…

Her eyelids lowered. Her breathing grew slower. Erin just had enough consciousness for one last thought.

“Now I’m really, really hungry.”

[Innkeeper Class Obtained!]

[Innkeeper Level 1!]

[Skill – Basic Cleaning obtained!]

[Skill – Basic Cooking obtained!]

“…What was that?”

1.02

The inn was dark. That was because the world was dark, at least for the moment. Two moons hung in the sky, one light blue, the other pale yellow. But their soft light was obscured by a shifting layer of clouds overhead. Thus, light was scarce. Which made sense.

It was nighttime.

However, despite the late hour one figured moved restlessly around the room. A young woman. Her progress left a trail in the dust as she walked around the room. She paced from wall to wall, muttering to herself. Then she tripped over a chair.

“Ow.”

Erin brushed dust off her pants and t-shirt in disgust. Well, her clothes were officially dirty now. Parts of her t-shirt were burned black, and her jeans had been cut by the Goblin’s knives. But that wasn’t important at the moment.

“Did I just level up?”

Erin stared up at the ceiling from her fallen position. She could have stood up, but that would have required effort. And besides, Erin was hungry, tired, and confused. Lying on the floor made her feel better. Even if the dust was getting into her hair.

Ordinarily, that would have been disgusting, but at the moment—

“Seriously? I leveled up? What is this, a game?”

Slowly, Erin pulled herself up into a squat. Then she put her head in her hands.

“No. No it can’t be. But a—a dragon and goblins and now leveling…this is another world, right? One like Dungeons and Dragons? Or—or a video game?”

She straightened and stood up. The world seemed to be spinning around her. Common sense? Who needed that? Nope. Just hand her a few fire breathing dragons and let her level up by cleaning tables. That made sense.

“Right, right. Let’s recap. I’m in another world which is actually a video game. And there are monsters in this world and I can level up by doing stuff. I even get skills and when I do, a voice in my head—no, more like a thought appears that tells me I’ve accomplished a task.”

She nodded to herself.

“Yep. Makes complete sense.”

…

“Like hell it does!”

Erin screamed and kicked a chair hard enough to send it flying into the air. The chair landed with a tremendous crash which was satisfying to hear. Less satisfying though was Erin’s foot, which had hit the chair hard enough to jam every toe.

After screaming in pain and hopping around a bit, Erin sat at one of the tables and cried for a while. It wasn’t that she liked crying or did it a lot. It just helped at the moment.

After about ten minutes of crying, Erin finally started sniffing and choking back tears. She felt better, but quickly hit upon another problem when she went to wipe away her tears and snot and remembered there wasn’t any tissue paper nearby. So she used the rag.

The wet, disgusting rag. But it was better than her shirt. And after that, Erin sat, staring at nothing in particular as the darkness surrounded her.

“I’m tired.”

That was the last thing Erin said before she fell asleep.

----

The next day hit Erin in the face. She groaned and sat up, head aching. Her neck felt twisted, and she was sore from lying on the floor. She still would have slept in longer if it weren’t for the sun and her stomach.

Hobbling around, Erin looked at the bright daylight streaming through one window.

“This is why drapes were invented, you know.”

Windows. These ones had no glass or curtains. They were square holes in the wall, but they did have shutters. Too bad Erin had chosen one of the open windows to nap underneath.

Without thinking, Erin’s hands went up to her head and came back full of dirt and dust. Oh, right. She’d slept on the floor. The dirty floor where all the dust had gone.

Erin sat in a chair and buried her face in her hands. After a little while her stomach growled louder.

“Got it. Message received.”

Groaning, the young woman eventually stood up. She stood, feeling her body protest the natural law of gravity, and sat down. That felt better, but then her stomach objected. Hunger and exhaustion warred and hunger won out. Erin got up, knowing she had to look for food. There wasn’t any in the inn; she hadn’t bothered checking the cupboards because why should she? Any food that had been around since the inn had been deserted was probably sentient and had legs by now.

So that only left the outside. But Erin hesitated as she put her hand on the door to the inn.

Monsters.

She shivered. The memory of yesterday returned, fresh and vivid, and her hands began to shake. Her burned arm flared in pain as the cuts on her legs itched and stung. Erin closed her eyes and took a breath. Yes, monsters. But—

“I’ll die here if I don’t find something to eat.”

So she opened the door. It wasn’t courage that made her do it; just the will to survive.

The day was so bright that Erin was blinded for a moment. She walked outside, shading her eyes. And then she stopped. Because a thought had struck her suddenly. Something she had realized but not taken to heart before.

“This—really is another world, isn’t it?”

It was a simple revelation that came as Erin looked up. Up, into a sky far vaster than her own. It was hard for Erin to put into words; she only knew that as she stared up into the vivid blue infinity above her head that this sky was different from the one she had seen all her life.

The clouds were too big. Erin could never imagine something like that, but there it was. The clouds were…enormous. Back home, Erin could lie on her back and stare up hundreds, thousands of miles into empty space and see clouds floating inconceivably high overhead. But here—

“Further than that. So big.”

Erin looked up and saw a cloud floating over a mountain that cast a shadow that nearly reached her inn. It looked huge, and yet she could see the grasslands of rolling hills and valleys stretching for countless miles to its base. The peak of the mountain was so high up that Erin couldn’t see it when she craned her head back.

And the cloud was higher still.

How large were clouds? Erin had never had to ponder that question before. But she could remember seeing clouds that were large as…small skyscrapers, maybe? Or hills? Were hills larger than skyscrapers? It didn’t matter.

This cloud, this single cloud among many, was the size of the mountain below it. She could see it. Erin’s eyes strained as she made out small ridges and layers of cloud, impossibly small from where she was standing but probably plateaus and massive cliffs in reality. The depth of the cloud took her breath away.

And that was only a fraction of the sky. When Erin looked around she realized this world really was vast. Mountains that seemed to reach upwards forever, wide rolling grasslands untouched by civilization…and how far had she run before reaching this point? At first glance, it seemed like the grass stretched out as a single, flat surface in every direction forever, but closer inspection told Erin a different story.

“They’re hills! Hills and valleys. No wonder I kept tripping last night!”

If you walked carelessly, you could lose track of your surroundings and find yourself in a valley thousands of feet wide. And it was all mostly uniform, only a few flowers and rocks breaking up the tyranny of green. The plains stretched on and on without pause—

Or did they? Erin stopped as she started to pick out small details on the horizon. Far, far in the distance between the mountain range and the rising sun she saw what looked vaguely like buildings. Was there a town out there? Or a village? A…city?

It was impossible to tell from where she was standing, but the sight of that gave Erin hope that she wasn’t alone in this world. However, just the thought of travelling that far on her empty stomach was impossible so she kept looking.

“Are those…trees?”

Erin squinted. There was a small collection of trees in the distance, nestled in one of the valleys. They were trees, weren’t they? Erin felt they looked off—until she realized she was looking down at them from her vantage point.

It was surreal to feel herself looking down on a forest, but that was the only answer she could think of. It looked like there was a small – well, relatively speaking – valley to the east filled with trees. It didn’t look too far away, and if Erin looked closely she could see small specks of yellow and blue on the trees. Fruits?

There was only one way to find out. And so she began to walk in that direction, her legs and stomach overriding her cautious brain. She needed food. It wasn’t hard to walk down the gently sloping hills, and although it was less fun to walk back up the hills, at least Erin could do all of it at a meandering walk. The grass was soft under her shoes and she had good footing. It was…peaceful. Deceptively peaceful.

In the back of her mind, Erin remembered the Goblins. Okay, maybe they weren’t Goblins but what else could they be? They were strange, deformed children that looked like twisted versions of humans with sharp noses, sharp teeth, little knives and—

They were Goblins. And Erin remembered that they’d found her as she was running singed and bewildered from the Dragon.

At the thought of those little monsters rushing her and trying to cut her to shreds Erin’s heart beat faster and her footsteps faltered. But what choice did she have? Either she stayed in the inn until she starved to death, or she went and got food. The trees weren’t that far away. She could grab some of those weird fruit things – if they were fruit – and run away if anything came near her.

That was the plan. It was the plan right up until Erin found herself walking by a huge rock.

There was nothing too important about the rock, except that it was more like a boulder, a gigantic mound of stone rounded at the top and like a small hill. It was twice as tall as a normal person and just as long across. In short, it was a big rock.

Erin ignored it at first, except to look at it and wonder if climbing on top of it would give her a better view. But she was hungry, so she walked right past the rock. It was that which saved her.

As she put the large boulder behind her, Erin felt the whoosh of air and a terrifying loud crack right next to her ear. She jumped, turned around and screamed. Just as quickly she ran as the second pincer nearly took her head clean off.

The thing that had been hiding underneath the rock lifted it up off the ground and scurried after Erin as she ran screaming. She spared only one glance over her shoulder, but that was enough. She ran even faster.

Two large, long pincers made out of a dark brown chitin were poking out from beneath the rock as the crab-monster scuttled towards her. It had lifted the gigantic, hollow shell enough so that Erin could see countless crab legs tearing up the earth as it propelled itself along the ground.

Oh, nonononononononono—

That was the voice in Erin’s head. She couldn’t waste her breath because all the air in her body was devoted to keeping her running as fast as she could.

Behind her Erin could feel something huge barely miss her back. She sped up even faster, but it sounded like it was right behind her. The giant crab was making a sound as it ran after her too, a loud clicking that sounded like gunshots going off next to Erin’s head.

So she ran faster.

Eventually the clicking stopped and Erin realized she couldn’t hear anything behind her. She stopped and turned to see a rock with many legs slowly moving back across the plains.

“What…the holy…crab?”

Erin could only gasp and clutch at her side. She felt like her legs were about to fall off, and her lungs were about to burst. She was also lightheaded, but she really didn’t want to sit down.

Instead she forced herself to keep walking. It hurt. Everything hurt. But she was still alive, crabs or no crabs.

Erin tried to smile. Her legs ached, but eventually she got her breathing back under control. And even better, she was at her destination.

“Is—is that a tree?”

Erin gaped up at the strange plants before her. They were probably trees. They had bark, leaves, and fruit. But in each aspect they were slightly—off.

The tree in front of her was thin and squat. Well, squat for a tree. It was still about ten feet tall, but its trunk looked far too narrow to support its weight. And not only that, but its leaves were huge.

“It’s like a palm tree, but with branches. And blue fruit.”

So decided Erin, after she’d tested the tree to see if she could push it over. The wood was remarkably hard – even when she went to push at low-hanging branches she could barely bend the thin wood.

“And it’s grey. Grey bark, green leaves, blue fruit. Who dropped the paint bucket on this thing?”

That said, the colors didn’t clash horribly. And what interested Erin more than the aesthetics was the edibility of the fruit. And the reachability.

Most of the blue fruits on each of the trees were clustered around the top branches. There were yellow fruits lower down, but since they were smaller they were probably also unripe. Hesitantly, Erin grabbed a branch and after testing her weight on it a few times, tried to pull herself up.

“I—hate—pull-ups!”

Her arms shook as she strained to get off the ground. After a few seconds Erin got her chin above the branch, but no further. After another second she had to let go.

Erin landed on the ground and stared up at the tantalizing blue fruits, just out of reach. If she weren’t so hungry and tired…she’d still probably never get up that high.

“Is this how I die? Starving to death because I can’t do a pull-up?”

No. That was stupid. But the more Erin thought about it…

“No. No!”

Erin jumped and managed to pull herself halfway up the first branch through sheer desperation. But her arms gave out, and she fall on her back with a whumph that knocked the air out of her.

“You…stupid tree!”

Erin’s shouts of frustration echoed in the small valley. She tried to grab the branch again, but she couldn’t even pull herself up anymore. She screamed in frustration, grabbed at her dirty hair, and then kicked the tree.

The entire tree shook slightly with the force of Erin’s kick. The leaves trembled, and the blue fruits moved—

And one fell to the ground.

Erin stared at the round, slightly fuzzy blue fruit. Then she looked up at the tree. Without a word she grabbed the fruit. Then she looked around expectantly.

“Um, shouldn’t there be some kind of announcement?”

No response. Erin kicked the tree again and picked up another fruit.

“[Mysterious Blue Fruit acquired!] Dun dun dun dun!”

…

After a little bit, Erin put her head in her hands to cover her blushing face.

“…I hate this world.”

Once she was done, Erin looked at the fruit in her hands. There wasn’t much to see. It was blue, it was probably a fruit, and it was pretty large. Erin had seen monster apples before in stores, the weirdly expensive ones that were three times as big as their smaller cousins. That was about the size of the blue fruit.

Her stomach rumbled just looking at it. Erin raised the fruit to her mouth, and then hesitated.

“…Am I going to die?”

It was a good question. Erin studied the fruit in her hand. She sniffed it cautiously. It smelled faintly…sweet. She poked it. Tender. Probably succulent. Then she licked the outside.

“Pheh! Hairy!”

Maybe it would be better to peel it after all. Maybe it was actually some kind of alien monster she was holding and if she bit it she’d be eating a mouthful of guts and blood. That thought made Erin hesitate for few minutes before she started peeling it away.

“It’s like a peach. Not a monster, not a monster…”

Erin peeled off the outer layer of blue fruit and found the inside of the blue fruit was a purplish-blue. The juice ran to the ground and smelled…Erin’s stomach grumbled but she’d found something else that caught her attention.

“That is the biggest seed I’ve ever seen. There’s more seed here than fruit!”

Erin held up the core of the blue fruit, which was indeed a seed core two thirds the size of the blue fruit itself. The shell was a stained purple-brown, but Erin felt something sloshing about inside when she shook it.

“Okay, time to see what’s inside.”

She’d need a rock for that. Erin transferred the seed core to her other hand and stood up. As she did, she squeezed the core gently.

Crack. Crack.

Hollow. The brown shell split open and disgorged a mess of pulpy seeds and brown juice onto Erin’s pants and the ground. She stared at the mess in silence until the pungent odor hit her nose – an incredibly chemical smell similar to antifreeze or some kind of cleaning product.

Slowly, Erin stood up and brushed the seed vomit off her clothes. That did nothing to get rid of the smell, though. Then she picked up the pieces of the seed’s core and hurled them as hard as she could against one of the trees.

“I hate this world!”

----

After a while her stomach began to growl again as the smell from the seed pod dissipated in the morning air. Hesitantly, Erin grabbed the second blue fruit and brought it to her lips. This time she bit into the outer skin and chewed. The texture was unpleasantly rubbery and tough to chew, but thankfully it was edible. And what was more—

“Wow. This tastes really good!”

That was the remark Erin made after she’d consumed eight more of the blue fruits, all in rapid succession. The seed pods she left untouched on the ground, but she happily devoured the outer rinds, stripping an entire tree clean before she was finally full.

Groaning with satisfaction she sat back against the tree. She felt good. Sticky, smelly, true, but good. The day was fair and warm, and with her stomach full and the soft grass beneath her there was only one thought on her mind.

Bathroom.

Maybe it was something in the fruits that triggered it, or maybe it was just long overdue.  Either way, Erin was suddenly, keenly aware of a certain need pressing at her. Erin sighed and stood back up.

“Nature calls. I hate nature.”

She walked behind the nearest tree, and then around it. There wasn’t much…cover here, but she really had to go.

“Well, what am I hiding from anyways?”

Erin thought about that for a moment then deliberately edged around the trunk until the sun was out of view. That made her feel better.

A few seconds later Erin felt refreshed and happy. Her stomach was full, other parts were empty and best yet she was alive.

“Now, how am I going to get back past that crab rock-monster?”

Erin’s stomach twisted unpleasantly at the thought and her heart began to pound in her chest. But an idea struck her as she looked at the countless seed pods on the ground.

----

The large, duplicitous rock seemed more and more out of place the more Erin looked at it. If she’d been able to think past her hunger before she’d have wondered how such a large stone made it all the way to the grasslands without being eroded by the elements. Well, that stupid crab-creature was clearly one of the predators in this world.

And it was quick. Erin didn’t want to run away again, so she really hoped this plan of hers would work. Did crabs have noses? Probably not, but she really hoped they could still smell.

Slowly, Erin walked forward. The rock remained motionless. Well, that was fine.

Erin picked up a small stone and hurled it at the rock. It bounced off.

She waited. The rock didn’t shift so much as an inch.

Erin picked up another, larger stone and threw it against the rock. She wasn’t a good shot so the rock glanced off the side. Again, there was no response.

“Uh, is…is this the right rock?”

Erin looked around. No other suspicious large rocks in sight. But it wasn’t doing anything.

“Get closer…no, that’s stupid.”

She eyed the rock again. Well, if it wasn’t going to move…

Erin turned her away. She’d circle around. Far around. She began walking away.

Click.

It was such a small sound. But it made her freeze and then whirl around.

Erin caught the rock-crab crawling towards her stealthily. In just a few seconds it had covered nearly twenty feet. She stared in horror as it reared upwards.

Clickclickclickclickclickclickclick—

The rock-crab began its high-speed shuffle towards her. Two enormous claws and a pair of dark antennas—or were they eyes? – curled up from underneath the rock.

Erin stepped back, half-turned to run, and remembered what was in her other hand. She took swift aim and threw the seed pod she had been holding.

Bullseye. The seed core smacked the rock-crab right in the antennae and burst into a shower of pulpy liquid. Even at this range Erin could smell the toxic odors on the breeze.

If she was honest, Erin didn’t know what she expected. Pain, or shock from the rock-crab maybe. She’d nailed it pretty good on the antennae and she was sure that hard to hurt. But still, it wasn’t as if the seed cores were that heavy. She expected the crab to recoil, and maybe get scared off by the scent at best.

What she didn’t expect was for the crab to freak out and start smashing itself with one of its claws. It was panicking, frantically scraping away at the spot she’d struck it with the seed core, ignoring the damage it was doing to its own antennae. At the same time the rock-crab was making distressed sounds.

It sounded like the loudest cricket in the world, only a lot deeper and echoing out from beneath the rocky shell the crab was wearing. That was enough to make Erin back up until she was back among the trees and the crab was barely visible.

Even after she’d gone a ways she could still see the crab doing an unhappy dance as it tried to scrape off the seed pod fragments.

“Huh.”

Erin scratched her head.

“Well, it’s good to know they hate fruit.”

Speaking of which…Erin decided to get more of the delicious blue fruits. As many as she could carry, in fact. Blue was now the color of breakfast, lunch, and dinner and she only wished she had more hands. Could she make a basket somehow…? Out of grass?

She kicked at a tuft of the stuff.

“…That’s a stupid idea.”

How about her shirt then, or pants? But that was a bit…well, there was no one around to see her except the rock-crabs, right? Even so.

“Too bad I’m not a streaker, huh?”

Erin addressed that comment to a nearby patch of patch of grass. The grass said nothing in reply.

With a sigh, Erin walked away. She slowly crested a small hill and found herself looking down on the fruit orchard once more. She also found herself looking at several short, green creatures. They were kicking trees and harvesting the blue fruits that fell to the ground.

For a few seconds they didn’t see her. Then one of them looked up and saw the slack-jawed human staring their way. He made a shrill noise and the others looked around.

“G-goblins?”

The nearest creature took a step towards her. It looked harmless. For a moment. Then it bared its incredibly sharp teeth and drew a knife. Its friends did likewise. They advanced on the young woman.

The young woman for her part stared in horror for two more seconds and then pointed one finger. She opened her mouth and screamed.

“Gobliiiiiiiiins!”

The green skinned monsters stopped and stared as the young woman screamed and took off running at top speed. But they followed her doggedly despite the insane speed at which she sprinted. These Goblins had learned to hunt other species, and knew that Humans panicked easily and grew tired. They’d catch her as soon as she slowed down.

…Assuming she ever slowed down.

----

It was evening. The sun cast long shadows across the plains. All was silent. Aside from the screaming rock-crab smashing itself in the head and the screaming human, there was no sound in the world.

All was calm.

A single figure sprinted across the grasslands. She was running as fast as she could. Behind her a group of squat creatures followed. It was nearly dinnertime.

Erin Solstice, age 20. A young girl—woman from Michigan with a casual interest in video games and a deep obsession with strategy games. Her hobbies include snowboarding, watching Youtube videos, playing chess, shogi, go, etc. She dreams of one day becoming a professional strategy game commentator.

Currently—

Running for her life.

1.03

Erin found a stream running idyllically down a hill a few hundred feet away from the inn. Its position and relative size meant that it was the perfect place for her to gather water or even wash herself should the need arise. All things considered, it was a windfall of a discovery.

She took three steps, leapt, and cleared the stream in one jump and hit the ground already running. The stream kept flowing as she left it rapidly behind. Not once did Erin look back, although her throat was burning.

She was being chased.

By Goblins. They swarmed after her, wading through the stream despite the strong current. And though they were small, their bodies were wiry and their dirty arms muscled. And they all carried weapons.

Generally they were daggers or short swords, but Erin had spotted what looked like a meat cleaver on one of them. She was too busy running to get a good look, but if they were like the ones she had met yesterday they were rusty, stained with dried blood and crusty substances, and sharp.

That, combined with the Goblin’s faces made them terrifying. Normal Goblins were supposed to look ugly, but not dangerous. In video games Erin had always seen them depicted as short, man-like creatures with beaky noses, pointed ears, and ugly faces. But these Goblins…

Pointy ears? Check.

Ugly face? Check.

Their noses weren’t too pointed, but they were definitely carrots compared to potatoes as noses went. But what really scared Erin were their teeth.

They had two rows of teeth. Like sharks. They had blood red eyes, like monsters in nightmares. Glowing red eyes. And they screamed as they chased her.

It didn’t sound like normal screaming. Erin was used to hearing screams, but they only came out of humans. The sound the Goblins made wasn’t a continuous sound but a kind of ululating noise that seemed to grow louder the longer they yelled.

Yiyeyiyeyiyeyiyeyiyeyiyeyiyeyiyeyiyeyiyeyiyeyiyeyiyeyi—

It made Erin break out into a cold sweat and she pumped her legs even faster to charge up the hill. She was in one of the valleys, but she knew she was headed straight for the inn. She just had to get there and, and—

That’s where they’d kill her. Erin would get to the inn, and they’d surround it, break in somehow and tear her to shreds. But what other choice did she have? None. She couldn’t run forever.

Already Erin felt like someone was twisting a knife into her side and she was gasping for air. She was no athlete. The only reason she was still ahead of the Goblins by a good bit was because they were short. She also guessed they were letting her use up all her energy before closing in for the kill.

Erin crested the hill, stumbled, caught herself, and saw the inn’s dark brown walls only a hundred meters away. She dashed towards it, throwing all of her energy into a desperate sprint.

The Goblin’s voices had faded a bit by the time she burst through the inn’s door way and slammed it shut. But she knew they were only minutes away at best so Erin stood up despite the agony in her chest and legs.

The door had a metal bar that could be slid to prevent it from being opened. Erin did that, and then looked around. Windows. The common room had so many windows.

“Oh you’ve got to be—”

She didn’t waste time on the rest of her sentence. Erin dashed over to one window and slammed the wooden shutters closed. Then she fumbled with the latch. It was a cheap bit of metal, but it might buy her a few seconds.

Erin sped around the room, fighting to close the windows as the Goblin’s shouting grew louder and louder. She slammed shut the last window and let out a huge sigh of relief. Then she remembered that the inn had a second floor.

The mysterious darkness of the second floor that had terrified Erin the night before didn’t even slow her steps as she dashed up the stairs. She ran in and out of each room as fast as she could, closing windows. While some of the mantles had succumbed to the rot, all of the shutters were mostly intact. She’d hear if they were being smashed in, at least.

Erin ran into the room at the end of the corridor and stopped when she saw the skeleton in the last bed. But even that didn’t slow her much and she closed the windows just in time to hear the Goblins start pounding at the door downstairs.

They didn’t get in that way. But as Erin sped down the stairs she heard one of the shutters break. And then another.

The first Goblin squeezed through a window as Erin stood petrified. The second and third were right behind him.

Erin backed up. The first Goblin came at her as his fellows spread out behind him. There were five—no, six of them.

Her legs were shaking. Erin tried to turn over a table but the Goblin was too quick. He lunged forward and she fell backwards with a small scream. He laughed and jumped for her, knife swinging.

Erin rolled backwards and felt a stinging cut on her leg. She scrambled to her feet and looked down.

Blood. It came from a shallow cut on her leg. She looked back at the Goblin and saw his grinning face.

…

It was a similar grin. Or smile. Or expression, really. But to Erin, it was the same face. The same as a human’s. Mocking. Confident. The kind of face young men—

He licked at the blood on his knife. Erin’s face froze. The fear that had been bubbling in her turned in an instant to anger. The Goblin didn’t notice, and ran for her, still grinning.

Erin’s leg shot up. She didn’t kick. It was just a lightning-fast shot right between the legs. She could have sworn she heard something crunch.

The Goblin’s face which had been so full of malicious glee froze up. He turned pale, made a high-pitched keening sound and toppled over.

The other Goblins stared in shock at their friend. Erin stared in shock too, but had the presence of mind to grab a chair before they could react. She raised it threateningly.

“Well? Come on!”

Erin swung the chair like a club. The Goblins ducked underneath it and advanced on her, swinging low.

A lucky blade slashed Erin’s leg and she cried out in pain. Instantly she brought the chair up and over her head and smashed the Goblin flat.

In movies, the chair would break off leaving Erin with the stumps in her hands. In reality the impact made her hands sting but the chair didn’t so much as creak. The Goblin on the other hand screamed a lot.

His fellows backed up as Erin held the chair up for another swing. Her leg was bleeding badly from the cut but she was more mad than scared at this point. Plus she had a chair. All they had were knives.

In fact, she had more than one chair.

“Eat this!”

Erin tossed the chair at one Goblin and clipped it on the head as it ducked. He fell down too, and meanwhile Erin had grabbed another chair. She used it like a shield, jabbing the legs at the nearest Goblin and forcing it back.

Faced with an unexpected threat the others split up and tried to circle around Erin. Accordingly, she tried not to let them. But even if they were surprisingly fragile, they were quick and hard to hit. Before long the remaining four Goblins were all around Erin, peering under tables, feinting at her from behind unheld chairs.

“Get back!”

Erin tossed her chair again and again, missed. But as the Goblins ducked she turned around and fled for the stairs. She had longer legs, but they were quick too and surged after her as she jumped up the stairs two at a time.

The fastest Goblin was hot on her heels, cackling with that strange laughter as he swiped at the back of her legs. Erin ignored the bleeding and hit the top of the stairs with the Goblin right behind her. He laughed evilly.

And stopped when he realized it was just him and the human female at the top of the stairs. He looked up. The big human female made a fist.

…

The fourth Goblin crashed down the stairs, face a bloody mess. The remaining three Goblins looked up at the young woman standing above them and hesitated. But she was prey. Prey didn’t fight back!

One threw a knife. It hit Erin in the stomach point first, but the toss was so weak it barely penetrated her skin. She grabbed it and leapt down the stairs.

Two hands on the handrail let Erin swing her legs up. She was no gymnast, but rage gave her a moment of athletic inspiration. Both her feet crashed into the face of the knife-throwing Goblin.

He screamed and clutched at his broken, bleeding nose. His two friends ran back as Erin landed on the ground. The bleeding Goblin waved his knife at Erin. She slapped him.

Crack. It was a good slap, the kind that made Erin’s hand go numb. The Goblin fell down stunned and his hand let go of his knife.

Erin stared at it. Then, before the other two Goblins could move she grabbed it. And when she stood up she had a very different expression on her face.

The remaining Goblins looked at her. They weren’t just two, not really. Their friends hadn’t been knocked out, just hurt. Already they were getting up while clutching their bruised heads and bodies. However…

The human female was facing them, knife in her hand. She didn’t look as frightened as she had been before. In fact, she looked quite angry. That wasn’t good. She seemed suddenly bigger, and the Goblins were keenly aware that she had just beaten two thirds of their number in a matter of seconds.

And she had a knife.

The Goblins stared at Erin. She stared back. Now they were all awake and upright, but they didn’t seem to be about to attack. In fact, they seemed sort of nervous.

Erin stared at them. They stared at her. Her eyes began to water, but she didn’t dare blink. But she had to do something, right?

“Boo!”

The Goblins shrieked and ran. They crashed out of the broken windows and ran as if pursued by demons.

Erin stayed where she was for quite some time, hands still half-raised. Eventually she lowered them.

She wanted to scratch her head, but nearly stabbed her eye out with a knife. Carefully, Erin put the knife on a table and then sat in the nearest chair. Her legs had lost all strength.

“Ha. Haha.”

Erin coughed and then chuckled again.

“Hahaha.”

Her chest hurt. Her arms hurt. Her legs hurt. Actually, her entire body hurt. She felt like she was dying. But.

“I can’t even laugh properly right now. Hahahahahaha…ha?”

And then she did laugh. She started laughing as she sat with her back against the table, bleeding onto the inn’s clean floor. She laughed and laughed until tears were in her eyes. And as she closed her eyes she smiled. Then she bumped her cuts and stopped smiling. But she still slept.

[Innkeeper Level 4!]

“…Hey. What happened to levels 2 and 3?”

1.04

The young woman sat in a chair and pondered. It seemed stupid. No, it was stupid. But there could be only one explanation.

“When you level in dreams, you level in real life?”

Erin thought about that for a moment.

“Huh.”

She sat in the chair for a few more minutes. Those minutes turned into half an hour, and then nearly a full hour before her stomach grumbled.

“Right, food.”

After another hour Erin decided to get up. Her body protested the movement, but her stomach overruled her legs. She got up and reluctantly stumbled out the door.

Her legs hurt. As she stepped outside Erin felt at the back of her legs and winced.

“Right. Knife cuts.”

She should wash that. If she had water. But since she didn’t and the wounds were already scabbed over, Erin left it and started walking.

It was a long, long walk back to the fruit trees. Erin was only glad she remembered where they were. She was even gladder than there weren’t any suspicious rocks along her route, but that only made her warier. Could they burrow? Were there grass-crabs?

If there were, they didn’t seem interested in her at the moment. Erin found the strange, spindly trees easily and picked an armful of blue fruits. She sat and ate fourteen. It wasn’t that she was hungry so much as really thirsty. She sucked as much of the blue juice out of the fruits before gathering as many as she could carry and walked back to the inn. The seed cores she left where they lay.

…Actually, now that she thought of it…

Erin doubled back and grabbed two seed cores and placed them carefully on top of her stack of blue fruits.

“Just in case. I should also get a bow and arrow or something, right? Too bad I have no idea how to shoot anything. Or have any idea how to carve a bow. You carve bows, right?”

Erin thought about that as she walked back over the sloping ground, taking care not to trip and break the seed cores. How would she make anything, anyways?

“Um. Is it three bars of iron and two sticks to make a pickaxe? Or can I make a wood sword by punching trees? Why couldn’t this be Minecraft instead?”

But now she thought of it, Erin remembered the trees.

“Firewood. If I could cut the wood away, that is.”

She thought of the incredibly stiff branches.

“…Nope. But wait a second. What about fallen branches? Or—”

She turned around and started walking back. But when she got there she found neither helpful twigs nor larger branches anywhere in the orchard.

“Weird.”

Frustrated, Erin kicked a tree and dodged another falling blue fruit. She added it to her armful and walked back to the inn.

The room was still a mess from last night’s fight. Erin sat the fruits down on one table and started righting chairs and tables.

“Stupid Goblins.”

She paused as a thought struck her. Goblins. Oh yeah. She’d fought Goblins.

Her eyes fell on the knife she’d taken from one of them. Slowly, Erin’s legs folded up and she sat on the dusty ground again. Then she sneezed.

“Dusty. This is stupid.”

She got back up and looked around. Where was it? There.

“Dustrag. Let’s do this.”

Erin got down and began sweeping up the dust on the floor. It was difficult since she had to move all the tables and chairs out of the way, but it gave her something to do. She only had a small, dirty rag anyways, so she was mainly doing it to think. Her mouth was terribly dry, but Erin started working. She had to focus.

“Goblins.”

Erin stared at the waves of dust as she scrubbed.

“Seriously. Goblins.”

She shifted two tables aside and pushed the dust out of the way.

“…With shark teeth. That’s messed up.”

She thought about that.

“But I won.”

“Barely.”

“They’re not that dangerous.”

“Unless they stab me in my sleep. Or there are lots of them.”

“But I’m probably safe if I keep the windows and doors closed.”

“…Probably.”

“And there’s the rock-crab-thing.”

“…Does it eat Goblins?”

“They were eating the blue fruits. So they live nearby.”

“But I can run away from them.”

“…Until they chase me down and overwhelm me and eat my guts, that is.”

Erin stopped and put her face in her hands. She immediately regretted that decision.

“Pheh! Dusty.”

She sighed and grabbed the rag. Time to clean up some…more?

“Uh. What happened to the dust?”

The floor of the inn was made out of floorboards. Very sensibly, and in keeping with the rest of the inn which was also made out of wood. However, Erin had never seen the floor before. Up till this very moment it had been covered by a thick layer of dust.

Now though she was staring at the floor. A clean, undusted floor. Erin stared and then stared some more. Then she looked at her hands.

“Was that me?”

It must have been, but how had she done it? Of the numerous and varied—of the few skills Erin possessed, cleaning was not one of them.

Oh, sure she could clean up spills and small messes. Anything that involved tossing water and mopping stuff up was okay. But this?

“I wasn’t even dusting for more than—an hour? Two? And it’s all clean.”

Erin scuffed at the floor and amended that thought.

“Sort of clean. You couldn’t eat your dinner off it I guess. But that’s why we have plates.”

And it was a definite upgrade from before. Distractedly Erin scratched her head and felt the caked dirt and dust on her face start to crumble away.

“The floor is clean. I am not.”

Erin stared at the floor again and felt hot, sweaty, and very dirty.

“Right. I need a drink.”

Water, preferably. But Erin would have killed for a nice cool drink of anything, really. Too bad there wasn’t any water nearby.

“Time to find some. Or I’ll die. Whichever comes first.”

Erin wandered out of the inn. After a minute she walked back in, grabbed the knife, and closed the door behind her as she left. After another minute she walked back in and threw the dustrag on the ground. She slammed the door as she left this time.

----

“It’s really hot.”

Erin stumbled through the grass, looking around blearily every few steps. Her mouth felt dry and nasty. She had a headache, and she felt sweaty and gross. But what was really on her mind was water.

“Water. Water is water. Because water. Where’s the water?”

Erin walked for a few minutes in one direction and saw no water. So she turned left and started walking that way.

“I could drink a Gatorade. Or a Pepsi. I like Coke too, though. What about Pepsi and Coke and Gatorade? Gatorpepcoke? Pegatoroke?”

It occurred to her that she wasn’t making much sense. Even for her, that was. Erin looked around for the water and felt her head spinning. Her head was really starting to hurt.

“Cogapeptorade?”

Her foot slipped. Or maybe she stumbled. But suddenly Erin tripped and had to spin around to keep her balance. That was so much fun that she started spinning around as she walked. She stopped after a few seconds and tried not to vomit.

“Feel sick.”

She wiped her brow. At least she wasn’t sweating. It was really hot, though. Weird.

She really needed to sit down in the shade. But there wasn’t any to be found, at least not where she was. Maybe if she lay down she’d feel better?

Erin went to bend over. Halfway down she remembered.

“The stream!”

She tried to stand up and nearly fell flat on her face.

“Where—where was it?”

Head spinning, Erin looked around. The inn was still visible.

“It was there. So if I’m here…there?”

Shakily, Erin began stumbling towards where the stream was. As luck had it she was closer than she thought and came across the stream in a matter of minutes.

----

The stream is fast flowing and cold. The young woman cares not. The instant she spots it she dashes madly into the water and flops down face first.

“Water!”

She cups her hands and begins drinking the water as fast as she can. Then she spits out the water and washes her hands of the grime caked onto it before trying again. She drinks one palmful, another, and then five more.

----

It was around the fourth handful that Erin realized she’d made a bad mistake. The water was delicious and cold as ice cubes, but she was so thirsty she drank it down like…water. Five minutes later she was laying on her side trying not to puke.

Too much water on a dehydrated body. Erin could feel her stomach trying to empty itself and was determined not to let it.

“It—it hurts. It really hurts…”

After a while the pain went away. Erin reluctantly got back up. She was glad she hadn’t puked. She only had one pair of clothes after all.

Speaking of which…Erin raised her arm and sniffed.

“…Bath time.”

----

Erin sat in the stream and tried not to let her teeth chatter. It was cold. Not numbingly cold, which was sort of bad.

“B-being numb would be better than being really cold.”

But it was water, and it was making her clean. And the longer she sat, the warmer Erin felt. That was probably because her body was freezing up, but she didn’t care.

Erin ran her hand through her wet hair and sighed. She’d scrubbed hard, but without soap or shampoo what could you do? And when she thought about how she hadn’t used a toothbrush in days…

“Hm. So, [Basic Cleaning] was really a skill after all?”

Erin thought about it. It was better than thinking of cavities and rotting gums.

“…Huzzah. What a great skill! I mean, I might have to fight off giant crabs and Goblins, but at least I’ll be able to clean the floor while they eat me!”

She sighed and dunked her head into the water.

“Gah! Cold!”

The stream was deep enough that Erin was up to her shoulders in the cold water. And it was moving fast enough that if she lay on her back she might be swept downstream quite quickly.

“And if I follow the stream long enough, do I get to an ocean? Or just a lake?”

It was a tempting thought. Why not just let the waters carry her away to somewhere else? Anywhere had to be better than here, after all. She could leave, and then…

“Then I’d be eaten by something else. Underwater Goblins, probably.”

Erin punched the water and sighed again.

“Monsters, monsters all around. And not one of them looks edible. But at least there’s blue fruit that smells like cleaning fluid. And at least there’s a dusty old inn. And at least I have four levels in innkeeping. Huzzah for me.”

She splashed some water on her face. Tired. She felt really tired. But being clean was helping a lot. Now that she had water she could drink and eat, at least. And with water she could even have a bath.

“A really frickin’ cold bath.”

But it was good. And the sun was warm. Erin thought about getting out of the water and lying on the grass while the sun warmed her up. That was a good thought.

“Maybe today won’t be so bad after all.”

Erin laughed to herself.

“Or not. Knock on wood.”

She turned jokingly to find a piece of wood to knock on and saw it. A huge shadow in the water.

Erin shot out of the stream like a reverse cannonball just as the fish lunged. She felt something incredibly large brush past her navel, felt the slimy, slick feeling against her skin for one heart-stopping moment—

And then it was over. Erin lay on the grass, breathing for air as she stared at the fish flopping around on the grass.

“W—wh—”

The fish flopped towards her. Erin flopped backwards and got to her feet. It might be on land but it had a mouth as large as her head. It was almost one third mouth, in fact. And it had very sharp, very long teeth.

The flat, squat fish that looked like a balloon with teeth kept thrashing around. Whether it was trying to still bite Erin or get back in the water was hard to tell. Either way, it wasn’t having much luck.

Erin stared.

“Fish. Fish with teeth. I hate this world so much.”

Eventually, the fish stopped flopping around. Erin slowly edged over to the fish and stared at it. Was it dead? It didn’t seem to be breathing. It was probably dead.

She pointed a trembling finger at the fish.

“Hah! Take that!”

The fish lay there. Erin edged over. She nudged it with one toe.

Instantly the fish leapt into the air, wriggling like a snake. Its tail smacked Erin in the face as she tried to run. That hurt.

Erin fell over and landed next to the writhing fish. She pulled herself away as the gaping maw opened and closed a few feet from her face and waited until the fish slowly stopped moving again. This time she was pretty sure it was dead.

Just in case Erin psyched herself up, ran over, and kicked the fish hard in the side.

“Aaaaaah!”

Erin hopped around in agony, clutching her foot.

“Is that thing made of rocks?”

It was like kicking a sack of flour. Not that Erin had ever kicked a sack of flour, but she imagined that was what it was like. The fish had barely moved when she kicked it. It lay on the ground, jaw gaping open. It was definitely dead, now.

After a while Erin stopped hopping around and swearing. She limped over to the fish and stared at it. It had…two eyes. Four, actually. But it had two on each side. One big eye and a smaller eye right behind it.

“Ew. Mutant fish with teeth.”

Erin stared at it for a little while longer. Her stomach rumbled.

“Right. Lunch.”

She stared at the fish.

“…Sushi?”

----

“Discovery one: fish are heavy.”

The dead fish lay on the kitchen counter. It was dripping.

“Discovery two: kitchens have knives.”

It was a very sharp knife, too. It looked sharp, at least. Testing the sharpness with her thumb was probably a good way to lose her thumb.

“Discovery three: fish stink.”

She sighed. Self-evident discoveries aside, she had no idea what to do next. Or rather, she only had a vague idea of what to do next.

She had a fish. You skinned a fish – or was that a bird? – and then you ate it. She was pretty sure about that. A fire was involved at some point, but slicing up the fish was a good first step. After all, wasn’t sashimi just raw fish? True, Erin had only eaten that once and with enough wasabi to burn her nose off, but it was worth a shot.

“And hey, I need food. So it’s time to chop stuff up.”

Still, Erin hesitated. She’d never had to cut up a fish before. How was she supposed to do it? She had no idea.

“Huh. I guess [Basic Cooking] doesn’t work on fish.”

Or maybe not this fish. Erin gently poked it in the teeth and shuddered. Its scaly hide looked no easier to cut. But at least she had a knife.

True, she could have grabbed a bigger knife. Happily, there were several knives ranging from one that looked like a proper cleaver to a tiny one the size of a finger. But she’d chosen a slimmer blade because she didn’t want to wrestle with the big one. Besides, this one was sharpest and she needed all the sharpness she could get.

Gingerly, Erin began sawing at the fish’s exterior. The knife skated over the scales without finding purchase. Grimly, Erin tried again. She sawed at the side and felt the skin begin to slowly part.

“Ew. Ew. Ew.”

At least she knew the fish bled red. That was really no comfort, actually.

Erin sawed some more and managed to peel off a slice of skin. She looked into the fish’s insides and gagged.

“Oh. Oh god. Why—why is that yellow? What is that?”

She poked it with the knife. The yellow thing vibrated. A bit of pale yellow-white pus oozed from it—

Erin put down the knife and stepped into the common room to breathe for a while. When her stomach had stopped lurching she went back.

“There is no way I’m eating that. Cooked or raw. Actually, there’s no way I’m eating any of this without a frying pan.”

She looked around. Frying pan? Check. Good.

“Okay, okay. Let’s just…get rid of the bones? And the—the squishy stuff.”

Gingerly, Erin began sawing at the easily-detachable bits. It was hard work. Nothing really wanted to come out, and the knife she’d chosen wasn’t exactly a precision tool.

“Come on. Get out of there.”

The yellow thing was stuck to the bones. She couldn’t get it out.

“Alright. Can’t go around it. Gotta go under it. Goodbye head, look out belly, here comes the knifey.”

Erin flipped the fish over and tried to cut around the other side. But again, the scales were hard to saw through. And now everything was slippery with blood and fish juice.

“Come on. Cut. Cut!”

She pressed hard with the knife. But it just wasn’t going through the skin. Annoyed, Erin pushed harder.

And slipped.

It happened in an instant. Her hand lost its traction and the blade skated across the scales.

“…Huh?”

Erin blinked, and held up her right hand. A gaping red line split her palm diagonally. There was no blood.

She flexed her hand once. That’s when the blood starting pooling. But there was no pain.

Erin looked around. Bandage? There were no bandages nearby. Or cloth.

Her hand felt…numb. Then tingly.

Bandages? Cloth? There were…curtains upstairs. Right? But they were dirty, and mouldy too.

The blood was dripping onto the fish and the counter. Erin wanted to wipe it away, but she was still holding her knife. And suddenly, her hand started hurting.

“…Ow.”

Erin dropped the knife.

“Ahh. Ah.”

She gripped her wrist as hard as she could, stopping the blood flow. But the pain kept coming now, on and on.

“Bandage.”

She didn’t remember leaving the kitchen. But she was back with one of the curtains from upstairs and slicing it to make a bandage as blood soaked the cloth. It was hard. She could only use one hand and her other was hurting.

Eventually she wound the cloth tight and gritted her teeth as she tied a knot. The bloodstain was already spreading, but at least something was covering the wound. But it still hurt.

It hurt! Erin tried to think as she stumbled back to the common room. It wasn’t deep. Well, it was deep but she wasn’t looking at bone. But it felt really deep.

“It hurts.”

She didn’t have words to describe the agony in her hand. The rest of the world was dim and unimportant compared to the pain radiating from that one point. All of her senses were focused on that place, and it was all Erin could do not to scream.

“Screaming is bad. Quiet.”

She just knew it. Screaming would make it somehow so much worse. So instead Erin sat and gripped her wrist. The blood was dripping. It hurt.

It really hurt.

----

The sun was going down. Erin sat in the chair and stared at the puddle of blood on the floor. It wasn’t big. But every few seconds another drop fell from the bloody bandage onto the floor.

Drip. Drip.

The pain was still there. It didn’t go away, even after this long. But it was—better. At least she could think, a bit. She’d moved around, gotten another curtain and sliced it up for a second bandage. But she hadn’t wanted to change the one she was using so she just sat.

And stared at her blood.

Drip.

Something smelled bad. Erin looked up. What was that smell? She wanted to ignore it, but after a few minutes she had to stand up and go see.

It was coming from the kitchen. Erin walked in, clutching the wrist of her bad hand.

“Oh. Of course.”

The dead fish stared up at her on the cutting board drenched with her blood. It stank. At the same time, Erin’s stomach grumbled. She wasn’t hungry for fish, but she was hungry.

Still, she didn’t want to eat. Erin walked back to the chair and sat down. As she did she bumped the back of her legs. The knife cuts burned and hurt. A different kind of pain.

“I get it. It’s a bad day, right?”

Erin whispered. It made her feel better not to talk loudly. She was awake even though she was tired. The pain wasn’t going to let her sleep. And she was hungry, but she really didn’t want to eat.

So she sat, and watched her blood fall.

Drip.

----

It was dark when the puddle stopped growing. It soaked into the floorboards, a dark stain in the night. Erin stared at the blackness. She couldn’t sleep.

“Still hurts.”

Erin stared at the table. She stared at the grain of the wood. No good. She couldn’t distract herself. But she had to.

So she began to whisper.

“Pawn…pawn to E4.”

She rested her injured hand on the table. It flared once in pain, and then resumed throbbing. Her other hand traced a square, and her eyes darted over the empty table.

“Pawn to E5. Pawn to F4. Pawn captures F4 – King’s Gambit Accepted. Bishop to C4, queen to H4. Check. Bishop’s Gambit. King to F1, pawn to B5. Bryan Counter-gambit. Bishop captures B5, knight moves to F6. Knight moves to F3…”

She kept talking long into the night. But the pain in her hand never stopped. It just kept hurting. And hurting.

1.05

Erin woke up suddenly. Her hand was burning.

Though her head felt like fog she couldn’t fall back to sleep. Instead, Erin just sat and cradled her hand again. She couldn’t move it or the pain would get worse, but sleeping or relaxing was beyond her as well. She could only sit in agony.

Bit by bit, the pain faded away. Maybe it was her waking up, or maybe she just got numb.

“Either way.”

Erin got up. She still held her hand and took great care not to flex it at all. It was…aching didn’t even begin to describe it. It was just pain, all the way through. And it wasn’t stopping.

But at the same time, she was hungry. And for a little bit that overrode her pain.

Slowly, very slowly, Erin hobbled around the inn. She grabbed the blue fruit with her good hand and began chomping them down one at a time. She was so hungry she ate four before she knew it and then polished off two more as she sat at a table.

She would have sat there forever. Getting up wasn’t worth the effort, but a higher power called to her. It spoke in words she could not ignore.

Bathroom.

Erin sighed and put her head on the table. But the longer she sat the more uncomfortable it became. Still, the pain in her hand fought off the need to go relieve herself for the better part of an hour. When Erin finally stood up, she marched to the inn’s door and kicked it open. She’d go do her business in a random valley and then wash her hands at the stream. Hygiene and all that.

Erin made it five steps out of the inn before she reluctantly turned back and closed the door behind her. She doubted the Goblins would come back, but—safety. That done, she went about the business of doing her business.

It took nearly two hours before Erin came back. That was mainly due to her getting lost. Somehow the stream seemed to be in a different spot than she’d remembered, and when she’d completed her task she wasn’t able to retrace her steps.

When she did finally see the welcome sight of the inn, Erin could have cried with relief. All she wanted was to sit and suffer in peace and the open door welcomed her in.

Absentmindedly Erin walked through the door and closed it behind her. Then she went back and sat down at the table. She looked at the dirty, bloody bandage.

“Damn it.”

----

“Ow. Owch. Ow.”

Every time Erin peeled off a bit of the bandage part of her skin and a lot of blood went with it. Some of it was dried blood. Some of it was not.

After she’d gotten half of the bandage off Erin had to stop. The pain was too much. And the bandage was stuck to her skin. But having a half-peeled bandage was worse. Erin couldn’t stop picking at it.

“Maybe I can cut the rest off somehow.”

Erin went to the kitchen. There were certainly sharp things in there. Like knives.

“Not knives.”

So were there scissors? They didn’t seem very medieval, but who knew? Erin decided to go through the cupboards.

Oh, she’d opened one or two before, when she’d been looking for the dustrag but this time Erin did a systematic search of every drawer and cupboard in the kitchen. The dust that poured out make her sneeze cough, but she did find some basic cooking utensils like spatulas, a drawer full of tarnished silverware, and even some plates. The cupboards held a lot of things. And there were a lot of them. And that was strange.

“I’ve seen old kitchens in castles. I thought drawers and that kind of stuff only came later. So is this place in the dark ages or can I get a light bulb somewhere around here?”

Erin grumbled as she searched with one hand. She threw open another cupboard and stopped.

“What the—”

Food. Food was sitting in the cupboard. Erin had to rub her eyes with her good hand. Then she slapped herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. But when she looked again it was still there.

“Is that…flour?”

Erin poked the bag and stared at the white granules on her finger.

“It could be flour. Or—alternatively, it could be cocaine.”

She tried to smile. But her hand hurt too much.

“…It’s probably flour.”

But was it any good? Erin stared at the bag and tried to remember how long things were supposed to stay good. Probably not that long, especially if it was out in the open like that.

She sighed and pulled the bag out anyways. Might as well check.

But behind the bag of flour was another surprise. Erin’s eyes narrowed and she frowned hard.

“That’s butter.”

There was no mistaking it. And it wasn’t just butter either. Erin was used to the nice, square sticks of butter that turned soft and spreadable in the sun. This…was more like a block of butter. It made her arteries scream just looking at it, but her stomach was rumbling already. However—

“That’s not right.”

Erin stared at the butter. It was a golden yellow. She stared around the kitchen. Dust and cobwebs seemed to make up most of the room. She stared at the floor she had yet to sweep.

“How long does it take for dust to get two inches deep?”

Five months? Two years? Five years? Either way, Erin was pretty sure butter didn’t last that long.

“Is someone messing with me?”

Erin glanced around. Could someone have put the food in here? But no, her footsteps were the first to disturb the dust. So then how…?

Her eyes flicked back to the cupboards. Something bright caught her attention.

“Oh. Oh!”

A series of glowing symbols faintly shone with silvery light. Erin brushed at the inscriptions and traced them around the edge of the entire pantry.

“Wow. Magic.”

She stared at the runes, entranced. Then a thought struck her and she opened the other cupboards..

“Here. Here…they’re everywhere.”

Around the edges of each cupboard were the same small etchings of runes. Erin traced them with her fingertip but unlike the cupboard with all the good food, these ones weren’t glowing.

“Huh. I guess it wore off. Or maybe they broke somehow? I wonder what they’re made of.”

Experimentally, she scraped at the runes with one fingernail. A bit of it flaked off onto her finger.

“Silver? Or something glowy.”

Erin poked a little harder. It was embedded in the wood, but time had made the wood soft. Another splinter of wood came away. This one neatly cut the unbroken line of runes in two.

Instantly, the glowing symbols faded away. Erin stared at the piece of wood she’d removed and then at the runes in open-mouthed horror.

“Oh you’ve got to be shi—”

Erin pulled back too far as she stood up, overbalanced, and fell backwards. She didn’t hit the ground too hard, but her bad hand smacked the ground. Instantly Erin grabbed her hand and cradled it, but she could feel the blood running again. She curled up into a ball and stayed there for a long time.

“It’s not fair. It’s not fair.”

Erin looked up after the pain faded a bit. She saw a dark cupboard. When she got up the food was still the same, but the magic had gone.

Dully, she stared at the now dark symbols. Dead. Just like that.

Erin rubbed at her eyes. She wasn’t crying. But her eyes stung a bit. That was all.

That was all.

----

Erin sat at the table in the common room and talked to herself. It was mainly to avoid thinking about pain or her own stupidity.

“True, you’ve gotta leave stuff behind when you leave. Can’t carry everything. But you had good food still here. And more, in those other cupboards. And here’s a kitchen full of supplies…how expensive are good, sharp knives?”

Erin flexed her hand and winced again. Very sharp knives.

“No one leaves that behind. So why would anyone…?”

It was a bad thought to have. Erin suddenly felt very uneasy. The hair on her neck began pricking and her stomach began doing pushups.

“Question. How did Mr. Skeleton upstairs die?”

Her spine tingled.

“Maybe that’s a bad question.”

But once asked, it wasn’t easy to get rid of. Erin tried to ignore it. She stared at the dried blood on her hand, ate another blue fruit, but the thought lingered. Eventually she couldn’t bear  it any longer. She stood up.

“Upstairs. Fine. Hello darkness my old enemy.”

It wasn’t nearly as hard going up the stairs. Now that she knew what was in every room, going down the dark hallways wasn’t scary. But going in the last room? That was very scary.

Erin took a few deep breaths before she opened the door. Her palm was sweaty on the doorknob.

“Am I afraid of dead people? Well yeah. But they can’t hurt me. Zombies can, but normal dead people can’t. It’s just a skeleton. I can take a look for signs of—of death and then I’ll go sleep. Good plan. Let’s do it.”

She opened the door and stared inside. Then she ran back and started opening the other doors on the top floor, slamming into each room before running to the next. But what she sought was not there.

Slowly, Erin walked back to the room at the far end and looked inside. A sagging bed, a small table, a shuttered window. Nothing else. Erin whispered into the silence.

“It’s gone.”

----

The skeleton was gone. Erin was sure of it. It wasn’t anywhere in the inn that she’d looked, and she’d combed both top and bottom floor thoroughly.  And the worst part about losing a dead body was wondering where it went.

Erin sat in the common room. Actually, she sat in a corner of it, her back to the wall as her eyes darted around the room. It wasn’t that she was waiting for a pile of bones to fall from the ceiling. But…she would prefer to know where said bones had gone.

“Okay. Okay. What’s the problem? It was just a skeleton. Just a spooky, dead thing. And even if it did move—somehow, where would it go?”

She didn’t know why she was whispering to herself. It just made her feel…well, it didn’t make her feel better, but it felt appropriate.  It was getting dark. It was nearly night. In the circumstances being loud didn’t feel like the smart thing to do.

And the skeleton might hear her.

“No, no. That’s impossible. It’s not here. It’s somewhere else. Besides, where could it hide? I checked all the rooms upstairs. So where could it be?”

The…cupboards?

Her eyes darted towards the kitchen. No. It couldn’t be. She’d checked.

What about underneath the floorboards? Or in the roof?

Erin kept very still and listened. Nothing. That was good, right?

But skeletons don’t need to breathe. They don’t need to move until you’re asleep. And then…

Enough. Erin shook her head. It was all in her head. There had to be a perfectly good reason for a corpse to disappear suddenly—

What about the walls?

Erin refused to turn her head. She was just being paranoid. Which was a good thing. Because it could be anywhere.

No; not just it. Them. Maybe someone, something took the skeleton. But why? And when?

Her mind suddenly flashed back to when she’d returned that morning. Hadn’t the inn’s door been open? She hadn’t noticed at the time but she remembered closing it as she left. She didn’t remember having to open it when she got back.

Her skin crawled. The inn suddenly felt a lot less safe.

But it was just her imagination. She had an over-active imagination. If she went to sleep all would be well. All she had to do was close her eyes and when she woke up all would be well. There was nothing to worry about. Erin couldn’t even hear anything except the rapid beating of her heart and the creaking.

Creaking. A footstep.

Erin sat bolt upright. Her heart felt like it was about to stop from sheer overwork. Her eyes darted to the ceiling.

Something was up there.

She heard it moving about. Maybe if she’d been more relaxed she might never have noticed the faint creaks and groans of floorboards as something crept around upstairs. And judging by the sounds…

Erin tracked the progress of the creature. It was moving to the stairwell.

Slowly, Erin clenched her bad hand to avoid screaming. The pain as her sliced hand throbbed and started to bleed grounded her. Silently, she stood up.

The knife was on the table. Erin held it in her good hand and moved around. The stairwell was on the right side of the room. Anyone coming down wouldn’t be able to see her if she was in the rightmost corner.

Skirting the chairs and tables Erin made her way there and crouched down. The handle of the kitchen knife was slippery in her hand with sweat. Her other hand was slippery with her blood. She gazed at the blade of the knife. It was very sharp.

The creaking stopped for a moment as the intruder reached the top of the stairs. Erin waited. It would come down. And when it did, she’d get one chance to attack first.

Attack first? Am I some kind of hero?

No. New plan. The instant Erin saw what it was she was running for her life. But she had to see what it was first.

The skeleton popped into her head. Was it that? Or was it the creature that had stolen it’s bones? Was it some kind of parasitic creature that lived in dead corpses—or a gaunt nightprowler that ate the marrow of the deceased?

Please let it just be a skeleton.

The monster started descending the stairs. Quietly. Slowly. Even though Erin was listening, she barely heard the sound it made. She tried to guess how far down it was. Halfway. Two thirds. A few steps left.

Something left the last step and walked into the common room. Erin didn’t breathe. She didn’t move, or even blink.

Slowly, the creature stepped closer. Erin squinted and gasped as it came into view. Then she stood up and sighed.

“Oh. It was just a Goblin.”

The short green creature whirled around in surprise as Erin stood up with a sigh. It immediately crouched, its sharp dagger held in a fighting stance. It snarled at her.

She snarled back.

----

The rest of the Goblin ambush party waited outside of the inn, keen ears straining for sound. Each one was a seasoned warrior – at least by the standards of their small clan. They were all armed with the best weaponry available. The most dangerous among them had shortswords that were only half-covered in rust. And they were awaiting the signal.

The inn’s door flew open. The Goblins looked up. They expected the human female to run out of it, screaming and preferably bleeding. At worst, they expected their comrade to be running out, her fast on his heels. They readied their weapons.

And ducked as a body flew over their heads.

“Go to hell!”

The human female slammed the door shut.

The Goblins stared at the closed door of the inn. They stared at the barely recognizable face of the unconscious Goblin, and then exchanged a look. Then they quickly picked up their fallen comrade and legged it back into the night.

1.06

Erin woke up with her back against the inn’s front door. Her neck was aching and her hand was burning. It was morning.

“Ow.”

She held her hand. It was hurting—

“Feels like it’s worse than yesterday. Which is probably my imagination.”

She sat cradling her hand for a full minute. Then she remembered why she was sitting there and shot to her feet.

“Skeleton? Goblins.”

Where was it? Erin stood up and hobbled over to a table. There. Two daggers on the tabletop.

“At this rate I’m going to start a collection.”

Erin mumbled to herself as she poked one of the hilts with a finger. But it proved she hadn’t been dreaming.

“No skeleton? No problem. I hope.”

She sighed and then sniffed.

“What’s that smell?”

Something smelled really bad. And it was coming from the kitchen. The instant Erin opened the door she groaned aloud.

The fish lay on the cutting board, covered in dry blood and reeking in the sunlight. It stank. Actually, it smelled worse than a stink.

“This. This is disgusting.”

Erin stared at the fish for a few more seconds. She had absolutely no desire to touch it. On the other hand…

A few black things crawled out of the fish’s mouth. Erin stared at the small things, gagged, and then ran outside before she hurled. That was the start of her day.

----

How do you get rid of a fish? Erin put it outside on the ground and stared at it.

“I could bury it. If I had a shovel. And I could burn it. If I had a way to make fire. Or…I could leave it over there.”

She walked for about fifteen minutes before she was sure she was far enough away from the inn. Then Erin unceremoniously dumped the rotting fish off the cutting board.  That was a mistake.

As the fish hit the ground it exploded. Something inside of it broke or squished, and suddenly a host of little black and green insects exited the fish’s body from every orifice. Erin took one look, screamed, and ran. She was getting good at it.

----

It took her a long time before she found the courage to return. And even then, it was just to run in, grab the cutting board and leg it to the stream.

“Ew, ew, ew.”

Erin thrust the plank of wood in the water and watched fish guts and insects sweep away into the current.  It wasn’t the dead fish she objected to. Well, not as much as the live bugs that clung stubbornly to the wood.

“You. Get off.”

The tenacious fly seemed to have the strength of ten bugs because it refused to let the current drag if off. It was black with a green butt—abdomen, and looked like nothing Erin had ever seen before.

“Another weird creature. Wonderful.”

Reluctantly she looked closer. Know thy enemy, right? She supposed she should also know her bug.

“That’s definitely a bug. And it’s really ugly.”

Swish. Swish. The bug clung to the wet wood despite Erin’s best attempts to shake it off.

“…Why’s it got four legs? I thought bugs had six.”

Annoyed, Erin finally pulled the cutting board out of the water. The insect fanned its wings as she stared at it. It was really mostly like a beetle, except that its backside was glowing green. A cross between a freaky firefly and a beetle. Better than a cockroach, but there was only one way to deal with bugs like that.

Erin curled her finger and gave the bug a damn good flick. It exploded.

The insect’s green abdomen burst into a splatter of green liquid as the rest of it flew off into the stream. Erin blinked as the green liquid covered the cutting board and splashed into the water.

Some of it landed on Erin’s arm.

“Ahh! Owowowowowow!”

Her arm plunged into the water. It was an instinctive reaction but it made the pain vanish. Still, Erin frantically scrubbed at the spot until all of the burning pain had gone.

“Acid flies. Okay, that’s completely wrong.”

----

Her skin was red and sore from the brief contact with acid, but she was fine. Nevertheless, she washed both her body and the cutting board until she felt completely clean. This was less fun  because Erin was also watching out for strange shadows in the water.

“Great. My hand hurts, and now my arm hurts.”

Erin stared at the dead fish as she walked back to the inn. The fish’s body was swarming with those little acid flies. They were probably laying eggs in it or something equally fun.

Briefly, Erin considered dragging the fish into the stream and letting all the buggers drown. Then she considered what would happen if all the flies landed on her and exploded.

“Right. Well, there’s only one thing to do in a situation like this.”

Erin raised first one, then both her middle fingers. Her injured right hand hurt like fire, but it still made her feel better.

“That’s for all of you.”

Then she went back to the inn.

----

“I really should have brought a bucket.”

Erin stared at the ingredients lined up on the kitchen counter. Her stomach was rumbling, and she was in the mood for food. But she didn’t really want another breakfast, lunch, and dinner of blue fruit. Today she was in the mood for bread. Freshly baked bread.

Unfortunately that required water. And Erin really didn’t want to walk to the stream and back with a heavy bucket. But she needed water. She knew that. Somehow.

Was it instinct? Erin frowned and knocked on her skull. She had never made food, not really. Well, she’d made Mac and Cheese and instant ramen but that didn’t count. And that went for microwaves and ovens too. So why did she know that to make bread she needed flour, oil, salt, sugar, yeast, and some water? It had to be magic.

Or a skill.

“[Basic Cooking], huh?”

Erin stared at the washed cutting board. Yes, all the ingredients were here. It made sense; this was a kitchen. Kitchens had ingredients. Therefore she could make bread. Or dough. To make bread she’d have to bake it in an oven. Handily, this kitchen had an old oven that Erin’s instincts told her she could use. But to use the oven she needed fire.

She had no idea how to make a fire.

Whatever new ability she had to make food, it did not extend to making fire. Erin stared at the empty fireplace in the oven and thought.

“Sticks. You hit sticks together. Or rocks.”

She looked around. She had wood. There were lots of chairs and tables. What she didn’t have was matches. Or a lighter. Or a can full of gasoline and a flamethrower.

Erin went back to the kitchen. There had to be something to start fires in there. How else would you cook things?

“Right. Rummage time. I knew I saw a shelf full of weird stuff somewhere…”

She went back through the shelves. In her first search through the kitchen she’d put everything vaguely useful or non-rusted in the cupboard next to the food.

“Let’s see. Frying pan? No. Tongs? No. A saw? Why does a kitchen need a saw?”

Erin set the small handsaw aside and squinted. Behind that was something she hadn’t quite figured out. Well, two things. It was a rock and something else. Something weird.

“Is that…a horseshoe?”

No. It was way too small to be a horseshoe, and the wrong shape. Unless this world had really weird, small horses that was. But even then, why have horseshoes in a kitchen?

“Unless they ate horses.”

Erin stared at the horseshoe-thing. She stared at the rock. Slowly she slid the rock along the fire striker and watched sparks fly.

“Huh. So that’s what flint and steel looks like. It actually does look like Minecraft!”

Erin paused. She sighed and slapped herself gently.

“I’m an idiot.”

----

Flint and steel was actually pretty fun to use. So long as you didn’t burn down the flammable, wooden inn around you by accident.

Erin peered in the large fireplace and fumbled with the flint and steel again.

“Dried grass…check. Broken chair…check. Fire?”

She slid the flint across the steel quickly and flinched as the sparks flew.

“Ow. Hot!”

The shower of sparks descended on the dry grass like a swarm of angry fireflies. And the tinder caught fire in places, and the fire grew.

Erin held her breath. Then she exhaled, blowing at the small flames like she’d seen television campers do.

“Damn. It went out.”

She struck the flint and steel again. This time she let the fires grow a bit and did not blow on them. Slowly, the small fires grew. She fed the small flame pieces of wood and grinned.

“Fire! Call me Promethus…Promethea.”

The warmth on her front became a little too hot so Erin scooted back. But she was grinning. Well, she was grinning until she sat on her bad hand.

“Okay. Pain. But now I can make bread! I’ve got all the ingredients. Right? Right. I just need flour, yeast, butter, a bit of salt and sugar and—”

Erin sighed.

“Oh yeah. Water. Great. Well, I can just go out and get some. It’s not like there’s a time limit or anything—”

She looked back at the fire she’d just started.

“Dammit.”

----

In the end, Erin let the fire burn while she went to get water. The fireplace was stone, and the kitchen was stone. The odds of a stray spark walking all the way to the common room was remote. Still, she felt uneasy.

“This is how it starts, right? You leave the fireplace on while you go on a vacation for a few days and the next thing you know, your inn’s burned down. A classic cautionary tale.”

Erin sighed as she walked along. She wondered again how much trouble she was really in. After all, she had just started a fire, true, but that was pretty basic even for primeval humans. What could—

A patch of green moved in the grass ahead of her. Erin stared at it. Was it part of the grass? It raised its head and stared back. It wasn’t the grass it all. It was—

Something exploded out of the grass. Erin screamed, flailed wildly with her bucket and fell over. The gigantic bird with leather wings and a beak longer than her arm took off into the sky with an ear-piercing screech.

“Oh. Oh wow.”

Erin sat on the ground and stared.

“Is that a…pterodactyl? No way.”

It looked like it. And while Erin was only really seeing it’s rapidly disappearing backside, the bird had a certain…non-feathery quality to it. However, where the ancient dinosaur-birds Erin had seen in museum pictures were brown and plain, this bird had been a light green with red markings.

“Camouflaged dinosaurs. Now I’ve really seen everything.”

Erin shook her head and got back up. She brushed off her dirty t-shirt and jeans.

“Gotta wash these sometime. But that means I’ll be walking around naked. Is that an issue? And what’s that smell?”

Something smelled truly terrible. Erin covered her nose and frowned. She cast around for the source of the smell. It was on the ground somewhere. She walked ten steps and found a nest.

“Huh. I guess without many trees birds get lazy. But what a big nest. And what’s that inside—”

Erin took one look inside the nest and covered her mouth. She gagged and took a few deep breaths.

“Okay. At least I know where all the normal birds go. Inside the dinosaur-birds.”

Averting her eyes from the grisly remains, Erin turned to go. She took two steps and tripped.

“Ow.”

She got up, cradled her injured hand a bit and wished for the world to explode. Or just her. Then she squatted down to look at what she’d tripped over.

“Eggs?”

----

Buckets could hold things. Ideally they held water, but they could also hold eggs. They could also hold eggs in water, so that saved her the effort of making two trips.

It was still a pain to haul the bucket across the grasslands, though. Erin puffed and huffed and kept up a running stream of complaints as she lugged the full water bucket along.

“People used to do this every day? This is why plumbing was invented, you know. Who puts a stream so far from an inn? What happened to a good well?”

She kept grumbling until she reached the inn. Once there, Erin had to lean against the door and pant like a dog for a while before she felt better. She noticed a sign hanging next to her nose and squinted at the faded lettering.

“Huh. ‘Closed?’ Is that English?”

It wasn’t English. The lettering was distinctly not-English. But Erin understood in nonetheless.

“Freaky. But convenient. Who needs Google Translate when you’ve got magic-weirdness?”

And at least it confirmed Erin’s suspicions.

“This was an inn once. But someone abandoned it.”

She tapped her lips thoughtfully and narrowed her eyes at the hanging sign. The rope was frayed and worn, but it was still in pretty good shape.

“…Well, finders keepers.”

Erin kicked open the door to the inn and dragged the bucket inside. But she paused and stepped out to look at the sign.

It was a sudden whim. Erin flipped the sign over so it read ‘Open’.

“Now, where can I get a piece of chalk and write ‘no Goblins allowed’?”

Well, that was a question for later. Right now Erin was more concerned about the precious water. She had the water. She had dragged the water very painfully all the way here. Now she had to find a place to store said water. The bucket was nice, but it was also sort of small and definitely not useful as a long term container. It was leaking a bit. So where else could she put it?

Erin wandered into the kitchen.

“Well, here’s a cauldron.”

It was actually a pot. But it looked like a cauldron. It was in fact both things at once. The point was that it could store water. Unfortunately, that meant the cauldron had to be cleaned first.

Erin tried to use as little water as possible. But the pot was large, filled with dust and the bucket was finite. She eventually ran out of water and had to make another trip back. And then another.

When the cauldron was finally full of water and clean enough to hold said water, Erin was ready to kill something. Like eggs.

She tromped back into the kitchen and stared at the grey embers. She scowled.

“I’ll deal with you later. For now, I need dough.”

Dough was easy. It was just mixing stuff and Erin had plenty of stuff to mix. But an idea struck her as she stared at her ingredients.

Bread took a while to bake. Bread needed to rise and do all kinds of complicated yeasty-stuff according to her [Basic Cooking] skill. And to be fair, that was about all she could make with the ingredients at hand. Not much you could do with a bit of flour, right? But eggs? Eggs changed everything.

Erin’s stared at the flour. She stared at the butter and salt. Then she stared at the eggs. Her eyes narrowed.

“Forget bread. It’s pasta time.”

----

The mixing bowl was full of flour, a dash of salt, some water and butter. Oil would be best, but Erin didn’t have oil so butter would do. She grinned. This was easy. Then she cracked the egg.

A large, glistening yolk fell into the bowl. The eggs of the giant dino-birds were about three times bigger than normal bird eggs. That could make a lot of pasta. But there was just one thing different about these eggs.

“Oh. Oh god. Why are there red lines—?”

Erin covered her mouth.

“It was alive. There was a baby inside.”

Her stomach lurched. But there was nothing to throw up. Erin took a few deep breaths and tried to think.

“Right. Normal eggs actually hatch. Right. This isn’t a store so of course they’ve be living—but they must be new eggs. Not full of half-born chickens, right?”

She stared at the rest of the eggs. Right?

----

Erin wiped her mouth as she kneaded the dough. She hadn’t thrown up. But her stomach was still a bit queasy from all the killing she’d done. If that was the word for it.

“Sorry, baby dino-birdlings. But I really need to eat. And you look nice and doughy right now.”

She punched the dough ball gently. The kneading was done. It was time to roll it and slice it into nice, pasta-shaped sizes.

To her credit, Erin barely hesitated when she grabbed the sharp knife again. But she did take the time to wash the blood off before she began slicing. And though it took her a bit longer to cut everything since she worked with one hand and tried to keep all her digits out of the knife’s path, she eventually had a pile of long stringy noodles ready to be boiled.

Erin held the first batch of raw noodles over the boiling water in the pot.

“Double double, boil and trouble…into the pot you go.”

The noodles fell in with a large splash. Erin yelped and jumped away.

“Hot!”

When she was finished calling herself an idiot, Erin sat back and waited. The noodles wouldn’t take that long. Then she could add some more butter, a little more salt, and feast. It was a good plan.

“Too bad I don’t have something refreshing to drink as well. A nice glass of juice would go down great. But y’know, it’s not like I…can…”

Erin stood up. She walked back into the common room and looked around.

The pile of blue fruits was right where she had left them. Erin’s eyes narrowed as she looked at them. She stroked her chin in thought.

“Blue juice?”

She shook her head.

“Nah. Bluefruit juice? That’s more like it.”

----

It was a messy process, peeling each blue fruit and then pulping the fruit into a mush. And then of course there was the mandatory trip to the stream with the bucket in order to get enough water to add to the mixture, not to mention to clean the glasses, plates, and silverware. By the time she’d made her umpteenth trip to fetch water Erin’s arms fell like they were about to fall off. But that was okay because she now had a drink.

“Mm! Sweet! This stuff’s like syrup! Chunky syrup! Or…a smoothie.”

Erin put the pitcher of blue fruit juice in the common room and checked on the noodles.

“Hm. Chewy. Tasty! Pasta is the greatest food in the entire world.”

Her eyes went slightly misty. Erin rubbed them briskly and created a huge plate of noodles.

“Hm. Fork…fork! Am I missing anything?”

She felt like there was something missing. But—she brought the food into the common room anyways and sat down.

“Who knew carrying stuff with one hand was so much of a pain? I mean, everything’s a pain.”

The pasta was nice and hot. Erin felt her stomach rumbling. But something still felt off. And pain was still present.

“But it’s a better day, right? A bit of a better day.”

Erin stared at the plate. Pasta, check. Fork, check. Juice, check.

She sighed. A smile tried to climb onto her face. Her hand throbbed, but Erin kept the smile up and raised her fork. She was going to eat until she puked. Okay, maybe until she was just full. She raised the first glistening noodle to her lips.

Knock, knock.

Without thinking Erin stood up and went to the door.

“Hi, can I help you?”

A giant insect stood in the doorway. It raised one feeler in greetings and opened its mandibles.

“Greetings. May we come in?”

1.07

A giant insect stood in the doorway. It had large, black, bulbous eyes, a dark brown chitinous body, and a pair of swords at its sides. It also had a huge abdomen and two long pincers coming out of its mouth. And it had four arms.

Erin stared at the ant-creature. It opened its mouth and began to speak.

“Good evening, Human. I was wondering if my colleague and I could take up a moment of your time—”

Erin shut the door. Then she bolted it. Where did she put the kitchen knife?

“You idiot. I told you that this is why I should have opened the door.”

The Goblin’s knives were on the table. She grabbed both and tried to think. Knife. Chair? There were lots of chairs.

“Maybe it was a bad time?”

Or windows. Erin looked around. Plenty of windows. She’d jump out one if she needed to.

“Move over. Let me show you how it’s done.”

Someone knocked on the door again. Erin froze, and then went back. Very slowly, she opened the door.

A giant lizard—no, a miniature dragon that looked sort of like a human stared down at Erin. He had to be at least six and a half feet tall. His scales were light green, and he had sharp, sharp claws on each hand. When he smiled she saw his teeth. Oh, and he had a forked tongue.

“Hello Miss. Sorry if we—”

Erin shut the door, bolted it, and dragged a table in front of it. She could feel her heart pounding out of her chest as she pushed another table in the way. Knives were no good. She’d have to jump out a window after all.

“Good job not scaring her.”

“Shut up.”

Were they talking? Erin listened hard. Her hands were shaking so hard she couldn’t hold anything.

“Now what? I do not believe breaking and entering would be appropriate at this moment.”

“What, are you crazy? Let me talk. That was just a misunderstanding caused by seeing your face. I’ll straighten all this out.”

One voice was higher than the other and had a strange clicking quality about it. Erin guessed that was the insect’s. The other, the lizardman, pronounced his words with elongated s’s. And they were both speaking in English.

“Hello? Miss? We’re not dangerous.”

One of them was knocking on the door. Erin tried not to hyperventilate. Her eyes darted to the window. But she had to ask.

“…Are you a dragon?”

She heard a surprised laugh from outside the door.

“Am I a dragon? Aha. Haha. Well, that’s just—oh, bite me. I mean, do I look like one? Maybe I do. What do you think?”

“You are blushing.”

“Be quiet. I’m in a good mood now.”

The lizardman raised his voice again.

“Excuse me? I’m not a dragon, Miss Human. I’m just a lowly Drake in service to the city watch. Me and my idiot partner were on patrol when we noticed the smoke. May we come in? I promise we won’t bite.”

“Or inflict other forms of bodily or mental harm upon you.”

“Shut up. Are you trying to scare her?”

Erin debated. Somewhere in her mind she was trying to decide whether she should be laughing or panicking. And if she was going to laugh, would it be funny laughter or hysterics?

She couldn’t decide. So instead—

“Um. Give me a moment. I’ll open this door.”

“Thank you very much.”

Erin dragged the tables out of the way and hesitantly unlatched the door. She opened it and stared at the insect and giant lizard again. The insect just stared at her. The lizard on the other hand opened its mouth and curved its lips upward. It might have been a smile.

“…Hi.”

Erin’s hand tensed on the door. The lizard guy put his hand on the door and stopped her from closing it.

“Sorry, sorry Miss. We’re not here to hurt you, I promise.”

Erin hoped that was the case. She couldn’t budge the door an inch. But this wasn’t the time for flight, right? She took a different tact.

“Want something to eat?”

The lizardman blinked.

“Um, sure.”

“Okay. That’s great.”

Erin opened the door slowly. The lizardman smiled and carefully stepped inside. The giant insect walked in too and gave her a polite nod.

“Good evening.”

“…Hi.”

The two stared around the empty inn. Erin pointed to the table while keeping her eye on them the entire time.

“Food’s over there.”

“Ooh! Pasta! This is good stuff!”

The lizardman—Drake rubbed his hands together. The noise the scales made sounded like sandpaper. He went to sit at the table but the insect guy paused.

“I would gladly partake of nourishment if offered. However we would not wish to deprive you of your meal.”

“What? No. I’ve got lots of pasta.”

Erin pointed vaguely back to the kitchen.

“Let me just get a plate and…forks. Do you uh, want a drink? I’ve got water.”

“I’ll have a glass if that’s alright.”

“I will accept the pasta and water as well. But may I inquire if you have any bugs?”

“…No. No I do not.”

“A pity.”

Erin went to get the plates. She heard the two sitting and chatting idly while she went to the kitchen. There she took a moment to sit on the ground and slapped herself a few times. Then she got the plates.

“Here. Uh, I’ve got juice as well. Want a glass?”

“Oh, thank you. It’s…blue.”

“Yeah. I made it myself. It tastes good, really.”

“Well, I’ll gladly accept. Klbkch, you want any?”

“I will pass for the moment. We should get down to business rather than partake of food.”

“In a moment. Let’s eat first. This looks good!”

Erin stared. Here was an opportunity. She had two creatures who could not only speak English for some reason, but were also not inclined to kill her and were eating her food. There were so many questions she could ask about herself, about where she was, about everything really.

It might be her questions would decide her ultimate fate. Probably not, but they were certainly important. But before Erin could ask any of the questions, including how a ‘Drake’ and giant ant learned to use a knife and fork, she had to ask again.

“…Are you sure you’re not a dragon?”

----

“…So someone on the walls spotted the smoke and called it in. Since it didn’t seem like a grassfire and since we knew this place was abandoned years ago the Captain decided to send someone to check it out.”

“To put in succinctly: we saw the fire and decided to investigate.”

The giant lizard turned and glared at his ant-man companion.

“That’s what I said.”

“You said it poorly. I am merely rephrasing your words for the benefit of all.”

“See, this. This is why no one else is willing to be your partner.”

“Your hurtful remarks are unnecessary. Besides which, I believe we are getting off track. We are in the presence of a member of the general public, remember.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry.”

The lizardman cleared his throat. It sounded weird to Erin; much deeper and bassy than normal.

Actually, everything was weird to Erin at the moment. Not least were the two creatures sitting across from her.

Well, maybe creatures was unfair. They were probably people. They acted like people. But they looked—

Erin stared at the lizardman’s arms. They were huge. She’d seen bodybuilders on magazine covers and terrible gym commercials, but this guy was bigger than 90% of the male population. The human male population. And he was green. And he had scales.

He glanced her way. His eyes were like a snake’s. Or a lizard’s. She looked away hastily and glanced at the ant-man. At least, she thought he was an ant.

While he wasn’t that much smaller than the average guy, the insect guy looked tiny next to his partner. But of the two he was definitely higher on the weirdness scale. Mainly because he was a giant insect. He had antennae.

“Miss?”

Erin jumped.

“Me? Hi, yes, me.”

The lizardman gulped down some of the blue juice.

“Sorry, but can we ask you a few question about where you’re from? It’s pretty odd to find a Human out here, let alone in an abandoned place like this. Not that we mean to pry, it’s just that it’s kind of our job to ask these questions.”

“What? Oh, it’s no problem. Ask away.”

The insect guy leaned forwards.

“Well, to begin with may we inquire where you come from?”

“I’m from Michigan.”

The two exchanged a glance while Erin mentally slapped herself.

“Michigan? I’m not familiar with that nation. Or is it a city?. Is that north of here? Over the mountains, maybe?”

“Uh. No. It’s a bit further than that.”

“Oh, so are you…lost? Or travelling maybe?”

Erin shook her head.

“No, actually I got lost and—this is stupid. Why am I making excuses?”

Again, the glances were exchanged.

“Um, I don’t know?”

Erin sighed and spread her hands on the table.

“Look. It’s complicated and I can’t really explain. But would you believe…magic? Like a crazy, crazy, uh, teleportation spell?”

“Oh, a teleportation spell? Was it a misfire or did someone target you?”

“Um. I didn’t see anything when it happened. I just sort of turned the corner and—look, the point is I suddenly appeared around here. And then…dragon.”

“I told you. It’s flattering, but I’m not a drag—oh.”

The ant-man leaned forward.

“Do you mean to say you found a dragon? Somewhere around this area?”

Erin blinked.

“Is uh, that a bad thing? I mean, it’s a dragon yeah, but isn’t he…?”

Both she and the ant-man looked at the lizardman.

“Look. It’s getting sort of embarrassing. I’m not a dragon. I’m a Drake. And yeah, we’re distantly related cousins but dragons are seriously bad news. They eat folks. You said you saw one?”

“It breathed at me. Fire. And then I was chased by little green men.”

“Goblins.”

“Right, them. And then I found a giant dino-bird—”

“A what?”

“A big…big leathery thing. With wings.”

“Oh, right. Those annoying things.”

“And there was a crab-rock, I mean, a rock-crab, and then I found blue fruits before that and…I met you two. A not-dragon and an insect. Who don’t want to eat me? Or is that after the meal?”

The lizard guy looked shocked and offended.

“Of course we wouldn’t eat you! That’s barbaric and besides, it’s illegal. I mean, okay, sure, it happens sometimes in distant villages but we wouldn’t do that. Right, Klbkch?”

The lizard man turned to his friend.

“Indeed. We would not violate our duty as guardsmen.”

“Your duty? You’re…guardsmen? And you…you’re K—kbch?”

The insect man raised one feeler.

“Our pardons. We have not introduced ourselves. Allow me to correct this mistake. I am Klbkch, Senior Guardsmen in employ of the city. This is my partner.”

“Relc!”

The lizardman raised his glass.

“And this blue juice tastes good!”

“Indeed. And I must apologize again, but our true intent in coming here was to ascertain the danger posed here.”

Erin looked around.

“From what? Me?”

“Not you, specifically. Really, it could be anything. We thought it might be a random fire, or a few Goblins. If there were some stupid kids on the other hand, we’d be dragging them back right now since it’s dangerous to stay here.”

Erin met his gaze in alarm. He had very yellow eyes with black pupils.

“Danger? Why danger? Is there something wrong with me staying here?”

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with you staying here. Aside from dying, that is.”

“Dying?”

Relc kicked Klbkch under the table.

“It’s just a possibility. This uh, place is sort of bad. For your health.”

Erin looked blank. Klbkch cut in.

“The plague. This location was once a small community until everyone here died. Horribly.”

Erin put her head in her hands.

“So am I going to die by puking out my guts or something?”

“Actually, the plague symptoms manifest themselves as—”

Relc kicked Klbkch again.

“Why don’t you shut up and let me talk? Look, Miss Human. You’re probably not sick if you’re still walking around.”

“And not oozing.”

“Shut up. Ahem. We were just sent here to make sure no Goblins or nasty creatures started living here. We’ve got no problem with Humans. Well, at least the non-violent kind.”

“Indeed. There is no law against occupying this area.”

They both stared at her. Erin felt compelled to speak.

“Good. Thanks?”

“Right.”

“Indeed.”

“…Want another plate of pasta?”

“Oh, sure.”

“I will have another as well.”

Erin ladled noodles onto each plate. The diners were silent for a moment as each slurped down their noodles, or in the case of Klbkch, did something complex with its mouth-hole. Erin didn’t look closer.

After a while Relc put down his fork.

“This really is quite good. How’d you make this all the way out here?”

“Oh, I found some flour and butter and stuff in one of the cupboards. It had a runey…thing on the shells.”

“That would be a preservation spell. It is quite common among higher-class establishments.”

“But you cooked it, then? Do you have levels in a [Chef] class, then?”

Erin stared at Relc.

“Levels? Oh. No. I’ve got levels in uh, [Innkeeper].”

“Oh, I see, I see. That’s convenient. Did you earn them here?”

“Uh, yeah. Every time I fell asleep I kept leveling. I’m uh, level 4.”

“Not bad! Especially if you just got here a few days ago. Did the notification wake you up right as you were falling asleep? I hate that.”

“It did.”

“It’s very annoying.”

“Yeah. It is.”

“…”

“…”

“So. Leveling. Classes.”

“What about it? Oh, are you wondering about mine? I’m a [Spearmaster]. This idiot’s a [Swordslayer]. We both have levels in [Guardsman] as well, but not nearly as much as our primary classes.”

“Right, right. Um, good to know.”

“And you’re an [Innkeeper], right? Got any other classes?”

“Um, no. No.”

“That’s too bad. But you’re young; leveling takes time after all.”

“Okay. Right. Um. Let’s pretend I have no idea what leveling or classes are. I’m uh, from really far away and we have different…traditions.”

Relc and Klbkch exchanged a glance.

“…You mean you don’t level in this Michigan place?”

“Oh no, no. We level, it’s just, uh, different from you guys. And I never paid much attention in school and all that…”

“They have to teach Humans how to level? Weird.”

“That is unusual. I was under the impression levels worked uniformly across all species. Unless you are referring to the differences in classes?”

“Yes. No. Maybe? Look, we level. You level. Everyone levels, right? We all can level up in uh, classes and gain skills. How am I doing so far?”

Relc nodded amiably. He was slurping down noodles with his long tongue. Erin was fascinated, although she wasn’t sure if he was being disgusting or not.

“That’s pretty much how it works. What were you confused about?”

“Um. I gained levels just from cleaning an inn. And I wasn’t an [Innkeeper] before this. So why…?”

“Oh, that. You must have satisfied the requirements for the class, that’s all. I know it’s sort of weird gaining a new class suddenly, but it happens. I knew a guy who gained four levels in [Farmer] just because he kept growing carrots in pots next to his window. Leveling is weird that way.”

“So…okay, let me think.”

Erin had to massage her head while the two guardsmen looked at her in concern. Well, she assumed they were looks of concern.

“This is a world. Everyone levels in it. Humans, lizard people, talking insects, cats, dogs, Goblins…”

“Hey what did you just call—”

Klbkch leaned forward, cutting Relc off.

“Actually, I would like to correct you on that point. While the thinking races may level, animals and even creatures such as Dragons are not capable of leveling.”

“What, really? How about Goblins.”

“They can level. Now about what you just said. I’m not a lizard—”

“Indeed. It is part of our shared past. Once of course, all races fought with tooth and claw and magic, but then they divided. Those who decided to forsake their natures and pursue a different truth received the gift of [Leveling], while those creatures who stayed true to their nature kept the might of their natures instead.”

“Really? So that means—”

“Hey!”

Relc’s fist smashed into the table. Every plate on the table jumped into the air and Erin nearly fell out of her chair. She looked at Relc. He was scowling, but when he glanced at her pale face he stopped and looked guilty.

“Um. Sorry about that. Really. But uh, can we talk about that name?”

“N-name?”

“Yeah. You um, called me a lizard person, right?”

“Is that wrong?”

“…Yes. Yes, it is. I’m a Drake, not one of the lizardfolk. There’s a big difference.”

“Sorry. Sorry about that.”

“Uh, don’t apologize. Look, maybe I overreacted a bit. I’m not uh, mad…”

Klbkch kicked Relc under the table.

“I believe it was my turn to do that. Apologize to the Human for your rudeness.”

“…Yeah, sorry.”

Relc bowed his head down low, until the spiny crest on his head nearly touched the tabletop. Erin waved her hands urgently.

“Oh no, no. Please don’t do that. I didn’t know it was so rude. If I’d have known I’d have never—there’s a big difference between lizard people and Drakes, right?”

“Only a few differences, but the animosity between their cultures is—”

“Shut up. I’m still sorry. But yeah, there’s a big difference. I mean, sure most Humans can’t tell us apart, but the lizardfolk live near water and can breathe underwater too, some of them. Whereas we Drakes like drier climates. We enjoy warm sun, open spaces…”

“Nice rocks to laze about upon while we should be performing our duties.”

“You’re just an overgrown ant. You be quiet. Anyways, we’re special. Those guys are just amphibians that learned to walk on two legs. We’re related to Dragons. We’ve got special powers.”

“Like what?”

“We can breathe fire. Some of us can, at least.”

Relc sat back and folded his arms with a triumphant grin. Erin and Klbkch stared at him in silence.

“What? It’s a great power!”

“I’m sure it is.”

“Yeah. That sounds amazing. Really…really cool!”

Relc nudged Klbkch.

“See? She gets it. Told you it was cool.”

“Yeah, it’s awesome.”

“I feel I must mention that you personally cannot breathe fire, Relc.”

“Shut up, Klbkch!”

Relc looked annoyed and embarrassed at the same time.

“Only a few Drakes can do it, okay? Not breathing fire is perfectly normal. And some of us can, so there.”

He looked at Erin anxiously.

“We’re still cool, right?”

Erin grinned and gave him a thumbs up. Then she winced in regret. She’d used her bad hand.

“Ooh, nasty. What happened there?”

“What, this? It’s nothing, it—”

Klbkch stood up suddenly. Erin flinched, but he raised two of his spindly arms.

“Please, I mean no harm. But your hand. May I see it?”

Erin hesitated. Then she slowly extended her hand. On the outside her bandage was grey and red with congealed blood. Some dripped to the floor.

He, if it was a he, inspected her hand carefully. Then he looked up.

“Again, apologies. But could I trouble you to remove the bandage?”

Erin hesitated. But then she slowly unwrapped her hand. And flinched. The pain that had been slumbering in her hand suddenly flared, and something dripped to the floor.

It was yellowish white pus. It dripped from her wound. And the wound itself was different. Instead of the thin red line it had changed. Parts of the injury were darker red and—Erin looked away.

Relc hissed softly. However, Klbkch made no sound. He inspected her wound for a few seconds, his antennae moving slowly and then looked at her.

“Yeah. Um, yeah.”

Erin tried to breathe. Her hand was suddenly burning.

“It—sorry, it’s a mess. I cut my hand and I guessed it just got infected, but—”

“It is not an infection.”

“What?”

“It is poison. Of a sort.”

“You sure? It doesn’t feel like—”

“There is a fish in the rivers near here. It secretes a mucus that damages the area it touches. Such as in this case. I have seen several similar afflictions as a guardsman.”

“You have? I mean, it’s not an infection?”

Erin was trembling. The insect man held her gently.

“Please, do not be alarmed. This is treatable. Allow me.”

He reached down. Erin looked and saw him pull something out of a belt pouch at his waist. She blinked as he held up a bottle full of a shimmering, emerald-green liquid.

“This is a low-grade healing potion. If you pour it over your injury it should heal your affliction.”

Gently, Klbkch uncorked the bottle and held it out to Erin. She accepted it gingerly, but hesitated.

“This is—I mean, is it safe? For humans?”

Klbkch and Relc both nodded. Relc was eying his partner but the ant man was intent.

“Please, believe me. It will heal you.”

Erin stared into his eyes. They were compound eyes, large ones. Brown and fractal. Like and ant’s. And they were creepy as hell, but Erin decided she could still trust them.

She gripped the potion tightly in her left hand and poured it slowly over the open wound on her right hand. She gasped in shock.

“Are you alright?”

“It—it doesn’t hurt!”

Relc snorted gently. IT sounded like a leaf blower starting up.

“Of course not. Why wound anyone make a healing potion that hurts when you use it? But look at that!”

He pointed. Erin’s eyes went down to the cut in her hand. It was closing up with amazing speed. The flesh was joining together and in an instant, the entire cut vanished. She gaped.

Klbkch plucked the half-empty bottle from her hands before she dropped it. She was too busy poking at her hand to realize, but when he’d stoppered the bottle she turned and gave him a huge hug.

“Thank you—ow!”

“Apologies. It is unwise to hug those with exoskeletons. Please, are you hurt?”

Erin stood back and rubbed at where his pointy bits had poked her.

“No, no I’m not. And how can I—I can’t thank you enough. That—that was a healing potion, right? How can I repay you for—”

She cast around for something to give him but Klbkch held up one of his…hands.

“Please, it was nothing. That was merely a low-grade healing potion of no great worth. Let us call it payment for the meal. Unless of course you object?”

“Oh no, thank you. I mean, this is probably worth—can I get you another plate? Or—or you could come back. I’ll feed you two again if you want—”

“I will accept gladly. But for now I am full, and I believe it is time to be going. We would not wish to intrude upon your hospitality for too long.”

Relc paused as he gulped down more blue fruit juice.

“We wouldn’t?”

“We are still on duty, if you recall. The Captain will be expecting a report. If we do return, we will have more time to socialize.”

“Or, and hear me out. Or…we could have more food and stay here longer.”

“I am sure you would prefer that. But we are being paid to work, not to enjoy ourselves. Moreover you are eating all of this Human’s dinner.”

Relc glanced at the table. He stood up immediately.

“Right. Well, let’s be going. Um, sorry about that Miss. Here, let me just pay for the food…”

Erin tried to protest but a scaly hand prized hers open gently and deposited several copper coins and two silver ones into her palm.

“I insist. That blue drink is really good by the way.”

“Thanks.”

“Well, we’ll be off then. Good night to you.”

The two left the inn. Erin watched them go. She went to go sit down and sat on the floor. And stayed still for another hour.

----

Relc and Klbkch left the inn. They began walking through the grass under the night sky. It was cool, but both moved quickly. Each one scanned the landscape as they walked and kept their hands on the spear and sword at their sides. They weren’t nervous; just wary.

After a while Relc spoke.

“What a lonely girl.”

“Is it female? I couldn’t tell.”

“I can. It’s the mammary glands.”

“Breasts, I think they’re referred to. Or maybe the word is tits.”

“Really? I thought those were birds.”

“That’s what I heard some small Humans saying once. But she’s female. And young, correct?”

“Yeah, I’d bet on it. I’m not sure why a Human would be out here anyways, let alone in that place.”

“Inquiring into other’s personal affairs is only a matter for the Guards while we’re on duty. Respecting another’s personal space is a principle of social interaction.”

“Shut up. She just seems lonely, that’s all. Why else would a Human female want to hang out with a Drake and an overgrown bug?”

Klbkch was silent for a while.

“Do you believe she is a lawbreaker or fearful for her life?”

“Even if she was, who’d hide there? You’d have to be mad, or maybe a mage or priest to risk that.”

“True. But at least we are certain it’s safe now. She would  be dead within the day if it were still deadly.”

“Bet she didn’t know. And her expression when we walked in—she’s never seen a Drake or an Insect before in her life.”

“I would prefer that you call my species by their proper name.”

“What do you think? I bet she’s some kind of runaway, or a child that got lost separated from her clan.”

“…”

“Fine. Antinium. Happy?”

“Her being a runaway would be most likely. I find it hard to believe any Human would wander so far into the grasslands by accident and she did not seem to be looking for directions.”

“Bastard.”

“You are correct in at least one definition of the word. But speculation is pointless in any case. We investigated the smoke and now we can make our report. She is not breaking the law in any case since the inn was abandoned nearly three years ago.”

“What about the Dragon? Do you think she made that up?”

“She was not lying, at least not intentionally. However…”

“Yeah. A Dragon? Really?”

“It seems more likely that she was hallucinating. Perhaps she ran into a fire breathing Wyvern, or lesser monster. But I doubt she would have survived meeting a true Dragon.”

“Plus, we’d know if a Dragon lived around here. They’re pretty obvious.”

“Indeed.”

“So…scared Human female? Not a threat?”

“That was my assessment.”

“Right, right. Let’s tell the Captain and get some sleep. Or rather, I’ll sleep and you do your creepy standing hibernation thing.”

“Agreed. And it is very restful. You should attempt it sometime.”

“Pass.”

…

The two walked in silence for quite some time. The road back to the city was long, and in any case they were still alert for potential dangers that might be sneaking up on them. Not that either had much to fear from most predators so long as they kept their eyes and earholes open, but you never knew.

After a long time Klbkch broke the silence.

“So, shall we return tomorrow?”

“Oh, definitely. Right after work?”

“We may be able to fit checking in there as part of our duties if we convince the Captain it is necessary.”

Relc slapped Klbkch on the back of his exoskeleton. “Now you’re thinking like a Drake.”

“I will endeavor not to in the future.”

“Go roast yourself.”

They walked on for another few minutes until Relc broke the silence again.

“So, a lesser healing potion of no worth, huh?”

“Would you have had me tell her the true value?”

“No, no. It’s for the best. Mind you, I think she figured it out.”

“…Perhaps.”

“How are you going to explain that to the Captain, huh?”

“I will deduct the cost from my pay. Besides which, it was used to protect a civilian.”

“You’re a regular saint, huh? Trying to level up your [Saint] class?”

“You know fully well that I have no levels in any class of the kind. I was merely being kind.”

“Sure, suuuure you were.”

“I have no sexual attraction towards Humans. Unlike you.”

“Me? I don’t like Humans. They’re scaleless, hairy, and they smell funny. I mean, this one’s nice but I definitely wouldn’t want to see what it looks like under those clothes.”

“Mm. It’s not very interesting. They are very fleshy.”

“Ew.”

“Indeed.”

“So, wanna go back tomorrow?”

“Are we not working that day?”

“Bite me. That’s true.”

“We could go after work if we left right away, however.”

“Ooh, good point! It wouldn’t be that dark by then.”

The two walked on in silence. Eventually Relc spoke again.

“It’s not that I’m not interested. I have an open mind! I wouldn’t mind looking. If I was offered. They’ve got nothing on good scales, but I could get over the fleshiness. Maybe.”

“Deviant.”

“Shut up.”

“She was quite nice in any case. It was pleasant talking to her.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m glad we didn’t have to kill her.”

“Indeed.”

----

Erin sat against one wall. She was falling asleep. She wanted to run around screaming about lizardmen—Drakes, walking ants, and a crazy world but that was passé. Besides, she’d already done that for a few hours anyway.

Her mind was swimming. Her eyes were drooping. Erin was about to fall asleep. But her hand didn’t hurt. So she was smiling.

At last her mind finally blanked. Erin’s breathing deepened, her eyes closed. She slept.

[Innkeeper Level 5!]

[Skill – Basic Crafting obtained!]

“…Just let me sleep.”

1.08

Erin woke up with a big smile on her face.

Actually, she woke up and went back to sleep several times before the sunlight got too bright to ignore. But when she eventually got up and ate breakfast she got around to the big smile.

It came when she was eating more blue fruit and she realized she was using two hands. Erin had to stop and stare at her right palm for a while. She poked the clean, unscarred, uncut skin and grinned.

“Healing potions are awesome.”

She sat back in her chair, flexing her hands. It didn’t hurt. It was amazing how much it didn’t hurt. And she owed it all to a giant ant man and a lizard…Drake. What were their names again?

“Klbkch and…Drake Guy.”

Erin sighed as the memories returned and gave her a hard time.

“Seriously. They were so normal. But apparently I’m normal too. There are other humans around here at least. But leveling? Classes? Am I an Innkeeper? Do I innkeep? How does that work?”

Then she remembered something else.

“I leveled up again.”

Erin poked her chest. She felt there should be some sense of accomplishment from within, but all she felt was vaguely full. But she remembered.

“[Basic Crafting]. Might as well give it a shot. I’m out of fruit, anyways.”

----

It was an uneventful trip to the blue fruit trees. As Erin gazed up at the blue fruits she wondered for the first time how many there were left to eat. She counted.

“…Looks like I’ve got a few weeks before I run out. But bleh, eating just blue fruit all the time would be disgusting. At least there’s some ingredients left for pasta if I can find more eggs.”

But what would happen when her small cupboard ran out? What then?

Erin touched the pocket of her jeans and heard the clink of coins. Right, she had some money. But how much was it? And more importantly, how could she spend it? It wasn’t as if she could eat metal.

Grumbling to herself, Erin loaded up with blue fruits. It was getting annoying carrying them all by hand. She dropped a lot of them which bruised the skin and made the fruit taste mushy. So why not try making something?

Erin stared at the ground. She had…grass. She stared at the trees. She had wood. But she had no way of cutting that wood, so it was no good. She stared at the grass. Something in her brain lit up.

“Let’s see. If I take this long grass and tie this knot here…”

Erin hunkered down and started picking the longer clumps of grass and testing their durability. She started tying knots and cutting with the knife. She found she had to focus on her task – she couldn’t just go on autopilot, but at the same time there was a certainty in what she was doing. And in less than twenty minutes she was looking at a basket made of grass.

“Whoa.”

Erin held up the basket and inspected it. It was lightweight, but durable. She experimentally tossed all the blue fruits she’d gathered into it and lifted it. The grass basket pulled downwards, but the woven handle didn’t tear. It was a real basket. Made of grass.

Was it tacky? Yes. Did she feel like she should be dancing with pom poms on a deserted island? Yes. Was that a terrible thought to have? Probably. And should she feel ashamed of herself? She already was. But she had a basket.

And more importantly, she had a plan.

What could you do with a basket? Well, you could eat and walk at the same time since you had a free hand. Erin cored a few blue fruits and hung on to the seed pods. Then she went looking for eggs.

It took her about an hour before she found another nest. When she spotted the telltale brown shape hunkering in the long grass, Erin stomped over making as much noise as possible.

This time the thing that erupted from the grass didn’t fly away immediately. Instead, the dino-bird screeched and dove at her. Erin stood her ground, reached into her basket and threw a seed core.

She missed.

But the flying object spooked the bird. The giant pterodactyl wavered, and then flew away as Erin hurled more seed cores at it. She laughed triumphantly and rushed to grab the eggs. That was when the bird turned around and flew at her, pecking and trying to bite her. It wasn’t afraid of the seed cores after all.

----

Only when she was sure that the dino-bird had gone did Erin stop running. She stopped and covered one of the numerous bloody peck marks on her arms and back and tried not to shout.

“Stupid thing.”

At least it hadn’t been bigger. Erin had managed to smack it a few times until it stopped trying to bite her face off. But that didn’t mean she’d gotten away unscathed.

Erin hissed as she pressed on another bite. She wanted nothing more than to get some cold water on them. Too bad there were more suspicious rocks in the way. Actually, there were about six of them, spaced out across the grasslands. Well, her trick hadn’t worked on the birds but rock-crabs were a different matter.

On her way back Erin pasted two of the rock crabs with the slimy seed cores when they shuffled at her. They didn’t like the noxious liquid that splashed their shells and retreated with loud clicks. Erin wiped off the foul-smelling juice from her hands and walked past the herd triumphantly.

----

It was just past midday when Erin got back to the inn. At least she’d stopped bleeding on her walk back. She made it halfway through the inn’s door, blinked, and threw up.

Erin stopped gagging and retching long enough to stare at the pool of liquefied blue fruit in horror. Then she was sick again. And again.

Somehow, Erin made it to the stream. It was combination of walking fast and pausing every few minutes to throw up that got her there. She didn’t so much as jump into the stream as fall into it and began shivering as whatever was hitting her really went to town.

----

The next hour saw her kneeling at the stream, gargling water, puking it up, and watching out for the crazy fish. Fortunately, they didn’t seem inclined to get near her. Actually, she saw one swim towards her and start nibbling at the contents of her stomach as it washed downstream. That was gross.

Erin washed her mouth and hands off for the tenth time and felt the shaking and nausea stop a bit.

“What—what was that?”

Erin could only mumble as she stared into the water. She moved her head—not so much out of desire for movement as to watch for the dangerous flat fish.

The fish that had been eating her vomit was floating belly-up in the water. Erin saw the other fish were avoiding it just like they were avoiding her.

“…Poison. Gotta be.”

But was it delicious food poisoning where you got to eat twice, or the other kind that kind made you turn green and die?

“Well, whatever. I feel better now so I’ll figure it out later.”

Erin walked back to the inn as the last urges to puke left her. She’d gotten off lucky she supposed. It had only been an hour or so of feeling terrible. If it was actually serious—

Erin had to stop and smile. Serious? Back when she hadn’t been struggling to survive, oh, three days ago, being that sick would have ended up with her in bed for the next week.

“And I’d have a team of doctors feeding me pills by the pound too.”

She laughed softly. Then her smile vanished. Erin covered her face with her palm.

She trembled.

And then she walked on. It was getting dark. She couldn’t stop just now.

She was in too much danger.

----

The key to distracting oneself was motion. Erin moved around the inn and kept busy. She cleaned the vomit off the floor, washed the plates as best she could with some of the water, helped herself to a bit of pasta and brought out more plates and silverware to the common room. Then she stored the eggs and blue fruit away in one of the cupboards, went upstairs and cleaned a few rooms. She was moving, but really she was waiting.

“They said they’d visit. But did they mean that or are they busy? Either way, I can always make more pasta and save some for later, right?”

She had a pot full of hot pasta in the kitchen and she’d served and eaten her own plate of buttery noodles with blue fruit juice before she realized it was dark. Hopefully Erin stared out one of the windows, but the grasslands were empty. The sky was so amazingly vast, the stars so numerous. It was beautiful, frightening. Erin would have loved to stare at it if she were at home, but what she was really hoping to see were two figures. But she didn’t.

“They must be busy.”

Erin sighed to herself. But it wasn’t that early in the night after all. She could wait.

The young woman sat at the table, her stomach full, her clothes torn and dirty, her eyes drooping. But every few minutes her eyes flicked to the stout wooden door. She was waiting.

----

Relc stretched in his chair in the Guard’s barracks. It wasn’t too crowded in the early evening, most guardsmen having checked out already or begun their evening patrols. Those who remained in the building were almost entirely Drakes, aside from a few tall, furry, humanoid [Guardsmen]. And they were all busy with their own tasks.

The Senior Guardsman cast an irritable eye over at the large, hunched insect hovering over a table next to him.

“Are you done logging out for the day yet?”

“Almost.”

Klbkch made a precise notation with a quill on a sheet of parchment.

“There. I have signed us both out. Again.”

“Great. Thanks. Now, wanna go check on that Human? I hear—”

A female Drake shouted at Relc from across the room. She was nowhere as large as Relc, and she wore chainmail and a sword at her hip as she stomped up to him.

“There’s a brawl in the marketplace. Get over there and stop the fighting!”

“What? Some idiot had to start a fight now of all times? We were going to go back and—”

“Shut up and get moving!”

“…Jerk.”

“A pity. Let’s be on our way.”

“What a pain. Let’s smack some scales-for-brains quick. Maybe we’ll still have time to go to the inn afterwards.”

“You know we will be called upon to go after those who got away. And there is damage assessment, guard detail, investigating any burglaries during the violence…”

“Aw.”

“Do not fret. The Human will not be going anywhere.”

“I know, I know. But I was going to eat more pasta and—”

“Relc!”

The angry shout made Relc wince and cover the two holes on the side of his head.

“Alright, let’s go. Man, I really hate the Captain.”

“Don’t insult her while we are within earshot.”

“She can eat my scales. Let’s go and get this over with.”

“After you.”

----

Erin sat at the bar counter in the inn and waited. All was perfect.

Well, all was sorta perfect. It was at least acceptable. She had a basket of the blue fruits, more pasta in a large pot, and she’d even drawn a fresh bucket of water from the stream. She had very nearly spotless plates and silverware and all in all, she was ready for some guests.

If they’d ever arrive.

Eventually her eyes drooped. Her breathing slowed. She fell asleep while dreaming she was still waiting and awake.

----

Thump. Thump.

Erin woke up. She raised her head and looked around groggily. It was dark.

Thump. Thump.

Something was at the door. Erin wiped the drool off of her chin and got up from the table. She must have fallen asleep waiting. But here they were. She stumbled over to the door and shivered. It was cold. Actually, it wasn’t just cold. It was…frosty?

The door’s handle was covered in a thin layer of ice. From behind the door Erin sensed something chilling, and she could feel a cold draft blowing from beneath the crack. Or was that the shivering sensation running down her spine?

Thump.

Erin jumped back from the door. That wasn’t knocking. Something was hitting the door. Hard.

“Hey. Who’s there?”

She wished her voice wasn’t so wobbly.

“A visitor.”

Was it a whisper? No. It was more like an echo. It sounded like a loud voice coming from thousands of miles away and it had an unearthly quality to it. No voice could be so deep, so spine-chilling.

“Um. We’re closed. S-sorry.”

The something on the other side of the door…chuckled. It was probably a chuckle. It was wet and gurgling.

“It matters not. I require sustenance. Food. Prove that to me and I shall be on my way.”

Food? As in the fleshy variety? Erin shuddered.

“I don’t have any. Go away!”

“I will not be denied. Open this door or face my wrath.”

That was enough for Erin. She backed away from the door.

“I’m warning you! Come in and I’ll, I’ll…”

She looked around desperately. It was too dark and she’d forgotten where she’d put the Goblin’s knives. Weapon. She needed a weapon.

“Do not anger me further. If you refuse my simple request I will—”

She didn’t wait to see what the voice would do. She could guess. Instead, Erin ran to the kitchen. She needed a weapon. A knife, a piece of wood, a spatula, anything.

Erin’s hand had found the handle of a pot when the scrape of wood made her breath stop. She’d forgotten. She’d been waiting for Klbkch and his friend. So that meant—

The door was still unlocked.

Something was pushing the door open. Erin sprinted back to the door and threw her weight against it. She knocked whatever it was back, but she couldn’t close the door fully. It was in the way.

“This is unwise. Your insolence will only bring about more punishment.”

The creature hissed at Erin. She could hear it right outside the door. It was pushing, trying to get the door open. But Erin was fueled by pure fear and she somehow managed to keep the door where it was.

“Mistress. All I ask for is a bit of food. Provide me that and I shall be on my way.”

The skeletal creature reached its hand through the doorway. Something dark dripped down out of its bones. It splashed against the wood and vanished.

“I do not wish to become angry.”

Her hand was on the cooking pot. Her heart was dead in her chest.

“No.”

“No?”

The skeletal monstrosity seemed to recoil. It pulled the door further open and something noxious wafted in.

“A pity. But I will have you provide me with sustenance nevertheless.”

Erin seized the door and tried to close it, but the creature hurled it open. She fell back and stared in horror.

A thing with too many bones and pieces of flesh gazed down at her. It gave off a ghastly smell and crimson light flashed from its eyes.

“Give me what I desire. Or I shall—”

Erin screamed and hurled the pot.

1.09

It was instinctual. The black metal pot flew through the air even before the creature finished speaking.

“What the—”

Before the creature was struck by the flying pot it made a very uncharacteristic, very human, very surprised sound. After it was struck by the pot it didn’t make any sounds at all.

The image of the gigantic, skeletal creature wreathed in slime and darkness vanished in an instant. Erin stared as the much more normal figure of an unconscious young man dressed in grey robes appeared on the ground. He was unconscious and already had a big bruise forming on his forehead. She stared at him. She stared at his robes.

“…Huh.”

----

The young man was dreaming. Maybe he was dreaming of something nice. Maybe he was reflecting on his life so far in a life-changing dream of revelations. Either way, the bucket of water woke him up.

“What—who dares—?”

The young man sat up, rubbing his head. Erin stared at him. He didn’t seem very mage-like. Or that impressive, for that matter. He had pale skin, brown, unkempt hair, and he smelled bad. Actually, that smell was probably his clothes which didn’t look like they’d been washed.  Ever.

The mage looked up at Erin and blinked. She stared back.

“So. You’re gonna hurt me if I don’t give you food, huh?”

Erin stood up and cracked her knuckles. It really hurt, but she tried not to let it show. The young man raised one finger and pointed at her. It was only slightly trembling.

“I will have you know I am a mage of great power and I will not be—”

The mage cut off quickly as Erin lifted the cast-iron pot up with one hand.

“This. This is a pan.”

Erin waved the metal pot in front of the young man’s head. She saw him glance at it and then colored when she realized her mistake.

“In fact good Mistress, that is in fact—”

“If I say it’s a pan, it’s a pan. The important part is that I’ll hit you with it if you try anything.”

“Oh really?”

The mage sneered at her. His eyes were on her pot, but they dipped into a belt at his waist.

“Hey, stop that!”

He ignored her and mumbled something. At once, he vanished. A booming echo reverberated throughout the room.

“Behold my p—”

Erin swung her pot in the space where the mage had vanished.

Clong.

“Ow!”

The mage reappeared, clutching at the side of his face. Erin raised her pot again and he raised his hands defensively.

“Try that again and I’ll hit you harder.”

“Now look, there’s no need for violence. I can see that you are no ordinary plebian fool but an extraordinary plebian. Believe me when I say that is a high compliment from a practitioner of the arcane such as I.”

Erin glared.

“I know what plebian means.”

“Ah.”

“One more insult or stupid little invisibility spell and I’ll break something.”

The mage looked surprised.

“You—you could tell it was an invisibility spell?”

Erin rolled her eyes.

“What else could it be?”

The mage blinked at her. Then he muttered to himself in a not-quite whisper.

“How astute. She’s quite intelligent for an innkeeper.”

Erin glared. He coughed and avoided her gaze.

“Ahem. Well, I shall be going.”

He made a show of standing up and brushing down his robes. Quite a lot of dirt and grime fell to the inn’s floor. Erin stared at it and glared at him harder. He swept her a deep bow and gave her a charming smile. Or what he probably thought was one.

“My apologies, good Innkeep for all these misunderstandings. Please accept this recompense for your wasted time.”

He reached into the pocket of his robes and produced a few bronze coins. He made to offer them to Erin, but when she made no move he placed them on the table.

“So. You’re paying me for trying to scare me and steal food?”

The mage gave her a winning smile. It did nothing to wipe away Erin’s scowl.

“Harshly put, Good Mistress. But yes, I would like to make amends. And I am sure this payment is quite acceptable, is it not?”

Erin stared at the four bits of brassy metal. She glanced up at his face. It was quite impassive and betrayed no emotion whatsoever.

“You’re sweating.”

He began dabbing at his forehead with his robe.

“Am I? Terribly sorry. Let me just, ah…”

Three more coins appeared in the palm of his hand with a flick of the wrist. It looked like a sleight-of-hand trick. A pretty bad one, at that.

“Some people don’t like being threatened by a giant skeletal monster from hell.”

“I see?”

The number of coins in his palm didn’t change. Erin stared at him.

“Some people would take violent offence to being scammed.”

He blinked once.

“Traditionally those who practice magic are beings of great power that should not be crossed.”

“Yeah, and they have fragile bones. I’m sure mages are really scary when they’re far away, but wands aren’t good at blocking frying…pots.”

He licked his lips but his face remained calm.

“Fair point. Let me just amend my fee.”

A silver coin appeared in the palm of his hand. Erin narrowed her eyes and said nothing. Another silver coin appeared, and then a third.

She crossed her arms.

Three more silver coins joined the small pile. He was definitely sweating now.

“I uh, hope this is sufficient good Mistress. I am of course willing to pay any dues to—to make amends, but I’m slightly low on coin at the moment.”

Erin kept staring.

Very reluctantly, he reached into the belt at his side. He pulled out a gold coin and held it up.

“Would ah, this do?”

Erin relented a tiny bit. She picked up the coins in his hand without taking the gold coin. She thought she heard him sigh in relief, but his face remained impassive. He was still sweating, though.

“You know, I just wanted to see what would happen if I kept on staring at you.”

“Ah. Of course. Well, as a practitioner of the mystic arts I feel it is always wise to be…generous.”

“It would certainly save time. And you know, if you paid for everything you wouldn’t have to try to scare people to get what you want.”

“Ah, but money is so…mundane. Where would the enjoyment in life be without variety?”

“Uh huh. And you provide that by threatening people with illusions?”

“Only on occasion. And I quite understand your irate feelings. However, since I believe all is settled I shall just…”

He edged away from her and towards the door. Along the way his stomach rumbled and his ears turned red, but he kept walking. Erin sighed and came to a rapid decision.

“Where are you going?”

His shoulders hunched and Erin saw his hand tighten on the door handle.

“Well, if you have no further need of me…I did pay, after all. So I won’t intrude any fu—”

“Come back here and I’ll feed you.”

He turned around and blinked at her. Erin was already going into the kitchen for a plate and cups.

“Here. Blue juice and some blue fruit. I’ve also got pasta in a pot, but I need to warm that up first.”

Erin set the cup and plate down and added three blue fruits on top of it. She expected the mage to dig in immediately or make a snarky comment, but he just turned pale.

“Ah. Am I supposed to eat this?”

“Yeah. It’s food.”

“And I suppose if I don’t, you hit me with that pot, correct?”

He eyes her warily. Erin eyed him back.

“What are you talking about? I’m giving you food. Are you allergic to the color blue, or something?”

Once again, the face of her guest seemed caught between wanting to say something and wanting to bolt. He pointed gingerly to the blue fruit.

“Are you aware that ah, this fruit is poisonous?”

Erin paused, the blue fruit halfway to her lips.

“Poisonous?”

He smiled at her, his face a shade paler than before.

“Highly. The core of the Amentus fruit causes painful death within hours if eaten. While the outer rind is safe for consumption, the inner seeds are toxic. You are aware of this, right?”

“Um. I am now?”

“I see.”

“…Want one?”

He eyed the blue fruit apprehensively.

“Do I have the option to refuse?”

“Look, it’s safe. I’ve eaten tons of them. Just eat around the core and you’ll be fine, okay?”

He made no move towards the plate.

“Shall we just say I accept your word? I wouldn’t dare question your authority on the subject good mistress, it’s just that—”

“Oh come on.”

Erin stomped into the kitchen and grabbed a knife. The mage flinched when she reappeared with it, but she grabbed one of the fruits and began cutting the outer shell of fruit away. She left the seed core on the counter and shoved the diced fruit into a plate. Two more fruits went the same way before she plonked the plate down in front of him.

“Here. Totally non-poisonous food ready to be eaten. Happy?”

She glared at him. He gingerly picked up a slice of blue fruit and regarded it apprehensively.

“I suppose the toxicity would be acceptable if it were just the fruit. Well then.”

Gingerly, he bit into the fruit and chewed. After a few seconds he swallowed and took another bite. In under a minute the plate was empty and he was wiping the blue dribbles off his mouth with a corner of his robe.

Erin set down a plate of steaming pasta in front of him.

“You’re hungry, aren’t you? Well, eat this.”

“My thanks.”

And it even sounded like genuine thanks. Erin guessed he was fairly hungry. Actually, now that she looked closer his robes did seem to hang rather thin on his frame. And if you factored in the dirtiness and general smell he was now giving off, she guessed he was in pretty rough shape.

Still, he ate with all the vigor and energy of two men, so she supposed he was still okay. And once she’d refilled his plate he slowed down. After a while he stopped, probably to let his stomach expand and regarded her.

“So, if I might inquire, what is a delicate flower of effervescence doing in such a locale?”

Erin glared at him.

“Are you trying to sound impressive, or do you actually talk like that?”

He drew himself upright and looked indignant.

“How rude. My advanced lexicon and diction is merely a result of my education, not a façade that—”

“Stop it. You sound like an idiot.”

His eyes narrowed, but Erin’s glare outglared his own.

“Fine. I suppose there’s no use attempting to impress anyone who actually has the rudiments of an education. But my question remains: what’s a young g—woman like you doing out here alone?”

His voice was no less haughty and condescending than before, but at least he wasn’t dropping seven-letter word scores every other sentence. Erin decided that was worth a few more seconds of forbearance. That didn’t mean she had to be polite, though.

“I got lost.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Lost? It takes quite some skill to wander this far into the Flood Plains. Or are you a local? I very much doubt you are, though.”

“Flood Plains? What are you talking about?”

The mage waved a hand around lazily.

“This area is known as the Flood Plains. It’s because of a lovely natural phenomenon of the geography and—but you aren’t from here, if you don’t know about this area. But I would have guessed as much since you are human. As far as I can tell.”

“I am completely, 100% human, thanks. And why does that make a difference?”

“The locals don’t like humans that much.”

He gulped down a few more noodles while watching her.

“That’s something else you didn’t know, isn’t it? Well, well. A traveler who doesn’t know anything about where she is…teleportation spell?”

Erin blinked at him.

“How’d you guess? Actually, you’re only half-right, but how’d you guess?”

He shrugged.

“It’s common. Well, not common exactly, but it’s the only explanation I can think of. I suppose you could have also been carried off by one of the local avian species, but they tend to drop their prey and chew their bones.”

Erin shuddered.

“They grow that big? No; don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. But you’re right. It was a teleportation spell. Or something. It didn’t feel like a spell, but…”

“And you’re an expert on teleportation spells? I see.”

This time the sneer on his tone was a bit too pronounced. Erin’s hand twitched towards the pot.

“I’m not. But I’ll just bet those kind of spells make a flash of light or a weird sound, right?”

He looked reluctant.

“…Perhaps.”

“And anyways, I didn’t see any idiot in robes waving a wand around and shouting ‘abracadabra’. And there aren’t wizards where I—I mean, I’m sure it wasn’t a…I just turned the corner and here I was.”

Erin trailed off, but the mage’s eyes were suddenly filled with interest. He leaned forwards in his chair.

“Really? You just turned a corner and you were in a completely different place?”

“Yeah. It’s been fun and games ever since.”

He sat back.

“Fascinating.”

“Fascinating as in ‘I know what spell that was?’”

He shook his head.

“No, no. I have no clue what kind of magic would be capable of that, if any. That sounds like a spell which—well, suffice it to say I know of only a few living mages who might even attempt such a feat. But if you were the target, it still makes no sense. Why would anyone waste such a powerful spell on something as mundane as…as…”

“Me?”

He avoided her gaze.

“Yes, well. I see you’ve established yourself quite nicely. This is—is quite a lovely establishment you’ve founded. Very quaint.”

“It’s not mine. I just found it and somehow became an [Innkeeper] by cleaning up around here.”

“Indeed. That is quite often the case. However, you seem to have taken to it well. This area is inhospitable to most humans.”

“Thanks, I guess. But if it’s so lousy—and it is, I totally know—why are you here?”

He blinked at her.

“Me?”

“Yes, you. I told you why I’m here. What’s a raggedy mage doing scaring people for food?”

He swept his robes around himself defensively.

“My physical appearance has nothing to do with—”

“Just answer the question.”

He looked uncomfortable.

“I ah, came here to expand my horizons. This nation—well, collection of city states is quite hospitable to those people trying to avoid undue attention. Besides, food is plentiful if one has certain skills.”

“Like pretending to be a horrible monster?”

He avoided her gaze.

“One does what one must to survive.”

She looked at him.

“I suppose one does. Does it make you feel good, stealing from innocent people?”

Her words turned his face bright red. He set down his fork and pushed his empty plate back.

“You would not be so quick to judge if you knew more about the people you’re defending.”

“Maybe not. But then again, the only two I’ve met were quite polite, paid for their meal, and didn’t try to threaten me when I first met them. Whereas the first human I met was you.”

Again, Erin and her guest locked eyes. This time he broke away first. He got to his feet with a swirl of his robes.

“I see I’ve overstayed my welcome. Well, your meal was quite adequate, good mistress. Please accept my heartfelt gratitude.”

He probably meant to stalk away but Erin barred his path.

“Here.”

She offered him two blue fruits. He hesitated.

“Take them. You look thin, and maybe if you eat them you’ll stop bothering other people. Thank you for your business. Come by again and I’ll feed you. Try to scare me and I’ll hit you harder next time.”

He blinked at her, but accepted the fruits anyways.

“Um. Thank you.”

They stood there awkwardly for a moment.

“It occurs to me that I never asked your name.”

“Me? Oh, I’m Erin. Erin Solstice. And you are?”

The mage took a step back and gave her an elegant bow. Erin stared at the blue stain on the sleeve of his robe.

“Pisces, practitioner of magic, student of Wistram Academy, specialized in the Elementalist and Illusionary schools of magic with additional competencies in multiple spell schools.”

Erin raised an eyebrow.

“Good for you. Got a hobby?”

He hesitated.

“…Necromancy.”

The door closed as Erin stared.

1.10

At some point Erin slept. At some point Erin woke up. These were minor details. What mattered was the sound.

Knock. Knock.

She tried hard to ignore it. But it kept going and going, waking her up from her peaceful oblivion.

After a while, the knocking was too hard to ignore. Erin opened her eyes and sat up. It was far too bright in the world. And noisy.

Someone was knocking at the door. Erin thought about going back to sleep, but the knocking hadn’t ceased for the last few minutes. So she reluctantly got up and opened the door.

“What do you want?”

Pisces the friendly mage gave her a brilliant smile.

“Greetings Good Mistress. I was wondering if I could impose upon you—”

Erin shut the door. After a few seconds she opened it.

“Less words. Get to the point.”

“Um. Very well. Are you open today?”

Erin looked around.

“Who?”

“You. This establishment.”

“Here?”

Pisces blinked a few times. He spoke very carefully.

“Is this place open? Do you provide sustenan—food? I pay, I eat?”

Erin glared at him.

“It’s early. Yes, I guess I am open. Come in.”

She stomped inside. After a moment Pisces followed.

“I would like to peruse your menu if I m—”

Erin tossed a plate on the table and left. She came back with four blue fruits and tossed them on the table too. Pisces stared at the fruit and opened his mouth. He looked at Erin’s expression and amended whatever he was going to say.

“If I might trouble you for a knife and fork—”

She slapped them down on the table and walked away. She would have liked to go back to sleep, but the sounds of Pisces shifting and the clink of silverware on pottery was too distracting. Instead, she got her own blue fruit and started a fire to warm up her pasta. She munched on the sweet fruit in dour silence.

Outside, it began to rain.

----

Rain. Rain fell down from the heavens like hail. Well, actually it fell like rain, but these were bigger drops that fell a lot faster and harder than normal. The hammering of rain against the rooftop was nearly deafening.

Nearly. Behind her Pisces set down his knife and fork and sighed loudly. Erin wished he wasn’t here. It wasn’t that she disliked company; she was starved for it. She just wished her company wasn’t him.

“That’s a lot of rain.”

She was talking to herself, but he seemed to take it as an invitation to speak.

“It happens quite often. A natural weather phenomenon, you know.”

Erin turned and glared at Pisces. He raised both eyebrows and held up his cup.

“Another drink if you would. My cup has run dry.”

“Where did you find—stay out of my kitchen.”

“I would be only too happy to. But I fear I was quite parched and if you would be so good…?”

Erin’s eye twitched. But she went and got a cup for herself as well. She didn’t pour his drink, but rather set the pitcher of juice on the other end of the table so he had to reach for it.

“Does it rain like this a lot?”

“Seldom. It’s a seasonal weather pattern. Actually, this is an aberration. Normally it rains for far longer, but someone’s been messing around with the weather. So we’ll have a brief storm, that’s all.”

She glanced at him.

“Messing with the weather? How?”

He smirked at her. She noted with displeasure that he was already on his second cup of blue juice.

“With magic, how else? Some shortsighted fool must have cast a localized weather control spell. Impressive I suppose, but clumsy in execution.”

Erin looked outside.

“Seems impressive to me. I mean, it’s raining hard. Wouldn’t you have to be a pretty powerful sorcerer to do that?”

“The term is mage, Good Mistress.”

“The name is Erin, idiot.”

“Aha. Accept my apologies. But if you are referring to one of my exalted brethren, mage is the best term to use.”

Erin stared at him. He didn’t appear abashed in any way.

“You don’t have wizards or sorcerers or…warlocks? Witches? You’re all just mages?”

“Rather, shall we say that those are titles for mages who meet certain requirements? A wizard is an arcane researcher and true student of the arcane arts. Such individuals are similar to myself, but prefer to study the mainstream branches of magic. Sorcerers on the other hand are quite simplistic and refer to those who educate themselves and have little formal education. Warlocks obtain their powers from other sources such as summoning, while witches practice alchemy along with specialized schools of magic. Thus, mage remains the generally accepted title to refer to all those who practice magic…”

He trailed off. Erin was staring at him.

“Okay. I didn’t need to know all that.”

Pisces shrugged.

“You asked. I was merely fulfilling my role as a guest.”

“Good. For you. So what, a—mage did this?”

“Yes. And it’s not as if this is a particularly difficult task. I realize it may look so to the uninitiated, but a spell like this could easily be cast by a level 30 mage. Less I suppose, if the individual were specialized.”

“So…?”

“As I said, not that impressive. Many mages could cast a spell like this.”

“Can you?”

Pisces paused.

“My specialization lies in other areas.”

“Like dead bodies.”

He avoided her gaze and drained his cup.

“Merely another branch of magic, good mistress Erin.”

Erin stared at him. She opened her mouth, but then the door slammed. Both Erin and Pisces turned as a wet, dark figure sauntered into the inn and threw his arms wide.

“Good morning cold folk, warm-blooded Human and—oh.”

Relc paused and stared at Pisces. Klbkch closed the door and bowed slightly at Erin.

“Please pardon our intrusion. Is this establishment open for business?”

“What? Oh. Yeah.”

Erin scrambled for words. Relc was still staring at Pisces who studiously ignored him as he refilled his cup.

“It’s been a while. I guess. But come in. Or come in more. Have a seat. Want something to eat?”

“If you would be so kind.”

Klbkch wiped his feet and stepped over to a table. Relc was still staring.

“You multiplied. Can Humans do that?”

“What? Oh no, that’s just Pisces. He’s annoying so ignore him.”

Erin waved Relc over to a seat as she went to the kitchen for plates.

Relc kept staring until Klbkch kicked him and motioned him to a seat.

“I believe staring is considered rude in most cultures. Sit down and cease your rudeness.”

Relc glared and sat. Klbkch turned and nodded to Pisces.

“Please excuse my companion’s rudeness.”

Pisces waved his fork airily.

“I paid no attention. The plebian masses are a burden to be endured; I bear no ill will to the misinformed or ignorant for their rudeness.”

Klbkch and Relc exchanged a glance.

“Indeed. It’s been nice to make your acquaintance.”

“Humans. They’re so—”

“Do you guys want pasta or blue fruit?”

Erin reemerged from the kitchen, trying to hold a pot of hot noodles and several plates with only two hands.

“Ah. Eh. Um, what I meant was—”

“I would be delighted to try the blue fruit. I believe my tongue-tied partner would like some as well.”

“Right. Food. I’ll have some.”

“And me. A second plate and a refill of my drink, if you would.”

Pisces waved his fork. Erin glared again.

“You want pasta? It’s in the kitchen. Get it yourself.”

Turning her back on him, Erin smiled at Relc and Klbkch.

“So um, hi again. It’s been a while. Klbkch and…?”

Klbkch nodded while Relc looked expectant.

“Um. Uh…”

“Relc.”

Klbkch murmured softly.

“Relc! Right, right.”

“What? How come you remembered this idiot’s name and not mine?”

Relc looked aggrieved. Erin blushed.

“Um, sorry.”

“Aren’t I the better looking one here? What gives?”

“Sorry. It’s just—uh, you know. I’ve got a bad memory.”

“Really?”

“…No. Sorry. It’s just been a busy two days.”

“Oh.”

He looked deflated. Erin tried to cheer him up.

“I’ve got more pasta. Well, it’s old pasta but it still tastes good! And more blue juice. And blue fruit! It’s uh, not poisonous if you only eat the outer bit.”

“Ooh, pasta!”

Relc perked up instantly. Erin went to fetch the pasta and placed two steaming plates in front of the two.

“My thanks.”

Klbkch nodded at Erin and both began eating. Around mouthfuls, Relc eyed Erin and then Pisces.

“So, how’re you doing? Level up again?”

“Actually, I did. Right after you two left.”

“Ooh, congratulations! Did you get a new skill?”

“[Basic Crafting]. It helped me make a basket out of grass.”

“That’s quite useful! Most craftsman and artisan classes get that early on. I guess innkeepers are sorta like that, right? Got to take care of the inn, repair windows, fix tables, and all that.”

“I guess. I haven’t ever tried that and besides, I don’t have a hammer. Actually, I’ve never swung a hammer in my life.”

“Well, you’ve got the skill for it, so it’ll be a breeze. And you can buy a hammer no problem. Just head down to the city and you can get a good one for only a silver coin or two. Tell you what, if you’re ever in the area I’ll help you get one at a discount.”

“Really? That’s really generous. Thank you.”

Erin smiled hesitatingly at Relc who grinned back at her as he slurped down a noodle. Klbkch set down his fork and nodded at his companion.

“Not entirely. I do believe my companion would earn a small fee for directing any business to his associates.”

Relc glared at Klbkch.

“Shut up. Do you have to ruin everything I say?”

“I am merely pointing out the truth.”

“Well…stop it.”

Erin had to smile as the two began bickering. However, she was the only one amused. Across the inn Pisces drained his mug and plonked it down on the table.

“If we’re done with the lovely chatting, my glass is empty. Isn’t attending to one’s customers part of my service?”

Erin glared. Relc glared too. Klbkch—well, she still couldn’t read the ant man’s expression, but he definitely gave off a silent air of disapproval.

“Nice customer you’ve got here.”

“Yeah. Hey—shut up!”

Pisces raised his brows.

“How discourteous. I believe I shall bring my business elsewhere next time.”

“I don’t want it anyways. Besides, you tried to rob me last time. You’re here on sufferance, and because I feel bad for you.”

He sighed and rolled his eyes heavenward. Erin sniffed and debated whether she should refill his glass anyways, but felt a sharp poke at her side. She screamed and jumped.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t—don’t do that!”

Erin rubbed at where Relc’s claw had poked her.

“Sorry. Again. But…you said rob? As in, that guy over there tried to rob you?”

Relc’s voice was a low hissing whisper as he glanced over as Pisces. He needn’t have bothered, though. Pisces was still engrossed in his cup. Erin grinned maliciously and whispered back.

“Yeah. Last night I was visited by a scary monster. But when I hit it with a pa—pot, it turned out just to be him.  So I got him to pay up for scaring me and the food.”

“Extorted.”

“Shut up! You’re lucky I didn’t just toss you in the stream and let the fish eat you!”

“And…you let him come back for breakfast?”

“Well, it’s not like he’s dangerous. Just annoying.”

“And you didn’t think to report him to anyone?”

“Like who?”

Erin stared blankly at Relc. He stared at her. Klbkch finished his plate of noodles and set down his fork. Then he stared at Erin too.

“Oh. Oh. I forgot. And besides, you weren’t here yesterday.”

Klbkch nodded.

“Very true. Our absence was most lamentable. But allow us to perform our duty now. Incidentally Mistress Solstice, the pasta was delicious.”

“Yeah, it’s great! Hold on.”

Relc grabbed the fork and started shoveling the pasta in his mouth. He was able to cram nearly half the plate down his throat in one huge gulp, and munched down the rest in seconds. Erin stared with fascinated horror and a tiny bit of envy as he gobbled.

That done, Relc exchanged a glance with Klbkch. Then he turned to Pisces.

“Hey you!”

Pisces looked up with a scowl. He glared at Relc and made an irritable harrumph.

“Do you want something? I don’t do magic upon request. If you seek a certain spell, I would be happy to discuss my remunerations…later.”

“Really?”

Relc grinned in his seat.

“How about you do the magic spell where you turn into a monster? I’d love to see that. Or better yet, do you have a spell to get out of trouble? Because you’re going to need one now.”

Pisces’s face went blank. His eyes flicked to Erin, and then back to Relc and Klbkch.

“Ah. I see the good innkeeper holds a grudge. Well, I’m not sure what she told you two, but I assure you, I have compensated her more than adequately for my…mistake. It’s nothing two soldiers need concern themselves with.”

“Oh, but it is, it is! And you’re wrong, by the way.”

“About what?”

Relc exchanged a glance with Klbkch. He grinned. Or rather, his mouth opened and she showed Pisces his teeth.

“We’re no soldiers. We’re guardsmen.”

“Ah.”

For a second Pisces was very still. Then with a surprising burst of speed he leapt out of his chair and ran for the door.

Relc’s arm moved. Erin was only aware of a blur of movement and then his arm shot forward. She screamed and his spear blew past her ear, but the spear didn’t strike Pisces. It flew between his legs as he tried to run and tripped him up. He sprawled to the ground as Relc pushed his chair back. Klbkch was already on his feet.

“Do not move. You are under arrest for intimidation and attempted theft. Remain still. Any sudden moves will result in bodily harm.”

With one arm Klbkch dragged Pisces up. The mage didn’t struggle as Klbkch deposited him back in his chair. Relc smiled at Erin.

“Good throw, huh?”

She tried to answer and croaked.

“Y-yeah.”

Relc’s eyes widened slightly.

“Oops. Sorry, did I scare you? I forgot normal people aren’t used to that. Don’t worry—I never miss when I throw.”

“I’m sure. I’m sure. And I’m not scared. Just—surprised.”

“Good, good.”

Relc patted Erin gently on the back. She nearly fell out of her chair but caught herself on the table. He didn’t notice. Relc sauntered over to Pisces and grinned down at him.

“Gotcha. Try to run from me, did you? No one ever gets away.”

He looked over at his companion.

“Klbkch, got anything to tie him up with?”

Klbkch shook his head.

“I am without manacles or spell-bind rope. We shall have to be attentive with its lack. Unless Mistress Solstice has anything to bind him with?”

Klbkch looked at Erin.

“Uh, no. No, sorry.”

“A pity. But we shall do without.”

“Indeed you will. This is an affront!”

Pisces tried to push Klbkch away. His face was pale and sweaty, but he still maintained his haughty tone, if slightly strained.

“I am completely innocent – utterly so. These baseless accusations are false and—”

“You are lying.”

Klbkch said it flatly, and without a hint of doubt.

“[Detect Guilt] is a basic skill all guardsmen learn at level 15. I can sense your guilt, which is enough for me to justify this arrest.”

“Plus, we already know all about you and your crime.”

Relc folded his arms and grinned even wider. His teeth were yellow, and very, very sharp.

“We’ve been looking for you, Mister Mage. Or should I say, the scary creature that threatens travelers and people living by themselves? You’ve been stealing food and money for nearly a month. There’s even a bounty on your head, which I’d love to collect.”

Erin stared at Pisces who’d turned a paler shade of white. But Relc wasn’t done.

“Okay. Here’s what I’m thinking. Me and my friend here will drag you out back, beat you with sticks or rocks for a while, and then drag you back to the city for a reward. Then we’ll give half to our lovely innkeeper here. Sound good?”

“Actually, I would prefer—”

“Too bad!”

Relc cracked his knuckles. Erin, who had been staring in fascination, raised a hand.

“Um. Isn’t that wrong?”

“Wrong? Why would it be wrong?”

Erin searched for words as Relc stared at her blankly.

“Aren’t there rules? Like, rules against police—guardsmen hurting people once they’re caught? Like…like no beating someone once they’re on the ground?”

Relc stared at her. He turned to Klbkch.

“Do we have rules like that?”

“I believe it is a Human standard.”

“Oh, good. I got worried there for a second.”

“Yes, we wouldn’t want to ruin the enjoyment of mindless thugs like yourself.

Pisces sneered at Relc. He seemed incapable of keeping his mouth shut even when it was for his own good. Relc made a fist and he flinched.

“Hold on, hold on.”

Erin grabbed Relc’s arm. It was instinctive, but once she touched his scales she nearly jumped away. His skin, or rather, scales, were surprisingly cool and easy to grip. But it felt so alien to Erin that she was quite unnerved. It made everything seem frighteningly real.

Relc glanced at Erin and peeled her off gently. He was so strong that he broke her grip effortlessly with just two of his fingers.

“Don’t worry, miss. We’ll do the punching outside where you don’t have to see.”

“Or—or you could not. Isn’t that what nice guardsmen do? You could just arrest him and skip the punching, right?”

“Yeah, but he called me a common thug. I want to punch him for that.”

“Well—he’s a jerk. But I mean, you’re a guardsman. Insults like that are ten a penny.”

“Ten a what?”

“I believe she is saying insults to our position are quite common.”

Klbkch explained. He looked at Erin who shrugged awkwardly and gave him a sheepish smile.

“What?”

Relc looked slightly hurt. He looked at Erin with his eyes narrowed slightly. But rather than look angry, that somehow made his face look sad.

“People like us. Everyone likes us. We’ve got a special job.”

“But one you sign up for, right? I mean, sure it’s a great job, but—it’s just a job, right?”

Erin faltered. Relc was staring at her in disbelief.

“It’s not just a job. It’s a highly prestigious job! Not just anyone can be part of the city guard, let alone a Senior Guard.”

Erin blinked.

“Really? I thought you just…signed up.”

Relc scoffed. He turned to Klbkch.

“Signed up? Can you believe this? Humans.”

Klbkch was unimpressed. He carefully munched piece after piece of blue fruit.

“Perhaps if you explained our function more properly there would be no need for outrage. Clearly, the nature of guardspeople differs culturally.”

“Right, well. It’s still not—okay.”

Erin crossed her arms. Pisces sneered and took another swallow of juice. He began mumbling to himself, but Erin, Relc, and Klbkch ignored him.

Relc sighed. He scratched the spines at the top of his head.

“Look, I’m not sure what Humans do, but in our city, the city watch isn’t like mercenaries or personal bodyguards. We don’t just sign up. We have to be voted in.”

“Really?”

“Really. See, we’ve gotta get at least fifty ordinary citizens to vouch for us before we’re sworn in. And to become Senior Guardsmen like us, you’ve got to get at least four hundred. Impressive, right?”

Relc grinned and pulled something out of the belt at his waist. He showed Erin a crimson badge edged with gold and striped twice with purple. It was shiny.

“Nice. So that’s your official badge?”

“Yeah. We’ve got to keep it on us at all times. Some guys wear it on their chests but it can get ripped off. Besides…”

He tapped his bare chest.

“Doesn’t stick so well on scales. Anyways, we’ve gotta pay a fine if we lose it so why risk it, right? I only need it when I want to prove who I am or pull rank, anyways.”

“Fascinating. But it’s still the elevated status of a common enforcer when all is said and done, isn’t it?”

Pisces sneered at Relc. He seemed full of confidence all of a sudden.

Relc glared.

“You’re still under arrest. I can hit you. It’s only because I’m being considerate of Miss Solstice here that I don’t. But I will. If you don’t shut up.”

Eyebrows raised, Pisces drew a finger across his lips.

“Pardon me. I would not dare to interrupt such august personages such as yourself. Please, proceed.”

Erin sighed and Klbkch made a sound that sounded quite similar. Relc on the other hand just scratched his head.

“Right. Good. Anyways, we’re the ones with weapons and you’re just a mage. Not a high-level one either, or you’d be teleporting away.”

Klbkch nodded.

“Or destroyed us in a number of ways. The lack of lightning falling from the sky or fireballs confirms this.”

Erin edged behind a table.

“You sure about that? Really sure, I mean?”

Relc grinned at her. It was grin with entirely too many teeth.

“Don’t worry, Miss. He’s no threat or we’d have taken him out when we first realized who he was. Both of us can tell if we’re in danger or the enemy is strong.”

“Really? How?”

Pisces sneered around his cup.

“A keen observer would observe his opponent’s weaknesses and strengths and make assumptions based on their actions and ability. These two on the other hand are just using a skill.”

Relc eyed him. So did Klbkch, but it was more subtle.

“Well, he’s right. We do have skills, both of us. They’re part of our classes, although in my case I’ve got [Dangersense] and Klbkch learned [Appraise Foe]. My scales aren’t itching, so your Human friend here isn’t that good at magic.”

“He’s not my friend.”

“But he’s Human.”

“That’s—”

Erin struggled for words. Meanwhile Pisces’s sneer deepened and he curled his lip, oblivious to the danger.

“Spoken like a truly ignorant fool. What would you know of magical mastery? My powers may not lie in mere confrontation, but I assure you, I have more power in my fingernails than you have in your entire, brutish, body.”

Relc surged to his feet.

“Okay, that’s it. Close your eyes Miss—”

For one moment Erin wasn’t sure if she wanted to get between Relc and Pisces or duck out of the way. Klbkch made the decision for her. He grabbed Relc and pulled him back. Not easily; but there was more strength in those wiry ant arms that Erin would have guessed.

“Relax. I would prefer not to damage this establishment. Nor would the owner, or even you, I suspect.”

Relc hesitated. He looked at Erin, who decided to add her support of denial.

“Yeah, let’s calm down before someone gets hurt. Like me.”

Erin grabbed the jug of blue juice and began filling cups. Relc accepted a glass, drained it, and then sipped at the refill.

Erin went to fill his glass but Pisces shielded it with one hand.

“No—no need, good Mistress Solstice. I am quite satisfied at the moment.”

Relc was still glaring daggers at Pisces.

“Peh. You should drink. It’ll be the last tasty thing you eat in a long time. Actually, what am I saying? This stuff’s way too good for you. Just remember what you’re missing when we lock you away.”

“If you can.”

Erin eyed Pisces. He was still sneering, and she wasn’t sure why. If she was any guess Relc was two seconds away from turning his face into raw beef.

Relc scowled. He closed his hand and Erin watched his entire arm ripple. She’d seen ripped guys before of course which wasn’t that impressive, but this—

“Last I checked, you were within arm’s reach. That means your fancy spells aren’t going to do a thing before I hit you hard enough to make your brains pop out. Trust me. I’ve done it before.”

Again, Pisces didn’t seem affected by Relc’s threat.

“I am a powerful mage far beyond your capabilities. Even if your paltry skills cannot detect my capabilities, you would do well to be wary of my hidden capabilities.”

Klbkch moved his head slightly. His expression didn’t change, but then, there wasn’t much to change.

“Such as?”

Pisces drew himself up in his chair slightly.

“I have studied countless schools of magic. You see before you a practitioner of the elements, a weaver of illusions, a refined chanter, a master of alchemy, pyromancy, aeromancy, geomancy—”

“And necromancy.”

Erin helpfully chimed in. Pisces choked on his next words. He glared at her. She shrugged.

“What? You told me yesterday. Oh, and were you the one who stole the skeleton upstairs? I just realized that was probably you.”

Pisces lost his sneer and now looked uneasy. Relc on the other hand grinned again.

“Well, well. Theft of a corpse and reanimation, no doubt.  That’s another big mark on the list of charges. But necromancy, well, that also means we don’t have to bring you back alive anymore.”

Erin opened her mouth and Relc waved a hand.

“Yes, yes. But we’ll just hit you and drag you back so Miss Erin doesn’t see anything nasty. But you’re in serious trouble now, Mister Necromancer.”

“Oh, really?”

Pisces sat back in his chair. He was still pale, but he looked far more confident than he had any right to be.

“Regardless if you know my identity or not, I still believe you will find capturing me no easy task.”

Relc blinked. He scratched the spines on his head and then shook his head gently.

“Humans. You’re so arrogant and crazy. It’s almost funny. If you’re so full of powerful magic, dodge this.”

He swung his spear forward, the butt of the spear first. But where the spear should have cracked Pisces over the head, Relc’s swing met nothing but air. Pisces was suddenly gone.

“What the—”

Relc blinked. Erin gaped. Klbkch instantly swung his swords in an arc, slashing the air around the chair. But he touched nothing.

“Gone.”

Relc swiped the air where Pisces had been with his spear and growled deep in his throat. Erin stared.

“He’s not invisible? He did that once.”

Relc shook his head angrily. “No. I’d be able to sense if he were in a few feet of me. No, this was an illusion spell. A damn clever one, too. He pretended he was here and walked off while we were busy chatting.”

Klbkch looked to the door.

“I am unsure of when he left. He may have escaped only a few minutes ago. We may still catch him if we hurry.”

“Right, right.”

Relc cursed and swung his spear angrily. It made a terrific whooshing sound as it cut the air. Erin held her breath, afraid he’d let go and accidently cut her.

Klbkch turned and bowed his head to her.

“Thank you for informing us of his class, Mistress Erin. Although he posed no threat to either Relc nor I, he is far more dangerous than we had believed.”

“Really? I thought—he didn’t seem dangerous. I mean, I hit him with a pot and that knocked him out.”

“Oh, he’s probably as dangerous as a frog in a fight. That’s not the problem.”

Relc shook his head.

“We thought he was just an illusionist. That’s annoying, but really all he can do is scare folks into giving him things. But a necromancer’s worse. Far worse. We could let him go if he was just a normal mage, but we’ve got to find him now and he knows it.”

“Why?”

Relc muttered to himself. He was still looking around and his tongue was flicking out of his mouth, as if tasting the air. It was the first time he’d really reminded Erin of a lizard from her world.

“A rogue necromancer on the loose does nasty things. Even a low-level one can bring down villages if you give him enough dead bodies, and they level fast when that happens. We’re gonna have to hunt this guy down. If we can’t catch him today, I’ll have the Captain send out multiple patrols once we get back to the city.”

Erin nodded. Then she hesitated.

“So. Does…that mean you’ll be back soon?”

Relc nodded.

“Less than an hour, but we won’t be able to stay. Sorry. I’ll try to get the patrol out faster, but you know how it is. We’ve got to shift around guardsmen on patrol, set trackers, get armed up, etc.”

“Oh. Okay. But uh, does that mean—how long does it take to get back?”

“We should be able to cover the distance in approximately ten minutes if we run.”

Relc nodded in agreement.

“So we’ve gotta go. Why? Are you worried he’ll attack you?”

“No, not that. It’s just—the city.”

“The city? What about it?”

“Um, where is it?”

Relc and Klbkch stared at her silently and then exchanged a glance.

“…You mean, you don’t know?”

“No. Should I? It’s not like there’s a sign or anything around here.”

Relc looked amused.

“Don’t be snippy. But it’s easy to spot. Look, you can even see it out the window here.”

He walked over to a window and pointed. Erin squinted out it.

“…Is it that black spot there?”

“Well, yeah. Isn’t it obvious?”

“No, it’s really not. It could be a rock.”

“It’s not a rock. Why are you having a hard time believing me? Can’t you see the buildings?”

“No, I can’t.”

“I do not believe she can, in point of fact.”

Relc and Erin turned to look at Klbkch. He studied her and then brought his face close to hers. Erin flinched as his face came close to hers.

“Do not be alarmed. I mean you no harm.”

“Sorry—sorry. It’s just the pinchers. And the eyes. It’s just—sorry.”

Relc laughed.

“Don’t mind Klbkch. He’s ugly even for an ant. But you really can’t see the city from here?”

Klbkch nodded. He seemed focused on Erin’s own eyes.

“I believe Humans have more limited eyesight than you or I.”

“What? That’s stupid.”

Relc huffed to himself. He pointed out the window at the black dot.

“Look, the city’s that way. It’s only a twenty minute walk and there aren’t many monsters along the way. Besides, once you get within a few miles the area is regularly patrolled so you won’t have any problems. And if those idiots at the gate stop you – which they won’t – just tell them you know me.”

Klbkch nodded.

“Or me. However, you should encounter no problems. Only those with past records of crime are unwelcome in Liscor.”

“And speaking of which…we’ve gotta go. It’s my day off, but we’ll report that annoying human maggot-mage back at the barracks. If we move fast, we might get him before he runs too far.”

Relc was on his feet. He moved so quickly that Erin was left gaping. One second he was sitting down, the next he was at the door.

“Hey Klbkch, coming?”

And then Klbkch was there too. If Erin hadn’t seen the black blur that swept past her and felt the rush of air, she would have sworn he’d teleported.

“Indeed. It is unfortunate we must leave so soon. Our apologies, Mistress Solstice.”

“No—no problem.”

“Well then.”

Klbkch nodded to her. Relc waved and was out the door in a flash. Erin was left sitting with a table full of dirty plates and a state of mild shock.

She had just picked up the first plate when the door slammed back open. She jumped, but Relc waved at her.

“Oh, sorry we forgot to pay. We’re in a hurry so—put it on our tab!”

The door closed. Erin stared at it hopefully, but it didn’t open again.

“…What tab?”

1.11

Erin stood in front of the cupboard and sighed. Loudly.

“Men.”

Erin paused and thought about that word.

“Males. They eat and eat, and eat. And then I have to clean up the dishes. Typical.”

True, she was an innkeeper. Or at least, she kept an inn relatively clean. But that didn’t make her feel better.

“Pantry? Pantry is empty. Food? Food is gone. And money—”

Erin glanced at the pile of coins on the kitchen counter.

“Money is shiny. But uh, inedible. And it’s good to have money, but starvation is an issue.”

Erin stared at the empty pantry. Starvation was a major issue.

“Aren’t there some more blue fruits around here? Here? No…here? Yep. Nice and wrinkled. Lovely.”

She could always get more blue fruits, of course. But there was a limit on how many those trees had left. And there was also a limit to how many Erin was willing to keep hauling back.

“And I’m out of ingredients.”

The flour was gone. The butter was gone. The salt—okay, there was some salt left, and some sugar too. But they were running low in their bags and with the lovely preservation-spell-thing gone they’d probably turn rotten sometime soon.

“So I’m in trouble.”

“So it would appear.”

Erin was sure her heart stopped for a good few seconds. She turned around and looked at Pisces.

“If I had a knife in my hand, I’d stab you.”

He smirked at her. It seemed to be his default mode of face.

“Ah, but what good innkeeper would deprive herself of such a magnificent guest?”

Erin reached for a knife.

“Please, please good mistress, let’s not be hasty!”

Pisces raised his hands quickly and took a few steps back. Erin glared at him. He looked dusty. And dirty. And sweaty.

“Where did you come from? I didn’t hear you come in through the door.”

“I was, in fact, upstairs the entire time. It was the simplest solution given the intelligence of those two brutish guardsmen.”

Erin blinked.

“Good job, I guess. But they’re still going to find you. You’re a criminal and you’ve got nowhere to hide.”

“Except here.”

He raised a hand before Erin could say anything.

“Please, hear me out. Rest assured, I bear you no ill will for reporting my actions to the guard. I fully appreciate the severity of my crimes, however—”

“You want something. What? To stay here? No. Nope. No way in hell.”

“I assure you I would be a quite convivial guest. And I wouldn’t ask for much. In fact, you may be interested to know I am proficient in multiple schools of spellcasting. While Necromancy is a—passion of mine, I have extensively studied the elementalist, alchemical and enchanting schools of magic. My level is over twenty in the general [Mage] class. Even amongst my fellow students, you would be hard-pressed to find a spellcaster as widely capable as I am. I can aid in a number of functions that would improve your inn. And I have money.”

Erin raised two eyebrows. One just wasn’t enough.

“And you’re telling me all this…why?”

He licked his lips.

“In point of fact, I was wondering if I might persuade you to shelter and provide me with my basic necessities while in this moment of dire need. I can provide you with adequate recompense I assure you—”

Erin snorted rudely.

“Right, for how long? Days? Weeks? Months? And I get to feed you, make sure no one finds you, and clean up after you? Again: no.”

“Would you turn away an innocent—”

“Innocent? You? You’re nothing more than a thug with a magic wand. Remember how we met? You tried to scare me into giving you food. And now you want protection because you’re getting your just desserts? No. No, when I see Relc again you’d better be long gone from here. And if you don’t leave now, I’ll kick you out myself.”

Erin finished her tirade and folded her arms under her breasts. But while Pisces had turned white as a sheet, he didn’t look ashamed or afraid so much as…

Angry.

He whispered a spell. Erin felt the air grow colder around her, and suddenly saw shadows twisting around Pisces’s hands. The darkness was gathering around him like a cloak. It was the same spell as before, or close enough.

Pisces took a step towards her.

“I am a man in desperate straits. You would do well not to underestimate what I am capable of.”

Erin’s heart was racing. She took two steps back and he followed.

“Antagonizing one of my power is unwise. If you have any sense, you will accede to my request. Or know the consequences.”

Her mouth was dry, but she knew it was just an illusion. So Erin forced herself to reply with more bravado than she felt.

“So, what? If I don’t decide to help you, will you hurt me? Bash my brains in? Or will you just rip my clothes off and try to rape me?”

He looked shocked.

“Of course I wouldn’t do that. I’m no barbarian—”

“Good.”

Erin’s hand moved in a flash. Pisces looked down and gulped. A knife was poking into his stomach.

Her heart was racing. She could taste bile in her mouth. But her hand was very, very still. She wasn’t sure of much in her life right now. Magic and monsters, made her head spin. Yet some things were the same. And she had no intention of being the victim here, especially where no one could hear her scream.

Her knife had a gratifying effect on her mage guest. He licked his lips and raised his hands, turning a shale paler than normal.

“Now, now. Let’s not be hasty good mistress. I was merely saying—”

“Move and I will stab you.”

It was no threat. It was a promise. And to his credit, Pisces was intelligent enough to take it seriously.

“—Allow me to apologize. But if I might say a few words—”

“No. Out.”

Erin advanced. Pisces had to step backwards or be knifed in slow motion. She forced him back into the common room and towards the door.

“Please, please reconsider.”

“No. Why should I?”

Pisces stopped at the door. Erin jabbed at him with the knife, but he refused to move back any further. He raised his hands higher and spoke with increasing speed and desperation.

“If I am caught, they will take me to the city. And there I will be judged and killed. This is a certainty, Mistress Erin.”

Erin eyed him uncertainty.

“Relc never said—”

“He didn’t want to tell you the truth! But he and I both know what happens to necromancers. We—any mage possessing even a single level in the class—are all killed on sight in this part of the world! There’s no mercy for my kind here.”

“Well—well too bad.”

Erin’s mouth was on autopilot. Pisces tried to step around her back into the inn, but she blocked him.

“Even if you’re in danger, I’m in danger if I hide you. I’m not doing that. Run away. Just run away now.”

“They will have patrols out around the city. They will scour the grasslands for me. Please, if you were to hide me I would be sure to survive.”

“No. Go.”

Erin pointed towards the door with one hand. He wavered, but made one last entreaty.

“Please, I beg of you. Just one night. Just give me sanctuary and I swear I will be gone upon the morrow. It is my death without your aid. Would you kill me? I ask you as a fellow human. Please.”

“I—”

The knife in her hands wavered. Pisces seized the moment. He stepped forwards, hands outstretched, beseechingly.

“Please, spare my life. If you have any pity in your soul—”

Thudthudthudthudhtud.

Both humans turned and looked at the door.

“Gotcha!”

It was quick. One second Erin was pointing her finger out the door and glaring at Pisces. The next, something blew past her and he was gone. Two figures crashed into a table and chairs. Erin’s mouth dropped open.

“There you are!”

The larger shape uttered a triumphant laugh as he swung Pisces around and slammed him into the floorboards. It was Relc.

“Miss Solstice.”

Klbkch appeared at her side. Erin jumped but the ant man placed a steadying…hand on her shoulder.

“Please forgive my rudeness. But are you well? We doubled back as soon as we realized the mage had not fled the inn after all. Are you hurt or in need of assistance?”

“What?”

Erin stared at him.

“Are you—what’s—I’m good. Good.”

“That is well. Then, please stand clear. We will be going about our business and I would not wish you hurt.”

That said, Klbkch gently guided Erin to one side. The fight between Relc and Pisces was knocking over tables and chairs as the Drake attempted to smash the Human into anything he could while the human tried to avoid that fate.

Relc roared from the ground.

“Klb! Get over here and help! This guy’s slipperier than he looks!”

Klb nodded to Erin and dashed into the fight. She watched in stupefaction as the two tried to hold Pisces down. Oddly, it wasn’t that easy. Despite the size advantage and muscle advantage, Pisces was still managing to fend both off. Erin wondered why until she saw him push the air around Relc and send the bigger lizard flying off him.

Pisces scrambled to his feet and leapt for the door. But Klbkch caught him by the foot and attempted to tie his hands together with a piece of leather cord. Pisces shouted…something and the leather burst into flames.

It was a fast and dirty fight that had one or all three of the fighters rolling on the ground at all times. But Erin had only half an eye for that. The other eye was watching all of the furniture in her inn get smashed as they fought.

“Stop moving! Hey!”

“Desist your actions or—”

Pisces’s fingers sparked. A small explosion of lightning blasted Klbkch into a wall as Relc ducked. Erin ducked too. From behind her table she could see Klbkch twitching and making a distressed buzzing sound.

“You squirming—”

The dull thud of something hitting something echoed throughout the inn. But it was punctuated by another crackle of electricity and Relc shouting in pain.

Erin turned away from the brawl and ran into the kitchen. She emerged with the pot just in time to see Relc blasted off his feet, this time by what looked like an explosion of air.

Pisces backed away from the Drake, panting heavily. His face was bruised and he was bleeding from the nose and mouth, but his fingers still crackled with energy. He turned to run, but stopped.

Klbkch was on his feet. Well, his legs. The ant man was standing in front of the door, swords drawn. He held two, one in each arm while his other two held small daggers. Erin saw Pisces gulp. She agreed. Klbkch looked like a wall of blades.

“I—I seek no quarrel with you. I am student of Wistram Academy and a practicing mage. You detain me at your peril.”

Pisces pointed a trembling finger at Klbkch. It sparked with green energy that crackled around his fingertip, but it was suddenly a lot less impressive compared to Klbkch’s armed armory.

“Regardless of your affiliation to any academy, you are still under arrest. Please surrender now, or I will be forced to employ lethal force.”

Pisces hesitated.

“My magic—”

“Is useless. Surrender.”

“Surrender?”

Erin jumped. She saw Relc getting to his feet. The Drake’s eyes were narrowed, and in his hands was a spear. It wasn’t long, but it did look extremely sharp. And the way he held it, Erin instinctively knew he was ready to use it to kill.

Pisces took one look at the spear and immediately raised his hands.

“I—I give up.”

Relc spat.

“Not likely. I’m gutting you like a fish right here.”

Erin stared at Relc in horror. But there was no joking in his eyes. He was practically quivering with rage, but the arms that held his spear were completely still and tensed.

“Gutting? Hey, that’s—”

“Don’t be hasty!”

Pisces backed away from Relc, talking fast.

“I assure you, my life is worth far more than you would ever get for me dead. This can all be solved amicably. I will fully cooperate—”

“Cooperate?”

Relc stepped forwards and Pisces pressed his two fingers together. A strong breeze flew through the inn and a flickering barrier of wind appeared in front of Relc.

“I will cease all magic and go with you quietly if you assure my life. I meant no harm to you or your companion. But we are at an impasse until you do.”

Relc’s eyes narrowed.

“By that? You think a piddly little Wind Wall spell is going to stop me?”

The big Drake’s body tensed. He crouched slightly, and then dashed into the wind wall. Relc’s massive body smashed into the semi-transparent barrier of wind. He sunk into the barrier and then the winds pushed back.

Even from this distance Erin felt the tremendous force in the spell and saw chairs and tables being blown away from the force. For a moment she thought he was going to be blown away. But his claws dug into the ground and the wind howled—

The whirling winds blew apart with a small clap of air that sent the nearest chairs flying. Pisces staggered back, face grey with shock. Erin stared.

Relc on the other hand just twirled his spear in his hand. He spat contemptuously on the floor.

“That’s what I think of your spells. I’m a former soldier of the 1st Wing of the Liscorian Army. I’ve killed more mages than you have levels. Now, are you going to die quiet or will I have to pay for painting the walls green with your blood?”

Pisces stepped back, tripped over a fallen chair and fell on his back. He raised his hands and cried out in a shrill voice.

“I can be ransomed. Quite highly! My school will pay ten—thirty gold coins in whichever denomination you like for my return.”

Relc raised the spear.

“Still don’t care. I don’t need money if I can get rid of a stinking monkey like you.”

Erin raised her voice in horror.

“What? No! No killing! Do you hear me?”

But no one was listening. Klbkch was closing in, swords and daggers at the ready. Relc raised his spear higher.

“Last words, mage?”

“I—I—”

Relc grinned with all his teeth. He raised his spear high. Klbkch watched impassively. Pisces screamed and shielded his face ineffectually. And Erin—

“Hey!”

Erin slammed the pot on the table top as hard as she could. All Relc, Klbkch, and Pisces paused as one to stare at her. She pointed one shaking finger at them.

“No fighting. Not here. And no killing!”

Relc blinked. He lowered his spear a fraction. Erin pointed to it.

“Stop that! Put the weapons away and get out.”

“But he’s—”

“I don’t care! You don’t kill people just because they practice stupid magic! And you don’t kill people just because you don’t like them! And you don’t kill people because killing people is wrong!”

“What?”

Relc pointed down at Pisces angrily.

“He’s a criminal.”

“No, he’s an idiot. But he didn’t do anything wrong enough to die for. All he did was try to scare me.”

“He hit me with lightning!”

“You punched his brains out! That’s not enough to kill him over!”

The Drake lowered his spear.

“I can’t believe this. Are you defending him? Because he’s Human? Or do you not want the blood in here? In that case I’ll take him out back and—”

“No!”

Erin shouted at Relc.

“Are you stupid? I don’t want anyone killing anyone! You can’t do it! I forbid it! It’s wrong! It’s illegal.”

“In point of fact, my comrade’s actions are not—”

Erin whirled and pointed at Klbkch.

“I don’t care! No killing, do you hear me?”

Relc hissed angrily.

“Then I’ll arrest him and he’ll be executed tomorrow. Happy?”

Pisces turned pale again. Erin’s mouth replied before her brain caught up.

“I withdraw my testimony.”

“You what?”

“I withdraw it. All of it. I was never attacked yesterday. This mage-guy never visited the inn, and I never saw him until today. So there’s no reason for you to arrest him.”

“You can’t do that!”

Relc turned and looked at Klbkch.

“Can she?”

The ant man nodded reluctantly.

“She is correct. Without her testimony we cannot arrest him.”

Relc faltered. He looked uncertainty at Pisces and then remembered.

“But he’s still a [Necromancer]! That’s a crime no matter what he does!”

Erin crossed her arms.

“Prove it.”

“What?”

“Prove. It. Can you? Is there a way to check his uh, class?”

Relc gritted his teeth.

“…No. Not without an artifact.”

“Then go. Now.”

Relc gaped at Erin. It was surprisingly frightening. Erin could look right down his throat. He had a lot of teeth.

“Are you serious?”

“Absolutely.”

Erin glared at him. Relc lowered his spear, grabbed at the spines on his head and hissed. He pointed at Pisces.

“You take one step in the city and I’ll—I’ll—you take one step in there, and I’ll do something about it.”

Pisces was still lying on the ground. He raised one hand weakly.

“I assure you—”

Relc’s eye twitched.

“Shut up.”

He stomped towards the door.

“Humans!”

Relc kicked the door as he left. Erin winced as she heard the wood crack. Then he was gone.

Klbkch walked past Erin and nodded to her politely.

“Do not mind him. You are within your rights to enforce law within this establishment as you choose. I apologize for the mess on both our behalves.”

He left. Erin stood around the room, looking at the broken chairs, overturned tables, and general wooden carnage. Behind her Pisces got to his feet. He was still shaking and sweatily pale.

“I don’t know how I can thank you good m—Ms. Erin. Please, accept my humblest—”

Bonk.

Erin tapped him on the head with the pot. Hard.

“Out.”

“What?”

Pisces stared at her in disbelief. Erin raised the pot higher.

“Out.”

He stumbled out. Erin kept staring at the mess in the room. It had to be said. Definitely.

“Males.”

Interlude

It took her a long time to clean up all the broken wood. It was just as well she needed fuel for the fire in the kitchen, but it was still a pain to pick up all the splinters. Especially when one got stuck in her hands. But she’d done it, and now it is late.

The night is cool. In her inn, Erin Solstice sleeps.

It’s been a rough day. She dreams about disappearing skeletons and obnoxious mages. She dreams about dragons that breathe fire and Goblins, and about giant lizards eating pasta. She sleeps.

However, countless miles away something else is happening.

----

It is at the brink of dawn in this part of the world. Still, many remain awake. They have not slept for hours. And some remain standing despite their exhaustion. Their places are set. Their energies are necessary for the countless glowing diagrams burning bright on the floor.

The onlookers wait in silence as the man in the center continues to chant. His voice is wavering; cracked from the strain of talking for so long. But his faltering words are imbued with a deeper echo that speaks of magic and power beyond mortality. He is exhausted, but his task is nearly done.

The spell is completed.

It’s not a clap of thunder. It’s not the boom of space time being rent. Rather, it is a whisper. And in the same way, light does not flash, but an invisible breeze blows and they are suddenly there.

Humans.

Young men and women. They appear in mid-motion, some sitting, some lying down. Many more appear mid-step or looking up from their smartphones in bewilderment. And as bewilderment fades, surprise remains.

“What?”

“Where am I?”

“What’s happening?”

Some of the summoned humans cry out in fear. Others try to run in their panic, but find their legs won’t cooperate with them. A few stare around the room, noting the magic runes by their feet, the robed men and mages clustered together, and the watching aristocracy. They observe in silence.

The leader in robes raised his arms and fell upon his knees. He raised his tear-stained face to the heavens as he cried out.

“The great heroes of prophecy are here! We are saved!”

The other robed men around him raise their voices in cries of relief as the mages sag, exhausted, to the floor. Meanwhile the nobility murmur and regard the summoned with calculating eyes.

The humans draw together in fear. But there is no escape for them, and no threat towards them. For now, anyways. They are confused, chosen, summoned, trapped. And they are not the only ones.

----

The night is old, and dawn is only an hour away. The countryside is full of chirping crickets, owls, the sounds of insects buzzing, and so on. Or at least, on a normal night it would be. Right now all is silent. Unnaturally silent.

An old man stands outside his home, sword drawn. The night is dark, and by all rights he should be in his home enjoying his dinner. But he’s heard something outside, and he’s gone to investigate. This far out in the countryside he can’t rely on militia patrols to keep him safe.

If it’s a monster of course he’ll run. On the other hand, if it’s a lone Goblin or a sneak thief trying to steal from him he’ll run them off. The old man’s levels in the [Swordsman] class aren’t high, but he’s more than strong enough to defend himself. Still, he’s no fool. If there’s any real danger he’ll hide in his sturdy home and report it to the adventurer’s guild the next day.

“Who’s there?”

He calls into the night and hopes for no reply. But he can sense it…them. Something is standing just out of his sight. His hand is tight on his sword.

And slowly, they approach.

Children. That’s the first thing the old man thinks. They are children.

But then, he is old. They are young, true, but still grown. Still, he cannot  help but think they are children because of how they look. Lost, afraid, and terribly alone despite their numbers.

Still, they are human and clearly no threat, so he relaxes and calls out to them.

“Oh, are you young’uns lost? Come in, come in. The weather’s far too terrible to be out at a time like this.”

The old man sheathes his sword and opens his door invitingly. But none of the children move. They just stare at him. And slowly, he realizes something is wrong as well.

Their clothes are strange. In all his years the old man has never seen such odd attire. But more than that, they seem…different.  He regrets sheathing his sword. Are they some unnatural creatures masquerading as humans? But no, they are human. He senses that instinctively. But why don’t they move?

Their expressions are so terrified the old man knows something is wrong. The hair on his neck tries to stand up. Is it demons? Monsters? But they are staring at him. Is there something wrong with him?

One points a trembling finger at the old man. No; at his belt.

“Is that a sword?”

----

And a few, a few simply wander in carelessly.

----

A young woman pauses mid-step. Her hair is matted with sweat, and bound in a ponytail. An ipod is in her hand, but she pauses the blasting music and stares around. Fifteen armed men and a demon wreathed in fire stop their battle and stare back.

----

Two twins laugh and turn the corner. The boy tosses his smartphone up as his twin sister scolds him in case he drops it. His hand freezes. The phone shatters on the smooth marble floor of the throne room. A king looks up and frowns. The royal guards stationed around the room draw their swords at once and charge at the bewildered duo.

----

A girl laughs as they drag her from her cell. She is shoved forwards, and trips into something hard and flat. She looks up and sees the adventurer staring down at her. He moves his armor-covered body and helps her up. A woman leans over the counter in the adventurer’s guild and others look around. Some are heroes, some are those who seek heroes. Her wardens are gone. She is free.

----

Rain falls upon the world. Just for a brief moment. A passing shower of souls. But where they land ripples spread. They are not legends, and nor do they have any special powers save for those all humans have. But they are living. They are alive. And with their arrival, the world shifts.

The night is late. Erin sleeps. She rests her head on a smooth wooden table in an inn sitting on a hill in a plain full of grass. Around her is silence. In her dreams she drools a bit and mumbles about pasta.

She is lonely. But she is no longer alone.

1.12

Erin woke up. Generally this was an ordeal. Today however, it was fairly easy. Because the real ordeal would come later.

Such as right after breakfast. Erin stared glumly at the three shriveled blue fruits on her plate. She bit the first experimentally and chewed. And chewed. And chewed.

“Rubbery.”

It was incredibly difficult to chew the fruits. The skin on these ones were so tough to bite into, it did remind Erin of eating rubber. Not that she’d ever done that since she was a baby.

Plus, they’d lost their delicious juices and tasted—well, flat. There was no sweetness left in them, and they were quite, quite unappetizing when you put all these qualities together. But Erin ate them, mainly because she had nothing left to eat.

“I’m in trouble. Yup, yup.”

It wasn’t that she was out of blue fruits. There were plenty—well, some—still ready to be harvested from the orchard. But they, like all food, were in limited supply. Besides, the issue wasn’t that. It was her guests.

“Who’d want to eat blue fruits all day? Raise your hand if that sounds like fun.”

Erin didn’t raise her hand. Granted, they were tasty and made a good fruit drink, but when you got down to it, they were still just fruits.

“And I want food. Real food. Not fruit. I want bread! I want pasta! I want pizza and soda and salad and ice cream—actually forget the ice cream. I need meat. Or fish that doesn’t bite back! I want sushi, cheeseburgers and fries, toast, waffles…cereal…”

Erin pressed her hands to her rumbling stomach and tried not to cry.

“Even instant ramen would be nice. Is that too much to ask?”

It was. She knew that. But just thinking about the food made her tear up a bit. She could handle Goblins. She could deal with rude Necromancers and fight off evil rock-crabs. She could even handle giant fish that tried to nibble on her when she took a bath. But she wanted food.

“Plus, I need to feed my guests.”

Erin nodded. The math was simple. No food = no guests = no money = starvation. But the little flaw in the equation was that in order to get the food, she’d need to spend the money. And she had no way of doing that.

“Unless I go to the city.”

Now, that was a thought. She wasn’t sure if that was a good thought, but it was the only option she had available. The city. Erin went to the window. Relc had shown her where it was…

“There.”

Erin stared at the small buildings in the distance. It looked far. But then, everything looked far around here. And the city would have things. Like food. And clothing. And toothbrushes. Still, Erin didn’t want to go.

“It’s far. But I have to go. Maybe? Yes…no. No? Yes. I need food. And I need to feed my guests. It’s my duty as an innkeeper.”

She paused and thought about that last statement. Erin collapsed into a chair and cradled her head in her hands.

“Am I an innkeeper? Is that what this world is doing to me?”

Maybe. It was probably the [Innkeeper] class.

“Soon I’ll grow a huge beer belly and start hauling around kegs of ale. That’s what innkeepers do, right?”

She didn’t actually know. It wasn’t as if she’d ever paid that much attention to medieval history, at least the parts that were actually history.

“They never mentioned innkeepers in the legend of King Arthur. Or did they?”

There was no Google to help her so Erin abandoned that train of thought. Really, she was distracting herself. The problem she was facing was simple.

“To go to the city or not, that is the question. Actually, there’s no question. I need to go to the city. I need to go…shopping.”

Shopping. It would be a lot more appealing if she wasn’t trying to buy things to survive. But it had to be done. She knew it.

Still. Erin really, really didn’t like that idea. She liked people, she really did. But she had a negative reaction to A: leaving her safe inn, and B: travelling to a far off city probably full of giant lizards and insects that walked on two feet.

Glumly, she stared at the three sticky blue fruit cores on her plate. She walked outside and threw them as far as she could. The juices left her hands feeling unpleasantly sticky, but there wasn’t much she could do about it.

“Guess I’ve gotta go to the stream. Who knew washing your hands was so much work?”

Erin grumbled as she wiped her hand on her jeans. Then she paused. And looked down.

Her jeans were blue. The blue fruit juice was blue. But against all odds, the blue stain still showed up quite visibly on her clothing. Or rather, the blue fruit stains. And they weren’t just on her pants.

Erin’s shirt was a nice, commercial t-shirt with a lovely company logo on the front and back. Really, she wasn’t that attached to it, but it was perfect to wear when she was just staying at home. It wasn’t her choice of clothing.

…Which was good, because Erin would have cried if she’d inflicted the same damage on a t-shirt she really liked. She gazed down at the blue stains covering her shirt. She poked at the rips and cuts on the sleeves and the burn marks on one side. She lifted the shirt, sniffed once, and gagged.

For the first time Erin felt at her hair. She raised a hand and smelled her breath. She thought about the last time she’d brushed her teeth, taken a bath, or even used soap. Then she tried to shut down her mind.

“Well, that settles that. I’m off to the city.”

----

Erin walked through the grass. She wished there was a nice road to follow, but for some reason no one bothered to pave a road through the empty wilderness. Come to that, she wondered again why anyone would build an inn in the middle of nowhere.

Maybe there used to be more people in the area. Or maybe there was just an idiot who thought he was breaking into an untapped market. Either way, Erin was grateful for the inn.

“But why does it have to be so far away from anything?”

Erin walked down the slope. At least there was that. The inn was located on an incline. Not a steep hill, but a really long slope that gradually went down the more she walked. It was nice, until Erin looked back and realized she’d be climbing up all that way again soon.

“Wow. That’s a big hill.”

She stared for a while and kept walking. Relc and Klbkch had called the journey to the city a walk of about twenty minutes.

“They lied to me.”

Or maybe they just walked really fast. Erin could actually see the city Klbkch had called Liscor in the distance. It was still small, but given how close it seemed now compared to before and multiplying her velocity by her legs and given energy divided by her willingness to keep walking…

“Thirty minutes. No; probably an hour. Yeah, that sounds about right.”

Erin sighed. But exercise was good for her, right? It built character. Or something.

“So, what do I need?”

She took a quick inventory check. Her coins were securely packed into the bottom of one pocket. They were heavy. She had her clothes on, which was important, and she looked like…well, like a homeless person. But she had money. So what should she buy with it?

“Um. Clothing. Right. And soap. And a toothbrush, if they have toothbrushes. And toothpaste…which they probably don’t have. But something. And I need food obviously, soap, towels, laundry deter—more soap, and a comb.”

Erin walked a few more feet.

“And a sword. I need a sword. And a shield? And armor? And uh, anti-Goblin spray? Oh, and books! Tons of books. Maps, history books…can I read any of that? Well, Relc and Klbkch speak English. So that’s weird too. And I need bandages, a sewing needle, someone to teach me how to sew…”

Erin felt at her pocket. The coins jingled. She wished there were more to jingle.

“And I need to rob a bank.”

Okay. Erin retraced her thoughts.

“What’s essential?”

She counted off on her fingers.

“Clothing. Food. Toothbrush. Soap. And a lamp.”

She snapped her fingers.

“Right. A lamp! And a sword.”

She felt at her pocket.

“…Just the lamp.”

----

“Flat grass, flat grass, all I see is flat grass.”

Erin sang as she walked. She wasn’t sure if there was a tune, but at least the singing kept her company.

“Horses eat grass, but I’ll pass, so I’ll go to the city fast. Or I’ll die of starvation! And once I’m there I’ll eat ten pears and—hey, is that a Goblin?”

Erin turned her head suddenly and the small head ducked down. She squinted. Yes, that was definitely a Goblin. It was hiding up on a small hill to her left, but she knew it was still there. Watching her.

Well. She was being followed. Erin wasn’t sure what to make of that. She looked around and two more heads disappeared as their owners dove for cover. They didn’t look like they were trying to ambush her, just follow her.

“Hm.”

Erin bent down and searched the grass. Eventually she found what she was looking for. She waited until one of the Goblins decided she’d forgotten about them and poked his head up again. Then she turned and shouted.

“Shoo!”

Erin hurled the rock. It missed the Goblin’s head. And the hill. But the green midget took the hint and disappeared in an instant. Erin sighed to herself.

“Great. They’re like cockroaches. Evil, giant, green cockroaches. With teeth. And sharp knives. And red eyes.”

She wondered what she should do. Then she thought about what she could actually do.

Erin kept walking.

The city kept getting larger the further she walked. She felt at some point it should stop getting bigger, but soon the buildings loomed in her vision. They were no skyscrapers, but they were taller than she felt medieval buildings should be. But the city was still far away. So she walked.

And she was being watched. Multiple pairs of eyes stared at the young woman as she walked through the grass. They watched her for signs of weakness, for things that could be exploited. She was watched. Occasionally she turned around and threw a stone.

----

When Erin got to the city gates she stared up for a while.

“That’s a big wall.”

It was a big understatement. The wall was high. And that was high even by wall standards. It was nearly forty feet tall, which Erin had no way of knowing was perfectly normal for a wall. She had no way of knowing it was forty feet tall either. She just thought it was big.

But what was unusual about this particular wall, and what Erin did notice was the way the gate was constructed. It was no iron grating of a portcullis with handy holes to shoot and poke at enemies, but two solid metal doors. Erin wondered why, as the gates looked solid and hard to budge. They were, and for a reason. But she didn’t find out that reason until much later.

Erin approached the gate. There wasn’t really anyone else going through at the moment, so she felt very alone and small as she walked up to them. She stopped when she saw the guard.

He was big. He was armored. He was also a Drake, and he had yellow scales rather than green ones. Pale yellow, so Erin was reminded of popcorn. He also had a curved sword, and so it was with trepidation that she approached.

“…Hi.”

The Drake flicked his eyes down towards Erin and then resumed looking off into the distance. He was holding a spear at his side and a metal buckler on his left arm. Since he wasn’t using either to bash her to death, Erin considered this to be a good first start.

“Um. Nice weather, isn’t it?”

Again, the guard glanced at her. Again, he didn’t respond.

“…Right. It’s just that I’m new here. And I’m Human. Nice to meet you. My name is Erin. I uh, know another guy who works with you. Relc? And Klb…Klb…the insect guy? So yeah. They know me. I’m no threat. And uh, I saw some Goblins running around a while back. They’re not here right now, but I felt you should know.”

The Drake sighed audibly. And loudly.

“Go on in, Human. Anyone can enter the city.”

“Right. Thanks. Uh, have a nice day!”

Erin smiled. He didn’t smile back.

“I’ll just be going. Now.”

She walked past the guard. As she walked through the iron gates she heard him mutter under his breath.

“Humans.”

Erin’s smile froze a bit on her face but she kept walking as if she’d heard nothing. Everyone was grumpy when they had to stand and deal with obnoxious tourists. And besides, he was just a guard. She walked through the imposing gates into the city. And then she had to stop.

Because she had entered Liscor. A city of the fiery Drakes, built with the help of the industrious Antinium. Home to the prideful Gnolls and the occasional Beastkin, not to be confused with one another. Visited by many races, home to countless more. And now entering—

One human.

1.13

“Uh, is this a store?”

Every head in the Adventurer’s Guild in Liscor turned at the voice. Grizzled Drake warriors, inhumanly tall Gnolls and several people who looked like mages appraised the speaker who had just walked into the room.

A small human. Possibly female.

Their eyes shifted away in disinterest. After a few seconds Erin’s heart started beating again. She decided that this was definitely not the shop she was looking for.

“Ah, hello? We can help you over here.”

A voice called to Erin across the low murmuring. She saw a light green Drake waving at her from behind a counter. She was much smaller and had thinner limbs than Relc. Erin guessed she was female. The dress was also a big clue.

Hesitantly Erin made her way over to the counter. The female receptionist gave her a close-lipped smile.

“Good day, Miss. How can we help you today? Do you have a bounty or quest to post? Or are you registering?”

“Registering? Quest? Oh no, I’m not here for…uh, anything. I just thought this might be a blacksmith so I…”

“Oh, I see!”

The receptionist smiled again. This time Erin smiled back.

“This is no shop, Miss. This is the Adventurer’s Guild. Didn’t they have one back in your city?”

“The Adventurer’s Guild?”

Erin stared around the room with renewed interest. Now that she wasn’t being pierced by a thousand glares she could take in the building properly. It was a large place, and at first Erin thought she’d walked into an inn. Or a bar. But now she knew what she was looking at, the receptionist behind the counter made a lot of sense.

“That’s right. Here you can let the Guild know about dangerous monsters in your area, post quests and offer rewards, or if you’re an adventurer yourself , you can go look at assignments or receive your reward.”

The receptionist pointed to a large wooded board nailed up against one wall. It had a quite a lot of parchment stuck to the wood, and several large and burly adventurers were gathered around it, talking amongst themselves.

“Wow.”

Erin studied the adventurers. They were all wearing armor, although the quality and amount varied from person to person. Most of the Drakes seemed content to wear only armguards or the occasional helmet without much chest armor, but several of the large hairy dog-hyena-things were wearing chainmail, and in one case, real plate armor.

That wasn’t all, of course. Some adventurers weren’t wearing any armor at all, or weapons. Erin spotted several Drakes wearing light robes and carrying staves or daggers at their belts.

“Real mages. That is so cool.”

“…Miss? Excuse me, Miss?”

Erin looked around. She realized the receptionist had been trying to get her attention for some time now.

“Oh, I’m really sorry. What was that you were saying?”

“Are you a traveler, Miss? Or maybe…an adventurer? Are you here to register?”

The look the she-Drake gave her said this wasn’t much of a possibility.

“Oh no. I’m uh, an innkeeper. I guess. Or maybe a wanderer? Actually, I’m just new around here.”

The receptionist looked interested.

“An innkeeper, is it? Are you opening up a business here? I’m Selys, by the way.”

Selys offered Erin a hand. It was such a human gesture Erin had to smile as she shook her hand. It felt weird touching the cool scales, but not unpleasant.

“I’m Erin. Erin Solstice. And no, I’m not uh, innkeeping here. There’s a building outside the city where I live. I guess. I just came here because I needed to go shopping. Badly.”

She indicated her ripped and stained clothing.

“Well, I can’t leave the desk but I can give you some directions.”

Selys gave Erin another smile.

“It’s really rare to see any Humans this far out from the coast. Your kind usually just sticks to its cities. What brings you out so far? Oh, and what are you looking for?”

“Um. Teleportation spell. And I need food. Flour, oil, butter, salt…that kind of thing. And I need clothing. Lots of clothing.”

“Well, if it’s food and general supplies you’re looking for try the market two streets down from here. To get to it just take a left as you walk out of here and then turn right and you’ll be there in no time. They’d also have some clothes there, but I’m not sure if they have any made for Humans.”

“Oh, that’s great. Thank you so much.”

Erin had already forgotten the directions. She wished she had her smartphone, or Google Maps. A map would be useless since she never learned how to read them.

“I’m also looking for a place to get some other supplies. I don’t suppose you know where—”

A large, hairy hand grabbed Erin by the shoulder and pulled her around.

“Huh?”

Erin was looking at a wall of brown hair. She was sure that wasn’t there a minute ago. She looked up.

A hyena’s face stared down at her. Or rather, a hyena’s face on a humanoid body covered in fur. It was one of the adventurers in the inn and it—he didn’t look happy.

But he wasn’t saying anything. Rather, he was looming. Erin could tell it was looming by the way he stood and the way she felt like an ant. She didn’t know why he was angry at her. Maybe he just wanted to pick on someone. She opened her mouth and tried diplomacy.

“Um. Hi. Are you—are you a werewolf?”

It was definitely the wrong thing to say. The pissed-off look on the hairy hyena-guy’s face only got worse. He growled at her in a rumbling voice that sounded like…well, what Erin imagined a dog would sound like if it could talk.

“Do I look like a werewolf?”

“N-no?”

Erin backed up a step and found the counter was right behind her. She looked over her shoulder and saw Selys gazing at her worriedly, but the receptionist didn’t come to her aid.

The not-werewolf leaned over and growled in her face.

“I’m a Gnoll.”

His breath was terrible. Erin felt weak at the knees just smelling it.

“Right. I’m very sorry about that. Um. Can I help you?”

“You’re in my way.”

“Right. Sorry. Sorry about that.”

Erin stepped to one side so he could get to Selys. He didn’t move forward, though. Instead he just glared some more.

“Is—is there something else you want?”

The Gnoll twisted his neck and cracked it. It sounded like firecrackers going off and scared the hell out of Erin.

“I don’t like Humans. They smell.”

Erin stepped away again, but the angry Gnoll just followed her. She knew she was being watched by the other adventurers in the room now. But like Selys, they seemed content to watch the human-bullying without making a move.

“R-really? I can’t smell anything.”

“That’s because Humans can’t smell anything.”

The comment came from behind Erin but she was too scared to turn around. It had the same growling quality to the voice though, so she was sure it was another Gnoll.

“Right. Well. I’m sorry about that.”

Erin tried to sidestep the Gnoll but he blocked her way.

“I don’t want humans in here. You don’t belong.”

“Hold on.”

At last Selys came to Erin’s aid. The female Drake leaned over the counter and called out to the Gnoll.

“You can’t just kick someone out who—”

He looked at her and snarled. Selys flinched and shut up.

Across the room Erin saw the Drakes in the room stir. One of them hissed softly.

The Gnoll glared at the Drakes and they glared right back. One of his hands twitched towards the sword at his side, but he didn’t make any move to grab it. Still, the tension was so thick that Erin was sure if a Gnoll or Drake moved the room would explode.

Erin was wondering whether she should run when the Gnoll broke off the staring contest and swung around to her.

“You. You’re stinking up this place with dirt and filth. I can smell the things you’ve rolled in.”

He jabbed at Erin’s stained shirt with one pointed claw. She jumped back nervously from the long, filthy nails.

“Oh. Yeah. Um, I’m really sorry about that. It’s just that I’ve been sort of fending for myself and I didn’t have a change of clothes so—”

The Gnoll leaned forward. Erin could see the individual whiskers protruding out of his snout. She could smell his rancid breath. But she was mainly focused on his jagged teeth.

“Begone.”

Erin hesitated. She cast one glance towards Selys, but the receptionist wouldn’t meet her eyes.

The Gnoll growled and Erin backed up. He herded her towards the door and once she was out, he slammed it shut behind her.

That was the first building Erin was kicked out of in her visit to the city. It wasn’t her last. Not by a long shot.

----

Erin walked through the city, feeling the unwelcome sun warming the back of her neck. She was hot, sweaty, and tired. But most of all she was anxious. It was a terrible, biting pain in her stomach that refused to leave her no matter how much she tried to relax. Because she couldn’t.

She was lost. Not just geographically, but in every sense. Still, Erin had to keep moving or stand out even more than she already did. Right now she was making her way to the market Selys had told her about. And she was lost.

It was still strange to walk through the city. On one hand, it looked almost like a city Erin could imagine was made by humans. The buildings were still buildings, made of stone and wood. The streets were dirt, but hard dirt, and in places they were paved by cobblestones. It didn’t look bad. True, there was a lot more roundness in the architecture of the buildings – a lot of gently sloping roofs and open rooftops rather than the angular buildings Erin was used to. It was the people that really got to her.

They weren’t human. No matter how long Erin stayed in the city and walked its streets, she couldn’t get over that. Every face she saw in the crowd was inhuman, and the majority of them were Drakes. There was the occasional Gnoll or other furry face in the lot, but they were mostly reptilian.

All kinds of reptilian, too. Long snouts, delicate spines on the neck, elongated neck, big eyes, slitted eyes, stub snouts. They all had very large teeth, though. Only rarely did Erin glimpse a walking ant-man – or ant-woman she couldn’t tell – walking by.

She wished they’d stop looking at her. That was the one thing that made walking through this city so hard. While she was staring at the exotic sites and people, they were staring right back. And it seemed that they didn’t like what they saw.

Erin tried to walk quickly down the street. That way she’d avoid offending anyone else. She didn’t have a good record at the moment.

“Kicked out of three shops. And two homes.”

To be fair, some of them looked like shops. Why no one put up any signs so people could tell the difference was beyond Erin.

“Well, there are signs. I just can’t read them.”

It was a funny thing. Erin could speak the exact same language as Relc and Klbkch, but for some reason she couldn’t read anything they wrote. It was probably because…of magic.

“Magic. Either that, or they’re all bilingual. Or trilingual. Or something.”

A Drake walking the opposite way down the street gave her an odd look. Erin shut up. Her habit of talking to herself was making her weirder than normal.

Still, that alone didn’t explain why it seemed like the entire city hated her. True, she kept walking into places and asking where she was, but that was…okay, that was really annoying. But she was just as unfavorably received on the street, it seemed.

“Move it, Human.”

“Out of the way, smooth skin.”

“Watch it, fleshbag.”

Actually, no one had ever said that last one to her. Or the second one, either. Or the first in point of fact. They didn’t say anything at all, really. Almost all of the Drakes stared at her, while the Gnolls and other furry people walked as far away from her as possible. But they all watched her constantly.

Some glanced out of the corner of their eyes. Others were less discreet and openly stared at her. Erin saw a few small lizard-children pointing at her and felt out of place. In a sea of scales and fur, she was the only human. She felt so alone it hurt.

Erin turned right and found herself on another kind of street. This one was wider, had cobblestone paving, and a lot of wooden stalls. It was a market.

“Finally.”

Erin sighed with relief and walked forward. She’d finally reached her destination, and it had only taken her…an hour. Possibly two.

And better luck, Erin seemed to be in the section selling food. Tons of shopkeepers stood or sat in their shaded stalls displaying bins full of food. Here was a Drake selling weird blue-leaved plants that looked like oversized white carrots…or dead maggots. There was another Drake cutting meat for a waiting customer as flies buzzed around his stall. And there was—

A Gnoll.

Erin passed by a larger stall than most, tended to by a tall Gnoll, although they were all tall in her eyes. This one seemed to be selling a lot of stuff, and not just food. Erin was tempted to stop and browse, but the Gnoll shopkeeper complicated things. She was dithering when the Gnoll spotted her and roared out above the general hubbub.

“You, Human! If you’re looking for a bargain, shop here!”

Erin’s heart jumped. Gnolls were, like Relc, loud. And her voice had put every eye back on Erin. She hesitated, and then walked over.

As she approached the Gnoll’s nose wrinkled and she waved a paw in front of her face. Erin’s heart sank, but the Gnoll made no comment.

“Well, what are you seeking?”

The Gnoll looked intently at Erin. She looked angry, or maybe Gnolls always sounded brisk and impatient.

“Oh um. I’m just looking.”

Erin edged back from the Gnoll’s shop. She really didn’t want to be chased out of the market yet.

“Hrmf. Suit yourself.”

The Gnoll looked away. He—it—was definitely annoyed now, even if he hadn’t been before. Erin backed away and looked towards the next stall.

This one looked equally promising. And better yet, it was tended to by a Drake. Which wasn’t that much better, true, but at least he wasn’t wrinkling his nose. Maybe because he wasn’t looking at her.

Erin approached the stall carefully and gazed at the many items on display. Let’s see. There were lots of bags piled up neatly, and in front of them there were little bins of their contents on display. That was good, since Erin couldn’t read any of the words on the store signs.

But there! She saw flour, salt, and even sugar on display along with other dried goods. The Drake was selling dried sausages that hung from hooks at the top of his little shop, dried onions and garlic in baskets, and a number of dried roots and spices in one corner of the shop.

“Hi. Is this a food shop?”

The Drake looked over at her.

“What does it look like, Human?”

Erin winced internally at the tone of his voice. But he wasn’t wrinkling his nose still or glaring. He just looked annoyed.

“Oh, I’m looking for food. Lots of it.”

She heard a very loud and angry snort come from the Gnoll shopkeeper. She winced, externally this time.

“What you see is what I have.”

The Drake indicated his goods with a wave of one claw. That sounded like an invitation to Erin, so she stepped inside the stall and peered around. Flour was what she was most interested in. With that and a bit of oil, salt, etc. she could make bread, pasta, and other filling things. It was the best place to start. She bent down to examine the flour—

“No touching the food with your filthy hands unless you’re buying!”

The Drake’s voice made Erin jump away. She caught herself before she fell backwards. He was glaring at her.

“Don’t touch. You’ll stink it up with your Human smell.”

“Sorry. Sorry.”

Erin backed away from the goods on display, hands raised. She guessed she really did smell.

The shopkeeper directed his full and unhappy attention towards her.

“What do you want? Name it and I’ll fetch it for you.”

“Oh, okay.”

Erin floundered.

“Um. I’m looking for a few things, actually. Uh, do you have any butter?”

“It’s right there on the sign.”

The Drake tapped the little piece of paper pinned to the stall. Erin looked at it desperately, but just saw squiggles and lines in all the wrong places.

“Uh. I can’t read that. Sorry.”

He hissed softly in annoyance. Erin winced again.

“But I’d like some. Butter, that is.”

He slowly and grudgingly turned and pulled out a small pot with a small cork for a lid.

“Oh. Great.”

Erin wasn’t sure if she should ask to see how much butter was inside. She wanted to hold the little pot too, but the shopkeeper’s expression also vetoed that idea.

“And uh, I’d like some oil too. Do you have another jar…?”

The Drake sighed loudly in annoyance.

“I don’t have all day to play fetch for you, Human. Just tell me what you want to buy first.”

“Okay.”

He wasn’t throwing things or chasing her away, so that was as good as it was going to get, Erin guessed. She took a deep breath and rattled off whatever she could remember she needed.

“I’m looking for some flour, salt, butter, oil, and sugar. Oh! And yeast. I’ll need yeast too. If you have it.”

The Drake didn’t move.

“Anything else?”

Erin looked around quickly.

“Um. Those sausages. How much do they cost?”

Erin pointed to the sausages hanging from a hook. They looked mouthwateringly plump. She had the idea she could fry some up with the pasta. Just the thought was making her stomach rumble.

The Drake’s eyes flicked over to them.

“How many?”

Erin rummaged in her pocket and pulled out her precious coins. She saw the Drake’s eyes widen just a fraction as she showed him the mix of silver and bronze and three gold coins.

“Well, if I’ve got enough I’d like to buy a few of those. And some onions.”

There weren’t many vegetables here. Only some garlic and shriveled roots on one bin. But she could always go to the Gnoll and ask—well, maybe not the Gnoll. But there were probably other shops that sold produce.

The Drake eyed the coins in her hand and flicked his eyes up to her. Erin felt like she was being assessed, and she didn’t enjoy the feeling. For all she was a paying customer he still looked like was angry at her for some reason.

At last the shopkeeper seemed to come to a decision. He flicked his tongue out of his mouth and glared at her.

“Three gold coins. Eight silver. That will buy you a bag of flour, oil, butter, four sausages, two onions, and bag of sugar, salt and yeast.”

Erin hesitated. She eyed the meaningless symbols on the little plaque again.

“Are—are you sure that’s the price? I mean, it sounds like a lot—”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

The Drake raised his voice angrily. Erin could see other customers and shopkeeper looking around.

“No, no! I was just saying that—”

“Typical Humans. Walking in here, stinking up the market, and insulting any non-Humans you find. You should be grateful the Guard doesn’t run you out of the city! First that damn Necromancer comes here, and now this smelly one that can’t even read.”

He seemed to be inflating with rage. Erin didn’t know what she’d done to set him off—besides the smell—but she tried to be diplomatic.

“Look, I was just asking about the price.”

“I just gave you my price. Take it or leave it.”

“But can we negotiate? I mean, how about two gold coins? What’s the price of the flour? If I pay you—”

The Drake shopkeeper let out a strangled hissing sound.

“Human, I have a business to run and a store to manage! Either pay me my price or be gone. You won’t find a better offer in this market.”

Looking around Erin guessed that was true. She was getting unfriendly looks from the other shopkeepers down the street, especially the Gnoll whose wares she’d walked by.

“Okay. I’ll buy it all.”

She placed the gold and silver coins on the counter since he wasn’t holding his hand out. He eyed the coins, sniffed once, and swept them away.

“Here. Your food. Take it.”

The shopkeeper began grabbing items and slamming them down on the counter. He shoved them all together in a huge untidy pile and threw a few dented copper coins down too. Some rolled onto the ground.

Erin hesitated but the shopkeeper’s scaly back was already expressively turned away. She heard what sounded like hissing laughter and muttered comments from behind her and turned red.

Slowly, Erin bent down and began picking up the fallen copper coins. She tried to avoid looking at anyone or anything.

When she finally stood up the shopkeeper was looking at her expressionlessly. He flicked one claw towards her.

“If you’re done grubbing in the dirt, I have more customers to serve.”

Erin knew her face was red. Her eyes were burning, but she was determined not to do anything else. She took a deep breath, and tried to steady her voice as much as possible. Still it wobbled a bit as she said one last thing.

“…Can I buy a bag?”

1.14

Erin had four silver coins left after buying a large cloth bag and the food. That was just enough for…well, she didn’t know. But it certainly wasn’t enough for a lantern, much less a sword. She doubted it was even enough for her clothes.

She sat in the shade of one of the buildings and stared silently at the four silver shapes in her hand. It wasn’t so bad. She still had some money, and she’d bought enough food for now. It was just…

She’d started out with two gold coins and a full handful of silver and copper ones. And in an instant they’d been spent. And that wasn’t bad either; she’d bought a lot of food. Stuff like sugar was expensive, right? Especially in a place that wasn’t modern like this. But she couldn’t help but feel it was a mistake.

She hadn’t seen any other shoppers trade gold coins for what they’d bought. Not one and especially not that much for some food. She had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. She thought—

No. She knew she’d been ripped off.

And it hurt. It really did. Erin wanted to go back there and punch the Drake shopkeeper in the face, but she had a pretty good idea of what would happen if she did. Plus, he could probably eat her face if she tried.

So. Erin sat and stared at her hand. Four silver coins.

She could still go shopping with that much money. She could find another market, find another, shop and…

And do what? She didn’t know how much money things cost and she didn’t know how to buy clothes for her.

Everyone in this city wore clothing, but the definition of that really varied. Some of the male Drakes wore extremely exposed clothing, sometimes leaving their chests completely bare save for a light cloak, while the female ones usually had more on. Still, even that was varied because it seemed showing skin—or rather, scales, was the fashion around here. Only the Gnolls seemed to adhere to human-style dress code.

It was one of the hidden truths of the world. Money was useless if you had no idea what to spend it on and everyone ripped you off.

Everything would be so much simpler if she could read. Was that too much to ask?

Erin put her head on her arm and closed her eyes for a moment. Her head jerked up and she nearly smacked it against the building behind her as she realized something.

She couldn’t read. But she knew people who could.

Relc. Or Klbkch. Either one of them would know all about clothing and money and stuff like that.

Erin stood up. She pocketed her silver coins and wished she’d thought of this before she’d lost all her money. But maybe four silver coins was a lot of money? She’d have to ask. And they’d help her, surely. Because that’s what guardsmen did, right? Just like how police officers were so willing to help anyone who came to them with a problem.

Erin pushed that thought out of her head. Guardsmen were not police officers. They were allowed to kill people without due process, for one thing. And besides, Relc liked her pasta. Now all she had to do was find the guardhouse without being able to read the signs.

She started walking down the street, looking around for anything that screamed of jail cells or law and order. She tried very hard not to think about what she’d do if Relc or Klbkch were both off-duty.

----

Relc was off-duty. So was Klbkch. But for the moment Relc was lounging around the mess hall of the guard’s barracks. He was playing a game where he tossed a wickedly sharp dagger up into the air and caught it as it fell back to the floor. Half the time he caught the dagger. The other half he missed or knocked the dagger flying. He sat in a widely vacated corner of the room.

Only a few other Drakes were sitting at the long wooden benches, chowing down on hard bread, cheese, and unidentifiable strips of meat. Well, unidentifiable to humans. It was more gray than red.

One of the guards was talking with his fellows. He stood up and approached Relc cautiously. Unlike Relc, his scales were a very pale blue, and he was smaller if not shorter than the other Drake. He cleared his throat while standing at a respectful distance from Relc’s game.

“Hey Relc. I hear there’s a Human wandering around the city.”

Relc looked up and missed the dagger as it flipped down.

“Ow.”

The other guardsman sighed as Relc sucked at the point of red blood oozing from his scales.

“You’ve got no talent for that game. If you didn’t have [Thick Skin], you’d have cut your hand off years ago.”

Relc smiled smugly.

“I don’t just have [Thick Skin]. I’ve got [Iron Skin] too.”

The blue Drake rolled his eyes.

“That explains everything. What kind of level do you have to be to get that, anyways? No one else has it so it must be high level.”

“It is.”

Relc began trimming his claws with the dagger. Although in his case, he wasn’t making the nails shorter; just sharpening them.

“It was the last skill I got from my [Soldier] class. I think you get it in [Spearmaster] as well, but I don’t know. Either way, it’s a life-saver.”

“I’ll bet. No wonder you don’t worry about hurting yourself you smooth-scaled bastard.”

“Now, now. Don’t be jealous.”

Relc swept the nail clippings off the table with one hand.

“Too bad I never got any dagger skills. I can’t understand how this stupid flipping works.”

“Then stop flipping. It’s annoying and you keep nearly hitting people. Remember Lism? He’s still got scars.”

“No. If Klbkch can do it, so can I. Anything that damn bug can do I can do better. But hey, what’s this about a Human? Is it that female one I was telling you about?”

“Not sure.”

This time another green Drake jumped into the conversation.

“Belsc – the guy on western gate duty – he didn’t say much other than that he thought it was a Human female. What was the name of the one you met?”

Relc scratched his head and looked up at the ceiling.

“Um. Sol? Solace? It was something like that. Ervin Solace? Did he mention anything else about her?”

The green Drake bared his teeth.

“Yeah. He said she was really annoying. And she talked too much.”

“That’s her.”

Relc laughed. The other Drake shook his head.

“Humans. I don’t know why you’re interested in this one. It’s certainly not the smell, to hear Belsc talk.”

“Yeah, you get used to that.”

Relc leaned back in his chair and played with the dagger.

“Still, she’s interesting. Erin, or whatever her name is. She makes a mean plate of pasta, let me tell you. And she’s tougher than she looks—I didn’t think any Human could survive out in the floodplains that long. She’s funny too.”

He grinned as the other guards made disparaging noises.

“Hey, I’m telling the truth here. Little Miss Human isn’t that bad. You should meet her. But let me tell you, she can also be pretty annoying. Remember that Necromancer guy I told you me and Klbkch tracked down? She wouldn’t let us kill him even after he blasted us both with a few spells. Just kept saying that he wasn’t that bad.”

“Stupid Humans.”

“I know!”

Relc nodded in agreement with the other guard.

“They’re interesting and entertaining, but they don’t have much inside their fleshy heads. I’d never trust a Human to make the smart decision. Am I right?”

Relc looked around for confirmation as the other Drakes laughed with him. He laughed boisterously until he saw the human female staring at him across the mess hall. His laughter cut off instantly.

“Oh.”

The other Drakes looked over in curiosity at the human female. She wasn’t that special to them; one human looked much like the other. She was staring at Relc, who looked extremely uncomfortable.

He cleared his throat.

“Um. I—”

The door closed behind Erin as she walked out.

A nasty silence fell over the mess hall. Relc looked at the others.

“How long was she here?”

The blue Drake shrugged.

“Dunno. She must’ve walked in while you were talking.”

“Oh bite me.”

Relc leapt up from his chair.

“Hey Miss Human! Wait! I didn’t meant it!”

The other Drakes watched as he dashed out of the room. Then they turned back to their conversation.

“So. When did you spot her?”

“Right at the start. Did you see her expression? Relc’s not gonna have an easy time explaining that.”

“Serves him right. But did you smell her?”

“Yeah. Humans. They don’t wash.”

“I hear they roll around in their own filth.”

“Disgusting. Why’s Relc interested in one anyways?”

“Why do you think?”

“I still don’t get it. There’s no scales, nothing firm to grab. What’s the point?”

“Search me. Maybe it’s just Relc. He’s weird.”

“True.”

“Anyways, Humans. Haven’t seen one in a long time. Did you see it? So fleshy.”

“Disgusting. Let’s go eat some meat.”

“Agreed.”

----

Erin walked out of the city gates and through the grass. She walked as fast as she could, which wasn’t very. The cloth bag she was carrying was more like a satchel, and it was loaded down with a lot of stuff. She was impressed that it could fit the bag of flour and other ingredients she’d bought without the fabric breaking, but it also meant she had to carry all of that on her shoulders.

A bag of flour is quite heavy. But Erin carried it anyways, ignoring the pain in her right shoulder. Her left one was already sore. She’d switch shoulders when the pain became unbearable.

“Hey! Miss Erin! Wait!”

Erin kept walking.

“Oh come on. Please?”

Relc appeared next to her in a blur. He was quick for such a huge guy. Erin turned her head so she didn’t have to look at him directly.

“So, how’s my favorite Human doing? Good? Bad? Um. I uh, don’t suppose you heard what I was saying. It was just a joke, really. I didn’t mean…”

Keep walking. Erin’s feet were already sore, but she put one foot in front of the other. She had a long way to go to get back to the inn, and the bag she was carrying was heavy.

“Look, I know I was sort of—okay, I was rude, but let’s talk. Hello? Are you listening?”

Erin didn’t look at him or speak. She just kept walking. Put one foot in front of the other. She was so tired and sore she barely felt hungry.

----

Eventually he went away. Erin kept walking though. She was trying to make it back to the inn before the sun set. It was going to be a close race.

She was about halfway to her destination when the first stone flew over her head. Erin instinctively ducked and so the next two stones missed her and landed in the grass. She looked around.

At first she couldn’t spot where the stones were coming from. Two missed her, but the third struck her on the shoulder.

“Ow. Ow!”

Erin spotted the origin of the stone. It was a Goblin. The small creature was hard to spot in the fading twilight. It was standing on a hill and hurling rocks down at Erin. And it wasn’t alone.

Two more Goblins screeched and threw stones at her from their hilltop, making her flinch away and pull the bag up to shield her head. But then they just pelted her legs.

“Ah. Ow.”

She covered her face with her arms. The stones kept flying. And they hurt. Even at this distance the rocks cut her arms and bruised her flesh. Already she felt blood trickling down one arm.

Erin knelt on the ground and shielded her head with her bag. That made her less of a target, but the barrage of stones continued. It wasn’t as if the Goblins could hurt her, not so long as they kept hitting her back, but they just didn’t stop. And if she got up they’d aim for her head.

What could she do? Erin felt the stinging hail cut into her back. She had to run. At them? Away? They’d steal all her food if she did. But could she attack them? Fight? If she got any closer the stones could gouge out her eyes, injure her badly. What could she do? What could she—

Something moved past Erin in a blast of air. She flinched and looked around but it was already gone. Then her eyes travelled to the hill. Someone was rushing at the Goblins, ducking under the stones and deflecting the ones that came close to his head with a fast-moving…spear…?

“Hey! Slither off you little bastards!”

The stones stopped flying abruptly. Erin heard a high-pitched scream and several heavy thwacks. Cautiously, she got up and looked around.

The Goblins were running away in full retreat. Relc stood on the hilltop, spear in hand. He waved at her and leapt down the hill in a few long strides.

“Hello there, Miss Erin. Fancy meeting you here.”

Erin stared up at him. He offered her a toothy grin and a hand up. She stood up by herself and picked up her bag.

Relc cleared his throat expectantly.

“It’s not often I get to rescue a damsel in distress. That’s what they call Human females, right? Damsels? Anyways, I saw you were in trouble so I immediately rushed to help.”

“Thanks.”

Erin began walking again. She heard Relc follow after a second’s hesitation.

“Okay, okay. So they weren’t that dangerous. And I was just doing my job; true. But I am sorry. Really. I said too much back there.”

She said nothing. Her vision was blurring over from the cutting pain of the bag’s strap as it carved a groove into her shoulder.

“That looks heavy. Here, let me carry it for you.”

Relc reached for the bag. Erin pulled away.

“No. I’m fine.”

“Oh come on. Don’t be like that. I just—well, it was just me being careless, alright? Let’s talk. Please?”

Erin tried to walk faster, but her legs were already giving up. Relc easily kept pace with her. He was even able to walk backwards faster than her.

“Look. I’m very sorry Miss Erin. Let me carry your bag. It must be quite heavy, and this way we can talk without one of us falling over.”

Erin grudgingly slowed down. It was a tempting offer. Her legs were screaming to accept Relc’s generous offer and have him carry her as well. Her shoulder was already in another dimension of pain.

“Fine.”

She unslung the bag, wincing as blood returned to her arm. Relc lifted the bag with one hand and slung it over his shoulders. Then he kept pace with Erin as if nothing had happened.

“So.”

“So.”

Relc scratched the spines on the back of his head, looked down, looked up, and sighed.

“I really didn’t meant it. It’s just—Necromancers, y’know? They’re dangerous. And it’s best to kill them on sight. You ever seen a thousand zombies trying to eat anything in sight? Even if they’re low-level, even if they play nice, I could never trust a Necromancer.”

“Especially not if they’re human.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But that’s what you think.”

“…”

Relc didn’t have anything to say to that. They both walked on in silence, faster now that the bag wasn’t weighing Erin down.

“So. You bought food, huh? Making lots of pasta tonight?”

“I’m going to sleep.”

“Right, right. But uh, good to see you made it to the city. So how’d you like it?”

“It’s fine.”

“Good, good.”

Relc was clearly casting around desperately for subject matter. He peeked into the bag. Erin could practically feel him salivating.

“Sausages. Mm. But hey, why didn’t you buy any clothes? I thought all females loved clothes, Drake or Human.”

Erin’s stomach twisted. She avoided his gaze and mumbled.

“I didn’t have enough money.”

“What, really?”

Relc looked at her askance and peered into the bag he was carrying.

“No. I mean, there’s food in here but that’s only a few silver coins at best. I’m sure you had more than that, right? How much did you spend?”

Erin felt her face heating up. She looked at the ground.

“A few gold coins. Some silver ones and copper ones.”

He stopped. Erin didn’t. She heard him muttering to himself and then swearing. It sounded like swearing. He loped forwards and was next to her in an instant.

“Really? What kind of rotscale sold you—why did you spend that much money?”

She stared at the grass as she trampled it. It was tinted with a lovely deep orange color in the sun’s fading glow.

“I just thought it was the right price, I guess. I didn’t want to argue.”

Relc muttered under his breath and sighed in exasperation.

“Well, I could go back to the market and ask around. But—I don’t suppose you caught the name of the store.”

“I can’t read the language here.”

Relc sighed again. Deeply.

“Right, right. Well, if you remembered his face I could find who sold you all that, but I doubt anyone’d bear witness against him. And there’s not much for me to go on. I mean, he sold you overpriced goods but it was your fault as well. No offense meant Miss, but how’d you trade a gold coin for a sack or two of flour?”

Erin couldn’t think of anything to say to that.

“Sorry.”

They walked on in silence. At last the inn was in sight. Erin trudged up the last incline, her legs screaming all the way. She paused at the door.

“I can take the bag now.”

Relc hesitated.

“You sure? I can carry it in—”

“I’m sure.”

Erin accepted the bag and her legs wobbled. She opened the door with one hand.

“Right. Thanks.”

She wanted to close the door, but Relc held it open effortlessly. He scratched at the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Look, I’m still really sorry about before. I didn’t mean—well, I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

Erin looked up at him. She just wanted to close her eyes. But he seemed sincere. So she mustered a bit of sincerity herself.

“Thanks for helping. With the Goblins.”

Relc gave her a wide, toothy grin.

“It was nothing. They’re no threat to me, or anyone with a few levels in any warrior. But don’t worry about those pests. I said I’d make it up to you, didn’t I? I’ll do something about them.”

Maybe it was an empty promise. But it made Erin smile a tiny bit.

“Thanks. Good night.”

Relc curled his tail up and flicked her a salute with both hand and tail at the same time.

“Until later, Miss Erin.”

Erin watched as he rapidly disappeared into the dark landscape. She vaguely envied the speed and effortless grace with which he moved. Then she closed the door.

There wasn’t much light so Erin just put the bag in the kitchen and lay down on the floor of the common room.

“I need to buy a pillow. And blankets. When I have the money for it.”

So instead she just used the cloth bag she’d bought as a pillow. Erin tried to get comfortable on the hardwood floor, but the very nature of it was giving her a…hard time. Besides, her shoulders ached. Her legs still hurt from the long walk. And if it were only that which hurt, she would already be asleep.

But instead Erin lay in the silence, listening to her heart beat. She wanted to say something, to think something better. But there wasn’t anything. So she stared at the hazy shapes in the dark room. It took her a long time before her eyes closed.

[Innkeeper Level 6!]

This time she said nothing at all. She just cried for a bit before she fell asleep.

1.15

Erin woke up tired and bleary-eyed. She mechanically got up, and remembered that she’d forgotten to gather any blue fruits. She looked at the bag full of food she’d dragged all the way to the inn. It was too much work to make pasta or bread. So she ate one of the sausages instead.

It was dried, too salty, and had lots of gristle. Even though Erin was starving, it was not the best thing she’d ever eaten. But she ate it anyways, chewing until she could swallow the greasy meal.

Dully, Erin wondered how long it would take for her teeth to rot or her gums to start bleeding. Not too long now.

It wasn’t a good day. But at least she had food. And if she didn’t have money, at least it was a new day.

With her stomach full, Erin felt a little better. Ready to face the day, at least. She made a mental list of what to do. Gather blue fruit first. Then she’d make some pasta, some bread, and then she’d figure out how to—

Knock. Knock.

Erin jolted upright. Someone was at the door. Was it Pisces? Well, it was just another headache for the day. She’d deal with him and—

Knockknockknockknockknockknock—

It wasn’t Pisces. Erin got up and went over to the door. Whoever was there was seriously excited. Too energetic at this time of day.

Erin yanked open the door.

“Who the hell—oh. It’s you.”

Relc grinned at Erin. He was holding something in one hand and his spear in the other.

“Good morning, Miss Human! It’s me, your favorite Guardsman! And how are you doing this fine morning?”

Erin blinked at him. It was far too early to have to stare at a giant lizard grinning at her with a mouth full of sharp teeth.

“Hello Miss Erin! I’ve just taken care of your Goblin problem for you!”

Relc raised his spear triumphantly. A bit of it fell to the ground. Erin blinked and stared at it. Red.

She looked up and saw red blood dripping down the spear, running along Relc’s claw and onto the floor of her inn. Relc noticed that and pulled the spear back outside.

“Sorry about that, Miss Erin. You see, I was just disposing of the Goblins. Call it an apology for yesterday. But now they’re gone the others should leave you alone, especially once I set these up around the inn.”

Relc lifted the objects in his left hand. Erin looked at them and saw three melons. Green melons? No.

Her eyes went back up to Relc’s grinning face. She stared at his bloody spear. He was talking, but the words were suddenly impossible to make out over the buzzing in Erin’s ears. She looked at his smile. She looked at the spear.

She looked down and saw the heads.

There were three of them in Relc’s claws. He’d grabbed them by their ears and the force was already tearing the dead flesh. Each one’s eyes were still open, their lifeless expressions twisted in fear. Blood still dripped from one, down into the eye sockets of another.

Erin’s eyes wandered up and away from the heads. She stared out past Relc’s shoulder. It was a beautiful day outside. The sun was shining. The sky was blue. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky.

She looked down at the heads. They were still there. She looked up at Relc. He was still speaking, but stopped and looked at her in concern. He dropped the heads carelessly to the ground. Erin heard each one thump wetly on the floorboards of the inn.

Relc raised his clawed hand and reached out for her. The same one he’d held the heads with.

Erin threw up. She vomited up the sausages, choked, and threw up some more.

“——————!”

She felt a hand holding her, helping her upright. She pushed away at it, retched.

“——? ——. ————!”

Her head was spinning. Her ears were filled with a piercing high-pitched sound.

“——————? ——?”

Erin looked around. The heads were still there. She threw up again, but there was nothing left. But still, she threw up bile, and then retched and retched until she couldn’t breathe or think.

“——!”

At last, Erin stopped. She felt strong hands lifting her up and felt herself being sat in a chair in the inn. Relc’s anxious face peered at her, and she felt his hand on her temple. She stared through him at the heads. They were lying on the floor of the inn. Their eyes were open. Blood had dried on their faces.

Erin took one deep breath. The world spun around her and she heard nothing. Just static. She felt numb, like she was in surgery. But underneath that numbness was something terrible.

She looked at Relc. The Drake was fussing at her, trying to get her attention. She looked back at the heads. Then she began to scream.

----

Erin walked outside with the three Goblin heads in her arms. They weren’t cold. They weren’t warm, either. They were just fleshy. Heavy, fleshy. And dead.

She made sure not to drop them as she walked. She didn’t know where she was going, only that she had to find the bodies. She left the inn behind and began walking.

Relc was gone. He’d left sometime earlier.

She didn’t remember anything. Just flashes of her screaming at Relc to get out and hurling things. Screaming, crying, vomiting. And then the heads. Picking them up where they lay.

Erin walked with them in her arms. Everything was going by too quickly. One moment she was inside, the next she was out, looking around for…for…

The bodies.

The dead bodies were lying out in the open. Three corpses lay in a bed of trampled grass.

Erin stopped. She placed the three heads on the ground and walked over to the bodies. They told a story. She wasn’t good at forensics or anything like that, but she could still read what had happened. The blood was still wet on the ground.

Two died…there. They hadn’t run. Relc had probably cut them down in an instant. The last had run, but not far. He’d made it only a few steps before a spear had stabbed him from behind. Multiple times.

Erin looked at the bloody holes and felt nothing. No. That wasn’t right. She felt something. She felt so many emotions she couldn’t think. But they were buried deep within her heart. Right now the numbness made her feel like she was in the middle of a silent world.

She placed the heads down next to the bodies. Which belonged to which? She looked at the cuts around each head. One she could place easily, but the other two were too similar. She had to roll over the bodies to check the other side.

The sunlight kept their bodies warm. But they were still cold, and Erin’s hands were colder still. She flipped them over carefully and learned something else.

They were both females. It was hard to tell from their faces, but their bodies were female.

Erin turned over the last body. The one that had fled was male, and older. It wasn’t just that he was bigger; he had more hair, more developed features and…he didn’t look like a child. The other two did.

The coldness grew worse. Erin began to shake. She crawled away to throw up, but found she couldn’t. So she went back and stared at the three bodies.

Their blood had long stopped flowing. But the grass was still red. They smelled, but only of dirt and blood. Not of death and rot. Not yet. But they were rotting. And in the sun they would start to stink soon.

Erin knew this. She didn’t know it, but she’d read about it. They would rot and attract bugs. They were already.

A green fly landed on one of the bodies. Erin stared at it. An acid fly. It fanned its wings and began to crawl over the male Goblin’s body.

She swatted it. The bug exploded as her hand struck it, and the acid burned her palm. Erin scrubbed her hand in the grass and rubbed dirt on her skin. It was raw and red but she ignored it as soon as most of the burning had stopped.

She needed to bury the bodies. Or they would rot.

Erin went inside the inn. She came out a few minutes later, holding a long wooden spoon. It was probably used for stirring one of the big pots. It would do.

She began digging in the grass where the bodies lay. It was hard work. She had to tear out the grass before she could pry at the soil. And even then, the ground wasn’t easy to break up. But she persisted, and the few clumps of dirt grew as she dug deeper.

Slowly. Like making a sandcastle at the beach. Erin dug down and the pile of dirt beside her grew. The hole was small and every time she tried to scoop out more dirt the walls caved in. But she kept digging. And the pile of dirt grew.

At some point the wooden spoon broke. Erin used her hands. They began to bleed after a while. She kept digging.

At last the hole was big enough. Erin picked up the first body and laid it in the grave. It fit. It more than fit. The hole she’d dug was big enough for a human, which meant more than enough to fit all three Goblins inside.

They were such small creatures. Erin vaguely wondered if she should dig two more graves.

She looked down at her bloody hands and broken nails. No.

She placed the second body in the grave, next to the first. She had to lay the third body on top. Then came the heads. She placed each with their body. One, and then two.

As Erin picked up the third head she heard a sound. She turned around and saw the Goblin standing in the long grass.

The Goblin was small and ragged. It was wearing a grey, stained loincloth and a few rags tied to its chest. It held a small knife. It stared at Erin and the head she held in her hands.

Erin paused. Her head was still filled with static, but her mouth tried to say something. Too late. The Goblin rushed at her, screaming wildly and slashing with the dagger.

Erin stepped back. She held the last Goblin’s head in one hand and waited until the other Goblin was close. She leapt sideways at the last moment and the small Goblin missed her. It turned, still flailing its weapon.

She slapped the Goblin as hard as she could across the face. Her hand made a krack as she sent the Goblin tumbling to the ground and it lost hold of the dagger it was carrying. It whimpered and fled from Erin, scrabbling after the weapon in the grass.

Erin was still staring at the Goblin as it seized the dagger and spun to face her. It was small. So small. Like a child. This one was a child. But it had murder in its eyes.

Erin’s mind was still hazy. But as the Goblin stared at her in tense silence she realized what she wanted to say. It came to her when she saw the tears running from the Goblin’s red eyes.

“I don’t want to kill you.”

It rushed at her. Erin stepped forward and kicked the Goblin in the stomach. She’d done that to a boy as a child, only now she was kicking a child.

The Goblin vomited, and then curled up into a little ball of pain. It tried to scrabble away from her, but it was in too much pain. Erin stared at the Goblin lying on the ground. She still held the head of the other Goblin in her hands.

The smart thing to do would be to kill it. She’d level up, and then she’d be rid of one less Goblin trying to kill her. If she let it live, it would get reinforcements. She’d never be safe so long as they were around. They were dangerous monsters. They’d kill her in her sleep and eat her or do worse if they could. It was survival of the fittest. She’d pay for letting it live. It was it or her. She had to—

The thoughts ran through Erin’s head as she looked at the twitching Goblin. It was small. She turned and placed the last head with the bodies.

When she turned around, the Goblin was gone.

Erin put the last head in the grave and stared at it. Then she slowly began to fill in the rest of the grave.

It was a long process. Erin packed the dirt in tightly and made a mound of the rest. She pushed on the dirt and made it firm as possible. Then she stared at the uneven pile of upturned soil.

Erin placed her hands together and bowed her head. Then she let her hands fall away. There were no words for her to say. So she patted the last bit of dirt into place, and sat down on the grass.

The sun was shining. The sky was a deep, deep blue. She didn’t cry. She just sat and rocked back and forth as she stared at the grave she’d dug.

Erin didn’t blink.

----

She looked up when she heard the horn.

It was no echoing bass rumble of a dread army’s herald. And neither was it a clarion call to victory sounded on a dark battlefield. It just sounded like a horn. But it was loud. And it made her look up.

A Goblin stood upon a hill and stared down at her. He was nearly as tall as Erin. So he was very big for a Goblin, but small, still. His body was muscled and wide. His head was covered by a rusted helmet, and he wore mismatched bits of metal armor on his body.

Even without being told Erin knew he was the leader of whatever Goblin tribe lived around here. And she also knew he was out for blood.

Hers.

She got up slowly. It wasn’t that she was terrified; it was that she was still in shock. She backed away slowly as the Goblin Chieftain pulled something from behind his back.

Her thought scrambled together. The inn? Or the city? She could probably outrun him but the other Goblins were sure to be nearby. So where were they?

Erin was so busy looking out for other Goblins sneaking up on her that she only realized that the Chieftain was holding a bow when he fired the first shot.

An arrow struck the grass next to her feet and quivered in the packed soil. Erin turned and ran.

A second arrow missed her as well. So did the third. But the fourth passed through the gap between her pumping arms.

Erin crested a small hill and immediately dove. She hit the grass face-first and slid painfully, but the fifth arrow missed the spot where her back had been. She got to her feet to run again and saw the Goblins.

They stood together, a silent wall of small bodies and red, staring eyes. They were staring at her. Not many all told. Forty? Less? If she had to guess it was a small tribe. Smaller than the one she’d run away from that first day. But they were all armed. She waited for them to charge. She waited to die.

Not one of them moved. They watched her, that was all. They made no sound.

One of them was quivering. It was standing close to Erin and holding a knife. A small knife, held by a small hand. Erin recognized it.

It was the ragged Goblin from earlier. It stared at Erin and she stared back. She could tell it wanted to cut her, to attack. But it didn’t.

A horn blew from the other side of the hill. Erin looked up. The Goblin Chieftain. He was the one who was orchestrating it all.

So. She stared back at the Goblin. It stared back, hatred and death in its eyes. Crimson eyes. They were unnatural, monstrous.

But still, they were too much like a human’s.

“I didn’t kill them.”

Erin said it out loud. She didn’t expect it to understand, but the Goblin jerked in surprise. It looked at her, searching for the truth.

“I didn’t kill them, but it doesn’t matter.”

It looked into her eyes. Erin looked right back. Then she got up and ran.

----

They didn’t scream as they followed her. That was the scariest part. The Goblin tribe followed Erin swiftly, running as fast as they could to keep up, but they didn’t move to cut her off. They just followed.

Maybe they would have stopped her if she’d run for the city. But Erin ran for her inn and so they let her go. They weren’t here to kill her. Just to watch.

Without being told, Erin knew this was different. If it were just a fight or them trying to kill her, they would have swarmed her and ripped her to shreds in an instant. But this was a hunt.

And the Chieftain was the one hunting her.

Maybe he thought she was easy prey. He was right. And he probably could have guessed Erin wasn’t the one who killed the Goblins. It didn’t matter. It was blood for blood. The oldest of vengeances.

Erin thought all this as she hurtled through the door of her inn and blocked it with as many tables and chairs as she could. She knew it as she scrambled to find a kitchen knife, a frying pan—anything to defend herself. And she knew it when she sat in a chair and tasted death in the air.

She gave up on looking for a weapon. She sat and stared at the door. She heard the Chieftain’s horn call far away, and then again, as he drew closer slowly.

There was nowhere to run. And she couldn’t fight.

It had dawned on her as she was holding the sharp kitchen knife. She’d been trying to imagine her facing the armored Goblin, dodging blows, countering with a slash and then cutting—

No. It was impossible.

She was no warrior.

Erin sat in the wooden chair and felt it rub against her t-shirt. She felt her hands, slick with sweat. She tasted blood from running too hard, and felt each breath tear a hole in her lungs. She was alive. She knew she wasn’t dreaming.

And she knew she was going to die.

“Checkmate.”

She sat at the table in the inn and stared at the door.  It occurred to her, suddenly, that this was the first time she’d sat around and really had a chance to think. Because this was, in a sense, the first time she’d ever had when she wasn’t reacting blindly to events.

Maybe if she’d taken more time earlier, she would never have come to this point. If she’d thought ahead, maybe she’d have asked Klbkch and Relc how much food was worth. If she’d thought for a second, she would have known what Relc meant by taking care of the Goblins yesterday. Maybe then she’d have stopped Relc from killing the Goblins.

But she hadn’t. So she was here. But it was a terrible thing, waiting. So Erin sat and thought.

“I’ll think. I’ll think for once about it.”

Erin closed her eyes and tried to ignore the horn as it blew from far away. The Goblin Chieftain wasn’t moving fast. He was probably walking, saving his energy for when he got here. He was in no hurry.

She thought about Goblins. She thought about how they had leaders, and how it was the leader’s job to defend his people. Maybe he didn’t care about them. And maybe he wouldn’t take revenge if it were an adventurer or guardsman that killed them and then went back into a city with stone walls. But what about a stupid human living by herself out in the middle of nowhere?

She thought about the small Goblin who’d attacked her. She thought about families, and thought about her parents. She thought about the Goblin Chieftain and his swords and armor.

She thought about what would happen to her when he caught her.

“Checkmate.”

Erin whispered it again. It sounded wrong, for some reason.

Checkmate. She’d heard that word too many times. But those had been games. This was real life. And she—she didn’t want to die.

But she was about to. That was why she was sitting in the inn. Erin heard the horn blaring again in the distance and knew that death was coming. So. Checkmate.

Was it? She had to ask. Erin whispered to herself a single question.

“Is it checkmate or just check?”

Erin stared at her hands. She hadn’t washed them. And she could still feel the clammy, lifeless head in her palms. She sat in the inn and stared down into the lifeless eyes of the three Goblin heads.

Horn call. She looked up at the door. The big Goblin was moving slowly. He wanted her to be afraid. To despair. To panic. There was nowhere to run. And if the only options were to fight and kill or run and die—

“If only it were dying.”

Erin whispered those words. She didn’t want to die. But better then anything else. So. Fight. And kill.

“I can’t do it.”

But she had to. Erin started shaking. There was no option. It was as clear a choice as she’d known. She could run or hide, and maybe, maybe she’d succeed. But if he caught her she’d have to fight and win. And to win she’d have to kill him. It was kill him or give up.

“Checkmate.”

Did she have a fever? Erin’s body flashed between burning heat and empty cold. She was shaking, but something inside of her was calm. So terribly calm.

Erin closed her eyes. She knew. But she didn’t want to. Her mouth was dry, but she forced herself to speak.

“Oh Father who art in Heaven…”

Her voice trailed off. She’d forgotten the rest long ago. And there was no God to listen to her. No merciful god would condone what she was about to do.

Erin opened her eyes. She stared at her hands and thought. Who was her enemy?

A Goblin. Not just any Goblin, but a Chieftain. A leader among their kind. Strong? Yes. Stronger than the others by far. But maybe not that much stronger than a normal human man. If she were better at fighting…

But he had a sword. And a bow and arrow. And he had levels, whatever that meant. He was a better fighter. And what did Erin have?

She looked around. She had an inn. She had a kitchen, the few supplies she’d bought from the city. She had a common room full of tables and chairs, an upstairs with no way out save through the windows. She had kitchen knives, pots, pans, and an empty fireplace.

Erin closed her eyes and thought. She opened them a minute later and knew.

A horn blew somewhere in the distance. Erin listened to it and heard her heartbeat drowning out her thoughts. She knew what she had to do.

Erin got up. Her ears were ringing, but the world was silent. She felt like a dreamer, walking through a sleeping world. Even the blaring horn call sounded faint. In this moment, she felt like she had all the time in the world.

Slowly, Erin walked into the kitchen. She bent, and fished around in the bag of food she’d bought. There it was. Was it enough? It would be enough.

Erin looked around, and picked up the cast iron cooking pot. It was small. But it would do.

All the embers in the kitchen’s fireplace had long since turned to ash. Erin tossed in a few pieces of wood and slowly bent to strike sparks. It was slow. The horn kept calling, louder and louder. But her hands never wavered. She was still dreaming.

At last the fire caught. Erin fed the small blaze and it grew slowly. She added enough wood and set the pot above the fire. It would be hot soon enough. The fire was growing.

That was it. Erin filled the pot to the brim with the item she’d taken from the shopping bag. Then she put the lid on the pot. Slowly, she walked back into the main room of the inn. And sat down.

The horn blew. It was from right outside the inn. Erin heard the Goblin’s heavy footsteps now, the rattle of his metal armor. He paused before the door.

Thud.

The door rattled. The chairs and tables blocking it moved from the force of the impact. Erin stared at the door.

“It’s all just a game.”

She whispered to herself. She didn’t believe it.

Thud.

Another impact. This time Erin heard cracking. The door wouldn’t last. She had seconds left.

Thud.

The fire was starting in the kitchen. It would take time to heat the pot. Was it enough? It would have to be enough.

Thud.

The entire door shook. Erin saw the wood splinter around the hinges. She waited. Death was in her bones. But whether it was hers she didn’t know.

“Knight to D4. Pawn to E3.”

She didn’t want to die. But it might be better then what came next. Erin closed her eyes.

“I truly hate this world.”

The door crashed inwards and the Goblin Chieftain stepped into the inn.

1.16

It was a beautiful morning. The sky was deep blue and the sun shone down pleasantly.

The door splinted inwards and the Goblin Chieftain charged into the inn. Erin stood up and grabbed a chair.

The Chieftain grinned as he spotted her. He glanced at the chair Erin was holding and then dismissed it. His eyes lingered on Erin. Her face, her body—she didn’t like the way he was looking at her.

She hesitated. The chair was in her hands.

“I don’t want to hurt—”

The Goblin Chieftain roared and charged Erin. He crashed into her and she smashed through the table behind her. The chair she was holding flew out of her hands. She felt something in her body crack.

The Goblin drew his sword. Erin lay on the ground gaping like a fish. He swung down. She rolled left and the sword splintered the floorboards.

Away. Erin threw herself over another table and felt the sword miss her by centimeters. She picked up a chair and hurled it at the Goblin. He swatted it down with one armored hand contemptuously.

The table was between them. Erin tensed to dodge left or right but the Chieftain grabbed the table and pushed. He rammed the heavy table into Erin’s midsection like a cannonball and then flipped the table.

A wall of wood came up and crashed down on her. Erin lay under the table, stunned, until she felt a thick hand grab her by one ankle and drag her out.

The Goblin pulled Erin from under the table and laughed at her. She lay on her back, eyes unfocused. He pulled aside his loincloth and pulled her towards him. Erin looked up at him and felt horror beating in her chest. He bent down to rip her clothes off—

She kicked up, right at his groin with all her strength.

The Goblin caught her leg easily. He grinned at her again. With his other hand he grabbed her leg—

Erin sat up. Her legs were caught, but her hands weren’t. She punched the dangling target right between the Goblin’s legs.

He roared and threw her away. Erin tumbled over and got to her feet. He was clutching at his private parts. She grabbed a chair and this time she didn’t hesitate.

Erin brought the chair down on the Goblin’s head with a heavy thump. Once. Twice. Then the Goblin punched at her.

She saw the punch coming and tried to block with the chair. The Goblin’s fist smashed through the wood and knocked Erin off her feet again. She got up and felt her mouth filling with blood.

The Chieftain roared and picked up his sword. Erin scrambled away. She was near the kitchen. She dashed inside and slammed the door shut.

There. The pot was sitting over the fire, and black smoke was coming out of the lid. Erin reached for it and felt the burning heat. Gloves. There was a rolling pin on the counter but no gloves or oven mitts. Where were—

The door exploded inwards with a terrific crash. Erin turned and saw the Goblin Chieftain. He charged at her.

She ducked. The sword whistled through the air and struck the wall. The impact jarred the blade out of the Goblin’s hands as he shouted something guttural at Erin. She smashed him in the face with a rolling pin.

His nose broke. Erin felt it break but she lifted the rolling pin and hit him again. Hit him. She had to hit him while he was unarmed. Hit him. Hit—

Shk.

Something heavy hit Erin in the midriff and pushed her back. She stumbled back a bit and regained her footing. Something was weighing her down though. Something was…Erin looked down.

A knife was sticking out of her stomach, just above her waist. It was too far on the left side. It wasn’t symmetrical. And it was in her. In her.

Erin tugged at the knife. It was stuck. She pulled and felt—the skin around her stomach tried to pull itself out with the knife. She clenched her stomach muscles and pulled—

The knife came out with another terrible tearing of flesh. Erin stared at the blood on the blade. She dropped it and the knife fell with a heavy thump on the ground. It should have clattered.

Blood. It was running from her stomach. Erin held her hand over the wound and tried to make it stop. But she was bleeding now, faster and faster. And the Goblin Chief was getting up.

“————!”

Erin wasn’t making any words. It was just a half-choked scream. She stumbled towards the fireplace, pain tearing up her insides with each step.

Smoke billowed from the pot. The contents boiled and spat at her. There was no time for gloves. She grabbed the pot by the handles.

The metal burned her. Erin screamed as her hands blistered and the skin burned away. The pain was unbearable. But she held the pot and turned.

The Chieftain was on his feet. He snarled at her through his broken nose and bloody face. He had the kitchen knife in his hands. He lunged at her.

Erin tossed the contents of the pot at the Goblin Chieftain. The boiling oil splashed the Goblin’s face and ran down his chest.

He screamed. The Chieftain dropped the kitchen knife and screamed so loud Erin went deaf. She dropped the cooking pot and stumbled away from him.

She held her shaking hands out. Already her skin was burnt black and white in places. Large blisters were already forming out of her ruined skin. But it was only half. Only half of the pain in the world.

The Goblin Chieftain clawed at his face and sank to the floor. He was screaming still, but the sound he made was so very small. She heard him choking. Screaming quietly in agony. She understood. There wasn’t enough sound in the world to convey it all, and the screaming would make the pain worse. But still he had to scream so he did it quietly.

Erin sat on the ground and stared at him. She was bleeding. The wound in her stomach bled without stopping. But her hands—

They weren’t the same. And the agony of both was too much to bear. So Erin forgot the pain. She stared at the Chieftain as he lay on the floor. He was smoking.

Parts of his face were sloughing off. The boiling oil had…melted him. But he was still alive. But he was dying.

Erin heard him breathing. Short, sharp bursts and whimpered pain. He lay on the ground and did not move. The fight was over. She’d won.

Slowly, Erin began to cry.

----

The girl sits in the ruined kitchen with the Goblin. Both are silent. One is dying. The other is dead inside.

A haze of burned smoke fills the room. The smell of burnt flesh fills the air. Oil mixes with blood and flesh on the floor.

Eventually, the girl moves. Slowly, so slowly, she stands. Staggering, clutching at the hole in her stomach she walks over to a large cloth bag filled with food. She picks up a kitchen knife lying on the ground.

She takes the knife and slices the bag apart. The pain as she tightens the bandage over her stomach nearly makes her faint. Her fingers and palms bleed clear liquid and the world grows black. But she grips the bandage tightly and ties the knot.

Then she looks behind her.

A dark shape lies on the floor, burning. Steam rises from melted flesh. The odor of cooked meat hangs heavy in the air. A dark shape lies on the floor. It moves slightly as it breathes in and out in labored breaths.

The girl goes to sit down next to it. The oil is still hot, but she doesn’t care. She sits with the Goblin and stares into its ruined face. Does he stare back? Only she knows.

A dark shape lies on the floor. The girl sits with it and waits. In time, the breathing stops.

A warm sun shines down from blue skies through one window in the kitchen. It is not midday yet, and a cool breath comes down from the mountains.

The world is silent.

The girl sits back against one wall and closes her eyes. Her blood drips to the floor.

[Innkeeper Level 9!]

[Skill – Tavern Brawling obtained!]

[Skill – Unerring Throw obtained!]

1.17

His name was Klbkch. It was what the members of other species called him, at least. Among his kind he had no name that could be expressed in words. So he thought of himself as Klbkch or sometimes ‘Klb’. It was important to have a name.

At the moment Klbkch was off-duty. He had signed out of the roster and added Relc’s name to the log as well. His partner never signed out, or if he did, he did it improperly. It was important to do things properly.

Klbkch walked through the dark grassland outside of the city. He was headed to the inn where a young human female currently resided. It was not part of his duties as a guardsman. He was visiting her to improve his relationship with her. It was important to maintain good relationships with other species.

He knew something was wrong when he saw the smoke. Instantly Klbkch drew the two swords at his waist. He had two more hands free, but he left them unarmed for now.

Swords at the ready, Klbkch charged up the slight incline towards the inn. He moved extremely quickly – his long legs combined with his levels in the [Guardsman] class gave him [Enhanced Movement], which turned the several miles into a blur behind him.

The inn was leaking black smoke out of the back windows. Klbkch knew they were connected to the kitchen. The door was also smashed in, and as Klbkch approached he saw Goblins fleeing into the hills.

Goblins.

Klbkch stopped outside of the inn and flattened himself against one wall next to the entrance. He drew his two daggers in his lower set of hands and braced himself. He did not underestimate or overestimate his chances.

As the fourth-highest leveled guardsman in the city he was more than capable of handling most Goblin varieties. But if he was outnumbered he would retreat. His goal was to assess the whereabouts and well being of Erin Solstice and if possible, retreat with her. If not, his job was to witness her fate and the forces currently occupying the inn.

For some reason Erin Solstice mattered to Klbkch more than assessing the threat at the moment. He dismissed that thought instantly and questioned his judgement. His survival outweighed a single human’s.

But. She could be inside, wounded or dying at the hands of the Goblins. Klbkch was well-aware of their tendency to rape and assault females of any humanoid race.

His instincts told him to wait. Klbkch ignored them. His mind was telling him to act. He charged through the door, ready for anything.

The common room of the inn was a mess of broken tables and chairs. Klbkch swept the room. Empty. The door to the kitchen was broken in. He charged into the kitchen. And stopped.

Two figures lay on the ground. One was a Goblin. Not just any Goblin; a Chieftain. A true danger and threat. The other was a human girl. Both were lying still.

Klbkch assessed the situation. The Goblin Chieftain was a great threat. He could be killed if necessary but—it was already dead. Dead. A threat capable of wiping out low-level parties of adventurers by itself had been killed by…a girl?

How? But that didn’t matter. He looked at Erin Solstice.

The young woman lay against a kitchen counter. She held a bandage to her stomach with her arm. Her hands were blistered and blackened. Tears had painted clear lines through the soot on her face. Red-black blood dried around the bandage on her stomach.

She was barely breathing.

For once in his short life, Klbkch of the Free Antinium had no idea what to say.

“Ah. Miss Solstice?”

----

The pain had left after a while. Erin floated in a dark, warm sea by herself. She was falling asleep. Or maybe she was asleep and just dreaming.

Erin slowly sank into slumber as the light of the world faded away. It was a wonderful feeling as she gave up her burdens and closed her eyes. Sleep. It had been so long since she’d slept properly.

But there was something bothering her. Something…was making a sound? Yes, a sound. Erin squeezed her eyes shut, but now she was being shaken. She didn’t want to wake up. But maybe if she did, she could go back to sleep. She listened.

“Miss Solstice? Miss Solstice, you must drink.”

She was waking up. And with the waking came pain. Erin groaned, or tried to. Her throat was terribly dry. She hurt. She hurt so much that she couldn’t bear the pain. She didn’t know what to do. She wanted to go back to sleep, but the voice was insistent.

“Drink.”

Something was at her lips. Erin felt cool liquid and licked instinctively.

At once something wonderful began happening. Just as her tongue tasted bitter foulness and she gagged, the pain went away. For a second.

Then it was gone. Desperately Erin opened her mouth and tasted the disgusting, wonderful drink again. The pain vanished, and the burning pain in her stomach ended. The agony of her hands vanished.

Erin opened her eyes and sat up. Energy flooded back into her body and the darkness of death receded. She looked up and saw a giant insectoid face staring down at her.

“Guh.”

Erin choked on the last mouthful of the healing potion. Klbkch held her steady as she choked it down and swallowed.

“Miss Solstice. Are you well?”

“I—I’m alive.”

Erin stammered. She looked at Klbkch. He was holding the empty potion bottle in his hand. He had saved her. Brought her back from death. She wanted to thank him. She didn’t have the words, but she wanted to thank him for saving her. She opened her mouth and then saw the body lying on the floor.

The Goblin Chieftain. Her eyes fell on his ruined face, on his motionless body. Erin paused, and ignored Klbkch’s repeated questions. For a while, she just stared at the body until Klbkch dragged it out of the kitchen. When he returned and she looked back into his face, she’d completely forgotten what she wanted to say.

----

“You are not from here, are you, Miss Solstice?”

That was the first thing Klbkch said to her after he’d made sure she was well.

Erin lay against the kitchen cupboards, her shirt lifted up as she inspected her stomach. It was perfectly healed, although the bandage was still there. She would have felt uneasy about undressing in front of Klbkch but—she wasn’t. It was probably because he was an insect.

She looked up in surprise. Klbkch was staring at her. She didn’t know what to say. He, however, did.

“I do not mean this country or even this continent. You are not from here, are you?”

Klbkch squatted next to her. His large hind legs made it easier than sitting.

“No. I’m not.”

“I thought as much.”

Erin smiled bloodlessly.

“Was it obvious?”

“Say rather that it has become obvious. It is an unbelievable statement, but it is the only one I can come to.”

Erin hesitated, and then nodded. Klbkch nodded in agreement.

“How’d you figure it out?”

“Many clues lead me to this conclusion. Your curiosity about levels and classes, your mysterious arrival and this ‘Michigan’ which is no nation recorded in any book. But most of all it was this last moment. No Human would weep for a Goblin.”

Erin brushed at her face. Her tears were long dried but—

“Really? No one? What about Drakes?”

“No Human. No Drake or Beastkin or Gnoll or any creature from Liscor would.”

“What about your people?”

Klbkch didn’t blink. He couldn’t. But he did twitch.

“The Antinium? We do not weep.”

“Oh. I see.”

Erin felt Klbkch’s hands moving at her side. He was peeling away the sticky bandage.

“Ow. What was—”

“Worry not. The healing potion worked. The bandage has stuck to your skin.”

“Oh—ow! Good to know.”

“You will be weak for at least a day afterwards. However, you will recover in full.”

Erin yelped as a bit of skin came off with the rest of the bandage.

“Good. Thank you. So. What now? Did you—what did you do with the body?”

“I buried it outside. Far from the inn, to prevent chance reanimation. Worry not.”

“…Thank you. Um. Thank you.”

Klbkch nodded. He quickly and deftly folded the dirty bandage and added it to the fire he’d lit. It burned and smelled terribly, but that was just one burned smell among many in the kitchen at the moment.

The ant man went to check on the small pot he’d set over the stove. It was filled with boiling water, not oil. After a minute he dipped another piece of cloth into the pot and brought it over to Erin. She accepted it wordlessly and used it to sponge off dried dirt, blood, and other stains from her skin.

“I had made the observation that you were not from this world, Miss Solstice.”

“Yeah. I changed the subject. Humans do that when they don’t want to talk about something at the moment.”

She scrubbed violently at her stomach. The towel was quite hot, but the heat was welcome. She felt cold. Klbkch bowed his head as he watched her.

“My apologies. I should not be asking such questions now. You are still in shock.”

Erin looked up.

“I’m not in shock.”

“You are still suffering from this encounter. Your mental state is unbalanced.”

“I’m not in shock. I’m really not. I’m just—tired.”

“As you say.”

Klbkch bowed his head again.

“I’m okay. Really. I just—I’m from somewhere else. Another world. This place is different. I just—I just won’t want to talk about it right now. It’s been a bad day.”

“Of course. Forgive my rudeness. But if I may, I would like to suggest a course of action.”

“Um. Okay?”

“I have disposed of the Goblin Chieftain’s body. However, there are many Goblins still hiding nearby. If you feel safe here I will dispose of as many as I can. If not I will escort you to the city and then return with reinforcements to—”

“No.”

Erin cut Klbkch off. She sensed the ant man’s surprise.

“No? If you feel unable to travel I can—”

“No. No killing Goblins.”

He paused. She could sense him looking at her even though his multi-faceted eyes had no pupils.

“May I ask why not?”

“It’s wrong.”

“Many would argue otherwise, Miss Solstice. Goblins are considered monsters and bandits for the purposes of determining crime under Liscorian law. They are killers who prey on the weak.”

Erin nodded.

“They’re vicious, evil little monsters. And they’d probably eat me if they could.”

“Undoubtedly.”

“And they’re murderers.”

“This is true. Over a quarter of the deaths of travelers on the roads around Liscor are due to Goblin attacks. They are murderers.”

“Yeah.”

Erin mumbled. She stared at her hands. Her clean, whole hands.

“They’re murderers. And so am I. Don’t kill them.”

Silence followed her last remark. Erin stared at her hands. At last, Klbkch’s staccato voice sounded next to her ear.

“I do not understand your reasoning. But I will accede to your requests. Know that I will defend myself with lethal force if attacked, however.”

“That’s fine. They’re gone, anyways. They ran off when they heard him screaming.”

“Very well then.”

Klbkch fell silent. Erin stared at the spot where the body had lain. She felt lightheaded. At some point, she felt, she should have clung to Klbkch and started crying. Or was that too stereotypical? Was it a normal reaction? But instead she just felt a bit—empty.

“One more thing.”

“Is there something you wish to ask of me, Miss Solstice?”

Erin nodded vaguely. She pointed at her chest. It was still bare. Oops. She pulled her shirt down. Good thing her bra was still on.

“After I killed the Goblin—I gained a new skill. Two, actually. [Tavern Brawling] and [Unerring Throw].”

“They are worthy skills. Unusual for the [Innkeeper] class, but not unheard of.”

“Really? Why’d I get them? And aren’t skills like…set?”

“Another sign you do not belong of this world, Miss Solstice.”

Erin looked up with a frown. Klbkch waved one hand.

“I mean no offence. It is simply that all beings know how classes and skills work.”

“Well then, explain it to me.”

Klbkch was silent for a few seconds.

“To put it simply, classes are general ways of life that individuals take. In life, one might choose to become a [Butcher], or perhaps a [Musician]. It is simply a matter of fulfilling the requirements. Often they are known, but there are exceptions. One cannot simply take the [Ruler]-type class for instance.”

“Right, you’ve got to be born into it.”

“That is indeed one of the ways to learn such a class. But in any case, classes increase one’s proficiency at their role with each new level. And with that increase in ability, skills may be learnt. But there is no one set of skills for a class.”

“Really?”

“Indeed not. Two individuals taking the [Soldier] class for instance, may learn different skills at the same level. It is a matter of need and inclination which allows individuals to learn skills. For instance, while Relc is a higher level warrior than I, he is not of a higher level in the actual [Guardsman] class and thus does not possess the [Detect Guilt] skill.”

“Okay.”

Klbkch looked at Erin. She shrugged.

“Do you understand?”

“Not really. Sort of. I guess? But why are there levels in the first place?”

“It is the way of the world. All races that think are given the ability to level and take classes.”

“By who?”

Erin sighed and slapped her face lightly.

“Or whom. Who did it? And why?”

“It is not known. But our oldest texts tell us of this truth.”

Klbkch recited in his inflectionless voice:

“All those that Think—Feel. From Feeling do we Act. It is in Action that we Level. All those who Think have a Class. And it is in that Class which we find destiny.”

Erin snorted. Then she realized he was being serious.

“Did someone teach you that?”

Klbkch nodded gravely.

“It is part of the lessons any child learns. The exact wording comes from a book: The Book of Levels, which was originally written nearly a thousand years ago.”

“But why is that how things work?”

Erin was getting frustrated. Klbkch’s calm, matter-of-fact tone wasn’t helping matters either.

“It is simply how we live our life. This is a universal truth throughout the world. Is yours not the same?”

Erin scowled at him.

“No, it’s not. We don’t have levels, and we don’t learn skills like we’re in a video game. We don’t have classes except for ones in school, and we don’t need levels to learn things.”

“Learning skills is not merely a matter of levels. Classes and leveling are simply the basis of our lives so we may grow faster from what we do. It is a fact of life.”

“That’s stupid.”

He looked at her in surprise.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Your leveling is stupid. Your skills are stupid. I hate your world’s classes, I hate your city, and I hate you.”

She shouted those last words at Klbkch and then buried her face in her hands. After a while she felt him place a comforting hand on her shoulder. It was cold, smooth exoskeleton. But it was still comforting.

“…I didn’t mean that.”

“I took no offense, Miss Solstice. I realize you have gone through a traumatic event. The fault lies with me for not being more receptive to your distress. I should have provided more comfort and companionship. In that my partner Relc is occasionally more effective than I.”

“You’re fine.”

Erin mumbled that through her tears. She’d begun crying. Not bad crying or loud crying, but her eyes were suddenly filled with tears.

“I’m just having a bad—I mean, it’s been—I hate this world. But I didn’t mean that last bit about you. You’re okay. Everyone else can go to hell.”

“I see. Here. Please accept this.”

Klbkch handed Erin another piece of cloth. She blew her nose and sniffed loudly.

“I’d like to be alone now.”

Klbkch hesitated.

“I will remain here with your permission. It would be unwise to—”

She cut him off.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Respectfully, I must disagree. Though the Goblin Chieftain is dead, his tribe may seek vengeance.”

“They won’t.”

“May I ask how you know?”

“I just know. Please. I’d really like to be left alone.”

Again he hesitated, but at least Klbkch stood up. He walked over to the door of the kitchen. There he turned.

“One last question Miss Solstice, if I may? What caused the Goblin Chieftain to attack you in the first place? It is rare that the tribal leader takes any aggressive action if unprovoked.”

Erin closed her eyes. She felt so tired. And the events of…was it this morning? They felt so long ago.

“Relc. He killed three Goblins and beheaded them.”

Klbkch paused. Out of the corner of her eye Erin saw him close one of his four hands. Then he bowed deeply.

“Allow me to apologize on both our behalves. Words cannot express my shame.”

She nodded shortly.

“It’s okay.”

The lie said, she waited for Klbkch to leave. When he didn’t leave after a few minutes, she looked directly at him.

“I’m going to sleep.”

He nodded.

“Well then. Take care, Miss Solstice.”

He didn’t close the door since the door was broken. But he did prop it against the hole in the wall and prop it up with two chairs. That done, the ant man disappeared into the grasslands, quickly becoming a silhouette against the orange sky.

Erin put her head up against the wall. Her eyes were burning and her body felt slow and fuzzy after the healing potion. At last he was gone. It wasn’t that she didn’t want his company. In fact she wanted to hold him or maybe him to hold her. But she wanted to sleep now. To forget.

But she couldn’t sleep.

She wanted to sleep badly. Her mind was crying out for her to close her eyes. But when she did, she saw things. So she kept them open.

She smelled the burned oil and burning flesh, still. Klbkch had opened a window and an evening breeze was blowing through the kitchen. But she still smelled death. She still saw it in the Goblin Chieftain’s eyes. He was looking right at her—

Thump.

Erin smacked her head against the wall behind her. It hurt. She did it again.

Thump. Thump.

The image of the dead Goblin’s eyes disappeared for a second. But the instant she thought about them, they were back, staring into her soul.

Thump.

Erin bumped her head again. The pain made the vision fade briefly. It also made her head swim.  Still, if she had to chose between that and the Goblin’s—

Thump. Thump. Thump.

She wanted to sleep. But couldn’t. And the night was coming. With it came uncertainty, fear, but worst of all was that one thing she couldn’t escape.

Memory.

Thump.

----

Klbkch walked through Liscor’s western gates and nodded at the Drake on duty. He received a scowl in reply but made no comment. Politeness was important. Fostering strong ties and goodwill towards the Antinium within the city was important.

What was also important was turning in a bounty. Klbkch had a large cloth bag he’d fashioned out of what remained of Erin Solstice’s shopping bag and it was weighing down his left side by quite a bit. But the bag was necessary, and besides, it kept the smell and sight from disturbing the other civilians he passed.

Yes, the bounty. He would fill it out tonight. But before that he had another mission that took higher precedence.

Klbkch walked through the streets until he came to a bar he knew was frequented by many Drake customers. It was a loud, raucous joint filled with many reptilian bodies, but they made room for him. Not out of respect for his occupation; he was off-duty, but out of a desire not to touch him.

The lone Antinium walked through the crowd of Drakes until he heard his name being loudly called and the smash of a tankard being hurled his way.

“Oi, Klb! You won’t believe what that stupid Human did this time.”

Klbkch approached Relc from across the bar. The Drake weaved him over to a seat and turned unsteadily. He was with a gaggle or as the proper term was, cluster of Drakes. Some were male; the majority was female. Or not. Gender was still difficult for Klbkch to ascertain at the best of times.

“Good thing you’re here. Let me tell you, that Erin girl? Stupidest Human I’ve ever met. Do you know what she did this morning?”

Relc launched into his story. By the looks on the other’s faces, this was not his first retelling. Klbkch ignored Relc and ignored the seat the Drake was trying to shove him into.

He placed two of his hands on Relc’s shoulders to steady him. Proper posture was critical. Then Klbkch hit Relc with his other two hands as hard as he could.

The Drake saw the punch coming, but he was too drunk to dodge properly and Klbkch’s hands held him in place. He smacked into the floor hard as both punches caught him in the jaw and stomach at the same time.

For a moment all was stunned silence. Then Klbkch heard a loud hiss that turned into a screeching bellow of rage.

Relc surged to his feet with a roar and caught Klbkch’s foot coming up. The blow smashed him in the jaw again and this time stunned him for a few seconds. Klbkch nodded to himself. Proper posture was critical for a good strike.

Relc lay at Klbkch’s feet. He got back up, received two more punches again, and decided to lie down. Klbkch nodded to himself and walked away from his partner.

The atmosphere in the room had turned hostile. Klbkch glanced around but decided not to draw his daggers. The other male Drakes were glowering and clenching their clawed hands, but experience told him that they would not attack unless he made further provocations.

Klbkch estimated the public perception towards Antinium within the city had lowered a degree from his actions, regardless of the reasons. Antipathy within the City Guard would also be substantial, at least in the short term.

It was a costly consequence, but it struck Klbkch as fitting. He nodded to the silent bar of onlookers.

“Good night to you. Please accept my apologies for the inconvenience. I shall take my leave.”

Klbkch turned and walked out of the bar. He heard the hubbub start as soon as he’d left mixed in with Relc’s indignant and distinctive voice. Oh yes. There would be consequences tomorrow.

For some reason that didn’t bother Klbkch. Instead, he wondered what humans were like. Were they anything like Drakes? He wondered.

But the night was deepening and he still had a bounty to turn in. The proper forms needed to be filled out and an eyewitness account delivered. Things had to be done properly or not at all.

Klbkch walked into the night. There was a bounty to fill out and research on humans to be done. But most importantly, the Others must know of a human named Erin Solstice. She was important. After all, she was unique.

----

The body was gone. But Erin still saw his face. She still smelled burning flesh, still felt her hands burn. She still heard him breathing.

She didn’t sleep. And as the night fell into day she stared up at the dark ceiling.

Listening to the breathing.

1.18

Erin sat in a chair and stared outside. It was a lovely day. A warm breeze floated through the window, warming all it touched.

Except for her. She felt cold. Cold and empty.

Shadows passed before her. They had names. Klbkch, Relc, even Pisces. But they weren’t important. The dead were far worse.

Erin held a Goblin’s head in her hands. She stared into its blank eyes and felt her hands burning. She sat next to a dying Goblin and listened to him breathing.

The sun was bright. At some point the night had turned to day. But Erin still felt as if it were night. In the inn the shadows were long and kept her in darkness. It was only fitting.

The world felt hollow. Everything echoed and the world blurred gently around Erin as she sat. She wasn’t doing anything in particular. She was just existing. Existing, and not fitting in.

A little ghost in a little inn in a little world. That’s what she felt like.

It was cold.

Erin looked up. Relc was in the inn. Was it the first time she’d seen him today? Probably. He was yelling about Goblins and apologizing. Klbkch was there. Silent. His brown carapace blended in with the chairs. Maybe he’d been here all day. Erin couldn’t remember.

“—kill all of the little bastards!”

Relc was shouting. He grabbed his spear. Erin’s hand moved.

“Whoa!”

Relc’s head jerked back as a kitchen knife flashed past his face. The blade thudded into a wall and lodged in the wood.

Klbkch and Relc stared at Erin. She stared at her hand silently. Oh. Right. A skill. [Unerring Throw]. Had she talked to Klbkch about it yesterday? Or was she going to talk to him in the future about it?

She looked up at Relc.

“Leave them alone.”

Then Erin went back to staring at her hands. After a while, Relc left. Klbkch left too, or maybe Erin just stopped seeing him.

“This is my inn. I make the rules here. And if you don’t like my rules, get out.”

Did she say that to Relc, or the empty inn? Maybe she screamed it. Erin couldn’t remember. Time wasn’t the same anymore. She just stared at her hands and felt her flesh burning. She saw the dead Goblin lying on the floor, screaming quietly.

It was all she saw.

Pisces came later. He ran in with sparks shooting from his fingertips. He was like Relc. But he cared. He wanted to kill Goblins too, or maybe just scare them away. Place a curse on them. It didn’t matter.

Erin stared at him until he flinched and looked away. She gave him one of the dried sausages. She told him if he killed a Goblin then she’d kill him.

He took the sausage and turned white when she told him she’d kill him. Then he left.

Erin sat in the inn and felt the walls closing in. She couldn’t breathe in there. So she went outside.

The sun was too beautiful and the sky was too bright. Erin went back inside and felt the darkness crawling up her spine. The shadows were moving. The wind sounded like whispers.

She heard breathing. It was hers.

It was dark. At some point the sun went down. That was the worst time. Erin saw dead things lying in the shadows. The bodies of Goblins lay underneath tables; their heads sat in the moonlight filtering in from the windows.

Erin shut her eyes. But they followed her inside her head. They dug around her mind and pulled out memories. Then they tore apart her heart. Piece by piece, until morning came.

----

Klbkch came the next day. Relc was missing. He sat with her a while and asked her more questions. Was she well? Did she want anything? Was she hungry?

Erin answered until it was too much work. Then she just sat and waited for him to leave. Eventually, he did.

The sunlight grew brighter until the shadows retreated. Erin sat in her chair and rocked back and forth occasionally. She got up when she heard the thumping.

Someone was at the door. Erin opened it.

A giant rock stood in front of her inn. A long claw reached for her. The rock crab clicked and swiped at her, snapping at her waist.

Erin opened her mouth and screamed. The rock crab tried to grab her head with one claw. She smashed it with a chair and kept screaming. The rock crab jerked back its claw and retreated. She howled at it. She screamed and screamed until her breath was gone. Then she screamed some more.

The crab retreated in agony, trying to shield its earholes with its claws. It scuttled away as fast as it could. Miles away the pterodactyl birds took flight in panic.

Erin screamed and screamed until her voice was gone. She wiped the tears off her face and walked back into the inn and slept in her chair.

—

She felt hungry when she woke. Erin ignored the feeling and kept sitting where she was. But the pain started biting at her insides. She ignored it.

It went away. But a few hours later it came back and tore at her. Erin wondered when she’d last eaten. Two days ago?

Her stomach gurgled and begged. Erin felt the starving pain gnawing at her mind. Eventually it became too hard to ignore. So Erin decided to eat.

It was too much work to cook. And she couldn’t eat meat. So Erin got up.

The effort of standing up left her light-headed and dizzy. Erin swayed and fell on the table. She lay there and stared at the ground. After about ten minutes she pushed herself up and walked out the door.

The sun was shining. Erin shaded her eyes. It was noon. Of tomorrow. That was probably why she felt hungry.

She began walking. It was hard. Her legs didn’t want to keep her upright. Twice, Erin tripped and fell over. But she got up and walked on. Walking was hard, but it wasn’t nearly as hard as other things.

----

The orchard was just as she’d left it. The unnaturally straight, stiff trees still bore the bright blue fruits. Erin kicked one tree and caught the fruit as it fell towards her face.

For a while, she sat on the ground and stared at the fruit. The trees provided her with shade; the wind blew her hair back into her face. Eventually, Erin bit into the fruit and ate.

It was sweet and delicious. The juice was cool and refreshing. Erin tasted ash and dust. Mechanically, she finished the fruit and ate five more. Then she threw up.

Once she was done Erin ate another fruit. It helped with the taste. Then she stared at the mess of fruit and the stained seed core in her hands.

She cracked open the seed core and stared at the pulpy mess inside. Poison. It was probably a really painful way to die. The smell was terrible. It would probably taste terrible.

Poison was a terrible way to die. Almost as bad as melting your face off.

Thump. Thump.

Erin smacked her head against the tree. It was nice and hard. The blue fruits showered down around her.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

She stopped when she saw the Goblins. They were standing at the edge of the orchard, four of them. They fled the instant her eyes fell on them.

One of the Goblins dropped something in its panic. Erin walked over and picked up the small basket made of twigs. It wasn’t very good.

She turned and looked at the orchard. Fruit trees. Of course. They were probably hungry too. She couldn’t see them eating the rock crabs, and the dino birds would probably eat them if they tried to steal their eggs. Aside from the occasional traveler, what else could Goblins eat?

Erin left the orchard. She walked back to the inn slowly, feeling her body slowly collapsing on itself. She probably needed to eat more. But it was too much work.

She sensed them following her. When she looked around they fled. But they were slow and she caught glimpses of them. Ragged clothes. Thin bodies. They looked like starving children, refugees from a war. Not like monsters. Except for the teeth and red eyes.

That gave Erin an idea. She stared at her hands for a moment, and then picked up the pace. Suddenly she was walking faster. When she got to the inn she looked for the shopping bag and found Klbkch had stored all the ingredients away on the counter. It was very hard to start the fire. But when she’d started it was easier than stopping.

Erin smelled smoke and burning. But only burning wood and not so much smoke. Mainly she just heard breathing. And her stomach rumbling.

----

Evening fell upon the plains, upon the lone inn on the small hilltop, and upon the four Goblins skulking in the tall grass. They watched the inn. They watched the smoke rising from the chimney. They watched, and heard their stomachs rumbling.

All of them had weapons. Not good ones; rusty blades, and crude clubs. But they’re dangerous.

Even so, they feared the inn. They feared the one that lives inside it. A trickster. A deceiver. A destroyer. She looks weak, but she is death.

They knew that. But still, they smelled something wonderful coming from the inn. Food. And they were so very hungry.

The inn has closed shutters, but they could still smell something wafting from the inside. It didn’t smell like rotted meat or the foulness inside the blue death fruits. It didn’t even smell like the dead rock creatures they sometimes found. It smells good.

They salivated. But they fear the inn. And they must eat tonight or starve. So, reluctantly they tore themselves away. They had hoped the human female would drop some food or fall down dead. Since she did neither they must find other food.

Still, they hesitated. They lingered outside the door and wished they had the numbers or strength to steal the food. But the monster inside is death. She killed the Strongest, and so she could not be fought. It is death.

Still, they hungered.

How long did they stand outside the front door, drooling? Too long. The door slammed open.

The Goblins cried out in fear and turned to run. But the Deceiver didn’t chase them. She stood in the doorway of the inn, hands on her hips. She raised one eyebrow.

“Well? Come on in.”

The Deceiver turned and walked back inside. The Goblins exchanged a glance and stared at the open door. A good smell came from inside. They hesitated. But the smell was so delicious.

So, so delicious.

----

Erin turned as the first Goblin finally crept into the inn. He froze in place, but she pointed to a table.

“There. Sit.”

He hesitated, and then scampered over to the chair.

The Goblin awkwardly perched on the oversized chairs as Erin placed a plate on the table. He flinched with her every move. When she pulled out the forks he nearly bolted. But he sat up and stared as she brought the pot into the room.

The metal was still burning-hot. But Erin used her t-shirt to protect her hands and carried the pot to the table. She picked up a pair of tongs and began dropping buttered pasta mixed with sausage and onions onto each plate.

The Goblin salivated. He stared at the golden pasta and up at Erin with wide-eyed wonder. He reached for the pasta with dirty fingers and hesitated. He stared up at Erin.

She stared back. Her eyes traveled to the Goblin’s fingers which were scooting beneath the plate.

“Run and I’ll hit you with a chair. Sit. Eat.”

The Goblin snatched its fingers back instantly. He stared at the pasta and then up at Erin. She wondered why he wasn’t not eating. Oh. Of course.

“The first meal is on the house.”

The Goblin looked up at the ceiling. Erin sighed, but her lips twitched.

“That means it’s free.”

Again, the Goblin stared at her. This time in wide-eyed wonder.

“Eat.”

He reached for the pasta.

“Not like that.”

The Goblin snatched his hand back and nearly tumbled out of his chair. Erin sighed again. This time she was smiling a bit.

“Eat with a fork. See this? Fork.”

She pointed to a fork. The Goblin stared at it. Slowly, he picked it up. He speared one buttered noodle and slowly transferred it to his mouth. It hung over his open mouth full of yellowed teeth as he stared at her. Asking for permission.

Erin nodded. The noodle fell. The Goblin gulped, and went very still. Deathly still.

Then he smiled. It was a terrible smile, full of sharp crooked teeth and hesitation. But it was a smile.

Erin smiles back. She laughed, for the first time in ages. It was a laugh that came straight out of her feet and through her heart. It exploded out of her chest. It was a good laugh, and it made the world right again.

The Goblin looked at the laughing human. He put down his fork and ran out the door screaming. It only made her laugh harder.

----

Erin put away the last plate and watched the last Goblin groan as it lay slumped on the table. Four Goblins. Six plates. She was surprised they’d managed to eat that much.

They were very small creatures. Still, they ate like starving wolves, which they were. At least, in that they had been starving.

But they lay now in a blissful food coma, on the border between pain and oblivion with their bloated stomachs. But as she approached they sat up and stared at her.

Erin pulled up a chair and sat. The Goblins drew back, but they didn’t run screaming this time. They stared at her. She stared back.

----

After a long time, it was night. One of the Goblins glanced towards the door and they all stood up as one. Erin made no move to stop them.

Awkwardly, they wandered towards the door, still staring at her. Then one stopped and nudged the others. They clustered together, backs towards her. Erin saw something flash in their palms. The hairs on the back of her neck rose, but she remained seated.

One of the Goblins came back. It was holding something in its hands. It held it out to her

Erin stared down at the three small tarnished silver coins in the Goblin’s cupped hands. She blinked. Once. Twice. Then she let go of the chair and stood up.

The Goblin flinched, but Erin moved very slowly. She reached out and touched the Goblin’s hands. They were rough, dirty, and warm. She closed them over the coins.

“The first meal is free.”

The Goblin stared at her. She stared back. It turned, and fled. But it stopped at the door and said something. It sounded like ‘sqwsmsch’. Then it was gone.

Erin sat back down and stared at the door. She blinked a few times, and then smiled. She stared around at the inn, and wiped at her eyes. Then she pulled the chair in to the table and put her arms down for a pillow.

She was asleep the instant her head touched the table.

1.19

Erin woke up slowly. She woke up to the sight of a bag full of money on her table. For a moment she thought the Goblin had left it.

It wasn’t the Goblin. In fact, the mysterious bag full of silver coins was courtesy of Klbkch. Erin peered down at the note he’d written and squinted to make out the words.

For the destruction of a Goblin Chieftain within the area of Liscor you are hereby awarded 40 (forty) coins of silver or equivalent denomination. Signed and witnessed by Klbkch of the Antinium.

-Klbkch of the Antinium

Post Script: Please excuse my poor handwriting, but I am not fluent in the script used by most Humans on this continent.

Erin blinked down at the bag. She opened it and blinked at the sight of all the gleaming silver. For a while she stared at the shiny metal and watched as the sunlight made it glow. Then she closed the bag.

She stared at the table. The money seemed like it was right out a dream. But it didn’t actually matter much to her at the moment.

She looked back at the table. Had she dreamed that too? But no, she saw where the Goblin had spilled the blue fruit juice when she’d smiled at it. A large glowing fly was hovering over the table.

Erin sighed. But then she smiled. And suddenly, she knew what she was going to do.

First she smacked the acid fly and ran around screaming until she washed the acid off. Then she ate breakfast, which were cold noodles mixed with sausage and onion. It was delicious. Then she walked down to the city.

A thought struck Erin as she walked. She’d have to go back to the market. The market where she’d lost all of her money. Her footsteps slowed, and then picked up. Suddenly Erin had two things to do today. She was looking forward to both.

----

The second time the human female entered the market every head turned. This time it wasn’t just because of her smell.

Erin marched right up to the stall where she’d been ripped off. She glared at the Drake and then squinted.

“Wait a second. Have we met?”

The Drake shook her head.

“Do you wish to buy a necklace, Human?”

Erin eyed the pendants and other jewelry on display.

“Later, maybe. Right now I want to talk to the Drake guy who ripped me off the other day. You know; the one that took all my money. The ugly one.”

The other customers and shopkeepers nearby who heard that laughed loudly. The female Drake grinned and covered her smile. She pointed, and Erin turned to see a scowling Drake four stalls down.

“You.”

Erin marched over to the Drake. He glared at her, but this time Erin glared back. He shifted his gaze pointedly over Erin’s head. She cleared her throat. When he still ignored her she kicked the bottom of his stall.

The Drake looked down and snapped at her.

“What do you want?”

Erin gave him a polite smile without any of the sincerity.

“Why, I’d like to do business. Jerk.”

The Drake hissed under his breath. He shook his head at her and flicked his tail in her direction.

“My store’s closed to you, Human. I won’t sell to those without a hint of respect for others.”

“Respect? I have tons of respect. Just for anyone who’s not you.”

Several of the other shopkeepers laughed at that. Erin notice she and the Drake were drawing a crowd. She didn’t particularly care.

The shopkeeping Drake glared harder at Erin.

“You’re obstructing my business. Leave, before I summon the Watch.”

He turned his back on Erin but she rapped on his counter.

“My business with you isn’t done yet. I want my money back. You ripped me off the other day.”

The Drake looked over his shoulder.

“So? I offered you my goods and you paid my price. That is a basic rule of buying and selling. I have done nothing wrong.”

There was a general murmur of agreement from the shop owners and a discontented rumble among the shoppers. Erin leaned over the counter.

“Oh yeah? What if I’m not happy about what you sold me? I think for three gold coins you should be selling me enough onions to fill the bottom floor of my inn. So how about I return you what I’ve purchased and you give me a complete refund?”

The Drake sneered at her.

“Do you take me for a slow-witted hatchling, or a Human fool? I won’t accept food that’s days old! Besides, this store does not give out refunds!”

“Really? Where does it say that?”

“Right here.”

The Drake pointed to a sign. Erin stared at it and up at him with narrowed eyes amidst the laughter. Then she grinned.

“Oh, right. It does say that, doesn’t it? Too bad I can’t read. But I do remember you had your prices listed as well, didn’t you?”

She looked around at the other pieces of paper pinned to the wooden stall. The Drake shopkeeper lunged, but Erin was quicker. She pulled the familiar piece of paper away and waved it in front of his face.

“Well. Why don’t we call the Watch after all? Buying and selling is all very well, but what about sticking to prices you write down?”

The Drake shopkeeper hissed again, long and slow this time. His eyes flicked to the paper and back to Erin’s face. He wasn’t sweating, but Erin was pretty sure lizards didn’t sweat.

“Even—even if you have that bit of paper, what of it? I sell to many customers. And you—I barely remember what I’ve sold to you, let alone my last customer.”

“A bag of flour, one pot of oil, a small bag of salt, sugar, yeast, four sausages, and two onions.”

Erin said it instantly. She paused for a second.

“And one crappy bag.”

The Drake stared at her with open mouth. She smiled sweetly at him.

“I’ve got a good memory. A really good one, actually.”

He didn’t have much to say to that. But the look on the shopkeeper’s face told Erin he wasn’t about to start tossing gold coins around. She leaned over the counter and stared at him. She wished she wasn’t so close. His breath smelled of rotted meat.

“I want my money back. I’ll give you a few silver coins for what I paid, but I’m not leaving here until you give me my money. Now, we can do this the hard way and call a bunch of people over and you can lose all your business for the day, or you can give my money back and I’ll—hey, is that a chess board?”

Erin pointed at one of the Drake shopkeeper’s displays. Everyone turned and looked.

“Oh hey, it is! It’s just like—I mean, the pieces are different but it’s chess, it is!”

The Drake snarled and batted Erin’s hands away.

“Get your hands off that! This is a valuable item!”

Erin glared back.

“It’s a chess board. Unless it’s made out of gold—which it’s not, it’s made out of stone—it’s about as expensive as that food you sold me. So I guess you’re selling this for three gold coins, too?”

That got another laugh from the crowd who had gathered to watch Erin’s showdown with the shopkeeper. The Drake on the other hand just grabbed the chess board and pieces and went to shove them below his counter. Then he stopped and turned to her with a gleam in his eye.

“Are you a player of chess, Human? If so, why don’t we bet on a game?”

Erin raised one eyebrow.

“You mean, we play a game of chess for my money? Why should I do that?”

The Drake spread his arms innocently. Erin noticed his tail was waggling on the floor but she pretended not to notice.

“Human, you and I have a dispute. I refuse to pay for goods sold, and you refuse to leave. So long as you’re stinking up my storefront I won’t have any business, so I offer a wager in good faith. Win against the player of my choice and I will pay you back the money you paid me, though it will cost me my goods that I have earned honestly. Lose, and you agree in front of witnesses not to bother me again. That is my best offer.”

Erin narrowed her eyes at him. She thought for a moment, and then nodded. Her lips twitched once, but she managed to suppress them.

“Fine. Let’s play.”

The shopkeeper smiled down at her. It was a smile full of teeth.

“Give me ten minutes to find my player. Then I will teach you why it is unwise to bet against your betters.”

Erin smiled back.

“Fuck you.”

----

Twenty minutes later Erin sat at a table in the middle of the street and played with a pawn. She stared at her opponent, another Drake, this one’s scales colored sky-blue. He was thinner than the shopkeeper, but the Drake was still taller than she was. He finished setting up the pieces on his side and smiled at her across the table.

“I rarely get a chance to play any games within the city. May I know whom I am playing against?”

“Of course. My name’s Erin. Erin Solstice.”

He nodded to her.

“I am Olesm. I believe you know my uncle, who asked me to play in this match.”

Erin gave her opponent a friendly, genuine smile and then looked over his shoulder.

“Is that your uncle? My, you two don’t look alike.”

The Drake hovering over his nephew’s shoulder hissed at her. Olesm raised what would have been his eyebrows if he had any.

“I understand this is a game with a wager. I would urge you not to bet against me. I am quite a good player.”

The shopkeeper interjected quickly.

“We have already agreed to the terms. The Human cannot back out now.”

Olesm glanced at his uncle in irritation, but Erin shook her head.

“I’m not backing down. Let’s play. Besides, I wouldn’t want to disappoint the crowd.”

She gestured at the crowd of watching people. They were definitely people, but Erin wasn’t sure what else to call them. Drakes, Gnolls, and even one of Klbkch’s kind, the Antinium were all gathered in a circle to watch the game. Some of them seemed to be betting as well, and though Erin couldn’t see what they were saying, they didn’t seem to be betting on her victory.

Olesm sighed, but made no further objection. Instead he peered at the board and made sure his pieces were all aligned within the squares. He struck Erin as a very meticulous and careful type, which made him unique among the Drakes she’d met so far.

“I’m surprised you know about this game. It was invented just a year ago.”

“You don’t say.”

Erin was busy examining the board. She tapped one of the pieces.

“I’m not sure if the rules I know are the same in that case. This piece here. You can move a king together with a rook like this, right?”

The Drake blinked.

“That’s right. I’m surprised you know that move.”

“Oh, I’ve seen a few players use it. Knights move like this, right?”

“Correct.”

“And pawns can move two spaces on their first move, right?”

“You seem to know this game. Well, well. This might be a good challenge after all.”

Erin smiled blandly at the Drake.

“I’m no expert. But there’s a wager on this one so I’ll play my best. The white side moves first.”

“Indeed it does.”

The shopkeeper smirked and the other watchers crowded around closer as Olesm pushed a pawn forwards. Erin smiled at him.

“Not many players lead with a pawn from the side. Most like going down the center.”

She pushed a pawn forward quickly. Olesm shrugged as he contemplated his next move.

“I have found this strategy to work in some of my games. It is fascinating to play such a new game of strategy, and so I always test new theories out on the board.”

The shopkeeper anxiously hovered over Olesm’s shoulder.

“So long as you win. You must win no matter what.”

Olesm narrowed his eyes but didn’t take his eyes from the board. Eventually he pushed forwards a pawn to counter Erin’s pawn.

“Have you played many games, then?”

Erin pushed another piece forwards instantly. Olesm blinked and the onlookers muttered.

“A few. But should you not spend more time thinking?”

She waved a hand at him.

“Don’t worry, don’t worry. I’m having a blast. I just think fast about my next move, that’s all.”

Olesm frowned at her.

“You should think harder. I have played over a hundred games so far, and won over two thirds of them. If you truly are betting something important, it would not do to lose this game so easily.”

Erin smiled back at him.

“A hundred? Wow. But like I said, don’t worry. I like to play chess too. And I’ve played a…few games too. I’m not worried.”

“Why’s that?”

Erin smiled wider.

“Because I’m going to win.”

----

By the time Relc got to the market street Erin was on, the game had gone on for twenty minutes. A few customers were at the stands haggling, but most were still watching the game. One smart Gnoll was selling them food as they watched, and the shopkeepers seemed content to put their business on hold to watch the fun.

Relc was not having fun. He shoved his way to the front of the crowd and grabbed Erin. The crowd protested angrily. So did Erin.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

“What are you doing?”

Relc snapped back at her. He pointed angrily to the game of chess where Olesm was taking his time considering his next move.

Erin shrugged.

“This? I’m getting my money back. Let go of my shirt. It’s new.”

She tried to peel off Relc’s claws from her shirt. Relc let go, but pulled her away from the game. He leaned forwards and hissed at her.

“Stop playing. This isn’t a fair game.”

“What?”

Erin looked at the board and back at Relc.

“You can’t cheat in chess. It’s fair.”

“No, it’s not.”

Relc raised his voice and pointed to the shopkeeper.

“Hey, you! Yeah, you. I know you. Stop the game. This isn’t fair. The bet’s off.”

The crowd rumbled in discontent at Relc’s words. The Drake shopkeeper spread his claws out innocently.

“It is a fair game. She let me name my player and we agreed to the wager. There are many witnesses. It would be wrong to cancel the game now, Guardsman.”

Relc eyed the Drake shopkeeper balefully. From her seat Erin noticed the shopkeeper’s tail was wagging a bit. He also had a gleeful look on his face if she was reading his face right.

“I hate to agree with that jerk, but he’s right Relc. I agreed to the wager and I want to play. I’m going to win my money back and play some chess while I’m at it.”

“Are you crazy? You’re going to lose this game.”

Relc hissed at Erin. She blinked up at him.

“Am I? Why’s that?”

Relc growled under his breath. He jerked a thumb over at the seated Drake who was studying the board with a frown.

“That guy you’re playing? He’s a [Tactician]. The highest-leveled one in the city!”

Erin blinked again.

“So? Does that mean he’s good at chess?”

“Very!”

“Well, so am I. It’s still a fair game, isn’t it?”

“No!”

Relc seemed close to tearing out the spines on his head.

“All [Tacticians] can tell when they’re being led into a trap! It’s a class skill! How do you not know this? If you play one in a game they’ll win almost every time! Plus that idiot loves to play that stupid game!”

The Olesm looked up and glared at Relc. Erin glared too.

“It’s not a stupid game. And so what if he likes to play? Like I said, so do I. And I’m a good player.”

“You still can’t win.”

“I can.”

“You can’t.”

“Oh, hi Klbkch.”

Erin turned away from Relc and waved at the silent ant man who had come up behind Relc. Klbkch nodded at her politely.

“Miss Solstice. Please forgive my companion’s interruption. We are on duty and it is improper of us to disturb a member of the public without cause. But Relc insisted we speak with you once we heard of the bet that had been made.”

“Really? You heard about the bet?”

Klbkch nodded.

“Indeed. It is all over the city.”

“Yeah, everyone was talking about the stupid Human who was dumb enough to wager on a game of chess against that idiot.”

Relc jerked his thumb at Olesm. The other Drake continued pondering the board, but Erin could see him grinding his teeth in his seat.

Klbkch nodded.

“I understand this is a bet made to recover your lost coin. However, I fear I must issue the same warning as Relc. The odds of you winning a game against Olesm are quite slim.”

“Olesm. Oh yeah, that’s what his name is.”

Erin covered a smile as Olesm’s eye twitched. She turned to Klbkch and Relc.

“Look, I’m glad you two care. But I’ve got this. It’s fine. You’ll see.”

The two guardsmen stared at her, unconvinced. Relc turned to Klbkch and whispered. Unfortunately his voice was still quite loud and Erin and those around them could hear him quite plainly.

“I don’t think she gets it. Humans are kinda slow. You explain the [Tactician] bit to her.”

“I believe you have given her adequate information. If she will not listen to you, she will not listen to me.”

“Exactly. So stop calling me stupid or I’ll hit you.”

Erin glared at Relc who shuffled his feet and looked away. She glared at Klbkch who raised all four of his hands  and bowed his head and then shifted her glare back to Relc.

“Let me play. You two can watch, but I’m going to play and win.”

“But—”

Erin raised a finger.

“No. Go away and let me play.”

Relc opened his mouth, closed it, and then hissed long and loud. He threw up his hands and stomped back into the crowd.

“Humans!”

Erin slid back into her seat and smiled at Olesm.

“Sorry about that.”

Olesm glanced over Erin’s shoulder and sniffed at Relc and Klbkch.

“Think nothing of it. But if we’re done with the interruptions, it’s your move.”

“So it is.”

Erin pondered the board. Then she slid another piece forwards.

“Oi, Klbkch. What’s she doing? Was that a good move? It looked like a bad move.”

“I am uncertain at this point. Allow me a few moments to assess the board before I give you my opinion. And please, lower your voice.”

Erin covered a smile as Olesm’s eye twitched. She waited for him to play another piece. As she did, she studied the board.

Chess. The pieces were different, and she was playing in a street in a city full of walking lizards and talking ants. But it was still chess.

It was wonderful to play again.

----

Olesm frowned as he toyed with a bishop Erin had cornered with one of her knights. He moved it diagonally one way, and then frowned. Then he moved it another way and frowned again. He glanced up at Erin.

She stared back at him innocently.

He moved his piece back and forth around a rook she’d used to attack his queen, and then took one of her pawns with it. His frown didn’t go away, but he seemed content with the move.

Erin moved another of her pieces forwards instantly. Her knight – a scaly Drake with a buckler in one hand and a scimitar the other – took one of his pawns.

“Check.”

A susurration went through the audience around the two players. That was, except for Relc who had gone to one of the stalls to buy something to eat. Olesm leaned back in his chair and gave Erin an admiring look.

“Well done, I hadn’t anticipated that.”

“It was just a lucky move. Well, not lucky, but it was quite nice, wasn’t it?”

“Indeed.”

Olesm moved his king sideways.

“Your turn.”

Erin pointed at the board.

“Oh, that’s check too. Sorry.”

Erin tapped her queen and pointed down the board. The Drake player grimaced and moved his king the other way.

“That’s check as well. See the rook?”

Olesm paused and blinked at the table. The crowd murmured more loudly and Relc came back to look at the table.

After a minute Olesm made a move that wasn’t check and the game went on. But now he took longer and longer between each move and his frown which had started about five minutes ago didn’t go away.

Meanwhile his uncle the shopkeeper watched the board with clear anxiety. He glared at Erin who smiled serenely back at him. Whenever Olesm made a move she would instantly move a piece and take one of his own or threaten his king. Eventually she stopped staring at the board and stared at the shopkeeper with a smile on her face as Olesm frantically searched the board for a comeback.

“Check.”

“Check.”

“Ooh, no check this turn. But watch out for your rook. It’s that or your queen.”

“Check.”

“Check. And it’s check if you do that too. And that…”

“Check.”

“Check.”

“Check.”

1.20

“Checkmate.”

At last Erin slid her last rook into position. Olesm stared at the board and then tipped over his king with a trembling claw.

Erin cracked her fingers and grinned. It wasn’t her best game, but she’d gone for style over efficiency. Her opponent had a single king left in the middle of her pieces and she had a small army surrounding him. She smiled up at Olesm who’d turned pale. Her audience was gaping at her and the chess board.

“Good game. Let’s play again sometime, okay?”

She reached over and patted Olesm on the shoulder. The Drake looked slightly shell-shocked and made no reply. Erin shrugged and stood up.

Klbkch and Relc made their way through the crowd to her. Relc was gaping at the board.

“You won. But how did—but he’s—you won!”

“Congratulations on your victory, Miss Solstice.”

“Why thank you, Klbkch.”

Erin grinned at Klbkch. The ant man nodded back.

“May I ask how you managed such an incredible display? I would not have thought it possible, nor deemed it prudent to bet against Olesm in a game of chess until this moment.”

Erin shrugged. There was no harm in telling. Besides, both the shopkeeper and his nephew were still staring at the board.

“You said he’s played for a year, right?”

Klbkch nodded.

“And he is a Level 22 [Tactician]. There are no higher-level Tacticians even within the Liscorian army.”

“Good for him. But I’ve been playing chess for twelve years now. I started a bit late, but I used to play at least three games before I went to sleep each night. He might have a fancy skill, but a rookie’s still a rookie.”

This time it was Klbkch’s turn to do the staring with Relc. Erin smiled at both of them and then tapped the shopkeeper on the shoulder.

“I want my money back. All of it, thank you. And while you’re at it I’ll buy the chess board and pieces too.”

The Drake gaped at her. Then the color returned to the scales in his face and he backed away.

“I—that game was—”

Erin interrupted him.

“If you’re about to say it was rigged, don’t bother. And if you want a rematch, I’ll gladly play again if you double how much you owe me. But otherwise, don’t bother. I want my money.”

The Drake blanched and his scales turned pale. Erin smiled at him. His tail was twitching hard in agitation.

“My mind is…slightly hazy. I’m afraid I have no recollection of how much you spent. Unless of course you could tell me?”

Erin gave him a winning smile.

“I have no idea. But I’m sure Klbkch and Relc could help you find out.”

The shopkeeper turned pale. Klbkch nodded seriously and bowed in his direction.

“As a Senior Guardsman we would be happy to provide assistance in assessing all financial income for your business, as well as any unpaid taxes that may be extant. For now we will have to order your shop closed while we begin a thorough investigation of your wares and inventory.”

Relc grinned evilly.

“Right. Let’s start flipping over tables until we find a receipt.”

The Drake shopkeeper made a strangled shrieking sound. He tried to block Relc, but the other Drake was already happily trashing his store. Erin hid a grin.

Olesm walked up to her, his tail dragging low on the ground.

“I must congratulate you, Mistress Solstice. I have been truly humbled by your skill. Please, accept my sincerest apologies for questioning your ability.”

Erin fidgeted awkwardly. She hated this bit.

“Oh no, you were a good player too. I really shouldn’t have played like that as well against a rooki—another player.”

“You are too kind. But I know when I’m outclassed. I have to ask—are you a [Tactician] by any chance?”

“Me? No. I’m not. Sorry?”

Olesm drooped further. Erin could practically feel him kicking himself. She tried to cheer him up.

“Don’t feel bad. I’m not a professional player, but I’ve won a chess tournament or two in my time. I even played a Grandmaster, once. One of the few female ones which was really cool. But I was so nervous at the time I totally forgot to castle, and I lost my rook to—”

Erin broke off and cleared her throat, blushing. It was a bad memory, but at least Olesm stopped looking like a kicked puppy-lizard. Indeed, he was staring at her with vivid interest.

“Is this Grandmastery you speak of a class? Is it possible—could I take such a class myself?”

An alarm bell went off in Erin’s head. She tried to think fast and failed.

“Um. Maybe? It’s more like a title where I come from. Besides, Grandmasters only play chess. I’m not sure if that’s a class.”

Olesm nodded. Erin could practically see him taking notes in his head.

“Perhaps it’s a class only obtainable at high level in the [Strategist] class line. If ever I have the opportunity I shall take that class at once.”

“You can do that?”

Erin blurted it out. Olesm nodded again.

“Of course. I am merely a lowly [Tactician], the first of the strategist class line. But should I advance in level and learn more skills I might qualify for the [Strategist] class. And perhaps after that I might one day become a [Grandmaster]…? It makes my scales shiver to imagine such a class.”

Olesm stared dreamily off into the air. Erin edged away from him a bit.

“Right, well good luck with that.”

She wanted to go back and get her money, which the Drake shopkeeper was practically begging Relc to take as the other Drake frolicked in the destruction of his shop. But Olesm had her cornered and now Klbkch was on her tail.

“Miss Solstice. I believe this is your wager.”

He offered her three gold coins and a few copper and silver ones. Erin took them gratefully.

“Thank you, Klbkch.”

“I am merely fulfilling my duty as a member of the Watch. And once again may I congratulate you on your victory? I would greatly enjoy playing a game against you once I am off-duty. ”

Olesm nodded in fervent agreement. Erin smiled and wondered whether they’d follow her back to the inn.

“Another game? Sure, sure. After I finish my shopping—maybe another day?”

Klbkch nodded while Olesm visibly drooped. Erin felt bad, but she also knew his type. As in the type of player who would challenge her to another game day and night unless she said no.

“Tell you what, next time we can play a few games. Not just chess—if you guys have got other strategy games I’d love to play them too.”

Olesm’s face lit up.

“Do you like these kinds of games, Miss Solstice? I’m sure you must be quite good at any game you play.”

Erin grinned and waved a hand self-deprecatingly. She noticed Klbkch glancing at Olesm silently, but then the ant man returned his attention to her.

“Oh, I love all kinds of strategy games. I always surfed Youtube for—uh, what I mean is I used to watch and play tons of chess games. And not just chess; I learned how to play shogi, go, and even a few card games. But I couldn’t gamble so there was that.”

Erin shrugged. Klbkch stared at her blankly.

“Excuse me, but I am unfamiliar with these games. Is ‘shogi’ another game of strategy as chess is?”

“No, no. Shogi is a game that originated in Japan. And uh, Japan is…and…um…”

Erin trailed off. Klbkch and Olesm stared at her intently. She could practically see the Drake’s eyes lighting up in eager interest.

It occurred to Erin that trying to explain a game that originated in a country in a world that no one had heard of that used a language based off a culture which also didn’t exist would probably be a bad idea. But they were both staring at her.

“Um. Never mind?”

----

Liscor had several markets that were open at any given time during the day. It also had many streets. So it had more than one Market Street too. But only one had a human walking down the stores and admiring the displays.

Erin’s feet hurt. She felt that was ridiculous. After all, she’d been playing chess while sitting down for nearly an hour. But then again, she’d had to stand around and creatively lie and avoid the truth with Olesm and Klbkch for another hour until they went away.

“At least they’re gone now.”

Erin jingled the money pouch at her belt. Klbkch had helped her buy one to carry all the money she now had. It was wonderfully heavy and made lovely chinking sounds as Erin walked, but she was also worried someone would steal it.

That was why she had to spend all of it fast. Erin hesitated, and then walked a few stores down from where the Drake shopkeeper was screaming over his destroyed shop and cursing Relc and humans in general. She approached another stall, filled to the bursting with all kinds of goods. It looked nice. She’d thought so just the other day, too.

Unlike before though, this time the Gnoll shopkeeper standing in front of her shop did not greet Erin. Instead, she looked at her as she approached and gave a loud sniff.

Erin winced inside, but there was nothing for it. She stepped closer and waved at the tall Gnoll.

“Hi.”

The Gnoll looked down at Erin. She—it? wasn’t smiling.

“Human. What do you want? Are you here to look down your nose again at my goods?”

“What? No, no. I’m actually here to uh, apologize.”

Erin tried to gauge the Gnoll shopkeeper’s reaction. It was hard to read her face. Like Relc and Klbkch, a Gnoll’s face didn’t display the same expression as a human one. But Erin didn’t detect the same amount of hostility in her features.

“Oh? What do you have to say then?”

“Um. Sorry?”

The Gnoll raised one eyebrow and her ears twitched back. That was a human reaction so Erin went on quickly.

“It’s just that I was having a bad day and I met this other Gnoll who really didn’t like me. So uh, I was kinda afraid you would get growly at me too. But I’m sorry about that. I shouldn’t judge by uh, species.”

The Gnoll looked at her. Erin still couldn’t read her face. But—weren’t Gnolls kind of like hyenas? They looked like it. And hyenas were cats. Or maybe they were dogs. Either way, Erin peeked at the Gnoll’s ears.

They were twitching. And once Erin saw that she saw the Gnoll’s lips were twitching the merest fraction. Erin tried out a smile. To her surprise, the Gnoll smiled back. And laughed.

“It is the first time I have heard a Human apologize. A good day, yes? It is good you come to make amends. I will forgive you, and forgive the smell you stink of as well.”

Erin frowned. Was this good or bad?

“Sorry, I don’t want to make you mad again. But—do I really smell that bad? I just had a bath.”

The Gnoll shopkeeper laughed again. She – and now that Erin looked she was definitely a she – clapped one hand on Erin’s shoulder. Erin’s knees buckled.

“I do not mock you, Human. But I laugh because I forget others do not have our nose. Forgive, please.”

Erin rubbed at her shoulder surreptitiously.

“You’re totally forgiven. But I really do smell, then?”

The Gnoll shopkeeper nodded, turning serious.

“You smell of burned ash and trash. No; not just that foul smell. Even burning trash smells better. I know not what it was, but I can still smell it on you.”

“Really?”

Erin sniffed at her arm experimentally, but she smelled like she always did. Better, actually since she had new clothing.

The Gnoll wrinkled her nose.

“Oh yes. It’s not too bad now though. All that blood and oil covers it up.”

Erin froze. The Gnoll laughed at her expression.

“Think I can’t smell it on you? Every creature with half a nose could tell you were in a fight. And that you won. First blood. You don’t stink of fear anymore.”

“It’s nothing to be proud of.”

Erin replied automatically. Her stomach was dropping out of her legs, but the Gnoll shopkeeper didn’t seem to notice.

“Are you not proud of your kill? You have blooded and killed your first prey. Is it not good?”

“No.”

Erin cut the shopkeeper off flatly.

“It’s not anything to be proud of. At all.”

The Gnoll stared down at her. Erin met her gaze. At last the Gnoll shrugged.

“Hrm. If you insist. Humans are odd creatures.”

That last remark stung. Erin gritted her teeth.

“Why do all of you say that? I’m human. So what?”

The Gnoll grinned at her with all her teeth.

“Because you are Human. Few of us have ever seen your kind here, let alone talked to one.”

Erin smiled sourly.

“Well, you’re the first Gnoll I’ve talked to. The first one that wasn’t angry at me, at least.”

The Gnoll shopkeeper laughed and slapped Erin on the shoulder again.

“Hah! You are a spirited Human! I like you. So I will introduce myself. I am Krshia, shopkeeper and seller of goods. And you are the Human who slew the Goblin Chieftain! What is your name, brave little one?”

“I’m Erin. Erin Solstice.”

Erin stuck out her hand but found herself grabbed and squeezed tightly by the Gnoll shopkeeper. It was a bear hug by a creature that looked sort of like a bear. She was strong enough for a bear too, and Erin felt oxygen quickly leaving her body.

The Gnoll must have heard Erin squeak or felt her dying because she eased up on the pressure. She sniffed at Erin, only wrinkling her nose slightly. For Erin’s part, she smelled spices, sweat, a strong doggish smell, and that earthy smell that came from a day or two of not bathing. Then she was on the ground blinking up at the Gnoll.

“There. We have met, and we are now friends. Come into my shop Erin Solstice and tell me what you want.”

Erin blinked at her, but stepped inside the stall and looked around.

“Wow. Okay. That’s a lot of stuff. But that’s good, because I need a lot of stuff. Like food, clothing, um, soap. Toothpaste—do you have—?”

“Enough, enough!”

Krshia cut Erin off.

“I am not an insect-creature, with perfect memory. We shall fetch what you want and I will write it down. It will take time, but you will get what you want.”

Erin nodded. Krshia bared her teeth at her again, but Erin was pretty sure it was a smile.

“I will give you a fair price. Not too fair; you have much money. But I will not charge you more than any other customer. And then I will have your goods delivered rather than make you pay for a bag.”

Erin blinked.

“Delivered? You do deliveries?”

Krshia laughed.

“Of course. Did you think many would carry off bags of flour as you did? It is too hard. No; the stupid shopkeeper Lism, fur sheddings that he is, didn’t tell you and gave you the bag on purpose.”

Erin glanced over at Lism. He was still screaming at his store and his nephew. It looked like Olesm was recreating the game they’d played on another chess board. Erin had already bought the one she’d won on.

“I feel bad about that, actually.”

“Bad?”

Krshia stared at Erin in surprise and then laughed again.

“Humans are strange. He would not give you the same if he were in your place, he surely would not.”

Erin shrugged.

“Still, it’s not nice. And the law should be equal for everyone.”

Again, Krshia stared at Erin. She shifted uncomfortably.

“Well, that’s what I was always taught.”

The Gnoll shook her head.

“Humans. If one is greater, they are greater than others, yes? There is no fairness in the hunt. And the sharing of the kill only comes after the pack leader has eaten her fill, yes? You have friends. And you have more courage than foolish Lism. You two would never be equals, no.”

“I guess you’re right. But I still feel bad.”

Erin changed the subject.

“So. These deliveries…how do they work?”

Krshia smiled. She pointed to a small wooden bowl filled with brightly painted wooded triangles. Erin looked at them and saw each had an intricate little design of red and gold that made up a pattern around the edge.

“These are Messenger Seals. They are for Runners. When I give you one, I will keep its twin, yes? Then when a Runner delivers your goods you will give him the Seal you have, and then I will know my goods have been delivered. It is simple.”

Erin picked up one of the pieces of wood.

“So you’re saying it’s like a postal service?”

“A what?”

“Um. A delivery service?”

“That is what I have said, Erin Solstice.”

Erin blushed while Krshia grinned toothily at her and laughed.

“Right, sorry. I just haven’t ever heard of these Runners before. What do they do, besides make deliveries?”

Krshia gave her a long look. She seemed to be checking whether Erin was making fun of her.

“Runners run. They are quick ones, those who can run long distances to earn money. Sometimes they deliver letters, other times valuable things. Goods, yes? Magical items, messages that must only be spoken to one person. Such are expensive requests though. Only the best carry such things. Most just deliver goods very cheaply. I can call one and have all that you buy delivered to your inn for a good price.”

That sounded good, but Erin had learned skepticism here.

“What’s a good price?”

“It is the broken inn a few miles east of here, yes?”

Erin nodded. Krshia scratched her chin.

“Four silver coins. Not a small price. If it were the city it would be one, or maybe coppers for a small delivery. But it is far, yes? And if it is heavy and monsters lurk, the price goes up. You are lucky the Goblins are scarce and the Rock Hiders do not travel this late in the season.”

Erin thought about that. It sounded really good. Better than carrying anything herself.

“I like it.”

Krshia grinned at her again. This time Erin grinned back using all of her teeth.

“I knew I liked you for a reason. Then tell me what you want and let us not waste the light, eh?”

“Sounds good to me.”

----

Later that evening Erin sat in her inn and felt at her money pouch. It was a lot lighter now, but she felt a lot better about it. She felt a lot better about life, actually.

She had fresh clothes on, and she no longer smelled of…well, she no longer smelled. Instead her skin had been bathed in a minty scent from the soap she’d used. And she hadn’t had to dodge fish in the stream while bathing either. She’d gone to a bathhouse in the city.

The day had been full of busy things, and none of them had been entirely bad. After she’d bought all of Krshia’s goods and even haggled a bit over the price the Gnoll had shown her to the bath house to have a proper wash. Then Erin had gone back to her inn, eaten the rest of the pasta and she was now enjoying a minor food coma as she sat in a chair in her inn.

Erin played with one of the chess pieces on the table. She’d carried the chess board and a few essential items like soap with her back to the inn. She hadn’t wanted to let it go. It was incredible, really. Chess? In a world like this? Actually, it made sense but Erin was still amazed. She had to keep touching the pieces to make sure they were real.

But she had to focus. Erin dragged her mind back on track. Krshia told her the Runner would deliver her stuff tomorrow at some point. Until then, she could clean up the inn a bit. Or maybe play a game against herself. That was fun too. It was just—

Erin stared down at the chess board. She murmured to herself.

“Knight to D4. Pawn to E3.”

Suddenly her good feeling vanished. Erin felt cold. Suddenly the food in her stomach was dead weight instead of comfort, and she felt sick. Her hands shook as she put the pieces back on the table. Everything was better. It really was. But…

—If she closed her eyes Erin could still see a Goblin lying on the ground next to her. If she opened her hands she could still feel the dead weight between her palms.

Erin moved a pawn up and took the knight. She stared at the pieces on the board.

“It’s kill or be killed in this world, after all.”

She put her head in her hands and rubbed at her eyes. Yes. That was what she’d learned. And she hated it. All of the good that had come to her seemed like it had been built on the bad.

The bad. The dead. A game of chess on a pile of corpses. Erin stared at the chess board.

She was good at chess. She liked chess. She’d grown up playing chess and other games like that, despite the fact that girls weren’t common in chess tournaments. Chess had been fun to her, until she’d grown up and realized she’d never become a Grandmaster herself. She was good, but not great. But chess had still been her hobby. Chess was fun. It was about outwitting the opponent, about using strategy—

It wasn’t at all like killing someone.

Erin stared at her hands. They were quivering. She could still feel them burning. It was all a game, though, wasn’t it? A game with levels and classes. A game like chess.

“It’s just a game. Just a game?”

Erin stared at the board. Pieces. If she thought about it like that, then death seemed to matter less. She’d done the right thing. She’d defended herself, killed the monster.

Killed the monster.

She stared down at the three dead Goblins. They were so small. Like children. And they had family. Friends. Those who loved them.

The ragged Goblin. The ones hiding outside her inn, scrawny and afraid. They were the enemy too, if she played the game like chess. The right thing to do would be to hunt them down and kill them. That was how all games worked.

That was how you played chess.

Erin sat up. She remembered the Goblin’s hand in hers, the feeling of his skin. She remembered his smile. She remembered laughing.

And then she understood. Erin put her hand underneath the chess board and flipped it off the table. Both white and black pieces soared into the air and clattered against the floor.

Erin stood up.

“I remember why I got bored of chess. There’s only one winner and one loser. The best game for both players is a draw.”

She walked over to the door and yanked it open. Then she stopped and turned. She raised her middle finger and flipped off the chess board a second time.

“I’ll make my own rules. And anyone that doesn’t like it can go to hell.”

The door slammed shut as Erin walked out. A few minutes later she rushed back into the inn and carefully put all the pieces back onto the chess board.

“Still a great game, though. Don’t take it personally. Let me just get a quick snack for the road. And I need some soap. Proper hygiene and all that. Where did I put the soap? Soap, soap, soap…I should really organize all this stuff. Maybe tomorrow.”

Then she was gone, running down to the city. There was still plenty of daylight left in the sky. And she had one more thing left to do. The most important thing of all.

----

The sun sets on the grasslands. Shadows lengthen and fall upon the old structure, hiding flaws and concealing the age of the building underneath an evening shroud. The sun is setting. High above this world, in a sky twice as high it sets slowly.

After a while the young woman walks back towards the inn. She is carrying a bucket and a brush. And a piece of wood. And some nails. And a hammer. It’s quite heavy and she mutters and curses as she drags her burden along.

Eventually though, she reaches the inn and sets her many burdens down. Then she looks up.

Above the inn a faded sign bears the traces of letters, but the young woman cannot read the language. Nor does she care what was once written there. She only has eyes for the sign. The inn has lost its name. It needs a new one.

The girl picks up the bucket and brush. Then she looks up at the sign and down at the ground. The plaque above the inn is several times her height off the ground.

The young woman looks up at the sky and shouts an obscenity. Then she goes back down to the city once more. She comes back with a tall ladder, panting and muttering to herself.

It takes a while for the young woman to realize she needs to anchor the ladder or else she’ll fall right off. She picks herself off the ground and this time she gets to the top of the inn. Once she’s steady she goes back down for the bucket and carefully walks back up the ladder with it.

She dips the brush in the bucket and paints a stroke on the wide plaque above the inn. The dark paint glistens in the sunlight and the young woman smiles and hums in satisfaction. She begins painting on the sign above the inn.

It takes her a long time and several coats of paint. Black paint for the letters, white paint to erase her mistakes. A paint-scraping tool to get rid of the paint when it becomes too thick. A hammer to hit things while she vents her frustrations.

But eventually the sign is done. The young woman sighs in relief and then picks up the piece of wood she has brought. She takes the paintbrush and writes on it briefly. Then she hammers the sign into the ground and walks into her inn. The tools she leaves on the ground. She’ll pick them up tomorrow.

The sign is done, and the paint dries in the fading light. The lettering is crisp and clear, catching the eye of any traveler that passes by. But no travelers are nearby. No visitors come to the inn, and indeed, none will come this night.

It doesn’t matter. The sign is what matters. The name and message are what matter. They have been written, and now they are here to stay. As is the young woman.

So as she sleeps the sun fades and the last bit of light catches the plaque above the inn. The letters glow in the dusk.

The Wandering Inn.

Next to the inn, a large sign is hammered into the earth. It reads:

“No Killing Goblins.”

Thus begins the story of The Wandering Inn.

1.00 R

The wind blows through my hair. It’s a great feeling. People often underestimate how a good breeze can change your day.

And on this day, when the sky is blue and clear without a cloud in the sky, who wouldn’t want to be outside? The air is cool, and the breeze is better than air conditioning.

It’s a perfect day for running. I’ve run through bad days when the heat can drop a horse, and I’ve run through thunderstorms, typhoons and even dog crap. Twice. And while I can grit my teeth and keep running even when the world’s against me, I live for the days when it has my back.

The wind cools and energizes me. As I sprint through the knee-high grass I grin. With the temperature in the air I won’t sweat as much. That means I won’t overheat and so I can run faster. It’s little things like that which make the difference between a good run and a great run.

A rock appears in the grass and I hop over it just in time. Careful. At the speed I’m running I can easily break a foot if I trip over one. I’ve split my toenails more than once by kicking rocks at high speed. Not fun.

Keep running. Actually, scratch that. Run faster. The wind blows against my face and I smile again. It’s the small things that make life good. Like the wind.

The wind cools you down. It gives you something to run against; makes you feel alive. It also helps throw off arrows when people are shooting at your face.

An arrow flies through the air and I change my course slightly. It slices through the air past my left arm. Too close.

I adjust my path and pick up speed. I’m nearly out of the range of the Goblins that have been hunting me. A few more seconds and I’ll lose them.

Goblins. They’re frightening little monsters with red eyes and pointy teeth. They look more like demons, actually. But they’re real enough, and they like eating humans. If they can catch them, that is.

One pops out of the grass as I run towards the city in the distance. It’s a larger Goblin than normal, and he’s wearing rusty chainmail and holding a short sword.

He swipes at me and I jump. Straight over the blade. The Goblin gapes as I land and then sprints after me.

My legs blur. The Goblin slices at my legs but I’m already out of range. He runs as fast as he can, but I pull away so quickly that it’s like he’s standing still.

“Nice try.”

I mutter under my breath as I keep running. I don’t have the time or air to actually say that out loud, of course. Besides, I’m not good at comebacks. Or…insults. Either way.

The Goblin stops after a few more feet and screeches at my back. I ignore him and keep running. After a while I hear the Goblin’s shrill war cries end as they give up the chase.

After what feels like a few miles or, to be more worldly, a few kilometers, I stop. I do a quick scan of the area around me. Shorter grasses dominate this gentle downwards slope. Looks like I’ve lost the Goblin tribe.

I take a few deep breaths and wipe at my forehead. Not much sweat. Good. I’d be worried if I got tired that quickly.

This is my morning. It’d be lying if I said it was normal for a girl born in the greatest city in the world[1], but I can get used to anything.

Back to running. After a few seconds I start walking, and then transition into a jog. But time is money and soon I’m back up to speed. Not sprinting speed; I need to conserve as much energy as possible for the emergencies like Goblin attacks, Dire Wolves, bandits, zombies, skeletons, Crelers[2], and the other nasty things that live in the plains[3].

Anyways, I keep running. I enjoy the wind blowing through my hair for a bit and finally reach the city in question.

Tall gray walls, and spearmen and archers in towers that keep an eye out for monsters. This is Cerum, or something like that. It’s a city, one of the Northern Plains Confederation, which is to say a city-state[4]. And the my destination for the moment.

I approach the open gates. A guard’s on duty so he can slam the gates shut if a dangerous person approaches or if they’re really ugly, but he doesn’t even twitch as I approach.

“Hoy there.”

He greets me. At least, I think it’s a greeting. I wave at him.

“Goblins. A few miles outside the city.”

He nods and say something I don’t quite catch. ‘Shame they ran off?’ Something like that. I nod as if I’ve heard him as I run into the city and the grass changes to hard cobblestone. Annoying and harder to run on; I’m going to have to slow down.

From a fast run I slow down to a jog, but not the kind that you see in TV. I hate the stupid bouncy run actors pretend to do, which clearly misses the point of running. Jogging, like sprinting or walking or anything else should be fluid and concise. You don’t waste energy looking like you’re standing on a pogo stick.

Let’s see. Pedestrians are already out and about despite the early hour. Good. I’d hate to have to wait. I navigate down the streets, using the wooden signs posted above the streets for guidance.

It’s great that everyone around here speaks and writes in English. How amazingly annoying would it be if they wrote or spoke a different language? [5] But by some contrivance of fate, English is the dominant language in this world. Of course, other languages exist but apparently most species know English.

Anyways. As I slow down to let a cart go by I think of what the guard said. Was it a warning? Was he saying it was a shame I ran off and didn’t fight back? It’s going to bother me on the run back. Why don’t people understand that it’s not a good idea to say things to someone running? We barely hear them even when we don’t have an iPod blasting music[6] in our ears. Plus, I’m really bad at listening.

At last I reach my destination. By which I mean I reach a tall stone façade of marble and gaze up at a fancier class of painted wood door than I’ve seen elsewhere. Urban housing meets rich people.

I take a few deep breaths. This is the part I hate the most. But it has to be done, so I steel myself. And hesitate. I take another deep breath, worry about hyperventilation, and knock.

I really do hate this part the most.

----

Celum, just past dawn.

The instant Lady Magnolia, a member of the noble echelons of the city opened the door she clasped her hand to her heart.

“Oh my! Are you here with the delivery already?”

The girl—the young woman who still thought of herself as just an older girl at times—nodded her head silently. Magnolia needed no further invitation.

“I hadn’t expected you so soon! But where are my manners? Magnolia Reinhart, at your service. You are the Runner I’ve been expecting, yes?”

“Mm. Your seal?”

The young woman nodded. Lady Magnolia hesitated, and then touched her fingers to her brow.

“Oh. Of course. It’s been so long since I—I’d completely forgotten. Please come in while I fetch it.”

The young woman hesitated and eyed the pristine mansion behind Magnolia. The lady noticed her hesitation and glanced down. Her eyes widened slightly, but she took the moment in stride.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I have plenty of servants who can deal with little stains. Please, come in, come in!”

The young woman hesitated and then reluctantly stepped into the house. She looked up and around and the marble flooring she was currently dirtying, and the fancy rugs, the tapestries on the wall, and clearly wished to be elsewhere. But Magnolia was fiddling around with a little pot set next to the wall.

“Now, where did they put the seal? Normally I’d leave this all up to the head maid – Ressa, but I just knew it was my delivery. Hm…hmm…here!”

Her hand plucked a silver-and-sapphire token from the plate. The beautiful seal was half gleaming silver, the other half a semi-translucent pool of cerulean.

She presented the token to the young woman who received it with extreme care. Magnolia patiently waited as the young woman carefully stowed the token in a belt pouch at her waist and then undid her pack.

It was a backpack, but not one that would ever grace any store in the world the young woman had come from. Rather, instead of Velcro and machine-tooled stiches and individual and superfluous compartments, this pack was made of leather stitched to cloth and had all the aesthetics of a black bug crawling on her back. But it could be tightly secured with strings and opened without having to be taken off.

Carefully, the messenger for that was what she was, removed a heavily-wrapped item. She held it out.

“Here.”

Lady Magnolia practically snatched the parcel out of the young woman’s hands and carelessly unwrapped the heavy layers of wool and string that had protected the item. The young woman blinked at the detritus littering the floor and then looked back at the package she’d so painstakingly brought this far.

An enameled bottle of red crystal caught the light in Magnolia’s hands and practically illuminated the foyer with light.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Magnolia swished the blue liquid inside the bottle and smiled gently. She turned to the young woman and bowed her head slightly.

“I can’t thank you enough for bringing this in time for brunch. I’m entertaining several of my friends and I promised them I’d share a glass of this delightful drink with them. It’s very expensive, but so delicious! It’s distilled from a very poisonous fruit – the Amentus fruit, I think they call it. So hard to get a hold of, but I did promise! And wouldn’t you know it, but I drank the last glass yesterday. And so I put in my request and here you are!”

She beamed at the young woman. The young woman said nothing. Her left eye twitched.

“Please tell the Guild that I’m very happy with their efficiency.”

Nod, nod. The young woman shifted her feet and glanced towards the door.

“Do you have another request?”

It was the traditional response and Magnolia dithered.

“Well, I suppose—but no, I don’t believe I need—well, at the moment no, but it would be a shame too—no. I suppose not.”

The young woman nodded and began to edge back towards the door. Magnolia was ringing a silver bell and aproned women and an elderly gentleman were descending the stairs towards their mistress, but when she noticed the young woman leaving she called out.

“Won’t you stay and have a glass? I would hate to send you on your way without a little reward.”

“…Sorry. I have more deliveries to make.”

Magnolia’s face fell, but she rallied at once.

“Then at least take this gift for your trouble. No, no! I insist.”

She pressed a coin into the young woman’s hands. The young woman tried to give it back, but Magnolia wouldn’t hear of it so she gave up.

“Bye.”

----

The young woman left the mansion of a house and walked down the street. It turned into a jog as soon as she had enough room, and she moved out of the richer housing and into the common districts. There she knocked on two more doors and, with much less conversation and a lot more efficiency, handed over a letter and a bag and received two red tokens.

Her deliveries made, the young woman took care to stow both tokens in the same pouch the silver and sapphire token had gone in. She made sure the pouch was closed as well. It was crucially important that she not lose any of the tokens, or seals as they were known.

Messenger Seals. A proof of delivery. Without one of the brightly-colored bits of stone, any delivery was suspect. A messenger had to deposit such seals in order to receive their reward, and so they were valuable.

To an extent.

Among the wealthier class of patrons, Messenger Seals were a sign of their status and power. Merchants and bankers used lesser gemstones instead of common stone, and the most elite members of society even had their own unique form of Seal to prove delivery beyond a doubt.

However, anyone without such means had to use the simple cut stone provided by their cities at nominal prices. These were cheap, but also meant that they could be used to prove false deliveries.

Cases of messengers taking goods and providing false Seals happened every year. Thus, trust was just as important with messengers. Their reputation for honesty was a key part of receiving individual contracts, just as much if not more so than their ability to deliver packages quickly.

The young woman set off for the gate. She was tired. Not physically tired, but drained from the effort of interaction. But her pace picked up as she went out the gate and soon she was running down a well-worn road that would lead her back to her city. She wanted to make more deliveries today, and so she had to beat the midday rush on requests if she wanted to get any of the profitable ones.

She was a messenger. Or Runner as they were referred to. Other names included Travelers, Sealers – after the Seals they used, Carriers, and a whole host of rude words whenever they ran into someone.

She preferred to think of herself a Runner. Because she was a runner and running was what she loved to do. The deliveries she could take and mostly leave, unless it was the wrong address. Or the deliveree was dead. That had happened twice.

The point is she was running, and there was a breeze in her face. At a moment like this she could ignore the fact that she was in another world, or that she had no way to get back, or even that the Goblins were chasing her again. She was running, and she was free.

She was also barefoot.

Her name is Ryoka Griffin, a name which she hates. She enjoys running, and not talking to people. Her hobbies include not mentioning her name, running, hunting, and drinking coffee. Currently—

Running.

1.01 R

Every head in the Runner’s Guild turned as the door opened. It was a conditioned response; those who ran were either quick to notice things or they were dead.

Ryoka walked over to a counter on one side of the room, ignoring the appraising looks she received. She waited until the female receptionist at the counter looked up.

“Good morning, Ryoka.”

The receptionist treated her to a friendly smile. Ryoka nodded back. She did not smile.

“Do you have any requests to turn in?”

Ryoka nodded again.

“Three seals.”

“Very well. I’ll witness your claim.”

The receptionist waited patiently as Ryoka scribbled down her name and listed the seals she’d brought in. She had to write down the composition of each seal. Two red hardwood seals and the expensive silver/sapphire seal.

“Oh, is that Magnolia’s seal? You were lucky to pick up that delivery.”

“Yep.”

Ryoka finished writing and slid the paper and quill over to the receptionist. The other woman’s smile flickered, but she added her own signature to the log.

“Most runners fight over the right to deliver something to her. She pays extra for speed, and of course she’s been known to tip generously too.”

The receptionist waited for a response. She got a silent nod.

“Thanks.”

Ryoka turned away. She walked over to a large bulletin board with pieces of paper tacked to it.

Like the Adventurer’s Guilds, the Runner’s Guild used a first-come-first-serve system when it came to giving out delivery requests. It was this board that Ryoka studied intently, ignoring the eyes still boring into the back of her head. She was used to it.

What she wasn’t used to was the loud, cheerful voice that cut through the silence.

“Hey Ryoka!”

The young woman tensed up. Her head twitched towards the door, but it was too late. Another girl was making a beeline towards her. She was shorter than Ryoka, but wider. Not from fat; rather, she looked sturdy without having the obvious muscles of a man.

Garia Strongheart slapped Ryoka on the shoulder. The taller girl’s left eye twitched, but Garia didn’t notice.

“Did you just finish your deliveries to Celum? That’s fast! I normally have a bite to eat in the markets. They do a wonderful cinnamon bun in the mornings, but I guess you already ate, right?”

The taller girl looked over at Garia and gave her a fractional nod.

“Mhm.”

“And you did it barefoot? I thought the others were just playing a prank on me when they said you ran everywhere without shoes.”

Ryoka sighed inaudibly.

“I run everywhere without shoes.”

“Why? Too cheap for them?”

Garia laughed. Ryoka did not.

“I’m just slower with shoes, that’s all.”

“Oh, so it’s a class thing? That makes sense. But is the uh, [Barefoot Runner] class better than the [Messenger] class?”

Ryoka shrugged. Below the bulletin board was a table with bundles of deliveries yet to be made. She picked out a bundle and weighed it experimentally. Too heavy. She put it back and tried another one on. Light enough to run with.

Her continuing silence and clear disinterest in conversation didn’t bother Garia, at least outwardly. The friendly girl continued to press Ryoka, asking about the road, what dangers she’d encountered, and so on. She got monosyllabic responses if she was lucky.

Ryoka studied the requests. Most were generic delivery requests. Unfortunately, they were all spaced out so that it would be hard to do more than a few without running twice as far.

A scrap of paper hiding behind two other requests caught her eye. Ryoka pulled it out and studied it. Then she showed it to Garia.

“What’s the reward for this one?”

Garia looked at the piece of paper and shook her head.

“Oh that? It’s one of the old-style requests. You get them now and then. Someone sends a message that they want a delivery and they promise payment. But we have no idea how much they’re willing to pay and who they want the package  delivered to. At least it’s confirmed.”

“Confirmed?”

“That means we can at least prove they’re not bandits. Who’s this one from? Oh. Don’t take this request.”

“Why not?”

“It’s for the High Passes. Very nasty place. More runners have died there than—well, it’s bad. Tons of monsters live around the area.”

“Hmm.”

Ryoka’s expression didn’t change as she studied the request. But then she looked elsewhere. Garia picked out another request and showed it to Ryoka.

“How about you and I do this delivery of ore to Pelingor? It would be a long haul, but they’re offering a gold coin for delivery today! Plus the roads are very safe. Whaddya say?”

The other girl studied the notice and eyed the packs. They were filled to bursting and were as heavy as they looked.

“I’ll pass.”

“Again?”

Garia looked disappointed. Ryoka shrugged awkwardly.

“I’m not good at running in groups.”

“Well, if you’re sure. But we should run together sometime. How about in a few days we do the Tern Road run and deliver the spices to Celers and Remendia?”

Again, Ryoka’s expression didn’t change, but she looked up at the ceiling as she considered Garia’s request.

“Fine.”

Garia beamed and slapped Ryoka on the back. Again, the other girl’s eye twitched.

“Great! I’ll let you know when it comes up.”

“Sure.”

Ryoka selected a piece of paper as Garia turned away. But then the door opened and she heard Garia call out.

“Fals!”

More runners walked into the guild. Their arrival was greeted with much more enthusiasm and energy that Ryoka’s had been. A few other runners moved over as the three people who had entered strolled up to the receptionist’s counter and offered her silver seals.

Garia joined the group around the runners and grinned up at the tallest one. He was a blonde, tanned runner with long legs and red clothing that was better quality than the other runners around him. He also wore two daggers at his belt.

“Fals, how’re you doing?”

Fals grinned at Garia and exchanged slaps on the shoulder. He pointed to the other two runners accompanying him, a young man and a woman.

“We just finished a run to a group of adventurers out near the old ruins. Brought a bunch of potions and supplies. They tipped well, so we’re going to celebrate.”

Garia sighed enviously.

“And you don’t have a scratch on you.”

“We’re not stupid enough to get near the monsters.”

Fals laughed and the other runners laughed with him.

“So why are you here? Going to accept another assignment?”

He shook his head.

“Nah. I’m too tired for that. No, I just wanted to have a word with our newest runner here.”

He walked over to Ryoka. The other runners who’d congregated around him fell away, leaving just his two friends and Garia.

“Ryoka, how’re you doing?”

The other girl had finished picking out two requests. She looked up from stowing the deliveries in her backpack.

“Fine.”

Fals waited, but that was it. Garia shifted uncomfortably and the other two runners glared at Ryoka. She looked expressionlessly back at them. However, Fals took the lapse in stride.

“Good, good. I was wondering if you needed any advice, what with you being so new. Normally, most runners begin as Street Runners first.”

Ryoka shrugged. Again, Fals broke the silence before it grew too onerous.

“Well, I noticed you took Magnolia’s request this morning. It’s a good run, isn’t it?”

“There were a few Goblins on the road.”

“Right, right.”

Fals scratched his head and shifted uncomfortably. Ryoka finished tying her pack closed and hoisted it onto her shoulders. She looked at him expectantly.

“The thing is, it’s a really good delivery. It pays well, it’s safe—well, mostly safe—and runners like Magnolia. She tips well and shares her deliveries.”

Garia grinned.

“She once gave me a few treats she imported from overseas. They were frozen bits of fruit and sugar. Tasted amazing.”

“Exactly. We all like her. I know she wanted someone to deliver that blue drink she likes so much. Did she share any with you?”

Ryoka shook her head.

“I wasn’t interested.”

This time she definitely got a glare from every runner in earshot. Fals shifted again.

“Right, well, it would just be best if you let another runner take the request next time. Not that you don’t have a right to it—it’s just that we like to share the request. Give others a chance to take it easy, okay?”

He gave her a smile which went unreturned. Garia eyed Ryoka nervously. Ryoka stared at Fals expressionlessly, and then nodded.

“Got it.”

The two other runners accompanying Fals shifted on their feet. They looked at Ryoka with a lot more hostility than Fals and Garia. For his part, Fals nodded and gave Ryoka another friendly smile.

“Just so you know. Good luck on your run!”

Fals and the other runners walked away. Ryoka watched them go. Her face betrayed no emotion, but Garia saw her hand go up and tug at one ear.

Something was off about it. Normally, Ryoka’s long hair covered her ears, but now Garia saw that her left ear had been torn sometime in the past. The lower part of her earlobe was missing, and the remainder had healed jaggedly around the round gap.

Ryoka noticed Garia staring at her ear. She dropped her hand and turned away.

“See ya.”

----

What was the receptionist’s name? It’s still bugging me. I think it started with an ‘S’. Or was it a ‘Y’? No. I’m sure it was an s.

Either way, at least that’s done with. And now I can get out of the city and away from annoying people[7].

I feel a lot better as I jog out of the city gates. Running calms me down. And I need some calming down after having to deal with idiots[8].

Okay, okay, calm down. I adjust my pace as I sprint out of the city gates. People are staring. Not that it matters too much, but I don’t want to waste my energy running too fast right now.

Destination: Remendia. It’s about thirty miles away, which makes it one of the furthest cities to travel to. I’ll get over there in a few hours and then jog over to its neighbor, Ocre. Or whatever it’s called. But I’ll stay the night in Remendia since it’s bigger and has better inns.

There’s a Runner’s Guild in Remendia. There’s one in almost every big city, so I can receive more requests wherever I go. That’s handy, and it means I don’t have to come back here and deal with the annoying runners around here.

Then again, they all do city-to-city deliveries as well, so I tend to run into all of them sooner or later. It’s a pain.

Well, Garia isn’t a pain. She’s just too friendly. But she’s the best of them. The rest of the City Runners can go to hell. Especially Fals.

City Runners. From what I understand of these Runners, they’re like postmen. Or postwomen. Whichever. But you can divide them into roughly three categories. There are the Street Runners, the City Runners, and the Couriers.

Street Runners cover individual cities and don’t stray outside of them very far. They take the safest, easiest jobs and receive the least amount of money. They also seem like they’re not that high in the social hierarchy in the Runner’s Guild. They’re the youngest or the oldest, and that’s about all I know.

City Runners is what I guess I fall into. They—we run from city to city and make deliveries in a general area. A City Runner might run for a few days if he has to make a really long delivery, but he won’t stray from his ‘territory’[9]. They take on the more dangerous jobs, but again, they’re not adventurers so a City Runner mainly runs away from any trouble and tries to make their deliveries as quickly as possible.

Then there’s Couriers. I haven’t personally met one, but I hear they’re the equivalent of long-distance mail. They can go from one end of the continent to the other, or even across the sea if their delivery calls for it. They’re quick, efficient, and apparently they cost incredible amounts of money to hire. But they’re also supposed to be really good at their jobs.

From what Garia told me, each one is at least Level 30, and they all have levels in other classes as well so they’re not easy to ambush. And that’s…

I look around as I run. I’m going down one of the main roads, but it’s empty at the moment. Still, I jog off the road and into the short grass. It’s not like I’ll go much slower out here. I wait until I’m a ways away from the road before I shout.

“That’s so stupid!”

Well, it’s not much of a shout. It’s hard to shout and breathe at the same time, and it feels really awkward to talk to myself. Who does that? Anyways, I’m still not over it.

Levels. It’s one of the weirdest things about this world, and this is a weird world. It’s like a game, but it’s not a game. At least, there’s no evil demon lord or end of the world coming, and I’m no hero from another planet summoned to defend this place from evil.

I’m a girl from Ohio. I’m a Freshman in college, and I run barefoot. I found myself here when I was on my run, and I ended up in this crazy place with my iPhone, my wallet, and my watch. I’m no hero.

But this place is exactly like a video game. Or, failing that, a fantasy book. Something out of Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings, except the cities I’ve visited don’t have any Elves or Dwarves. In fact, they don’t even have many humans with skin darker than tan. I’m practically an outsider because I look Asian.

Back to the road. It’s not good to stray too far from it, I guess. But I hate having to dodge around wagons and listen to every idiot I meet shout at me about my bare feet. But it beats Goblins, I guess.

Barely.

Anyways, what was I thinking about? Oh yeah. This is a stupid world. A really stupid one, and the worst part is that it’s just like the one I left.

Fals. He was hinting—no, he was telling me not to take any more of the good delivery requests. And judging by the crowd back in there, they all think the same way.

Politics. No one takes all the good deliveries or we’ll make life tough for you, huh? And this Fals is their…what? He’s popular, I know.

I grit my teeth. I don’t like him. He’s always giving me advice, usually about things I should or shouldn’t do. And since he’s a senior Runner he’s got some kind of priority with deliveries and everything else. I really hate running into him in the guilds.

Already. It’s only been a week and a half[10], but I’ve gotten used to this world, at least a bit. You really can get used to anything. But I’ve never liked social climbing, and it feels like half of being a Runner is doing just that.

I hate Fals. I run into him too much. And now I’ve got to run with Garia, dragging a massive backpack thirty miles for terrible pay. Why did I agree to run with her? Because it was too hard to say no.

Damn. Damn me, damn her, and Fals can…there’s not enough damnation around here for him. I hate all of this.

So I run. Keep running. I increase my pace and my thoughts flow out of my head. That’s better.

Things come and go, but at least I can run. Ironically, in this world I can run even more since it’s now my job. That’s the only good thing about my predicament. The only good thing.

Well, that and one more little fact. I grin as I remember, and the wagon driver gives me a weird look as I run past him.

This world has a bunch of Runners. And they’re okay. They really are. They run far, and the ones like Garia are tough and strong enough to run with huge bags on their back for quite a long ways. But you know what? Maybe it’s their diets. Or maybe they don’t know about proper hydration, or running form or—

The point is, they’re okay. But they’ve got nothing on a girl who earned a scholarship for track and field.

I take off, and the miles flow behind me like rain. I may not be a social runner, or even liked. At all. But I’m pretty sure that I’m one of the fastest.

----

It’s a long run. But I get it done with and enter Remendia just as the sun’s turning the sky orange. Two deliveries. One here, and the other in that other city. Ocres? Whatever.

I take care of it, and then turn in my seals at the local Runner’s Guild. Here I get more silent stares, but that’s fine. Keep the poker face up, turn in the seals, and leave.

That done, I find an inn. Hm. The first one I go to advertises bed and board for three silver coins. It’s pricy, but I’ve earned over thirty silver today. I’ll treat myself.

If you’ve got the motivation and you don’t die from being shanked by a Goblin hiding in the grass, a City Runner can make good money. True, a large part of my earnings was from that Magnolia request, but I still earn more than most people. Or so I gather.

The average worker makes about 3-4 silver coins[11] per day. But that’s a pittance compared to what merchants or shopkeepers can bring in. Even taking away their daily expenses, they probably earn upwards of twenty silver coins each day. And that’s small change compared to the money adventurers can make.

The famous adventurers. Heroes. People who can slice, dice, and blast things apart. I think about them as I soak in one of the public bathhouses. It feels great, but what was I—oh, right.

Adventurers. They don’t exactly look like the flashy characters with insane armor and gigantic swords you see in video games. Mainly, they look like medieval soldiers. At least, the low-level ones do. Again, Garia tells me the high-level ones look really impressive, but I’ve yet to meet one of those.

And why am I thinking of adventurers? And where’s the towel? And is that bath attendant giving me a dirty look?

Oh, right. Because of my feet. Hey, they’re dirty but probably less dirty than other people’s disgusting body parts. Leave a tip? I guess.

Back to the thinking. Adventurers? Yeah, they’re like…starving artists? They don’t earn much from hunting monsters, but the ones who survive their raids on dungeons or old ruins can earn unimaginable amounts of wealth in an instant. I guess it’s appealing for people who think they’ll survive. Not me, thanks. I’ve seen what Goblins do with people, and they’re the weakest monsters around.

So, if adventurers represent the top earners, Runners fall somewhere around the mid-categories. It’s a dangerous job, but not nearly as dangerous as fighting monsters.

Why do I care? Oh, right, money. I’ve got enough.

Back to the inn. I’m tired, but my mind is still racing. It’s been how many hours? I’m still annoyed by those idiots back in the Runner’s Guild. And Garia. I’m more annoyed than mad at her, but—

She was staring at my ear. Which is fair. Are ear injuries that common around here? It’s a distinctive pattern—perhaps that’s why she’s curious. And about me running barefoot. It’s not common even in fantasy worlds, I guess.

Back to the inn. Time for a meal. Let’s eat and think. What kind of meal? Chicken. I could go for chicken and mashed potatoes. It tastes good, especially since I’m hungry. But focus. Is that guy staring at my breasts? Yes. I hate you, random stranger.

Ignore him. Eat chicken. Gravy goes on top of potatoes. Think.

Let’s go over it again. Priorities. First and most important? Money to live on. Right now I’m earning enough for a room at an inn and regular meals, but keep saving.

Second, I need more information. Libraries don’t exist around here, or at least, they aren’t open for the public. I need maps, but I also need a book on the cities around here. History, culture—I need a local. Can’t ask them too much, or they’ll get suspicious. Put that one on the backburner.

Next? Um. Equipment. The job I’ve got is pretty much the only one I can do. Alternatives? I could be a scribe…if my handwriting were better. But being able to write more than my name is helpful. Too bad it’s not too useful.

Focus. Equipment. There’s magical items on sale in the markets. Not many—and they’re expensive. But runners have different kinds of enchanted items. I want one. But I’m still trying to earn enough money to buy a good healing potion for emergencies. That has to be the first priority.

Meal’s done? Do I leave the plate or…? Hm. Let’s see. Looks like they’re leaving plates. And the innkeeper puts it on my tab…? Yeah. I’ll pay it tomorrow.

Back up to my room, away from prying eyes and people who want to sit and have a drink with me. I’m not against drinking but I really don’t need to deal with lonely men right now.

My bed’s pretty good this time. You definitely get what you pay for. I guess I’ll spend at least two silver coins on my inn from now on. It’s expensive, but it beats a bad bed.

Hm. Final check before I got to sleep. Fals? Hate him. Got to run with Garia sometime. Get it over with. Using money for…healing potion. And then equipment. Right.

I know what to do tomorrow. I’ll go to the Runner’s Guild first thing and get some good, high-paying requests. Save up, buy that healing potion. But something else nags me as I lie in the bed with a feather poking the back of my head.

Here’s the problem. And it’s a big one. I have no idea what to do next. Not ‘next’ as in tomorrow, but ‘next’ as in what I should be aiming for in the future. I can earn enough money to live off of, but what’s my end goal? To live and die here? Or to return home? And how in the blue blazes[12] am I going to do that?

When I run I can keep the doubts from floating about in my head. But when I stop and when I’m about to sleep I feel it crawling back up from the depths.

Uncertainty. I still don’t know why I’m here, what magic or fate brought me to this place, or what even to do next. I earn money and I keep it, but I don’t know what to do with it. I run and run, and someday I’ll run into something nasty. This world is full of monsters, and I don’t know what to do.

Still, I can’t worry about it now. I have to sleep. If I’m tired or I oversleep tomorrow I’ll miss the good deliveries.

I close my eyes. Time to sleep. My mind is racing, but at least my body’s tired. I’m drifting off in my mattress. It’s not that much different from my one back at home, to be honest. Maybe more lumpy and less comfortable as a whole, but it will do. And I’m so tired.

Damn. I forgot. Before I sleep. Concentrate. Block out the messages—

[Barefoot Runner Class Ob—]

[Barefoot Runner Le—]

[Skill: Runner’s—]

[Ski—]

I hate having to do that every night.

1.21

The inn. A place for questing adventurers, drinking, solace, and even temporary, messy love. Or just lust. In any good tavern you can find at least one mysterious figure in the shadows ready to spout off cryptic messages of doom. No pub worthy of the name wouldn’t have the potential for indiscriminate violence simmering in the air.

Inns attract crowds. Thus, an innkeeper must be constantly busy. It’s a demanding job that often requires more than one barmaid or bartender – barboy being a seldom-used term that only dictionary aficionados employ.

Erin Solstice sat in her inn and waited for the crowds to come pouring through the door. Any second now. She’d be fighting them off with burning oil and kitchen knives. Any moment. They were probably just waiting until nightfall.

----

Two nights later Erin had to concede that being an innkeeper was harder than it looked. And it looked really hard.

“What good is owning an inn without customers?”

Erin sighed and sat back in her chair. She eyed the gleaming wooden floor and stout wooden door and wondered whether it was worth cleaning them again. But no, she’d dusted and polished every available surface, and she had enough food in the kitchen for a small army. What she didn’t have was money or people willing to spend money.

“Two days.”

Erin put her head in her hands glumly. Two days since she’d painted her sign and named the inn. Two days, and her only customers were the three terrors that plagued her waking nightmares.

Relc, Klbkch, and Pisces. They were all horrible customers. Each one was fine on his own—well, Pisces was annoying no matter what, but as patrons they had extremely objectionable flaws. Even Klbkch.

Especially Klbkch.

It wasn’t that they were annoying, per se, but…no, they were annoying. Erin gritted her teeth. She wished the Goblins would stop by for a change of pace. At least they were clean, quiet, and finished everything on their plate.

Well, Relc always finished everything on his plate. So did the other two, but in Relc’s case he tended to spread the contents of his plate on the table and the floor. How hard was it to use a knife and fork?

And the one who did use a knife and fork never paid for anything. Ever. Erin felt like she was running a soup kitchen every time she fed Pisces.

As for Klbkch that…that…

“That lying, pasta-eating snake-ant jerk!”

Erin slapped the table. She was especially mad at him. How could he betray her expectations like that?

She’d been happy to feed him pasta all night long. Happy that was, until Pisces and Relc told her that Antinium couldn’t handle bread or pasta that well. They were all naturally gluten-intolerant. Eating pasta was about as fun for Klbkch as poking his tongue with a knife. If he had a tongue.

Pasta wasn’t technically poison for him, but it made Klbkch lethargic and did nasty things to his digestion. Either way, he’d clearly been buying and eating her food just to support her.

The nerve. The gall of that bug. Ants were bugs, right?

When she’d found out about Klbkch’s aversion to pasta she’d gotten into a huge fight with him. Or rather, she’d gotten mad and he’d apologized repeatedly. Ever since then Erin had let him buy blue fruit juice or blue fruits, but no more pasta. The trouble with that was that Erin lost out on one of her major sources of income, as Relc visited every other day and Pisces came by too frequently.

“Another night without customers.”

Erin groaned to herself as she stared at her inn. She mechanically wiped a mug clean with a clean piece of cloth. Not because it was dirty; it just felt like an innkeeper-y thing to do. And she was bored.

“What I wouldn’t give for one customer.”

Two tables over, Pisces looked up from his bowl of onion and sausage soup.

“I am right here, you know.”

Erin glared at him.

“I meant a paying, nice customer.”

He sniffed and drank the last dregs from his bowl. The one positive aspect about the mage – if you could call it that – was that he ate like a starving wolverine.

“I believe there is a lovely tradition known as a ‘tab’. Rest assured I will make sufficient payment to you in time, good mistress. Although I must say you could stand to improve the variety of your dishes. Pasta and soup are all very well, but I trust you do know there are other types of food in the world?”

Erin ground her teeth together. She pointed the door.

“Out.”

Pisces stood with offended dignity and brushed off his dirty robe. He offered Erin a bow that was sardonic without being offensive enough for a thumping.

“Your soup was most adequate. However, I would advise you to add more seasonings to combat the bland taste.”

Erin opened her mouth, but he was already halfway out the door. She watched it close and then stop until it was a tiny bit ajar. This time Erin punched the table.

After she’d closed and bolted the new door Klbkch had helped her install, Erin tasted the cold soup and made a face. She stomped over to her shelves and looked for a bag of salt.

Cooking was harder than it looked. And sadly, while Erin could make several dishes thanks to her skill, there wasn’t really any point if no one but Pisces was going to eat it. Today she’d tried out soup, and she had half a pot still sitting in the kitchen. She’d have to wait for Relc to come by tomorrow to finish it all.

Erin sighed and sat down at her table. It was her favorite table, the second one near the bar. It was where she slept. True, she could have used the floor or done something about the second floor, but she was out of money for things like mattresses and pillows. For now, she slept. Her life wasn’t bad. She’d survived Goblins and actually started running a business. She just wished—

She just wished things would start going her way.

----

The next day Erin woke up, she woke up tired. Very tired. And that was strange, because Erin had gotten a good night’s sleep. Or so she’d thought.

As Erin shifted to get up she felt uncomfortable. She looked down at her clothes. She was wearing a variation of a t-shirt and pants she’d custom-ordered from one of the Gnolls that Krshia had introduced her to.

Most Drakes went for an ancient-Greek style toga or robe look and their clothes were long and free-flowing. Some of them wore sarongs, but Erin was pretty sure it was only the females.

On the other hand, Gnolls wore minimal attire, usually just enough to cover their furry parts which weren’t visible in the first place. And while Erin was fine with that look, she wasn’t too keen on wearing just a thong and breast band in public. Hence, her clothes.

The fabric was a rougher, sturdier type of cloth than Erin would have liked, but it wasn’t that uncomfortable. She’d slept in it fine just the other day. So why was it suddenly rubbing against her down…there…?

Erin looked down and began praying under her breath. She closed her eyes. Did she have to go to the bathroom? No. Nope. Not at all. So then why was she leaking…?

“Oh. My. God. This is not okay!”

The wetness in the crotch of her pants spread even as Erin looked down. She began to swear, even as she jumped up and ran for some clean cloths. It couldn’t be happening. But it was. How had she forgotten?

Her period. She was on her damn period.

Erin went to the shopping bag where she’d neatly stored many of the items she’d bought and began tearing through it, tossing items aside. Towels. She had to have towels somewhere in here.

There. Erin grabbed them and a fresh pair of pants. She walked back into the common room and hesitated. Like hell she was going to change in here. She went upstairs.

As Erin switched her pants and wiped away the mess she wondered what cruel twist of fate had dumped her in this fantasy world – yet still gave her the miracle of life every month.

“I’ve never heard of video game characters dealing with this! How do you expect Lara Croft to climb mountains with a giant frickin’ diaper in her pants? I’d love to see Leia fighting stormtroopers on her cycle!”

Erin slammed downstairs and threw her pants and the bloody towel on the ground. The other one she took to the kitchen and cut in half. Then she shoved it down her pants.

“Rough.”

The towels were not meant for use in the way she was using them. Erin shuddered. This was a nightmare. She had to get relief. And by relief, she meant tampons.

And that was another chilling thought, because Erin was pretty sure tampons never existed in medieval times. But—they had pads, right? Women existed back in the dark ages, even if they were oppressed. And Liscor wasn’t that primitive. So they had to have pads. They had to.

“Please God, if you’re there. Or the Buddha. I’ll pray to anyone. Just please don’t make me wear a diaper.”

She wasn’t even sure if they had diapers. She hadn’t seen many baby Drakes while walking in the city, and they stayed away from the scary human in any case.

Erin went for the door and hesitated. She felt like she was wearing a scratchy diaper, but it couldn’t be helped. She felt at her pocket and then went to her discarded pants and pulled out a very thin coin pouch. She didn’t have much money, but it was probably enough.

Her bloody pants and towel were another issue. Erin stared at them and then kicked them under the table. Then she opened the door and slammed it behind her. Her temper was already bad when she left her inn.

After the forty minutes it took to get to Liscor at quick pace, Erin’s mood had gone from bad to thunderous. The towel in her pants chafed. And her period was heavy. She wanted to kill everything. And that was before she tripped on a rock.

----

Erin marched into Liscor through the western gates. Actually, she stormed through the gates. In actual fact, she practically charged through them.

The Drake on duty, the same yellow one she’d seen several times before opened his mouth to make a comment. Erin snarled at him as she went past. He shut up.

----

Another obstacle got in her way before she got to the market street. Olesm appeared out of nowhere, holding a box in his scaly hands.

“Good day, Miss Solstice. What a coincidence running into you here.”

Erin gritted her teeth. Her abdomen was cramping up. This was a bad one.

“Not now, Olesm.”

He ducked his head, but kept pace with you.

“I understand this might be a bad moment, but I was wondering if you would be free later to play a game of—”

Erin turned her head as she stomped past him. Olesm swallowed the words he’d been about to say. She left him behind and kept moving down the street. Some Gnolls snarled at her when she walked in front of them. This time she snarled back.

----

“Pads.”

Krshia looked up from her pile of copper and silver coins.

“Yes, Erin Solstice?”

Erin took a deep breath. She couldn’t get mad. Not now, when her goal was so close.

“Pads. I want to buy pads. Or tampons, if you guys actually have those.”

The Gnoll shopkeeper was sitting down, but her head was almost higher than Erin’s. She blinked at Erin.

“What are these pads you speak of? Are they bandages?”

Erin’s blood froze. She felt the earth beneath her begin to open, and choir of undead hands reaching up to pull her into the fiery pits of hell.

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

Bits of fur flew into the air as Krshia shook her head.

“Apologies. It is shedding season. Why are you so concerned, Erin Solstice?”

Erin leaned forwards and whispered loudly to Krshia.

“I’m bleeding. I need pads. Cloth pads, now.”

“Bleeding? Where?”

Maybe the Gnoll really was messing with her, or she didn’t have the same sense of public decency Erin did. Either way, Erin leaned forwards and whispered the location in Krshia’s ear.

The Gnoll shrugged.

“Is it not fine?”

Erin gaped at her. Krshia scratched the fur around her neck looking unconcerned.

“It is only liquid, yes? And all who smell you will know either way. Why waste good cloth?”

Erin stared at her. Krshia stopped scratching.

“What?”

“Are you messing with me? Because if you are, I’m not in the mood for it.”

“I would not tease a young one like you when you stink of sweat and blood.”

Krshia looked mildly offended. Erin rubbed at her eyes and crossed her legs.

“Sorry. It’s just—you can smell that? Seriously? No, don’t tell me. I really don’t want to know. Don’t Gnolls have periods too?”

The Gnoll in question tilted her head slightly and make a confused face.

“Periods?”

“The menstrual cycle. You know, that time of the month when you donate blood. When Aunt Flo comes to town. Shark week. The Crimson Tide. Parting the Red Sea!”

Krshia blinked at her. Erin felt her voice growing louder.

“You know! Riding the cotton pony! It’s that thing ladies have! The waterfalls of hell! The blood baptism! The get-out-of-swim-class card! The proof of womanhood! The part of the month where blood comes out of your—”

----

Erin squatted on the ground, head buried in her arms. The other shoppers stared at her. The shopkeepers stared at her. Half of them looked sympathetic. The other half looked disgusted. The children were torn between impressed and horrified.

A heavy, furry hand patted Erin on the shoulder.

“Humans have very strange bodies, yes?”

“…Yes.”

She really hadn’t meant to shout.

“I really didn’t mean to shout.”

“It is nothing.”

Krshia flicked her fingers dismissively.

“Shouting is good. Almost as good as howling, but we are forbidden to do that unless it is a full moon. But I am sorry. Gnolls do not have your periods, nor do we let our blood each month.”

“So you don’t have anything like that?”

The Gnoll paused. She tapped her lips with one finger and nodded.

“The blood. It is for mating, yes? We do have a similar time. All those who still are able to bear children, we go into a heat. It is called estrus, but it happens only once or twice a year. It is the time when we mate.”

Erin looked up at her.

“Does it hurt?”

Krshia scratched one ear and shook her head. More fur flew into the air.

“It is enjoyable. Some look forwards to it. It is a time to have sex and to bear children and  and so we are happy when it comes to us.”

Erin pointed a shaking finger at Krshia.

“I hate you so much right now I can’t even explain.”

The Gnoll grinned at her, but without any malice.

“I am sorry for your plight. But I have no smooth cloths. But I do have these. These are wool; not finely woven, but strong. Would you like a few?”

Erin looked at the rough fabric offered to her and shuddered.

“Do you have any idea—no. Just please, please tell me there’s someone who sells what I need in the city.”

Again, Krshia scratched her head. Erin wondered if she had fleas.

“Hm. No.”

“No?”

“We Gnolls need no padding. And the Drake folk and Antinium, they need none either. Humans are rare here, so I would not think any padding you wish for exists in any store.”

The blood drained from Erin’s face. She stared open-mouthed at the shopkeeper, who looked concerned at her expression.

“Is it so bad?”

“I—I’m going to die.”

“Not from so little blood, I think. But I have a thought.”

Erin latched onto the ray of hope instantly.

“Yes? Tell me. What’s your thought?”

“The Adventurer’s Guild. They have bandages. Many bandages. If you cannot stop this blood, they would be able to help more than I. And bandages are soft, yes?”

“Yes—yes they are.”

Erin was on her feet in an instant. She waddled away from the Gnoll and then stopped.

“Thanks. I uh, gotta go. See you later.”

Bemused, the Gnoll watched Erin walk awkwardly out of sight. She looked at a female Drake who was passing by her shop. She bared her teeth in a grin.

“Humans, eh?”

----

The cool wood counter of the reception desk in the Adventurer’s Guild felt good on Erin’s head. She rested her head there and wished she didn’t have to deal with the world.

“So you really have blood coming from down there? And it happens every month?”

“Yes.”

“That’s so weird.”

Erin groaned. She looked up at Selys, the helpful receptionist. She’d been grateful to find the female Drake was working today, but she really, really couldn’t deal with her innocent curiosity.

“I know. Everyone keeps telling me that. But please, do you have bandages? Thin, soft fabric?”

Selys nodded and pulled a drawer out. She fished out a roll of thin, white fabric and showed it to Erin.

“We’ve got lots, just in case there’s an emergency. How much do you need?”

“Lots.”

Erin said it glumly as she fished out her meager ration of coins. She tried to calculate how many rolls of bandages she’d need, and how she’d turn them into a pad. She needed to buy food—but this was more important.

“I’m going to need enough for a week, maybe. And I need to use the bandages to make a pad. You know, to cover the area. And I change pads every few hours sometimes, so…”

Drakes didn’t have eyebrows, so Selys couldn’t raise them. But she widened her eyes and flicked her long tongue out.

“That’s expensive. Sorry Erin, but I’m not sure you’ll have enough money for that. Bandages are cheap, but you’ll be using a lot.”

“Tell me about it. On bad days back home I used to use a ton of pads each day before I switched to tampons. And let me tell you, that was a psychological shift as well.”

Selys looked blank. Erin waved her hand. She wasn’t about to open that can of worms.

“Well, back on the topic of pads…why not make one that you can re-use more than once?”

Erin looked up at Selys.

“What?”

“Well, doesn’t that make sense? If you’re going to make these pads dirty, why not rewash them rather than keep throwing them away.”

As she opened her mouth to reply Erin’s brain froze. She tried to think of a response but she didn’t have any good one.

“Um. Uh, that’s—that’s actually a good idea. I heard they did that in developing countries but—okay. Okay, yeah. It’s gross, but yeah. How would I get one of those made?”

Selys smiled at Erin. There were still too many pointy teeth in the smile, but Erin was getting used to it.

“I’ve stitched up more than a few adventurers right here. I can make a few of these pads quite quickly if you want me to. I’ve got the skill [Fast Stitching] so it won’t take more than a few minutes.”

Erin leaned across the counter and seized Selys by the clawed hand. The receptionist blinked at her in surprise.

“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“It’s nothing. Really. I’ll start on this pad right away. How should it look?”

“Um. Sort of like this.”

Erin showed Selys as the other Drake hmmed and began layering the cloth bandage together. They’d just finished the basic design and Erin had opened her coin pouch when she her a familiar growl from behind her.

Selys gulped, but Erin scowled. She turned around and looked up into the face of an irritated male Gnoll.

“Human. You still stink.”

“I’m not talking to you. Go away.”

He blinked at her, but Erin was already turning back to Selys. She felt a rough hand spin her around and nearly dropped her money. She narrowed her eyes up at the Gnoll.

“You stink of blood. I warned you last time – leave this place now.”

Erin felt her teeth grinding together. She clenched her jaw and looked up at the Gnoll. He was big and scary, but she was also pretty sure he wasn’t allowed to hit her. And even if he was, she was in a really bad mood. Unbidden, the thought occurred to her that she’d never figured out what [Tavern Brawling] actually did.

“Do I look like I’m in the mood to be bullied?”

The male Gnoll growled at her. Erin stared at him. She didn’t blink. She was really cramping up down below now, and the trickling sensation was not making anything better.

Her gaze locked with the Gnoll’s for a solid minute. He was looming over her, doing the classic male intimidation move. She was too angry and sore to care.

After another minute the Gnoll’s ears suddenly flattened for a second. He whirled, and walked away. Erin flipped him off with one hand and then turned back to Selys.

“Sorry. Where were we?”

The female Drake was staring at Erin with open mouth. Erin stared back at her and then flashed a smile.

“Bully me once, shame on you. Bully me twice—I get mean. And violent.”

“I can see that. But I would have known it anyways. Terbore might growl at you, but we all heard about how you killed that Goblin Chieftain by yourself. That was some story.”

Erin’s smile slipped for a fraction of a second.

“Oh. Someone told you about that?”

“Oh yes.”

Selsys nodded as she began stitching the bandages together with needle and thread. The fingers that held the long needle flashed back and forth across the fabric at mesmerizing speed.

“Klbkch had to turn in the Goblin Chieftain’s head here. We all heard about how you killed it. That’s amazing, by the way—Klb says you don’t even have any levels in a fighting class. How’d you do it?”

“Um. I burned his face off.”

“Oh, are you a [Mage] then? I saw a Human one in town the other day, but apparently he’s a troublemaker and a thief.”

“No, no. I’m no mage. It’s just—I used a trick. And I nearly died. I bet Klbkch didn’t mention that.”

“He said you were wounded. Was it bad?”

“Very. He gave me a healing potion. Without that I would have been a goner.”

Her hands paused in stitching as Selys stared at Erin.

“He gave you a healing potion? But that’s expensive. You must have been badly injured if Klbkch gave you his potion.”

Erin shifted nervously.

“Are they—are they expensive? Those potions, I mean.”

“Very.”

Selys nodded. She named the price and it was Erin’s turn to do the gaping.

“Well, it’s important that the Watch carries them in case someone gets hurt. They’re not supposed to use them unless someone’s really hurt, though. And the potions the Senior Guardsmen carry are even stronger. They can heal most big injuries in a moment. Unless you lose an arm or a body part, you’ll be fine in moments.”

“Yeah. They are good.”

Erin poked at her stomach reflexively. She sighed. Another mark on her debt to Klbkch.

“I’m just glad it was only a Goblin Chieftain. If the rest of the Goblins had come after me, I would have been dead.”

“Oh, if it had been a Goblin Raiding Party we’d have sent out the entire Watch to deal with them. I just don’t understand why a Chieftain would come after you. It doesn’t make sense.”

Erin blinked.

“A Goblin what now?”

“A Goblin Raiding Party. Haven’t you heard of them?”

“Uh. No…no I have not. We don’t have many Goblins where I come from.”

Selys sighed enviously as she finished the first pad and slid it over to Erin. The other girl felt at the soft fabric and smiled happily.

“You’re lucky. Goblins are a real problem around here. I mean, sure, the lone Goblin isn’t that dangerous. They’re only deadly in packs. That’s why we send out Senior Guardsman and post bounties on Goblins to keep their numbers down.”

“So you guys kill Goblins all the time? What about Chieftains? Do you sent adventurers after those guys?”

Erin didn’t know how she felt about that. Bad. But her sympathy only extended to the small Goblins, not the vicious, sadistic big ones.

“Chieftains? No, no. They’re far too dangerous to send most adventurers after.”

Selys shuddered.

“Why not?”

“It’s not that they’re stronger than the Watch. Relc, Klbkch, even some of the regular Watch are probably better fighters than Chieftains. It’s just that they’re—tough. And strong. And when they call their tribe well, the average group of adventurers would get wiped out against that mob.”

“So you’re not sending adventurers out against a raiding party either, then?”

“Gods no. If we hear about one of those we form a hunting party and try to get rid of it right away. A raiding party can wipe out a village in an hour if we don’t get to it in time.”

“Nasty.”

“It is. Here’s another pad.”

“Thanks. Sorry I can’t pay you more—it’s just that I don’t have much money from this innkeeping thing.”

Selys waved her needle at Erin.

“Don’t apologize. I’m happy to help. But I’m afraid I could have warned you that innkeeping in that old inn isn’t a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Well, what level are you? Ten? Twenty?”

“Nine.”

“See, that’s not too good. If you were in the city I’d say you should get apprenticed to another innkeeper until you’re at least Level 15. It might take a year or two, but then you’d have a few good skills to run your inn with. And I wouldn’t have an inn that far away from the city to begin with.”

“Yeah. No one comes by. Is it because I’m human? Or is it too far to walk?”

Another pad finished, Selys picked up the roll of bandages and cut off more for the last pad. She lined the backing with a stiffer cloth and then sewed layers of the soft bandage on top.

“Both, I’d say. It’s dangerous to come out that far—well, not too dangerous but it’s a bit of a deterrent. Your being Human isn’t bad, but…”

“But…?”

“Well, I’ve heard Relc talking in bars. He says you make pasta. Is…is that all you sell?”

“Um. Yeah. I can make other things. I’ve got [Basic Cooking], but—what’s wrong?”

Selys was shaking her head as she sewed. Erin was envious of her speed, and also her scaled hands. Whenever the Drake missed her cloth or stabbed one of her fingers, the needle hit her scales rather than soft, vulnerable flesh.

“I don’t want to be rude Erin, but that’s not too impressive. All cooks and chefs have [Basic Cooking] as a skill. Some even have [Advanced Cooking].”

“Oh. And uh, I guess pasta isn’t that interesting.”

“You could make other things, but there are a lot of good inns in the city. And we get recipes from the Human cities up north all the time. Even if you sold a new dish, someone would copy it the next night.”

Erin’s face fell. Selys looked unhappy, but went on.

“Anyways, no one will make the journey if all you’re selling is pasta. I’m sorry.”

Erin groaned as she thumped her head back against the counter. That helped explain her lack of business. Her regular clients might not mind eating the same dishes, but everyone else would. She guessed she should be grateful for her regulars, thinking of it that way.

Relc would probably eat anything he could swallow. Pisces would eat anything he could steal, and Klbkch would eat anything she put in front of him. The Goblins were probably pickier eaters than her clientele.

The last pad done, Selys slid it over to Erin. The young woman gratefully accepted them and felt them carefully. They were thick, but not so much that they’d be uncomfortable wearing. More importantly, they were made of strong materials and she was sure she’d be able to wash and use them again.

“You have no idea how much this means to me. Thank you so much.”

The Drake smiled at her. Erin smiled back.

“Don’t mention it. And good luck with your innkeeping. I’m sorry I had to say it like that but—”

“No, you’re right. I’ll…do some thinking about it. But right now—”

Erin was edging away from the counter.

“Uh, where’s your bathroom?”

----

The new pad Erin was wearing did not chafe like the towel. Which was exceptionally fortunate, because her skin was raw and still sore. It made the walk back to her inn less fun than normally, but at least the crisis was averted.

“Just in time for a new crisis.”

Erin grumbled to herself as she felt at her pocket to make sure the precious pads were still there. She had to think about business. The trouble was, she’d never run a business or even worked in any job aside from a part-time library assistant and helper in chess tournaments. She had no idea what to do.

“I’ll think about tomorrow.”

Erin muttered to herself as she opened her door. It was just past midday, but she felt exhausted. She hated periods. Why couldn’t they have disappeared along with her world? Maybe there was a skill to get rid of them. [No Period Pain] or [Bloodless Flow] or something like that—

As she opened the door to her inn Erin stopped in her tracks. Her inn was empty. But something was moving underneath the table. Something glowing…

In her haste to leave, Erin had kicked her bloody towel and pants in a heap. And one of the windows must have been open a crack, because it had attracted guests.

A swarm of glowing green acid flies crawled over the dirty cloths. They rubbed their bodies all over the cloths, the table leg, the floor…

Parts of the wood were smoking and glistening with the acid fly’s toxic juices. Erin could see pitted holes in the floorboards. She stared in horror at the green dots shifting all over her clothes.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

1.22

A shifting, glowing mass of green and black insects covered the bottom half of a table and pieces of bloody cloth. Erin looked at the countless bugs that had entered her inn and wondered whether screaming would attract their attention. Probably.

They were huge, black bugs that vaguely resembled fireflies. Except these acid flies were three times bigger than fireflies, and instead of pretty glowing backsides, theirs were bulbous glowing orbs that exploded if you annoyed them.

And they were in Erin’s inn.

“Oh no. No. This is not right.”

Slowly, she edged around the room. The acid flies took no notice of her. Erin made it to the kitchen, dropped her pads in a clean spot, and grabbed a bucket. Then she edged back out of the room and ran for the stream.

----

Ten minutes later Erin opened the door of the inn and ducked as an acid fly buzzed at her face. The insect spiraled away and flew back to the bloody cloths. Erin narrowed her eyes and squinted.

It looked like the flies had devoured, or melted a large part of the cloth. And either they were full or sleeping, because most of them were sitting on the pants or around it, not moving.

“Perfect.”

Erin tiptoed closer, pausing every few seconds to make sure she wasn’t bothering the bugs. The bucket was heavy in her hands, but she was close. She just needed to be in range.

When she was certain she was close enough, Erin took a deep breath and then hurled the bucket at the flies. The bugs were washed away by a tide of water and struggled helplessly on their backs, their wings too heavy to fly.

Erin moved fast. In an instant she was in the kitchen and pulling out a large glass jar she’d used for storing perishable foods. She dumped a bunch of onions out and then grabbed a long-handled spatula.

The flies were still struggling to get up as Erin moved back into the common room. She bent down and began flicking them into the glass jar, one after another. Some exploded as the wooden spatula touched them, but soon Erin had figured out the way to avoid the acid flies bursting was to hit their heads, rather than their glowing green abdomens.

In no time at all she’d rounded up all the acid flies and sealed them in the large glass jar. That done, she sat back in a chair and wondered whether she was cursed.

“So. Apparently acid flies like blood. Right. And does that mean I have to worry about them landing on me when I sleep?”

She looked down at the jar of flies. Most of them were buzzing around inside the glass jar by now. They clung to the glass, fanning their wings innocently.

Erin lifted the jar up carefully and stared in horrified fascination at the bugs.

“Four legs. I knew I wasn’t dreaming that up.”

That would technically make the flies not flies, but it didn’t matter either way. They looked like oversized houseflies, acted like them, and aside from the exploding acid bit, they were as harmless as flies.

“And now I have a jar full of these deadly little critters. What do I do now?”

Erin stared at the jar. Letting them go was probably a stupid idea. Mainly because they liked blood. And she was on her period. Ergo, they’d probably land on her and melt her face off. So what could she do?

“…Hm.”

Erin hesitated, and then experimentally shook the jar. Instantly, half of the acid flies inside exploded. The green, glowing liquid flowed into the bottom of the glass jar while the bodies of the dead flies floated to the top.

After checking to make sure the top of the jar was extremely secure, Erin gave it a really hard shake. This time the rest of the acid flies exploded and she was left with a pool of green acid and a bunch of dead fly corpses.

“I should feel bad about that. I really should.”

But she didn’t. And as Erin stared at the dead flies floating in the acid, she had a thought. She carefully put the glass jar in a corner of the room where she wouldn’t trip over it by accident, and emptied another one in the kitchen.

“One jar for bugs, one jar for deadly acid. Perfect.”

Erin picked up the jars and hesitated again.

“Acid. Does it melt glass?”

She thought it did. At least, the Aliens from the movie could melt through glass. But that was a movie. On the other hand, this was a fantasy world.

“Right. But in chemistry class we used glass.”

But again, this was another world. Erin carefully held up the glass bottle and peered at the edges. It didn’t look like anything was melting. Even so, she put the jar in a far corner of the kitchen. Just in case.

“Okay. Done. Now what?”

It took her two seconds to realize what she’d forgotten. Erin smacked her forehead.

“Time for cleanup.”

She got up wearily and trudged back into the common room. She looked down at the part of the floor and table where the acid flies had been congregating and swore.

----

It wasn’t easy dragging a table out of the inn, but it helped when the wood broke apart and she could drag the pieces out. The acid had eaten through the base of the table and pitted the floor boards. That meant Erin was also faced with the lovely prospect of repairing the floor after she was done with the table.

Well, Klbkch had helped her repair the floorboards after the Chieftain attacked, and Erin’s [Basic Crafting] skill did the rest. It took her an hour, but when she was done the only sign the flies had been there were a few differently colored floorboards and her aching back.

“I hate all bugs. Except for Klbkch. No, actually, I hate him too. At least bugs don’t lie to my face.”

Erin collapsed back into a chair and stared at the ceiling. Today was not a good day. In fact, she’d put it in the top ten bad days she’d ever had. Unfortunately, that meant it was a good day if you compared it to the ones she’d been having since she got here.

“Who knew I’d be grateful to be covered in sawdust and sweat rather than blood?”

She laughed, coughed as some dust got into her lungs, and stood up.

“Bath time.”

----

One of the glorious things Erin had been introduced to in Liscor was the public bathhouses. They weren’t free to enter of course. She had to pay five coppers to enter, but they were hot and luxurious and well worth the price. Come to that, she got off easy since she paid the same rate as Drakes. Gnolls and other Beastkin had to pay twice as much because of the fur.

Yes, the steaming bathhouses were a delight to match any convenience of the modern world. Just sinking into the scented waters was enough to take Erin away from the pain of reality.

That was why bathing in the freezing waters of the stream was twice as hard now. Erin stuck her foot in the water, yelped, and then decided to jump in before she lost her nerve.

----

The one good thing about being in the middle of nowhere was that you could bathe naked, and you could swear and scream as much as you wanted. After Erin had gone through the shock of getting in the cold water, she scrubbed herself as fast as possible, lathered herself with the ball of soap she’d bought from Krshia, and screamed again when she saw the fish in the water.

It shot through the water like a torpedo. Erin exploded out of the water like a rocket. It followed her, but couldn’t figure out how to run after her on dry ground. Erin ran around screaming, hit the fish with the bucket she’d brought until it stopped moving, and ran away. She came back only later when she’d had a brilliant idea.

----

Erin trudged back across the grasslands, a glass jar tucked under one hand and a knife and bucket in the other. She held the knife so it pointed down. She wasn’t sure if that rule only applied to scissors, but she figured it couldn’t hurt with knives.

It was later. In truth, it felt like days had passed, but somehow she was still on the same day. The sun was starting to set in the sky, though, so at least she was halfway done.

From this distance she could see a green glow coming from the dead fish. Erin slowed down and put down her burden and shaded her eyes. It looked like her targets were already waiting for her.

“Hm.”

Erin squinted. All the flies were resting on the fish. Or in it. That was good.

Slowly, very slowly, she tiptoed towards the fish, the bucket in her hands. She eyed the acid flies and saw they were rubbing themselves all over the fish. The acid from their backsides was eating into the fish, and they in turn were eating the melted result.

“Oh wow. That’s gross.”

The flat fish wasn’t so much flat as runny now. Erin wondered if she should feel sick, but she mainly felt a kind of fascinated revulsion. She shook her head and got back to her mission before the flies decided they wanted dessert with dinner.

Stealthily, Erin filled the bucket from the stream. Then she tiptoed over to the fish and tossed the water all over the flies and the fish.

Again, the acid flies found themselves struggling on their backs, unable to fly. Erin dashed back and grabbed the glass jar.

“Take this! And that!”

Erin began smushing the downed acid flies with her glass jar. They exploded in showers of acid and in no time she’d killed them all. That done, Erin looked at the dead fish.

It was mostly melted from the acid. Erin prodded it with her knife and gagged. But she needed it so she steeled herself and tried to cut the fish in two.

The knife blade sunk through the fish like butter. It wasn’t so much fish now as sludge. And no matter how hard Erin tried, she couldn’t get it to separate. Wherever she cut, the sludge oozed back together.

Disgusted in more than one sense, Erin covered her face with one hand.

“Well, of course that would happen.”

She needed a spoon, not a knife. Lacking one, she used the knife to scoop some of the fish sludge away. She stared at it and felt her stomach roiling. As the smell of the decayed fish hit her nose she dry-heaved.

“I can do this. Think of the money. Think of the food. Think of the inn. Don’t think of the fish.”

She took several deep breaths while looking the other way. When she was fairly sure she wasn’t about to throw up she went back to the sludge.

“Okay, [Basic Crafting] activate!”

First, Erin took some of the green fish-sludge and poured it in the bottom of her glass jar. Then, she took off the glass top and set it next on top of the jar so that it was just wide enough to let flies squeeze into the container, but didn’t give them much room to get out. Then she walked away.

“Acid fly trap, complete!”

Erin stared at the glass jar. She slapped herself gently with one hand. Then she set up three more jars the same way.

“Let’s see how you like this, you little jerks.”

----

“You have a talent for finding the most dangerous things, don’t you?”

Pisces shuddered as he gazed at the acid fly traps. He edged away from them and rubbed his arms nervously. Erin grinned at him.

“Aren’t they gross? But look—the jars are almost half full, and it’s not even been more than two hours.”

“How fascinating.”

He took another step back. Erin eyed him, but she couldn’t judge him too harshly. Both she and the mage were a good ten feet away from the glass jars.

Pisces licked his lips as he stared at the jars. The way the countless glowing shapes moved and heaved against the glass was hypnotic.

“I imagine…I imagine if all four containers were to rupture, the swarm of these insects could very well engulf us and melt our flesh within moments.”

“What a lovely image.”

“Yes. Yes, I imagine it will fill my dreams tonight.”

“They can’t get out of the jars. They’re not that smart. They wriggle in, but the lid keeps them from exiting. I did the same thing with fruit flies back where I lived.”

“I applaud your ingenuity. But may I ask why you decided to capture a swarm of deadly insects that prey on dead matter?”

“Well, they’re bugs. I bet Klbkch would love to eat them.”

Pisces gave her a fish eye look. He shook his head.

“It’s your funeral if you want to attempt to cook them. May I advise removing the acid before you serve them to your guests?”

Erin glowered at Pisces. She wasn’t even sure why she’d invited the mage to see her traps. She just wanted to show off, and he was the only one who’d come for dinner that night.

“I don’t get how they can survive anyways, if they explode so much. I mean, how would they even live long enough to reproduce?”

“By having few predators insane enough to risk consuming them. That, and the fact that they are nearly limitless in number.”

“Ah.”

Pisces waved a hand at the glass jars.

“These are only the males of the species, in any case. The females are—substantially—larger. In fact, the sole purpose of the male is to gather as much food as possible. He will dissolve and absorb as much nutrition into his lower abdomen before returning to a female in hopes of winning her favor. They all do it.”

“Oh, sort of like how bees and ants both have queens, right?”

Erin glanced over and saw Pisces gaping at her open-mouthed.

“What?”

He shook his head.

“I was unaware you were so familiar with the biology of insects, that’s all.”

“Oh, I know tons of weird animal facts. When I was kid I watched Discovery Chann—I mean, I read lots of books.”

“You can read?”

Pisces gave her a look almost bordering on respect. Erin glowered at him.

“Of course I can read. I can also play chess, and I read poetry. Sometimes.”

“You can play chess?”

Erin glared again, but he seemed genuinely curious.

“Oh yeah. I play chess. A tiny bit. You could say it’s a hobby of mine.”

“Really? As it happens, I was considered one of the better players in the northern cities. Would you care for a game? Perhaps with a wager or two on the side?”

Pisces smiled innocuously at her. Erin rolled her eyes.

----

An hour later Pisces stared at the chess pieces in front of him with desperate concentration. He moved the king piece in front of him left, and then right. He turned his head to look at the board another way.

“Perhaps if I—”

“Nope. And even if you try to take the pawn, it’s still checkmate.”

Erin didn’t bother looking up from her meal. She’d made scrambled eggs with sausage on the side. It wasn’t the most exciting of meals to eat, but it was tasty, filling, and it was better than having to stare at Pisces.

“I cannot fathom it. I was—am one of the best players in on the continent! I have outplayed [Tacticians] and other mages of similar caliber and skill. How could you defeat me?”

She shrugged.

“Amateurs are still amateurs. By the way, I’ll put the money you bet me on your tab.”

“Ah. That. Clearly I made a miscalculation. Would you care to waive my debts if I—”

“No. You bet and I won. No arguing. Eat your eggs.”

Erin heard a loud sniff, but after a moment she also heard the clink of metal on pottery.

“I must admit, this is better fare than your unfortunate soup of yesterday.”

She looked up. Pisces quickly looked down at his plate.

After she’d glared for a bit, Erin asked a question that had been on her mind for a while.

“What do you do all day, anyways?”

Pisces looked up and swallowed the scrambled eggs.

“I study the mystical realms of the transmundane. To unlock the secrets of the ether and command over supernatural forces I—”

“You study.”

“Pretty much.”

Pisces shrugged and went back to munching on his breakfast.

“Do you need to study that much? I mean, don’t you know spells?”

He sighed.

“For all my magical proficiency, I cannot cast more than a few magics beyond the third tier in any field, and I am relegated to first and second-tier magics in most fields outside of my specialization.”

“Oh. Um. Magic has tiers?”

Pisces rolled his eyes.

“Indeed. Seven, or eight to be exact. There is a speculative ninth tier of magic, but no mage has ever cast or discovered a spell of such magic. In any case, to cast such spells mages such as I require concentration, time, and effort to unravel the workings of each new incantation.”

Again, Erin had to pause to figure out what Pisces was saying.

“Right. So you study to cast better spells. And I guess that makes you level up as well?”

“Obviously. It is a taxing affair, especially given that menial affairs such as lodging and sustenance must be taken care of while one attempts to study.”

Erin propped her head on one elbow.

“Almost makes you wish you had a job, huh?”

Pisces eyed her dourly.

“Until recently I had a quite profitable side business liberating unneeded supplies from the locals in exchange for entertainment. But now I abstain from such activities to stay within your good graces.”

“Yeah, and because Relc threatened to stab you if you kept doing it. That’s not really a good career path, you know.”

He sniffed loudly.

“I also had a far more lucrative occupation liberating unneeded items from those who were in no position to use them, but apparently that is considered a grave violation of privacy as well.”

“You rob the dead?”

“I reburied them afterwards.”

Erin opened her mouth, raised a finger, threw up her hands, and gave up. She stared at Pisces as the mage huffily finished his food.

“Why don’t you do something actually useful instead?”

“And what would I do that is so useful?”

“I dunno. What do mages do for a living? Blow up stuff with fireballs? Dispense sage advice? Sell their beards? I found a bunch of magic runes in the kitchen. They kept food fresh for—I dunno, years.”

“Ah. A [Preservation] spell, no doubt. Yes, that is certainly a service some mages skilled in runecraft can provide for plebeians.”

“…And? Can you do that?”

“I cannot.”

“Darn.”

“I am sorry to betray your high expectations in me, but I fear even a mage of my caliber cannot study every school of the higher arts.”

Erin glanced up at Pisces. The mage was scraping his plate with the knife and fork. She had the distinct impression he would have licked it if she weren’t watching.

“I never had high hopes for you in the first place. I just think it’s too bad, that’s all. You know magic and you don’t do anything with it.”

Pisces put down his fork.

“Some would say magic is its own reward. I would.”

“I guess.”

Erin sighed. She felt like she was talking to a wall. A particularly annoying wall with bad hygiene.

“You know, if you actually helped people and were a bit nicer, I think you’d actually be fun to hang around. Why are you so rude to everyone?”

She hadn’t meant it to sting, but clearly it hit Pisces somewhere vulnerable. He sat up straight in his chair, his eyes flashing.

“Thus far I haven’t found any people worthy of my assistance. Why should I help those who judge me in ignorance and fear?”

Erin blinked up at him. The young mage’s face was pale with indignation, but spots of color flared in each cheek. She thought about asking him another question—but he was in no mood for conversation.

Instead, Erin shrugged and stood up.

“Because you’re a better person than they are.”

She collected his plate and hers and left the mage sitting at the table. When she came out of the kitchen he was gone.

----

The next day Erin got up and went to check on her fly traps. They’d worked scarily well.

All four glass jars were filled with crawling, wriggling shapes. Erin took one look at the jars, gagged a bit, and then had to go sit down.

“Oh man. Oh wow. That’s the nastiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

It was also, on reflection, the scariest thing she’d ever seen. Erin wondered what would happen if she accidentally knocked the lid off of one of the jars. She recalled Pisces’s comment about melting flesh and shuddered.

Carefully, Erin walked over to the jars. She repeatedly thought about how important it was not to trip.

Her foot caught on a tuft of grass. Erin windmilled her arms wildly and caught herself just before she tripped into one of the jars.

“Not okay. Not okay.”

Before her heart could finish stopping, Erin adjusted the lids of each jar so they firmly covered the openings. Now the acid flies couldn’t get out at all.

“That’s better.”

Erin hefted one of the jars up and felt some of the acid flies explode within.

“Oof. That’s heavy.”

She shifted as the acid and flies shifted in the jar. For such little insects, they weighed a ton.

“Gotta be all the acid in their backsides. Okay. This could take a while.”

Erin took one step, and then another. She adjusted her grip around the glass jar so she wouldn’t drop it. She’d have to watch the ground for potholes, but she was pretty happy with her posture. She took another step, and tripped over another of the glass fly traps.

The ground rushed to meet Erin’s face. She realized she was still holding the glass jar and hurled it away from her just in time. She smacked into the ground hard and exhaled hard. Aside from that, she was fine.

Then Erin heard the glass jar shatter as it hit the ground. She rolled to her feet and stood up.

The large glass jar lay in shards on the grass. Green-gray acidic sludge dripped onto the ground, raising steam and hissing where it met the soil. For a moment, all was still among the wreckage. Then, with a horrific buzzing a swarm of black shapes flew into the air.

Erin felt her heart stop. She looked up at the spiraling cloud of flies. They flew around wildly, looking for whatever had disturbed them. Erin backed away slowly, praying they would ignore her. For a moment it seemed as if they would fly off, but then the entire direction of the swarm changed. The cloud of flies seemed to recoil, and then encircled Erin in an instant.

Her heart had stopped. It wasn’t beating in her chest. Erin looked around desperately, but all she saw were buzzing, buzzing flies. They filled the sky, the ground, everything.

“I—”

They swarmed at her. Erin screamed and covered her eyes and mouth.

“Gust!”

Erin heard the voice, and then a raging gale blew around her. She staggered as the wind blew her around. The effect on the acid flies was even more pronounced. They were blasted away from Erin into a funnel of air which whirled them into one spot. They buzzed around angrily, disoriented and confused.

So was Erin. She looked around and saw a familiar young man wearing dirty grey robes. He was pointing a finger in her direction.

“Duck, Erin!”

Erin dove to the ground and hit the dirt hard. She looked up and saw Pisces raise one hand. A pale frost formed at his fingertips and half-visible gusts of wind blew around the length of his arm. He pointed at the disoriented swarm of acid flies.

“[Frozen Wind].”

A gentle breeze blew against the top of Erin’s head. Then, the air crackled and her hair froze in place. Erin could see the faintest trace of whirling air as it blew over her head. Where it passed, snow began to fall from the sky and she felt intense freezing cold engulf her.

The swarm of acid flies flew into the freezing breeze and fell out of the sky. Erin yelped and ran as they showered down around her, frozen insects that burst as they hit the ground.

She dove into the river, and leapt out of it just as quickly in case the flat fish tried to bite. When she cleared the water out of her eyes, the glowing swarm was gone, and all that was left was a circle of smoking dirt and frozen grass.

When Erin had finished shaking so hard she couldn’t move, she stood up. She was still trembling uncontrollably.

“That was the most amazing thing I’ve ever. Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you.”

She lurched over to Pisces. She wasn’t sure if she should throw her arms around him or start crying. She settled for a brief hug, and then doubled down and hugged him fiercely. He didn’t seem to notice.

Pisces was breathing hard. He stared at the sizzling patch of earth where the acid flies had been, as if mesmerized. She could see the whites of his eyes as they shifted towards her.

“It—that was a beginner’s spell. Not suitable for most combat and downplayed by my instructors. However, it was the best tool for the moment. All magic is worth using, after all.”

“Right.”

Erin nodded. Pisces nodded. His eyes flicked back to the patch of melted earth.

“You saved me. It was incredible, that spell.”

He shook his head and waved a hand weakly in her direction.

“I am—I am a mage of Wistram Academy. As a specialist of the Wind Elementalist field of magic, of course such displays are second—second—”

Pisces bent over and threw up in the grass. He retched, and then threw up again. Erin patted him on the back and waited for him to stop.

After a while Pisces wiped his mouth with a corner of his robe. His face was still pale, but he looked better.

“You were lucky I happened to be here. Very lucky.”

Erin nodded.

“I was. I really was.”

Pisces nodded back. Erin felt like they were both bobbleheads, but there was nothing else to do. He pointed a trembling finger at the three glass jars still holding the swarms of acid flies.

“If you insist on using such traps, might I suggest you anchor them in the stream?”

Erin looked blank.

“The stream? Why?”

“Several reasons.”

Pisces shakily counted them off on his fingers.

“Firstly, the natural buoyancy of the water would prevent the breakage of glass if the jars were dropped, or at least mitigate the danger of the acid flies. Secondly, the effects of wind and other native life would also be mitigated. And thirdly, I would not be at risk tripping over such traps.”

“Right. I can do that.”

She wasn’t sure if it was the moment, but the trembling in her body had nearly vanished. Erin grabbed a rock, tied a some long grass to it, and anchored the rock to the glass jar. She dropped the rock in the stream and watched the jar bob and float in the water.

“Hm. I need something heavy to make sure it stays upright. I guess sometimes the jars might turn over…but it’ll work. Better than leaving them on the ground. A hundred thousand times better.”

Pisces nodded again.

“Well.”

“Good thing you came along.”

Both nodded again. Pisces opened his mouth and grimaced. He went over to the stream and shakily rinsed his mouth out. Then he looked up at her.

“May I ask—what is it you plan to do now, Erin?”

She looked at him. Then she looked at the glass jars full of flies.

“I’m going to take these jars back to the inn. You’re coming with me in case I drop one. And then…”

“And then?”

“And then I’m going to feed you until you explode like one of the flies.”

Pisces glanced down at the glass jars and the milling acid flies within. He shuddered again.

“An apt description.”

----

The jar of acid flies was a mix of acid and death. The corpses of hundreds—thousands of the small bugs floated in a sea of glowing green juice. It slopped against the side of the glass, an obscene testament of insectoid death.

“Hold on, I think there’s one left.”

Erin shook the glass jar. The last remaining acid fly bounced against the glass and popped dully within.

“What will you do with them?”

She looked up at Pisces. The mage was sitting several tables away from her, deliberately not looking at the glass jars.

“I’ll separate the flies and the acid. I don’t know what I’ll do with the acid.”

“If you dispose of it, please do so with utmost care. While the acid of these insects cannot eat through metal or many conventional materials, it is extremely quick to dissolve any organic material.”

Erin nodded. She carefully put the glass jar back in its corner and stood up.

“Right. Um. Want another piece of bread? Or would you like some more juice?”

The sight of the fresh bread and cup of juice made the mage’s face turn an indelicate shade of green. He patted his bloated stomach and erped. He covered his mouth with his hand, but Erin was pretty sure he’d nearly thrown up.

“Maybe not, then.”

“You have been most kind.”

Pisces stood up and clutched at his stomach. He wavered, and cast his eyes towards the door.

“Most kind. But the night is old, and I believe I shall retire.”

“Are you sure? I could get you a bag of food to go.”

He turned a darker shade of green and waved a hand quickly at her.

“You are very considerate, but no. No. I will be off. Thank you for your hospitality.”

“It was nothing. Let me get the door for you—there. Careful on your way out.”

She saw Pisces out the door and then turned and looked back at the table he’d sat in. It was filled with empty plates and crumbs. She debated cleaning it up, and then shook her head.

Carefully, Erin picked her way across the inn. She walked over to the three filled jars of acid flies and made sure for the umpteenth time that the lids were secure, and that she couldn’t see any flies still wriggling around inside.

Among the many things Erin had bought from Krshia, one of them was a chalkboard and piece of chalk. She’d meant to record things she needed on it, but now Erin wiped the black slate clean and used her best handwriting as she wrote on the board. Then she propped it up on the bar’s counter.

Menu

Pasta w/sausage and onions – 3 cp. per plate.

Blue juice – 2 cp. per glass.

Acid flies – 1 s. per plate

She dropped the chalk on the counter and cast her eyes back at the jars of dead flies. Erin shuddered. She rubbed at her arms and sat in her chair. Too close. Too close by far.

In a while she’d fall asleep. In a while she’d wake up screaming and then fall asleep again. She’d be haunted by the sound of buzzing wings for the next week. But for the moment, Erin’s eyes closed.

[Innkeeper Level 10!]

[Skill – Alcohol Brewer obtained!]

[Skill – Dangersense obtained!]

“…I wonder if you can make fly cookies?”

1.23

“Baking soda.”

Krshia shook her head.

“I know not what that is. I have many things which can be baked, but none of this ‘soda’.”

Erin groaned. She felt she shouldn’t be surprised, but she still hated being surprised.

“How about baking powder? Everyone has baking powder!”

Again, Krshia shook her head.

“What is this powder supposed to bake, Erin Solstice?”

“Cookies.”

“And what are these ‘cookies’?”

Erin gaped at Krshia. She gestured with her hands.

“Cookies. You know? Small, round brown things?”

“Are you talking about cow leavings, Erin Solstice?”

“No!”

Furiously, Erin grabbed at her hair. She immediately let go. Her hair was not as hygienic or as clean as she was used to it being.

“How do you—this world doesn’t have cookies? How is that fair? How!?”

Erin stopped ranting and pounded her fist lightly into her hand.

“…How about ice cream?”

“What is this ice—”

----

“Stupid worlds that don’t have ice cream. Stupid Gnolls who act nice and look at me like I’m insane. How does anyone live without ice cream and cookies?”

Erin grumbled to herself as she trudged back to her inn. She kicked the knee-high grass and wished she had a lawnmower the size of a skyscraper. Maybe then her legs wouldn’t itch so much after walking—

Clickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclick—

A familiar sound across the plains. It made Erin’s blood go cold. She stopped, listened, and then saw it.

A gigantic, grey, craggy rock seemed to be levitating across the grasslands. But that was only an illusion. If you looked closer, you’d see many legs churning up the soil underneath the rock. But Erin had no intention of getting that close. She knew what was making that sound and what was living under that rock.

It was a Rock Crab. Erin froze and then turned to run. But it wasn’t coming at her.

Instead, the gigantic rock was propelling itself across the grasslands quite quickly. Its rapidly shuffling legs tore up the earth as it ran. But it wasn’t chasing anything. Was it running away? From what?

Erin got her answer as a bunch of much smaller figures surged over the crest of a hill, chasing the Rock Crab. Goblins. At first Erin grinned at the sight, but her smile faded as more and more of them appeared. First there were five. Then ten. Then twenty—forty—

Yiyiyiyiyiyiyiyiyiyiyiyiyi—

The Goblins were screaming a warcry of their own as they chased the Rock Crab. The crab seemed to sense them behind it and sped up, but it was still too slow. As Erin watched in amazement, the first Goblin leapt and managed to cling to the Rock Crab’s shell.

Instantly, it swung around and threw the Goblin off. From underneath the Rock Crab’s shell a large claw appeared and snapped at the Goblin.  Erin covered her mouth as the Goblin screamed and held up a bloody stump of an arm.

But even as the Rock Crab surged towards the injured Goblin, more Goblins leapt at it. It swung around, trying to knock them away, but although it knocked several Goblins flying, many more dodged its claw and charged at the Rock Crab, screaming wildly.

The Goblins swarmed the Rock Crab. Erin watched, open-mouthed as the giant land crustacean snapped and struck out with its claws. Three Goblins fell away, severely cut and bleeding. One was missing a hand but the others—

They swarmed over the rocky shell, bashing it with clubs. They ducked underneath it as well, biting, stabbing, tearing.

Erin couldn’t see what was happening as more and more Goblins crawled underneath the Rock Crab’s shell, but she saw it spasm. It clicked rapidly in pain and swiped at the Goblins, but they were too close for its claws to grab at.

A baby blue liquid seeped from beneath the shell. The giant Rock Crap collapsed and slimy, blue Goblins dripping in entrails and crab shell emerged from underneath.

Erin backed away slowly. Her heart was pounding a million times per second. She imagined what would happen if one of the Goblins glanced over at her. They’d rush her and cover her in an instant.

But they were all intent on their kill. The Goblins were ripping the Rock Crab apart, hungrily scarfing down its guts. It was a sight to make Erin nauseous, but her stomach was already clenched tight from fear.

Eventually, she thought she was far enough away. Erin turned and ran.

----

Most of the other Goblins didn’t see the departing human. They were too busy cracking the Rock Crab’s hard shell and scooping out its slimy entrails. They feasted.

But a few Goblins did notice the human. One with ragged clothes stopped biting into the Rock Crab’s bitter flesh and stopped to watch the young woman leave. It gripped a something in its pocket tightly. Soon. It would be soon.

The ragged pouch of coin jingled softly as the Goblin shook it. It—no, she looked around quickly, but the other Goblins were too busy gorging themselves to notice the small sound. The female Goblin stowed her pouch of coins among her ragged clothes.

Soon.

----

When Relc and Klbkch tried the door to the Wandering Inn, they found it was locked. Only after Relc had knocked twice did the door open a crack. When Erin finally let the two in, she bolted the door as soon as they were inside.

Relc raised one non-existent eyebrow and flicked his tail idly at Erin.

“What’s gotten into you?”

“Greetings Miss Solstice. Is something wrong?”

Erin looked warily out the window, but felt better with Relc and Klbkch in the building.

“Goblins.”

“Goblins?”

Relc laughed as he and Klbkch sat themselves at one of the tables.

“What, are they throwing rocks at you again? If you want I could—um, scare them. But Goblins? Seriously? After you killed their Chieftain, what’s there to worry about?”

“How about a group of Goblins that can kill a giant rock-crab-thing in seconds?”

Erin snapped at Relc as the Drake laughed.

“It was the scariest thing I’ve seen. Some kind of raiding party swarmed over the crab and—”

“A raiding party?”

Relc sat up in his chair and grabbed for his spear.

“Where, and how many? Come on, Klbkch. We can head them off—”

He jumped to his feet. Erin waved her hands frantically.

“No, no! There’s way too many of them. Besides, I don’t want you to kill them! That would be—”

Relc interrupted Erin as Klbkch watched her silently. The Antinium’s hands were on his weapons too.

“Look, if there’s a raiding party out there, we need to take care of it. I can ignore a few Goblins, but a few hundred of them roaming around? That’s a threat.”

He went for the door, but Erin dragged him back. Or rather, tried to. Her feet slid uselessly across the ground and he didn’t even seem to notice her weight.

“Exactly how many Goblins were in this group you observed, Miss Solstice?”

Klbkch interrupted Erin’s futile struggling as Relc paused by the door.

“Well—”

Erin had to think.

“Not more than forty, I guess.”

Relc blinked and stopped unbolting the door. He looked back at Klbkch, and then down at Erin. Slowly, he walked back to his chair. Then he sat down in it and started to laugh.

Erin gaped as Relc chuckled, and then transitioned into full-scale guffaws of mirth. He covered his face with one claw and pounded the table with the other.

“Just what’s so funny?”

“A raiding party, she says! Hah!”

“I fear you were under a slight misapprehension, Miss Solstice.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah!”

Relc finally managed to get his laughter under control when Klbkch stepped on one of his feet. He wiped tears out of his eyes and grinned at Erin.

“That’s just the local tribe. Forty Goblins? Please. I could take out half of them without breaking a sweat. Between me and Klbkch, we could kill all of them—”

He broke off and cleared his throat.

“Not that we would.”

Klbkch nodded.

“Despite their competency, a Goblin tribe is no threat to any but lone stragglers, Miss Solstice.  On the other hand, a small raiding party is usually comprised of at least three hundred Goblins. Larger groups have been known to exceed a thousand individuals.”

“That’s not a raiding party. That’s an army.”

“Not if you’re a Goblin.”

Relc’s expression became serious as he leaned back in his chair.

“Yeah, like Klbkch said, a Goblin tribe isn’t dangerous. Maybe to you—but you killed their Chieftain, so I doubt they’d be brave enough to attack this place. Besides, if you lock the doors and windows they’ll have a hard time getting in. But when Goblins start appearing in numbers? That’s when things get nasty.”

She heard the silent cue and took it.

“How nasty?”

Klbkch leaned forwards over the table.

“Extremely. Although Goblins are considered a minor threat by most settlements of any size, when they do appear in numbers they are fully capable of wiping out villages, cities, and even nations in the past.”

“Get out.”

“It is quite true, Miss Solstice.”

Relc nodded.

“I’ve heard stories of the Goblin Crusades. And witnessed one myself. The last time one occurred, multiple armies of Goblins rampaged throughout the north and sailed across to the Human continent. Terandria. There were at least a hundred thousand Goblins in each army, and their king had a million Goblins at his back when we smashed him in the Blood Fields.”

Erin felt like she needed a history class, or at least a map.

“Blood Fields? What’s that?”

“It used to be a battlefield. Well, it still is. Lots of armies fight there, and so much blood has been spilled that the entire place has changed. The entire area is full of Blood Grass. Very nasty. Drinks blood and eats people if they’re not careful. I fought there twice.”

“Oh.”

Erin felt like she should say something else, but Relc’s expression had grown uncharacteristically serious. She searched for something else to say.

“Then…the Goblin tribe isn’t that dangerous?”

“Not to me or Klbkch. Just don’t walk into them and you should be fine. Most people can outrun a tribe unless they get trapped anyways.”

Relc flicked his tail dismissively.

“But they killed a Rock Crab!”

“Yeah, what’s that?”

“You know, that giant thing that hides under a rock? It goes clickclickclickclick—”

“Oh, that. Is that what you Humans call it? We just call them Hollowstone Deceivers. What’s a crab?”

“A creature that lives in the sea, I believe. The name is quite apt.”

“Whatever. It’s not that tough.”

Erin blinked at Relc.

“It’s not?”

He waved a hand at her dismissively.

“Oh, we’ve got a lot more freaky monsters living around here. Way more dangerous. They’re just all sleeping or somewhere else this time of year.”

“Or underground.”

“Yeah, or that.”

That didn’t sound good to Erin at all.

“I haven’t seen any of these other monsters. Just the dinosaur birds.”

Klbkch nodded.

“That is appropriate for the season. At this time of the year, the Floodplains contain few creatures besides the Goblins. Aside from grazing herds, most animals—”

“Herds? You guys have herds?”

Again, Klbkch nodded.

“They are usually confined in villages to the north of Liscor. The city hosts many pigs, sheep, horses—”

Relc nodded and smacked his lips.

“Delicious. They’re great if you eat them half-raw. Speaking of which, got any food?”

“Oh, right. Sorry.”

Erin got up and mechanically began placing dishes on the table.

“Dinner will just be a few minutes while I warm everything up on the embers. Uh, what other creatures haven’t I seen yet?”

Relc scratched his head.

“What else? Um. What about those giant spiders? They’re probably hiding in their tunnels right now, but they’re still around..”

Klbkch twitched as Relc mentioned the spiders. Erin twitched too, and her skin crawled at the thought. Relc grinned at both and shook his head.

“Don’t worry. It’s not the right season for them. You’ll see a lot more wildlife around here in a month or so. This is the quietest time of the year, actually. Once the rains start you’ll see a ton of weird creatures, and then when it stops all the animals that travel come here to graze. And in the winter it gets really dangerous. There’s these things called Winter Sprites which are a pain in the tail…”

“Wonderful. I bet everyone comes here to see all the monsters who want to suck your face off.”

It might be that Drakes were impervious to sarcasm. Or it might have just been Relc’s natural obliviousness. He nodded happily as he licked his lips.

“We used to get a lot of travel down south. But that all stopped when the damn Necromancer appeared.”

“Necromancer? You mean Pisces?”

“That weakling mage? No. I mean the bad Necromancer that nearly destroyed the city about ten years ago. Is the food ready yet?”

“Not yet. So that’s why you guys hate the undead?”

Klbkch shook his head as Relc glanced longingly towards the kitchen where good smells were beginning to waft out.

“I believe the Necromancer did not help public perception, but the undead have always been considered a threat, Miss Solstice. It is said that the three most dangerous things to Liscor are rain, the undead, and war.”

“I can see war, but why rain and the undead?”

“Bah. They’re the real threats. War? Huh. We don’t fear war.”

“That is true. Most residents of Liscor do not fear war. I personally deem this unwise given the volatile nature of conflict between nations on this continent!”

“Hah! Even if all the northern and southern cities burn, Liscor will never fall!”

Relc slammed a fist on the table and then looked at Erin beseechingly.

“Can I at least have a drink? Blue fruit juice?”

“Oh, of course. Just a second.”

Erin hurried into the kitchen to grab glasses and the pitcher of freshly-squeezed juice. When she got back she heard Klbkch and Relc arguing.

“—The certainty of Drakes in the impregnability of Liscor seems unwise. My people have brought up the need for increased vigilance to your governing body but—”

“What’s the problem with the Watch, huh? You’re part of it. You know we can take care of any monsters that appear. And if an army does come here, so what? There’s only two ways into this valley. North and south. The mountains are practically impassible, and the Blood Fields guard the southern border. Even if an army comes through, the Floodplains will cut off any chance of siege. What don’t you get about that?”

“The north is still relatively unguarded. If the Human cities-states were to unite—”

“Human cities?”

Erin leaned over the table and nearly spilled juice all over Relc. She looked at the two.

“There are humans around here? Where?”

“To the north. Duh.”

Relc raised his eyebrows while Erin struggled not to throttle him. Klbkch glanced sideways at Erin and then back to his drink.

“And? Um, what do the human cities do?”

“Who knows? They’re Humans. We have an okay relationship with them. They don’t come over here and stomp on our tails, and we don’t eat them.”

Erin sagged slightly. Klbkch kicked Relc under the table and the Drake glanced up at Erin. His eyes widened.

“Oh. Um, uh, like I was saying though Klbkch, Liscor would never fall! Even if an army did attack from the north, we could just recall our army. Unless they could breach our walls in a week or less, the army would come running right back and smash them. See?”

“Is your army really that great?”

Relc nodded proudly as Klbkch indicated his agreement.

“The Liscorian army is famous. Don’t you know? We fight battles for other nations and they pay us to kick our enemies to shreds. We field two thousand Drakes and a few hundred Gnolls at any given moment. Now, I know that sounds like a small army to you, but their average Level is 16. How about that, then?”

She wasn’t sure what to make of that. It sounded quite low.

“Um. It’s good?”

“Good? It’s great! The average level of soldiers in other armies is Level 8. Eight. Get it?”

She did. And when Relc put it that way, it was impressive.

“So the uh, Liscorian army is twice as strong as other armies?”

Klbkch shook his head.

“That is not entirely correct. Levels cannot replace tactics or numerical superiority, or equipment for that matter. However, it is still a potent deterrent to larger forces. That allows the Liscorian army to fight as a mercenary without prolonged engagements.”

“Exactly. Any army that runs up against ours knows that if things get serious, they’ll bleed for every soldier they bring down. That’s why we can earn so much money fighting abroad.”

“So are they here? In the city, I mean?”

“Nah. They’re almost always out on some campaign. The Liscorian army fights wherever. I think they were in the east, fighting near one of the Walled Cities.”

That all made a sort of sense to Erin, although she was having a hard time thinking of a parallel with her world. That was also because she hated history class. But she vaguely recalled the Mongols doing something similar. Or was it the Turks? The Swiss? Now she had no idea.

But Erin did have one question. She raised an eyebrow at Relc.

“So your army goes out and fights for money? Isn’t that dangerous if someone attacks here?”

“Exactly my point. If a stranger to our city can identify the weak spot so quickly, why is the populace so resistant to any suggestions regarding defence?”

Relc shook his head at both Klbkch and Erin angrily.

“Like I said, Liscor’s got a lot of natural defenses. Besides, what army in their right minds would want to attack a Colony?”

Erin sensed her food was nice and warm, but that last word bothered her. She lingered, her hands on the table.

“A what? What’s a Colony?”

Relc waved his hand at Klbkch.

“This city. Liscor. It’s home to a bunch of Antinium—not the violent kind, the peaceful ones. But they live here, so that makes it a Colony. One of six—no, five in the world.”

Erin turned to look at Klbkch. He nodded in agreement.

“We have a standing contract with the people of Liscor. In exchange for our presence, we provide services and goods to the city. It is a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

“Yeah, it was weird having the Antinium around, but it turned out to be a good idea.”

Relc shrugged.

“Anyways, the bottom line is that the Ants defend the city if we’re ever attacked and help out with construction and other jobs. They send some of their people to work in jobs like Klbkch here. And in return we let them stay.”

“That doesn’t sound too fair. What’s in it for the Antinium?”

“No one kills them. And believe me; some people still hate their guts. Even if they’re the peaceful ones, not many nations want a Colony nearby.”

Erin looked at Klbkch. He didn’t seem inclined to disagree, but she did.

“They seem pretty good to me. Although Klbkch is the only one I’ve ever met. But he doesn’t cause trouble, or call Humans names, or do anything bad. Unlike certain Drakes I could name.”

“Thank you, Miss Solstice.”

Relc glared as Klbkch bowed his head. He flicked his tail back and forth on the ground and growled.

“Oh, the Ants are great. They’re quiet, they don’t get drunk, and they’re about as interesting as wood—until one of them goes crazy.”

Klbkch nodded.

“The strain of madness has not been eliminated from my generation. We have reduced the average instance of insanity by 14% per year, but we must remain vigilant.”

“What? Fourteen…what? Can you explain that bit to me?”

Klbkch nodded and opened his mandibles, but Relc’s stomach audibly growled. He poked Erin in the side which made her jump and earned him a foot-stomp from Klbkch, but he didn’t seem to notice. He whined at Erin.

“You can talk about the crazy Ants later. But right now…food?”

Erin dithered, but relented at last at the desperate look in Relc’s eyes.

“Oh, fine.”

She went into the kitchen and began lugging out a pot of soup, a basket of warm bread – a bit too dry from being near the embers – and her standard pasta with sausage and onions. Relc began to salivate the instant he saw the food.

“Sorry it took so long. I wanted to tell you guys about the Goblins so I forgot to heat stuff up.”

“No problem, no problem. Just put it here and all is forgiven. And oh yeah, we’ve got news too!”

Relc rubbed his claws together eagerly as Erin brought out plates and bowls.

“Ooh, is that soup? And bread? And pasta! That’s a lot of food!”

“Yeah, well, I was celebrating earlier. I cooked up a lot by accident.”

“Celebrathing? Celebrathing whu?”

It was hard to understand the Drake as he spoke through a mouth already busting with food. Erin politely averted her eyes as she replied.

“Oh, you know. Not dying.”

“’S good! Good to celebrath!”

Relc washed down his mouthful of bread and cheese with a cup full of blue fruit juice. Erin had other liquids for sale now too; regular apple juice and a refreshing minty drink, but the Drake had developed a taste for the sticky drink.

“I would like a bowl of soup too, if it would not trouble you, Miss Solstice.”

Erin glanced over at Klbkch and remembered. She put a frown on her face.

“Wait a minute. Is soup another one of those things Antinium can’t eat?”

Klbkch ducked his head.

“I assure you, soup is completely palatable to my kind.”

Erin glanced over at Relc who nodded agreeably as he stuffed his mouth with pasta. She put her hands on her hips.

“Okay, but I’m still mad about the pasta thing. So tell me—and I hope to god this is true or I’ll be really upset. Tell me, do the Antinium eat bugs or worms or stuff like that?”

Klbkch looked up into Erin’s face and hesitated.

“I would not like to offend your sensibilities with a description of my diet, Miss Solstice—”

“Offend away, by all means.”

Again, he hesitated.

“My kind is fully capable of digesting most dishes eaten by humanoids. However, it is true that if offered we will eat creatures Humans and Drakes deem unsavory. We do not tend to consume such meals in public—”

“Right, no problem! Just wait here!”

Erin skidded into the kitchen and began banging pots and plates together. Relc and Klbkch exchanged a puzzled glance until she walked back into the room carrying a heaping bowl of black things as far away from her as she could.

“Whath tha?”

Gingerly, Erin set the bowl full of acid flies on the table. Relc leaned towards it curiously, but Klbkch leaned towards the bowl, as if suddenly hypnotized.

“These are—well, they’re these flying acid bugs that I found. I wasn’t sure if you’d want it Klbkch, but I thought it was worth a try and—”

Klbkch picked up a spoon and began shoveling the black insect torsos into his ‘mouth’. Erin shut up. She also looked away. As much as she liked Klbkch, the crunching sounds and the sight of him eating the flies was hard to stomach.

“Looksh good.”

Relc swallowed his mouthful and reached out a hand. Without missing a beat, Klbkch slapped it away from his bowl. Both Relc and Erin stared in surprise at Klbkch.

“Um, can I have a bowl too, Erin?”

“You want some? Oh, uh do lizards—”

Relc glared and Erin amended her words hastily.

“—Drakes like bugs?”

“Not as much as this guy, but I wouldn’t mind trying some.”

Dutifully, Erin brought another bowl out. Relc tasted the bugs and munched a few down experimentally.

“Ooh, nice and crunchy! I didn’t know you could eat these things. How’d you manage to get rid of all the acid?”

“It’s a long story. It involves blood and—actually, I’d rather hear your news. What is it?”

Relc looked blank. Then he snapped his fingers. Erin was surprised he could with his scaly hands.

“Right, oh yeah. It’s terrible news! Guess what? Some idiot found a bunch of ruins to the southeast of the city, and it’s apparently some ancient dungeon! Now every adventurer in miles is coming here to explore it!”

Erin frowned.

“Is that a bad thing? I thought finding old ruins and exploring them is what adventurers do. It’s what happens in all the games I uh—well, it’s what adventurers do, right? Doesn’t Liscor have an Adventurer’s Guild?”

“Yeah, but they don’t have many members. Not many idiots in our city bother becoming adventurers since there’s not much to do around here. If you want to fight you join the army or the Watch. It’s Humans who are the stupid—um…uh…”

Erin pretended not to hear that.

“You don’t like adventurers, is that what I’m hearing? Why? Don’t they kill monsters?”

“Yeah, and they cause trouble. They pick fights when they’re drunk, they run away from tough monsters, and they’re rude to guardsmen.”

Relc slammed his cup down on the table.

“Adventurers. I hate them so much.”

Klbkch nodded. He dropped his spoon into his bowl with a clatter. Erin blinked and looked down. The bowl she’d filled was huge, twice as big as a soup bowl. He held it up to her.

“Another serving, if you please Miss Solstice. It is true such sites bring increased commerce to our city, but the negative effects of so many adventurers cannot be discounted.”

Erin took Klbkch’s bowl and headed into the kitchen. She refilled it with the jar of acid flies and accidentally spilled some as she ladled them into the bowl. After a moment’s hesitation Erin picked them up and tossed them in Klbkch’s bowl. She figured it probably wouldn’t bother him.

“Okay, so this is big news. But why are they all coming here? Are these ruins that amazing?”

Relc had pushed aside his bowl of acid flies for more pasta and soup. Erin caught Klbkch munching down on those as she slid him his refilled bowl of acid flies.

“Well that’s the thing. No one knows what’s in those ruins. It could be nothing, but it also could be a ton of magical artifacts and treasure. It’s that big of a dungeon, apparently. Most ruins, well, they’re already explored or too dangerous to dive further into. A new spot like this is going to bring hundreds of idiots into Liscor, and guess who gets to watch them to make sure they don’t cause trouble?”

“You?”

“Exactly! It’s a pain in the tail, and we’re busy enough as it is. Now’s usually the time when we hire new recruits, so we’re going to be understaffed and working overtime.”

“It is a troublesome predicament.”

Klbkch didn’t stop eating as he spoke, which created an odd crunching background to his words, which already had a clicking nature to them.

“Naturally, the influx of adventuring parties leads to more trouble. However, it will also bring in needed trade and many merchants who seek to do business. Thus, while guardsmen such as Relc and myself find the situation hard to manage, the city is far more positive about these findings. Also, may I trouble you for another plate?”

Erin blinked down at the empty bowl.

“I just filled that. You really like those flies, don’t you?”

Klbkch nodded.

“It is…surprising. I had not known the acid flies of this region were so…tasty. Until this moment I had never attempted to consume one.”

“Yeah, I’ve never seen you eat like that, Klb! You’re eating like one of those pigs! Or a Gnoll!”

Relc laughed at Klbkch around a full mouth of food. Both Erin and Klbkch raised their hands to shield themselves from the splatter.

“Well, if you like it so much I guess I’m in business!”

Erin grinned happily.

“I had no idea it would be such a huge hit. It almost makes everything I had to do to get these buggers worth it. Almost.”

“Was it difficult?”

“Very. But hey, if I’m the only one who can catch these suckers, I can actually attract some customers! Klbkch, would you mind telling some of your friends about my inn? I’d love to have some more business.”

Klbkch visibly hesitated.

“Do you mean for me bring others of my kind, Miss Solstice?”

She shrugged.

“Yeah. Why not? If you liked the flies so much, I’m sure your friends would love them too. I’ve got a good system for harvesting them too—make them explode before you start carrying the glass jars around.”

Again, Klbkch hesitated.

“I am not sure that would be too…wise.”

“Why not?”

Relc was silent as he slurped down the last of his pasta, but he was watching Klbkch carefully from the corner of his eyes.

“My fellow…workers are not as used to dealing with other species as I. It would be imprudent to bother you with their presence.”

“Hey, if they’re like you I wouldn’t mind it. And if they don’t want to talk to me, I can just serve them more flies.”

Klbkch looked uncomfortable.

“I would not want to put you to any inconvenience.”

“Isn’t that what being an innkeeper is all about? Besides, I deal with Pisces. Come on. Bring a few of your friends and I’ll serve you acid flies until you explode.”

“Yeah, what’s the worst that could happen?”

Relc nodded. Her slurped down his pasta and thumped Klbkch on the back. Jovially. Erin and Klbkch glared at him. Deliberately, Erin began knocking against the hard wood of the table.

“Has no one here heard of Murphy’s Law?”

“What’s that?”

Interlude – King Edition

A boy and a girl stood in a throne room, talking. When one fell silent, the other spoke in their place. They were twins, and they were similar enough that one could pick up exactly where the other left off.

Occasionally, they would be asked a question and one would falter until the other came up with an answer. None of their answers were wrong, but some created more questions. Eventually though, the questions ceased. The twins fell silent, and nervously regarded the hunched figure in the chair in front of them.

“Hm. Hmm. Fascinating. And is that the entirety of your world?”

On first glance it could have been any dignified older man that addressed the twins. While this man’s clothing was finely woven and inlaid with artistic designs embroidered in gold, any nobleman might claim such finery. Indeed, this man’s clothing was worn thin and bore the faintest signs of ancient stains; a sure sign that while his attire was well cared for, his servants lacked the money to replace his wardrobe.

And while the man was old, he wasn’t so old as to be notable in that sense either. He was simply an older man in his forties, with the first streaks of gray beginning to invade his mane of red-gold hair. It could also be said that his remarkable physique and muscled body was unusual, but then, many warriors of his age were equally well-toned.

However, a few definite things stood out that made this man unique. The first was where he sat.

He sat in a throne room, facing the boy and the girl as they stood at attention before him. The great, cavernous ceiling made the room feel even larger than it was, and it was a room built to hold thousands. But at this time, the throne room was empty, and time and decay had cracked the marble flooring. Only a few of the many windows were drawn, so that the throne room was only illuminated in places by faint shafts of light.

This is the place where the man sat, and the gigantic golden throne was clearly an invitation to any who entered the room. But he did not sit on the throne. Rather, he sat in a smaller chair across the room, facing the throne.

He sat like a man waiting for something. And though his posture was languid and relaxed, a spark shone within the depths of his emerald eyes.

The second unusual aspect about him was that underneath his gilded robes he wore chainmail. The metallic links caught the sparse light as he shifted in his seat, but the man seemed oblivious to the heavy armor. When he moved it was with swift clarity, as if he did not even notice the added burden on his body.

The last thing that was notable about this man was that he was a king.

“Magnificent. Truly, magnificent.”

The king stood up from his chair in a sudden move, knocking it back. The twins flinched, but the king made no move towards them. He strode about the great throne room, his long steps a flurry of movement in the silent emptiness.

“A world unlike this one, full of miracles such as I have never dreamed…? Inconceivable. And yet—you tell the truth.”

The king spun towards the twins and they jumped as one.

“You tell the truth. I know it. Not just because of a Skill, but because it is too incredible not to be the truth. I could believe a world ruled by magic, but a world ruled by—machines? A place where magic is myth and technology has advanced to the point where men fly for business and convenience? That cannot be a fairy tale.”

He swept past the two again, this time towards the throne. The king put one foot on the dais, and then shook his head. It wasn’t time. Once again he stalked around the room.

“And when you did lie—when you dared to conceal the truth—it was to lie about the strength of your armies! The sheer power of a single weapon in your world that could shatter armor like paper and lay waste to even the strongest walls—that is the might of the world you claim exists beyond this one! Where I would be naught but a primitive beast from a forgotten era.”

He spread his arms as he came to a stop before the boy and the girl. They looked up at him fearfully. Not because he had been violent, but because he was a king to be feared or exalted—or both.

“So. What should I do with two strangers from another world? What would any man do? Perhaps kill you.”

They flinched at that. The girl moved protectively in front of the boy. The king’s lips twitched.

“Do not fear young lady. I am no ordinary man, ruled by his flaws. I am a king, and my flaws are a lesser man’s strengths. No; I believe I should keep you two safe. You have more knowledge I am sure, and you may be key to finding more of your kind.”

The two twins looked up at the king nervously. They paused, and then the girl asked a question. The king nodded as he stroked his beard.

“The prospect of you two being the first is possible. But the odds that more of you strangers have come to this planet is altogether more likely. Perhaps a portal is open, and the armies of this other planet pour through already to sweep through nations like a reaper’s scythe.”

The thought of such devastation made the king smile.

“How wonderful.”

The twins glanced at each other nervously, but the king only laughed. He spread his arms wide as he faced them.

“You do not understand. How could you? But think for a moment, as a king would. Think as I would. Come.”

With one word, the King moved the twin’s unwilling feet. He strode over to one side of the room and yanked open a set of double doors. The red light of a fading sun blinded the two for a moment, but the King strode out onto the balcony.

“There.”

He gestured out across his balcony at the crumbling city below.

“Behold my empire. Once, each street was packed with people from every nation. Every storefront held goods brought from countless thousands of leagues away, and messengers sped to every corner of my expanding kingdom. By day and night my armies marched forth, and the world trembled to hear the clash of blades and my name on the lips of men.”

The twins looked out at the city, but couldn’t imagine the sight the king described. All they saw were crumbling bricks, and ragged people walking without life. The gutters ran with filth, and what food was on display in the shops was rotten or rotting. The king gazed down upon his city and shook his head.

“Once. But I abandoned my dreams of conquest and let the nation I had built collapse around me. And why? Because my vision was too small, and my goal too achievable. I had swept through a continent and brought low countless kingdoms and yet—it was an edifice of the moment, a paltry creation born of opportunity and luck. It was worthless.”

The twins stared at the dying city below them. They shuddered as they saw the malnourished faces of the people below. The king glanced down at the two.

“You pity them?”

Both nodded.

“Well and good. They deserve a better ruler than I. In my regret and self-indulgent misery I have failed my subjects. But the fire in my soul had long been extinguished. Until this day.”

He swept back into the throne room.  The twins ran after him, drawn in his wake like minnows in the tide. The king ascended the dais of his throne two steps at a time and stood looking down at the two twins. He seemed larger all of a sudden, and this was a man already commanding by physical presence alone.

“Once, my name echoed throughout the world! My deeds were spoken of in awe! And yet you have come here—come here, to the heart of my fading kingdom to tell me that a greater world exists than I had ever dreamed?”

His voice thundered through the throne room. The twins gripped each other in mortal fear. The king pointed at them.

“And to be told that all I had accomplished in life—all the glories that empires dare to claim as their proud history—to be told that is nothing compared to the wonders of your world. Is that not intolerable? Yet, for all the strength of my armies, we cannot match a single—bomb. And though my mages could labor a thousand years, even they have not looked up to the twin moons in the sky and dared to land on them. Land on them!”

He raised his arms and roared with laughter. The cavernous room echoed with the thunder of his voice.

“What a jest! What a challenge the heavens have sent me!”

The boy and the girl held each other. They had seen many things in life, at least compared to the citizens of this world. They had seen men and women flying, they had looked upon their world as a small orb of blue and green, they had witnessed armies marching on television screens and men walking upon the moon. But all of that was dust compared to the reality of standing before the king. His laughter beat down upon them like a physical thing until it stopped.

All at once the king sat down on his throne. In a moment his mirth was gone, and the insane energy that had filled him had been replaced. Now he seemed to smolder on his throne, and when he stood up, he was a different man.

He was a King.

“Come, then. Let us wake this sleeping nation and bring death and glory to this hollow world once more!”

He walked down from the dais and began striding across the throne room towards the double doors. The twins followed him, not daring to be left behind.

“Orthenon!”

The King bellowed. He stopped beside the smaller chair and planted one foot on it.

“Orthenon! My steward! Come to me!”

For a second all was silence. And then the double doors opened, and a man entered the room. He was a tall, gaunt man who walked with unnatural grace across the marble floor.

The twins watched him with interest. For a second as he entered, the man called Orthenon had glanced hopefully towards the throne. But when he’d seen his king standing next to the smaller chair his head had bowed. He approached his king and bowed perfunctorily.

“You summoned me, lord?”

The King nodded. He was still smoldering from the inside, and the fire was growing, but his steward didn’t see it. Not yet.

“Tell me, Orthenon. What is the state of my kingdom?”

The man made a bitter face. He answered without looking directly at his king.

“As I have told you time and again sire, we are dying. This nation is crumbling away. Our enemies take our land, your vassals bend knee to foreign powers, and we cannot even feed our youngest.”

The King nodded. His eyes seemed to burn in the half-light. If Orthenon would look up—but he didn’t. The steward continued talking, his voice slowly rising with passion as he listed the frustrations of years.

“The Emperor of the Sands leads his armies across the deserts even now! The other nations break their armies upon his forces as he burns and pillages every village in his way. To the east, the Minos stir and war drums can be heard beating from their shores. Rumors of war spread from the northern continents, and our people starve in the streets! I have told you this time and time again, lord! If you will not take the throne, why do you ask it of me?”

“Because I am your King.”

Orthenon looked up. The King stepped forwards and placed a hand on his shoulder. And the fire spread from one man to the other.

“Rejoice, my steward. I have returned. I sit upon my throne at last.”

For a moment the gaunt man gaped. Then his eyes filled with tears. He clasped his King’s hand and the two embraced for a moment.

“I had hoped—we have waited so long lord—”

“I know.”

The King patted Orthenon gently as the man choked on his words. But in seconds he had mastered his weeping and bowed low to the ground, one leg extended forwards, as the other swept back. One hand on his chest as the other extended outwards. It was a different gesture than the stiff bow he had given earlier.

The King nodded in approval. He lifted his foot off the chair and picked it up with one hand.

“Never again. You have my word.”

With a sudden move, the King hurled the chair. It flew through the air across the room and shattered on the far wall, fifty feet away. The twins gaped as the wood splinters rained down. The King nodded and turned back towards his steward.

“Now then. Report, Orthenon. Tell me of my kingdom once more.”

Orthenon spread his hands out as he faced his king. His expression was conflicted as he spoke. The weight of starvation and the pain of years weighed him down, and yet a fire was stirring in his eyes. He did not look as he had a few moments ago—a broken, exhausted man.

“How can I report upon chaos, sire? I could list a thousand dire issues and still have a thousand more left unspoken. The kingdom is failing. Our treasury is empty, our people are starving, our crops have failed, our animals are dead and our armories full of rust and decay. Every decent soldier save a loyal few has fled for greener lands, and we teeter on the precipice.”

“Wonderful.”

Orthenon stared at his king. The twins stared at the King too. They gaped at him as if he’d gone mad. But that too was being part of a King, and he was used to their incomprehension.

“We have never fallen so far before. My kingdom and I have sunk to our lowest. How wonderful. It shall make the coming days, weeks, and years all the greater.”

The twins didn’t understand. But the embers began to burn, and Orthenon’s eyes flashed. The King looked out towards the balcony.

“What of those loyal to me? What of my vassals, those I chose to lead in my absence? Have they abandoned me as well?”

“Not abandoned, my king. But they were forced to bow or be broken by other nations. Even now foreign armies hold your lands and impose their laws upon your people.”

The King nodded. He swept towards his throne, and now the fire in him was fully lit. As he passed by the twins they shivered uncontrollably. What was happening? The old man they had first met was gone, and in his place something fierce threatened to burn down the entire castle. The King was far larger than his mortal shell. Even his clothing seemed to be brighter than before.

“Send word to my vassals. Tell them they have three—no, two days to dispose of the worthless dogs that would grind their pride to dust. They will rejoin me here with as many warriors and youths of worth as they can muster.”

Orthenon hesitated.

“I am not sure they would believe it is you, sire. And it has been so long—some might turn away.”

The King stood by his throne. He pointed down at Orthenon.

“Then tell them this: I await them. And I shall raise my banners and set each place at my table myself. Until they have gathered here, I shall not rest upon this throne. But let the kingdom know, and the world hear! I have returned!”

Orthenon touched a trembling fist to his breast. His eyes were blurred with tears, but he didn’t look away from his king for a second.

“Go!”

This time the King’s voice was a roar. He shouted again, and it was thunder. It echoed through the throne room, out the double doors, and reverberated through the entire city. The twins thought they felt the ground trembling.

“Let this nation wake from its decade-long slumber! Let every hand grab sword and axe! Stand, all those who still remember my name! Hear me and obey! Rise!”

The last word shook the air. The twins leapt forwards and then stopped. They didn’t know what they were doing, only that they had to move. The King’s voice seized something inside of them and struck sparks in their very souls.

Orthenon raced out of the room. The twins heard him shouting wildly, and then it was as if wildfire fueled by madness consumed the castle. His shouting was joined by another man shouting—not in panic or fury, but with joy. It was quickly joined by more voices, men and women crying out and the pounding of footsteps.

From the castle the commotion grew and spread into the city. Open-mouthed, the twins watched as a man ran into the street, screaming and shouting wildly. The people he passed looked up, and it was as if they caught the same wild passion from him. Some fell to their knees, other wailed or shouted, and more began running throughout the city, or out the gates towards other villages.

Not a single person who heard the wild shouting was spared. The fire raged, and spread to every soul in the kingdom. A dull roar of sound rose from the city and every part of the castle. It was deafening, wild; rejoicing mixed with relief and sadness and hope.

It was the sound of a city coming back to life.

The King strode out onto his balcony, and the people shouted and the sound grew louder as they saw his face. He raised one hand, and the twins were nearly deafened by the noise.

He turned towards them. The light was fading, and the sun had nearly set. But the King glowed, and it may have been a trick of the lights or their imaginations, but the twins could swear the light formed a halo above his head. Or…not a halo.

A crown.

The King pointed at the twins.

“I have much to do. But you two. I will have you accompany me. You shall be my personal attendants. Bodyguards? Yes, bodyguards. I will properly train you to your role in the coming days.”

The twins gaped. They began to protest, but the King laughed. He listened to the boy speak, and then the girl, and shook his head.

“Hah! It matters not what you wish. Your lives belong to me.”

Again, they argued, but their words trailed off as they stood before the King. He looked down at them, surrounded by the dying glow of a sun and lit by an inner fire.

“These things you speak of. Freedom…? Liberty? Justice? Pah. They are not yours by right. If you would claim yourself, take arms against me. For I hold all these things.”

He gestured towards the city stirring into life.

“Know this: wheresoever I walk, and so far as my reach extends, I claim this world and yours as my own. So long as you are within my grasp, I shall rule you. For I am a King.”

He raised one hand and his voice became thunder once more. It echoed out across the city, and across a nation.

“Let the world take arms against me. Let the peoples of every race march upon my people, and let the earth itself open and the pits of hell spew forth. I care not. I am a King, and all those who would follow me are my people. I will not be stopped. The world is mine!”

The King spread his arms wide and laughed. The fire left the city and raced out across the countryside, spreading from person to person, bringing with it a single message. It echoed from every hill, in every street, and every heart. He shouted it from his crumbling castle at the heavens, and the word of it spread to every corner of the world.

“The King of Destruction, Flos, has returned!”

1.24

The darkness hides many imperfections. The nether shade conceals those who find the sun taxing and bright light an anathema. The faint light that is not truest blackness, but dark shade where only faint outlines are visible, conjures nightmares for humans and those related to their kind.

But some call the shadows home.

Two individuals stood and conversed in the darkness of a room. Exactly where the room was located was unimportant. Rooms had little meaning here, in the catacombs and endless labyrinth of passages.

One of them was female. The other was Klbkch. The female shifted and in the darkness her deep voice rumbled through the air.

“Do I understand you correctly, Klbkch? Do you truly call for an Expedition after all the folly that has resulted thus far?”

Klbkch shook his head.

“No, my lady. I merely request that a few of the Workers—perhaps ten or twenty—may be allowed to leave the city in my care. They would visit a local inn for several hours before returning.”

“Interesting.”

The word rolled outwards, rich, darkly velvet with hidden connotation and meaning. The female paused.

“Is this an idea of yours, dear Klbkch? Dare I hope that my Prognugator has changed so?”

Klbkch shook his head.

“I remain as always, lady. I regret that this is not my initiative. She – the innkeeper of which I spoke – she requested it of me.”

Surprise flicked through the female’s deep voice as it echoed in the cavernous chamber.

“She did? What species would desire the presence of Workers if not to work?”

“A Human. And she did not ask for the Workers specifically. Rather, she was inclined to sell a foodstuff to our people. Acid flies. She wishes to earn money by gaining our business.”

“And this Human is genuine?”

“To the best of my knowledge and ability, I believe her so.”

Again, surprise was the primary emotion in the female’s voice.

“You, Prognugator? You believe? Then you are changed, truly. What is the name of this Human who has changed you so?”

Klbkch hesitated. He bowed his head in the direction of the female.

“Her name is Erin Solstice, lady. And I believe—yes, I believe the experience may help further the Plan. At the very least, it would help increase her trust of our kind.”

“And why should I entertain her request?”

Klbkch spread his hands outward. They were humanoid hands, at least in that they resembled them more than an insect’s feelers. The same could not be said of the appendages of the female.

“Has the Plan changed? Do we no longer seek to improve relations with other species?”

The female moved in the darkness. Her voice changed, hissing softly in regret and frustration.

“The Plan has not changed, Klbkch. But we have. And not in the ways that we desire. No; the change comes from the Others. They have begun to question again the Plan.”

Klbkch looked up. His hands moved unconsciously to the twin swords at his waist.

“They question your will, lady?”

She waved a languid feeler at him.

“Not as of such. Calm yourself, my champion. My authority is undiminished. And yet. The Others move, Klbkch. They speak of sending out envoys, of raising an army.”

The male Antinium looked up sharply. The antennae on his head twitched.

“Do you mean to say they intend to repeat the First Experiments? If I may offer my counsel, that would be…unwise.”

She nodded in the blackness.

“Yes. But they grow impatient with time. So their foolishness may yet come to pass if something is not done. That is why I will allow this risk. Take twelve Workers. Let them visit this Solstice child.”

Klbkch knelt on one segmented knee.

“Thank you, my lady. I will not betray your trust in me.”

A great sigh echoed through the room, shifting Klbkch’s antennas as the air moved.

“Of that I have no doubt. But I need more than your loyalty. Klbkchhezeim of the Free. I must have success. Can you promise me that?”

He was still as he knelt before her. Then Klbkch looked up and shook his head slowly.

“I cannot. But I will try.”

“Very well. Try, then.”

Klbkch nodded. He stood, and began to stride out of the room with quick, light movements.

“Klbkch.”

He turned. In the darkness a large feeler pointed at him and a titanic shape moved.

“You must not fail in this task. Too long has the Plan faltered. If the next few generations should fail, I fear more will fall back into the old ways.”

Klbkch bowed his head.

“I will ensure that all goes well, my lady. Erin Solstice is not hostile to our kind. I believe she will be a positive influence for them.”

“Then go. But there is one more thing I ask of you.”

“Yes, my lady?”

“Ahem. These flies…how do they taste?”

“I shall bring you a sample, my Queen.”

“Good.”

----

Erin was making a list.

“Okay, do I have everything? Let’s go over it again. Larder? Stocked. Check! Silverware? Lots of it, even if it’s not silver. Check!”

She turned and bustled over to another table.

“Blue fruit juice? Check. Four full pitchers and a basket of blue fruits.”

She’d stripped several trees in preparation for tonight. At this point, she’d eaten nearly half of the fruit in the orchard. Sooner or later she’d run out of blue fruit, which might be a problem. How long did it take for the trees to grow new fruit? Maybe Pisces would know.

“Acid flies? Check. Dead? Double check.”

It was almost sad how easily she caught them in her floating jar traps. Almost. Erin made sure they’d all exploded before she rolled them onto the grass. She thought the flat fish in the water were helping—they kept bumping into the jars trying to eat the flies. She supposed that they might one day break the thick glass.

“Great. Bathe upstream from the glass jars from now on.”

She should also probably put warning signs up. Who they might be warning Erin had no idea. A certain Human necromancer stayed well away from the glass jars, and she wasn’t sure if Goblins could read. Either way, her list continued.

“Pasta? Wait, I don’t need any pasta.”

Unless Relc dropped by. But from what the Drake told her, he didn’t like Antinium besides Klbkch so that was an outside chance. Erin put a pot on the stove anyways. She could always eat it.

The lovely thing about being near a city was that you didn’t have to make your own pasta. Instead, you could just buy it from an odd Gnoll-lady who knew exactly when you were on your period. In other words, there were advantages and disadvantages to living near a city.

“Okay. That’s about it. I’ve got bread in case Pisces comes by, and I even have cheese. Lovely, smelly cheese. Possibly from cows. And I just bet Klbkch is lactose intolerant too.”

Her larder was fully stocked, her plates and cups were clean, and she’d even gotten out the chess board and set it up. She thought Klbkch might be up for a game or two—that was if she wasn’t busy feeding flies to her customers.

For a moment Erin had to put her head against a wall and wonder how she’d gotten to this point in her life. A girl from Michigan should not think it was normal to sell dead fly torsos to walking ant-people for silver coins. She was also probably ripping them off, but Klbkch seemed willing to pay whatever it took for the flies. He’d eaten six bowls before he’d walked out.

Now all Erin had to do was wait until Klbkch came by with his promised friends. He said they’d come by as soon as they finished with their work. Were they all guardsmen? Erin had forgotten to ask.

Someone knocked on the inn’s door. Erin turned and opened the door with a big smile.

“Hi Klb—oh.”

The group of Goblins all took a nervous step back as Erin stared down at them. The eight—no, nine of them clustered together and shoved at their leader, a small Goblin wearing rags. Erin remembered.

“It’s—it’s you. Do you um, want something?”

The ragged Goblin awkwardly thrust out a hand at Erin. She blinked down at the pile of dirty copper and silver coins in the small palm.

“Oh. Oh! You want to eat, right?”

The Goblin nodded stiffly. Erin opened the door and gestured inside.

“Right then, come in.”

The ragged Goblin hesitated. It thrust the coins at her.

“Um. The first meal is free.”

The Goblin Erin had decided to name Rags looked blankly at her. Apparently ‘free’ wasn’t too easy to understand to a race that took what they wanted. Everything was free, or nothing was free.

“How about I take the money and I’ll feed you until it runs out, okay?”

Again, Erin received a blank look but Rags seemed relieved when she took the money. Erin gingerly put the filthy pile of coins on the inn’s bar counter and wished she had hot water to go with the soap.

“Okay. Right. This isn’t the best time, but why don’t you have a seat over here with your friends?”

The Goblins meekly wandered over to the table Erin was pointing at and sat down. She hesitated. What next?

“Right, food.”

All eight heads shot up and the Goblins stared at Erin. The one she’d fed before was already drooling onto the table.

“Give me five—ten minutes and I’ll have all you can eat. I just need to put on another pot. And make some soup. But I’ve got bread!”

Erin turned. Okay, she’d stuff their faces quick. She dashed into the kitchen and reemerged with a loaf of fresh bread she’d brought and some cheese and sausage. The Goblins stared hungrily as Erin began dumping plates in front of them. They flinched back from her, though, and when she handed them a fork they ducked down as if they thought she were going to stab them with it.

“You can eat this while I get more food, okay?”

The Goblins stared at the food. Rags cautiously reached for the bread, and Erin smacked her head. All the Goblins flinched as one.

“Oh, duh. Sorry about that. I’ll slice it up for you.”

Confused, the Goblins watched Erin dart into the kitchen again. They eyed the wonderful-smelling bread, meat and strange yellow thing, and wondered if they could eat it. Then they looked up and screamed as Erin walked back into the room with a kitchen knife.

“Oh no, don’t run! I’m not going to hurt you!”

Erin waved her hands frantically and nearly poked herself with the knife. The Goblins halted in their mad rush out the door.

“I’m just going to cut this food for you. See?”

She slowly and carefully went over to the food and sliced it up into smaller pieces. Erin smiled at the Goblins as they suspiciously moved back to the table.

“And now I’ll put the knife away. No more pointy thing. You don’t have to worry; you’ll be safe here. Okay?”

She gave them another reassuring smile. That was the precise moment when a group of Antinium entered the inn, followed closely by Klbkch. Erin’s smile froze on her lips.

Klbkch froze too and the other tall, identical brown and black insects behind him instantly halted in their tracks. The Goblins were petrified in their seats, but half immediately began edging towards the nearest window.

Erin waved frantically at Klbkch. Then she turned towards the Goblins and gave them another reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry! Don’t worry. These people aren’t here to hurt you. They’re guests. They’re going to eat too, understand?”

They hesitated, but Rags seemed to be made of sterner stuff than her larger comrades. She returned to her seat. And it was a she, Erin was sure of it. The other Goblins—all but one of whom were boys—didn’t wear anything on their upper torso. They barely wore anything to cover their privates.

She shepherded them back to their seats and tried not to look at Goblin nether regions as their loincloths shifted in unfortunate ways. There was a reason pants were invented.

“Go ahead and eat as much as you want.”

Again, the Goblins glanced nervously at the Antinium, but now the initial scare was over, the fresh food called to them. There was a moment’s hesitation, then Rags grabbed a piece of sausage and the Goblins began gobbling all the food on the table with their hands.

She winced at the mess, but at least they were occupied. Erin edged back to Klbkch, who was still waiting with his group of Antinium.

“Hi, Klbkch. Sorry about the confusion. I had a few visitors pop by unexpectedly.”

“There is no problem, Miss Solstice. I have brought others of my kind as you requested.”

Klbkch nodded to Erin and gestured to the silent Antinium behind him. Erin eyed her new guests somewhat apprehensively.

They were like Klbkch, and not like him at the same time. They were like each other though. Erin couldn’t tell one from the other, and all twelve of these other Antinium stood and moved like one unit.

She noticed that they were a bit slimmer than Klbkch, and shorter too. The color of their…carapace was distinctly browner, and they had shorter antennae. And they also seemed disinclined to talk. Each one of the Antinium stared at Klbkch rather than look at Erin.

“Are they—are they your friends? Or other guardsmen?”

Klbkch shook his head.

“I am afraid you are under a misapprehension. These are Workers, Miss Solstice. They are not fellow guardsmen – rather, they perform tasks within the Antinium section of the city. I took them because you wished for more customers, but I have not interacted with them before.”

“Oh.”

“They will behave themselves under my supervision, Miss Solstice.”

Klbkch hurried to assure Erin. He turned towards the standing group of Worker Antinium and pointed to one of the tables.

“You have entered an inn. The polite protocol is to introduce oneself and then take a seat. I will handle your greetings. Move to those tables.”

They obediently walked over to each table. At first they all crowded around one, but Klbkch impatiently directed them so the Antinium stood four to a table.

“Sit!”

Klbkch snapped at the other Antinium. They instantly sat in the chairs. Erin’s smile slipped even further as Klbkch began ordering them about with curt, clipped commands.

He treated the other Antinium like—well, like sheep. Or…like children. Idiotic children you couldn’t trust to pick up a fork without stabbing themselves in the eye. Yes, that was it.

Erin watched Klbkch out of the corner of her eyes as he lectured the other ‘Workers’. He was telling them how to use a spoon. And how to drink from a cup. And how to request another bowl of flies.

“Um, thanks Klbkch. Did you want me to get the food now? I’ve got the acid flies of course, but I also have pasta—”

Erin’s eyes widened.

“Oh no! The pasta!”

The Goblins and Antinium watched as Erin dashed into the kitchen to salvage the over boiled noodles. She came out a few minutes later holding plates of pasta with chopped bits of sausage and onion which she placed in front of the Goblins.

“Use forks. Got it? Your friend here knows how to use forks.”

Erin pointed at the silverware and then started bringing out bowl after bowl of the acid flies she’d prepared. She set them down in front of the Antinium Workers awkwardly. They moved out of her way, but didn’t say anything.

That was, until Klbkch snapped at them, and then all twelve murmured ‘thank you’ every time Erin brought out a plate and cups. Awkward? Erin was redefining the word for herself at the moment.

That done, the Antinium finally began to eat on Klbkch’s command. At least there they appeared to be somewhat enthusiastic, because they began gobbling the acid flies down with commendable speed. They ate in silence, though, which was also unnerving. But at least they were eating.

Erin breathed a sigh of relief. And the door to the inn swung open.

A familiar Drake poked his head into the room. He immediately launched into what sounded like a prepared speech as he awkwardly held a chess set in front of him.

“Good evening, Miss Erin Solstice! I hope you don’t mind me dropping by, but I was wondering if you’d like to play a game of ch—”

Olesm paused and stared around the silent room. His jaw dropped as he saw the Goblins. When he saw Klbkch and the other Antinium it dropped further. He slowly put one clawed hand on the door.

“…Is this a bad time?”

----

Erin had gone to funerals. Well, she’d attended a funeral. And while they were solemn, sad occasions, she could rightly say that she’d visited funerals that were noisier than her inn at the moment.

At least funerals had coughing people, the occasional sniffling, fidgeting children, and crying babies. In the Wandering Inn, all Erin could hear was the mastication of Goblins as they gobbled their food or the quiet cracking as the Antinium chewed down their acid flies and clicked their mandibles together.

Chomp. Chomp. Chomp.

Erin stared from the Antinium to the Goblins with a desperately cheerful smile plastered on her face. Neither side looked at the other directly, but she had the distinct impression they were silently sizing each other up. The Goblins to run away, the Antinium…well, they were just looking.

The atmosphere was so tense you could—well, Erin was pretty sure pulling a knife out would be a disaster. The Goblins were nervously eying the Antinium, and the Antinium were frighteningly silent and uniform. They ate and moved in almost perfect synchronization.

Erin circulated the room, pitcher of fruit juice in hand. She filled cups, took away plates and filled them with food, and instructed Goblins not to pick their noses. It felt like being a waitress for an entire restaurant by herself, but Erin was up to the challenge. At least, she hoped she was.

She wasn’t taking orders or cleaning up plates yet. All she was really doing was making sure there was food in front of her guests. The Goblins were easy. They ate anything she put in front of them. But the Workers? They were hard. Erin had to make sure none of them had empty bowls or cups, or they’d just stop eating. They didn’t even ask for refills by themselves.

In a lull between serving, Erin stopped in front of Klbkch and Olesm’s table. The two were talking quietly together, which made them exceptionally noisy in the dead silence.

“How’re you two boys doing?”

Both Olesm and Klbkch looked at each other to make sure they were the ones Erin was talking to. Olesm gave her a weak smile.

“I’m quite well, Miss Solstice. Or—may I call you Erin?”

“Please. I’m getting sick of being called Miss Solstice. I feel like my mom.”

“Apologies.”

Klbkch bowed his head which made Erin feel guilty. She changed the subject fast.

“Are you two enjoying your meal? Anything I can get you?”

“Another glass of the blue juice perhaps?”

Olesm raised his glass and Erin topped it off. He smiled at her.

“It is quite tasty.”

“Thanks.”

They both paused awkwardly. Olesm glanced around the inn and fidgeted.

“Do you—do you always serve Goblins in your inn? I saw the sign, but I must admit, this is the first time I’ve ever seen a Goblin not trying to stab someone or running away.”

As one, the Goblins stopped eating and stared over at Olesm. He flinched.

“Um, no. They’re new here too.”

“Oh, I see.”

More silence. Erin glanced down at the table. The Drake Tactician had brought along his chess board, and although he’d set it aside for the food, she saw him glancing at it now and then.

“How about a game of chess? Anyone want to play?”

Klbkch and Olesm looked up.

“Oh, I would love to play—”

Olesm caught himself. He glanced around guiltily at the other diners.

“But I wouldn’t want to take you away from your work. Perhaps another time.”

He looked so downcast Erin wanted to pat him on the head. She thought for a second and then smiled.

“Oh, don’t worry. We can still make it work. I’ll play you and serve food.”

Both Klbkch and Olesm eyed her incredulously. Erin grinned.

“I don’t suppose either of you are familiar with chess notation?”

----

“Okay, so you’ve moved your pawn up two spots. That’s E4, so just tell me you’re moving a pawn to E4, got it? And when I want to move, I’ll let you know by saying, oh, pawn to D5.”

Olesm nodded and glanced down at the chess board. He carefully moved the black pawn up two spots and looked up at Erin. She nodded.

“Got it?”

“I believe so, Erin.”

“Right. Let’s play!”

Erin spun away from Olesm and grabbed a cup and filled it. Across the room, Klbkch and Olesm bent over the chess board and conferred. Olesm moved a piece.

“Pawn, ah, pawn to F3, Erin.”

“Got it! Knight to C6!”

Erin concentrated on the game as she walked around the inn. She wasn’t conscious of how the Goblins slowed in their eating and the Antinium Workers paused from their meal to follow her around the room. Erin’s thoughts focused, and as she mechanically took plates and filled them with food her mind focused on only one thing.

The game. Some called golf the greatest game ever played. They might be right. But Erin loved chess.

She could even play it in her head.

----

“Bishop to D6.”

“Hm. In that case I’ll move…um, I believe that’s pawn to D4.”

“Queen to H4! Check!”

Erin said it instantly and grinned to herself. She heard Olesm groan in dismay.

“Ah. Then—then pawn to G3?”

Again, Erin replied almost before he’d finished speaking.

“Bishop takes pawn at G3!”

“Pawn takes bishop at G3.”

“And I’ll take your rook at H1.”

Erin grinned to herself as Olesm hissed in distress. In her mind’s eye she saw her queen piece sitting in the corner of Olesm’s side of the board, nestling right up against all of his lovely, undefended pieces.

The game continued, but only as mop-up. Erin happily munched away at Olesm’s pieces with her queen. He eventually managed to take hers out with his own, but only after he’d lost another knight and a bishop.  By then Erin had more pieces than he did on the board and in better positions, too.

“I concede.”

Olesm tipped over his king and stared despondently at the board. Erin paused serving sliced up sausage to the Goblins long enough to see Klbkch pat Olesm on the shoulder consolingly.

“It was a good game.”

The Drake shook his head.

“You do me too much credit. I made several errors that cost me many pieces. But I believe you had me from the start. Would you do the kindness of showing me where I made mistakes?”

“Of course.”

Erin walked over to the table. She rearranged the board until it was back to normal and then moved Olesm’s pawn up two spaces.

“You started out with a classic: the King’s Pawn Opening. That was a good move.”

Olesm looked blankly down at the board.

“I just moved my pawn to E4. Was that truly a noteworthy move, to have a strategy named after it?”

Erin nodded happily.

“Oh, it’s a classic. Did you know almost a quarter of all chess games start with it? It’s great for taking the center spaces, but unfortunately for you I love playing against that move.”

Klbkch raised one hand.

“Do you mean to say that there are established counters to this opening?”

She nodded and pushed a black pawn forwards.

“Oh, there are lots of good strategies. I countered with an old favorite—the Sicilian Defense. It’s great against the King’s Pawn, but you made a mistake when you moved that pawn up to F3. It doesn’t open up your side for many pieces to get out, and you really want a knight to put pressure on my side of the board. Of course, you could try to take my pawn, but that leaves your center open. Most players try to push forwards aggressively but that’s why the Sicilian Defense works so well since it means you have to lose a pawn if you want to push into the other side.”

Erin paused and looked around the inn. Olesm was wearing a half-glazed, half-delighted expression on his face. The Goblins and all the Antinium including Klbkch were staring at her open-mouthed.

“Uh, sorry. I tend to lecture when I get too into chess.”

“No—don’t worry in the slightest Miss Erin.”

Olesm shook his head and smiled at her. His eyes were alive with interest and she noticed his tail wagging like a dog on the ground.

“You have such a deep understanding of this game! How is it that you know so much about chess? I only heard about it last year, yet you say there are strategies already in place?”

“Yes?”

Erin crossed her fingers as Olesm sighed happily. She really hoped she wouldn’t have to explain being from another world. Erin glanced at Klbkch and wondered if she should play him next. Then she looked at Olesm and Klbkch together and had an idea.

She grinned wickedly.

“Yeah, I love playing chess. In fact, I’ll play both of you at the same time, if you want.”

Olesm and Klbkch shared a glance. Both frowned slightly. Well, Olesm frowned and Erin had the distinct impression that Klbkch was frowning.

“Aren’t you taking us a bit too lightly, Erin?”

She blinked innocently at Olesm.

“Me? Of course not. But I bet I can play both of you while serving drinks and food and win against at least one. Want to test my theory?”

They did. Erin grinned to herself as both Olesm and Klbkch set up their pieces on opposite sides of the room. Each player stared intently at their board. She could practically feel the intensity coming off of each. It reminded her of the adults she used to play as a kid. No one liked being trash-talked by a middle schooler.  It was hard for her to keep a straight face.

Klbkch moved first. Erin stared at his board and then decided to move a piece on Olesm’s board while she thought. She circulated the room, filling up the glasses with what little fruit juice she had left. When Olesm made his move Erin decided to hit Klbkch with a knight. And then she went back into the kitchen for more pasta. Those Goblins could eat.

The games continued as Erin filled up bowls with the dead flies and handed them out to the Workers. They happily chomped down the flies, but she had the distinct impression they were watching as she travelled back and forth between Klbkch and Olesm’s boards.

Occasionally, Erin would wait while one of the other two players moved a piece, but when she did move from board to board, she attacked fast, seemingly without pausing to think. She could see Klbkch and Olesm watching her as much as the board, but she effortlessly continued playing both players while serving her guests.

Her audience watched the dual games intently. Erin kept an eye on them as well, and saw both Rags and the Antinium Workers staring hard at Klbkch and Olesm’s pieces. The Goblin’s eyes narrowed and the Antinium appeared confused. Erin smiled to herself, but kept sweeping around the room, refilling cups, and swiftly moving pieces on each board.

Eventually, the game ended with a win for Klbkch and a loss for Olesm.

“Congratulations, Klbkch. And to you, Erin.”

“Indeed. I am quite impressed by your ability.”

Erin smiled at both players and tried not to laugh.

“Yeah, it was a good game. Too bad I wasn’t playing either of you.”

“What?”

She pointed down to the chess board in front of Olesm. His King was cornered by a queen and a bishop.

“Notice anything similar about Klbkch’s board, Olesm?”

He looked over. On Klbkch’s side, he’d cornered Erin’s king with a bishop and a queen. In the exact same spots as the pieces on Olesm’s board.

“What is this?”

“I played you two against each other. It’s the oldest trick in the book—I once heard of a guy who tried it against two Grandmasters and failed. I always wanted to do it just once.”

Erin smiled as Klbkch and Olesm exclaimed, and then raised her hands as they immediately demanded another match. She was setting up the boards for a real dual game when something happened.

One of the Workers stood up.

Instantly, Klbkch stopped setting up his pieces and let one of his hands fall down to his side. Erin saw he was holding his sword hilt as he stood up.

“What are you doing, Worker?”

Klbkch’s voice was cold and hostile. The Workers meekly bowed to him.

“This one would watch, Prognugator.”

“Watch?”

Klbkch glanced down at the board and then back to the Worker. He seemed uncertain.

“It is impolite to intrude or impede the innkeeper’s path.”

Erin hastily interposed herself between Klbkch and the meek Worker who was already retreating back to his seat. She beckoned him over.

“It doesn’t bother me, Klbkch. Let him watch. An audience for a chess game is great.”

Klbkch hesitated.

“I would not wish to impose on your hospitality or patience—”

“Impose away, by all means!”

Erin rode over his protests and pulled up another chair. She steered the Worker over to the chair without touching him and made him sit down. Then she noticed the other Workers and Goblins were staring at the chess boards too.

“Come on over if you want to watch, all of you.”

Instantly, there was a crowd surrounding both chess boards. Olesm and Klbkch blinked at the spectators, but Erin smiled happily.

“Okay, now let’s do this so it’ll be fun for me and you. I’ll play you both, but we only get five—okay, ten seconds for each move.”

“Is this another way of playing chess?”

“It’s how some games are played, yeah. This style is called Lightning Chess, but in tournaments you can have anywhere from an hour’s time in total to think of all your moves to only three minutes. If we had a clock we could—never mind, I’ll explain it as we play, okay?”

Klbkch and Olesm nodded. Erin took a chair and placed it between both tables so she could reach both chess boards.

“I’ll have to sit down for this. I’m no Grandmaster.”

----

The first two rounds of games Erin won handily. But in the third game Olesm scored a draw.

“Congratulations Olesm.”

Erin covered a yawn and massaged at her back. She gave the elated Drake a weary smile.

“Yeah, that was a great game!”

“Why, thank you.”

Olesm’s scales turned a light shade of red as he shook Klbkch’s hand. His tail thrashed around wildly on the floor, but Klbkch and Erin pretended not to notice.

“I must say, it’s quite amazing—I feel relieved to have finally tied a match against you, Erin. I was beginning to think it was impossible.”

She blushed and waved a hand at him. It felt extremely embarrassing to be treated like some kind of chess genius, especially since she knew she wasn’t. Erin was about to suggest a rematch with different rules when she looked over at the watching Worker Antinium.

“Do you want to play?”

The Antinium she was addressing sat up in his seat and bowed to her.

“This unworthy one would not presume to act in such a way.”

Erin frowned. Did that mean he wanted to play but he was afraid to?

“Why not give it a shot? I’ll teach you how to play, and we can always make more chess boards. All we need is a few pieces of paper and a pen.”

She went into the kitchen and pulled out a few pieces of paper and a quill and ink. It had made her feel like a wizard when she’d first bought the quill, and then she’d wished for a computer and a printer five seconds after she’d had to actually dip the quill every few words when she wrote.

As her guests watched, Erin drew a rough chess board on a piece of parchment, and then tore up other pieces. She carefully drew symbols on them to show which were pawns and which were other pieces, and put the makeshift chess board on the table. She put two of the Antinium Workers in chairs, facing each other across the board.

It was the most low-key chess board Erin had ever seen, but the Antinium stared at the scraps of paper with total concentration.

“Okay, so how much did you guys see when I played chess with Klbkch and Olesm? Do you know how to set up the board?”

Instantly both Antinium moved. Erin recoiled for a second, but they merely rearranged the pieces on the chess board with mechanical precision. In seconds each side was set up. Erin blinked at them.

“Good. Good. And uh, show me how this piece moves?”

Obediently, the Antinium Worker moved the piece forwards.

“And can you move it from left to right?”

“This one does not believe so.”

Klbkch hovered over the board. As always he had few features Erin could read, but he appeared distressed for some reason.

“Address her by her title.”

The Antinium instantly bowed his head at Erin.

“Apologies, Innkeeper Solstice. This one does not believe the pawn piece moves left and right.”

Erin gave Klbkch a half annoyed glance, but turned back to the Worker.

“Right, that’s true! Very good. And show me how it takes a piece?”

He showed her.

“Good. But did you know there’s one more move the pawn can do?”

Instantly, the other Antinium and the Goblins watching the game were filled with attention. They stared as Erin showed them how to take a piece en passant and explained the unique rules around that action. The Antinium she was coaching immediately bowed its head to her.

“This one was unaware of this fact. This one apologizes to Innkeeper Solstice for its failure.”

“What? Don’t apologize. Not many players know about that move. How could you? Now, let’s have you play a game with your friend.”

Erin stepped back as the two Antinium Workers stared at each other in silence. For a moment she was afraid they’d do nothing, but then the first Worker moved his pawn up to E5. After a moment the other Workers replied with the Sicilian Defense, and then the game was on.

Piece after piece moved with minimal pausing in between. At first Erin was afraid they were recreating her games with Klbkch and Olesm, but the two players were playing their own game. It took her a while to realize they were still playing by Lightning rules. Once she’d explained they could take their time, the game slowed.

Erin stared at the two Workers playing each other in complete silence and then looked around at her audience.

“Anyone else want to play?”

----

Silence. It was the sound of funerals, and churches, except that it wasn’t. Rather, it was the sound you thought should be in such places, but really was more like an ideal goal than the truth.

It was the sound of chess tournaments, though. Erin circulated around the inn, filling plates with dead flies and pouring water (she’d run out of blue juice) and felt like she was home as she listened to the click of chess pieces moving, or, more often, the shuffling of dry paper.

“Oh. How’s the game going? Anyone want more flies? How about pasta? A cup of jui—water?”

Erin passed by each board and watched as Antinium and even Goblins played each other. There were eight boards set up, and the players rotated with each other once someone lost.

Her natural instincts as a chess player warred with her desire to give the new players advice. She compromised by letting Olesm and Klbkch offer commentary, and then dissected games after they’d been played out by recreating them and pointing out good or bad moves.

The Antinium Workers watched Erin’s every move and listened to her words with frightening attention. She’d heard the word ‘rapt’ used to describe people, but never had she met a group so completely focused as the Workers. It was frankly unnerving, but her love of explaining chess moves and strategies more than made up for the awkwardness.

That was one thing. But what really amazed Erin and even Olesm and Klbkch were the Goblins. They were playing chess.

Okay, not well, and not quickly, but the Goblins were sitting down and giving each other spirited, if not particularly well thought out games. The exception was the smallest Goblin, Rags, who had actually beaten two of the Antinium Workers back-to-back.

Erin stopped in front of one of the real chess boards as Rags slid into the seat opposite. It was technically Klbkch’s turn to play, but the Goblin stared at her. It was an obvious challenge.

“I’ll play you, if you want. You’re white, so go ahead.”

Rags eyed Erin defiantly and moved her knight first. Erin hid a smile.

“Oh, the Baltic Opening, huh? Well…”

She moved a pawn two squares up directly in front of the knight. It was her favorite way to deal with that opening move. Rags frowned, and then moved another piece. And then another. For a while the Goblin looked like a strange, green kid playing chess. That was, until she opened her mouth and Erin saw the sharp teeth. But Rags still looked a lot less threatening than before.

Erin crushed her while she served the last of her pasta to the Goblins and had a bite to eat herself.

----

The Goblin challenged her three more times while Erin played Olesm and then two of the Workers. Each time she handily lost, but Erin was impressed by the way the small Goblin was willing to try new strategies. She said so.

“You guys could learn a lot from her. Most of these moves are actually established patterns. Okay, moving the rook right away wasn’t a good choice, but you’re better than most beginners.”

She smiled at Rags. The Goblin fidgeted in her chair and looked away.

Klbkch nodded, and Olesm expressed an interest playing the Goblin. Erin looked over at the Workers. They were eying her surreptitiously. She had the impression they wanted to play her too.

She clapped her hands together and smiled.

“Now then. Anyone else want to play another game?”

----

“And that’s checkmate.”

Olesm looked up from his king and shook his head despairingly.

“Another fine game, Erin. I wasn’t aware of your trap until you moved your bishop up.”

Erin yawned and grinned sleepily at him. Around her the Goblins sat or lay on the tables, sleepily watching the game.

“You keep giving away too many pawns. They’re more valuable than you think.”

Olesm bowed his head and nearly toppled over. He jerked upright and nodded at her.

“I shall keep it in mind, Erin.”

She nodded and yawned again.

“Anyone want to play another game? Klbkch?”

The ant man shook his head. He glanced towards the door, and at the Workers still playing chess. They were still intensely staring at the paper chess boards without any sign of fatigue.

“It is late. I am afraid we must take our leave, Miss—Erin. If I may address you in that way.”

Erin blinked at Klbkch and then looked out the window.

“Oh, of course you can call me that, Klbkch. And wow, it is late!”

She stood up. Immediately, the Workers stopped playing chess and stood too. They bowed to her.

“Allow me to thank you and pay you in their place, Erin.”

Klbkch handed her a bag of silver and gold coins. Erin blinked down at it.

“Oh. That’s a lot.”

“It is only fair payment for what we have consumed. And, might I trouble you to ask for a container of acid flies? I wish to bring some back to Liscor.”

“What? Oh, sure. I’ve actually got a huge glass jar. Do you want it?”

“Please.”

Erin ended up giving Klbkch a huge jar full of acid flies for a gold coin. She felt guilty about it, but the Antinium insisted it was a fair price. He left with Olesm and the Workers in tow, and Erin saw the Goblins off as they slowly streamed out of her inn.

“Come again! I’ll feed you lot another meal if you come by. You don’t need to pay – you paid me enough this time. Okay?”

The Goblins grunted or waved their hands awkwardly at her. They clutched the paper chess board and pieces to themselves silently. Erin had wanted to give them to the Antinium Workers as well, but Klbkch told her it wasn’t a good idea.

The last Goblin, Rags, paused as she walked by Erin. The small Goblin held her hands tightly at her side.

“Hey.”

Erin tapped Rags on the head. She held out her hand. Silently, the small Goblin handed her the pawn back as the other Goblins glared at her.

“No stealing. Besides, a chess board isn’t complete without all the pieces.”

Rag’s eyes lit up. Erin narrowed hers.

“That doesn’t mean you can steal them either. If you want to play a game, come back any time. Okay?”

For a while the little Goblin hesitated, and then nodded. Erin smiled.

“Have a good night.”

She closed the door. Then she bolted it, and made sure all the windows were fastened tight. She didn’t mind the small Goblin, but she was damned if she was going to let it walk off with her chess set.

----

“Um, Senior Guardsman Klbkch? May I have a word?”

Klbkch paused as he walked swiftly back to Liscor. He was setting a fast pace, and Olesm was struggling to keep up.

“My apologies, Olesm Swifttail. I had forgotten you were with us.”

“No, it’s nothing.”

Olesm gasped and wheezed as Klbkch slowed. The Workers behind him silently adjusted their pace to give the two room.

“I just wanted to talk to you—if I may.”

“Certainly. May I ask if you are addressing your comment to the liaison of the Antinium or Senior Guardsmen Klbkch?”

“Both, I believe. Um, how shall I put this?”

Olesm paused as the two strode through the night. Klbkch waited patiently until the Drake began.

“As the [Tactician] who liaisons with the council and other guilds and the guard, I am privy to some confidential information. I am uh, aware of the situation with the Workers within the Antinium.”

“Indeed?”

Olesm glanced nervously behind him at the Workers. They silently stared back at him.

“Will—will this be a problem, do you think?”

Klbkch hesitated. He looked back and the Workers instantly looked down at the ground.

“We shall see. They will be observed as usual and I will personally supervise them.”

“Ah, good, good. I wouldn’t ask, but I know that these kind of things have uh, dire consequences. This isn’t an Expedition, but—”

“I understand your concerns. If it helps, I will address this topic in my monthly report to inform you of any significant changes.”

“Thank you.”

“I trust you have enjoyed yourself tonight?”

“Oh, yes. Very. Erin—that is, Miss Erin Solstice is quite a remarkable Human, isn’t she?”

“Indeed.”

“Quite remarkable.”

“Her mastery of the game of chess may be unmatched within the continent.”

“Absolutely.”

“Indeed.”

“…Would you like to play a game after this, by any chance?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

----

That night Erin slept well. She did not wake up to hear a strange voice telling her she’d achieved [Tactician Level 1!]. She did not level up that night. Several Antinium and one Goblin however—

Did.

1.02 R

The Ruins of Albez sits at the heart of what had once been a magical kingdom. Or perhaps a community of mages. Or an ancient citadel of—you know what? It doesn’t matter.

The entire area is saturated in magic, and as such, attracts two kinds of visitors. Monsters, seeking to make their lairs among the ruined buildings and endless underground tunnels in the area, and adventurers, seeking lost treasure in the same spots. Naturally, conflicts ensue.

The adventuring group currently occupying the ruins is known as the Horns of Hammerad, notable for their relatively high average level – most members are above level 20 – and their leader, a Minotaur [Fighter][13] who wields an enormous battleaxe in combat.

The general consensus is that they’re quite competent in combat, and they’d received official permission to search the ruins for the duration of the week. That means that while the Horns are in the ruins, other adventuring groups can’t interfere or look for treasure. It was an arrangement that allowed the nearby cities to reap a profit for charging access and prevented conflicts between their adventurers.

All well and good, and normally the Horns would have expected a moderate payout at the very least. They were well equipped, and prepared for anything.

Which was why the sight of their disorganized party fighting and retreating across the ruins is even more alarming. Their leader was down by a large building, a huge spike of ice piercing his midsection. The other warriors and mages – the Horns of Hammerad was a large party twelve members strong – were either hunkered down or exchanging shots with the monster that had cornered them.

Even as I watch, an armored warrior deflects a sword strike from one of the skeletons attacking their group and smashes it with a mace. The skeleton falls to the ground, lifeless. But that’s attracted the attention of the leader of the undead, and a huge blast of fire engulfs the area.

I wince as the armored warrior runs out of the blaze screaming in agony. He rolls on the ground as a mage with a staff shoots a few magic bolts of rippling light to attract attention away from him. Two other adventurers rush forth and drag the burnt warrior into cover as a hail of ice spikes nearly pincushions all three.

Well, crap. That’s the fifth member of the Horns down. I was hoping they’d sway the battle, but at this rate they’ll  be wiped out. No help for it.

I take two deep breaths, and then stretch my legs out. Right leg? Check. Left leg? Stretching…check. Okay.

I peek over the piece of rubble I’m hiding behind. Clear. Okay. Here we go—

I vault the rubble and dash down the slope. From where I am, there’s a moderate incline down into the heart of the ruins, where fallen buildings and rubble make for treacherous ground. But what’s worse is the danger of being killed by the monster fifty feet in front of me.

I charge down the hill towards it. The robed figure notices me as I’m halfway there and turns. Two glowing blue points of light in its eyes shift towards me as I sprint directly at it. It’s a Lich[14], an undead skeletal mage.

For a second I don’t think it even knows what it’s seeing. A lone human running straight at it without a weapon? It hesitates, but then raises a finger. This would be the part where I die in its theory. In mine? I think I survive.

If it seems stupid to charge at a monster capable of blasting me to bits with a single spell, well, it probably was. But I had a good reason for doing it. Over the last thirty minutes I’d scoped out the Lich’s battle against the group of adventurers and picked out a few important details about how it acted. I had three good reasons for my plan of action.

Reason A: I’d noticed that the Lich could cast several spells, from a miniaturized lightning bolt, a fireball, and those nasty showers of ice spikes. Of the three, I really only had to worry about the fireball and the ice spikes. The lightning looked dangerous, but it grounded itself too easily. Since I’m not wearing any metal, it was far harder for the Lich to hit me.

As for the fireballs and ice spikes, well, they were slower and the Lich had to point first. Its aim also wasn’t the greatest in the world. It was a risk, but so long as I didn’t get cooked when the fireball exploded I had a shot.

Also, Reason B: was that I’d noticed the Lich tended to defend itself with a barrier of bones it summoned from the ground whenever anything got close. That stopped it from casting spells for a few seconds.

And Reason C: I was bored.

The Lich pointed at me and cackled something that made my ears hurt. I dove and rolled and felt my right side go slightly numb. It felt like the worst static electricity shock I’d ever felt times a hundred, but that meant the lightning had missed me. And I was still alive.

Hit the ground, roll onto my feet and run. I closed on the Lich and it raised a protective hand. As I expected, a wall of bones erupted from the ground in front of me, a grotesque puzzle of interlocked bones and skulls solid as rock[15].

Now’s my chance. I immediately veer left and accelerate towards where the adventurers are. The Lich makes a crackling noise as it realizes it’s been duped. It tries to lower the bone barrier, but it’s too late.

Run. Run faster. Dodge behind the pillar. Pause. Go left. Move right. Fireball! Close. Now—sprint left as fast as possible.

In one of my many safety seminars my dad made me attend after every mass shooting, they taught us what to do if a gunman ever opened fire and we had to escape. Some of it was common sense stuff like don’t scream or do something stupid and think before moving. But I did remember one important tip.

When someone’s firing at you, don’t run in a straight line to get away. Zig zag, make it hard for them to get a bead on you. And in my case, duck behind rubble and place as many obstacles between me and the Lich as possible.

I run, and I run as fast as I can. The instant I slow, I’m dead. The air around me is static; fire explodes around me and flying ice threatens to pierce my skin.

You can’t tell, and I don’t have a mirror. But I’m pretty sure I’m grinning.

----

“Status?”

Calruz, leader of the Horns of Hammerad, grunted at the other warrior as the two hid behind one of the fallen walls in the ruins. The human, his second-in-command glanced down at him and shakes his head grimly.

“I think Terr got hit by a fireball. Coblat and Grimsore dragged him away, but he’s down for the count as well.”

“Damn.”

The Minotaur hit his thigh and winced. The huge spear of ice protruding out of his midriff oozed more dark blood and he sat back against the wall and breathed out. The tendons on his neck strained and sweat stood out on his brow despite the freezing cold.

“What about our mages? Why the hell aren’t they taking this thing out?”

“They’re trying, but whenever they fire at that monster it just raises a shield. It’s got more mana than all of our casters combined. We need to get in close if we want a chance.”

“Fat chance of that happening with all those skeletons and zombies guarding it.”

“I think Terr got rid of the last of them, but we still can’t get close. It’s too flaming quick.”

The vice-captain of the Horns of Hammerad chanced a peek around the wall he was hiding behind. There didn’t seem to be any more fireballs coming his way at the moment, which was good and also worrying. Had the Lich turned its attention elsewhere? Doubtful. But then why—

His jaw dropped.

“Who is that?”

Calruz grunted and tried to twist his head, but felt back weakly.

“Who? What’s happening?”

“It’s a Runner! She just charged down the hill at the Lich! She’s coming this way!”

“You’re kidding. She’ll never make it.”

“She’s doing it.”

The vice-captain watched as the long-legged runner dashed across the broken landscape. She was leaping over pieces of rubble and running in a serpentine motion while fireballs and shards of ice rained down around her. From this distance, all he could see was her raven-black hair and tanned skin, but the vice-captain was sure he’d never seen this particular runner before.

She had odd features, which would have told him she was part-Japanese, or at least Asian if those words had meant anything to him. But it didn’t, and the vice-captain watched with tense anxiety as she dashed closer. Any second he expected her to be blown away by an on-target fireball or be seared by a lightning blast. But she didn’t. And then she was right on top of him.

Ryoka nearly tumbled into the large warrior with a sword and shield. She knocked into him and felt cool metal before she stumbled back. He pulled her into cover as icicle shards crashed against the rubble.

It took her two deep breaths of air before she could speak. Ryoka unslung her pack and nodded at the gaping vice-captain.

“Delivery.”

“Holy gods!”

The vice-captain stared at Ryoka. He gestured to her, the ruins, and then waves his gauntleted hands a bit.

“That was the most amazing sight I’ve ever—you just ran right past that Lich! Are you insane? Or crazy?”

“I’m a Runner. I’ve got a delivery for the leader of the Horns of Hammerad. That you?”

“That’s me.”

Ryoka glanced down at the Minotaur. He nodded to her as more sweat dripped from his brow.

“I really hope you’ve got our delivery, girl.”

She paused at the word girl, but nodded. She opened her pack and placed heavily-wrapped bottles down on the ground in front of the Minotaur.

“Fifteen healing potions, five mana potions. All unbroken. Delivery to Horns of Hammerad. Your seal?”

“Seal? Oh, of course!”

The vice-captain fumbled at his belt pouch and pulled out a silver and copper token. It was a unique seal with a hammer standing on a mountain embossed on one side.

“Thanks.”

Ryoka stowed the seal securely in her waist pouch and then peeked around the wall. The Lich was exchanging fireballs with another mage wearing a red wizard’s hat. She nodded to herself and lowered into a sprinter’s crouch.

“Wait—are you going?”

Ryoka didn’t glance at the vice-captain as she tried to judge when would be the best moment.

“Yep.”

“You can’t! I mean, that’s even crazier!”

The vice-captain stared at Ryoka in consternation, and then looked at his leader for support. Calruz was trying to open one of the bottles. He grunted as he pulled the cork out of one of the bottles and downed the thick, syrupy green liquid.

“Let her go if she wants. Runner—thanks for the assistance. Not many of your lot would do this.”

She paused.

“No problem.”

He nodded to her. She nodded back.

“At least let us reassemble and give you a diversion. Once we get these potions to all our members we can finally bring this guy down.”

Ryoka thought about it.

“That’ll take too long. You want an opening? I’ll give you one. I’ve got more deliveries to make.”

The vice-captain tore at what hair he could reach underneath his helmet.

“He’ll blast you the instant you leave cover!”

She grinned at the vice-captain, breaking her expressionless mask.

“He can try.”

----

The adventuring party, Horns of Hammerad, watched the Runner break out of the ruins and sprint away even as the Lich fired a final parting bolt of lightning in her direction. He missed.

“She did it. She actually did it.”

“She told you.”

Calruz grinned, and grimaced as the icicle in his chest shifted. He took a deep breath and cracked the ice with one massive forearm to let the rest of it slide out of his stomach. Even as he did, the magical powers of the healing potion he’d downed began to knit the flesh of his stomach closed.

“Is that a new Runner? She must be. I haven’t ever seen her before, and I think I would have remembered hearing about one as crazy as that.”

“She looks different, for a human. Although you lot all look alike to me.”

“She is different. From another continent, maybe?”

“Maybe. Did everyone get the potions?”

“I tossed them over while she was drawing the Lich’s attention. They should be good. You need another?”

“I’m fine. Better than fine, actually, thanks to that Runner.”

Calruz grinned and shattered the potion bottle in his gauntleted fist. He stood up, the flow of blood already slowing. He hefted his battleaxe.

“I’d like to buy her a drink. But right now we’ve got a contract to fulfill. Everyone ready?”

The magic linking him to the rest of his adventuring party let him hear their acknowledgement. The Minotaur grinned.

“Alright, then. Let’s see how this Lich likes fighting us when we’re at full strength. Charge!”

As one, the Horns of Hammerad abandoned their position in the ruins and began a full-scale assault on the Lich and the remaining undead.

----

After she’d run ten miles away from the Ruins, Ryoka finally stops to catch her breath. Her lungs are burning, and her legs feel like jelly. The adrenaline is finally draining out of her, and she feels exhausted, despite only having run for a few minutes.

She can still feel tingling in her legs from the lightning bolts missing her skin. Her left arm is singed, and she feels blisters already forming on her skin.

She nearly died. Ryoka knows this, and her legs tremble. She still feels cold as she remembers gazing into the hollow eyes of the Lich. He was a monster capable of wiping her out with a single spell.

She nearly died. Had she been a second slower or dodged a foot to the left, she would have died. Ryoka knows this.

Her lips twitch. She smiles briefly.

“Fun.”

----

“You completed the supply request for the Horns of Hammerad?”

“Yep.”

The receptionist stares at me. I shrug. What does she want me to say?

It’s later. Or rather, it’s only thirty minutes later, but I feel like I’m in a different world. The worn-down room of the Runner’s Guild is a far cry from the grassy plains, or the rubble and destruction of the Ruins of Albez.

“That’s incredible. Are they already finished fighting? The mage communication we got said they were fighting a Lich and a horde of the undead.”

“They’re still fighting. The Lich is still around. Not sure about the other undead. Looked like they were mostly dead.”

The receptionist doesn’t smile. Didn’t she get the joke? Darn. She’s still giving me that ‘I-don’t-believe-you’ look. I hand her the Seal.

“Here’s the Seal from the Horns of Hammerad.”

She checks it over, and then double-checks. Her eyebrows rise.

“It’s real. So you’re telling me you delivered the supplies in the middle of the battle?”

Why is she making a big fuss? I thought that’s what all Runners did on this kind of mission.

“Yup.”

“Incredible.”

I’m silent. I mean, what am I supposed to say to that? ‘Oh, yeah, I’m really amazing, now give me my money?’

After a few moments the receptionist finally shakes herself.

“Well, this is all in order. Would you like the payment now or…?”

“Later.”

I can collect my pay whenever, but most Runners do it in one lump sum at the end of the week. It’s more convenient that way, since we have to sign to confirm we’ve been paid and the receptionist has to validate it.

“Well, I think you’ve earned your break. Unless—do you think you could do another delivery? I wouldn’t ask, but you’re the only City Runner here right now.”

I’m tired, but that’s only because of my adrenaline low. I know my legs have got at least another good run in them, so I nod.

“Where to?”

“Celum. It’s another request from Lady Magnolia. Another Runner just brought it from Remendia, but he’s too tired to keep going. It’s been passed from six Runners so far, and we need to get it to Magnolia within the hour if possible.”

Okay. Now that’s tricky. I hesitate.

It’s not that I don’t think I can do it in time. I can get to Celum in less than an hour even with something heavy on my back. But I’d done another run for Magnolia – delivering a big fancy vase – a few days ago. By the ‘unwritten rules’ that meant I should wait for at least another week before I took the request.

Damn. Damnation. Drat. What should I do? This is the exact kind of situation I hate.

“There aren’t any other City Runners around?”

The receptionist shakes her head.

“They’re all out on deliveries, and I don’t want to wait longer than I have to. I was about to ask one of the Street Runners to do the delivery, but that would have been a problem too.”

Well, in that case…why not? The Magnolia rule can go to hell for all I care.

“I’ll do it.”

The receptionist smiles in relief.

“Thank y—”

“Hold on!”

The receptionist’s head turns. My head doesn’t. I’m taking this moment to say a few choice words in my head[16].

I turn and see a familiar face.

“There’s no need to give Magnolia’s request to her. I’ve just arrived, and I can take care of it myself.”

The young woman—no, the annoying teenager who strides towards me brushes past to stand at the counter. She keeps her back very straight, probably because I’m taller than her by a head. I catch the overpowering smell of perfume masking her sweat, and step back so her brown hair doesn’t smack me in the face every time she tosses her head. Which she does quite often.

I know her. Or rather, I know her face. She’d probably introduced herself to me, but I don’t remember her name. She has a sallow[17] face, though. She always looks like she’s pursing her lips at everyone, and she annoys me every time I look at her.

“Oh, Miss Persua. I didn’t know you were still in the city.”

Persua. Right. That’s her name.

Persua tosses her head impetuously and nods.

“Well, I was doing that delivery to Remendia, but once one of my friends let me know Magnolia’s request was sitting in the Runner’s guild, of course I came back to fulfill it.”

The receptionist looks uncomfortable.

“You—haven’t finished the other delivery? Well, I was going to give the request to Ryoka. She’s free, and she’s—”

“She’s already done a request for Magnolia this week. By rights, that means I should have a turn.”

The receptionist frowns at Persua.

“There’s no rule that explicitly give precedence to other Runners. Besides which, I need this delivery done as quickly as possible.”

“So?”

Another head toss. I notice some of Persua’s ‘friends’, the other Runners—mainly Street Runners who are new or lower on the totem pole—watching me. I stare at them until they look away. I hate their guts. Too bad Persua doesn’t back down as easily. Doubly too bad is her annoying voice.

“I can easily do Magnolia’s request. Ryoka can just switch with me.”

“It doesn’t work like that. Unless Ryoka agrees, I can’t just give this to you. Besides, as I’ve said, this is a speedy delivery. I can’t give it to—”

“To what?”

Persua looks at the receptionist coldly. But I fill in the gap silently in my mind, probably with everyone else in the Runner’s Guild.

To a slower runner. One of the slowest, in fact. Persua might be a City Runner, but she’s slow. Or lazy. Actually, she’s both. She’s also an idiot, but that’s just my observation. She doesn’t take as many long-distance contracts, and she only delivers light-weight stuff like flowers or letters.

“I just meant that Ryoka is the fastest City Runner. Even Fals can’t beat her time.”

“Yes, but I’m sure she’ll switch with me, won’t you Ryoka?”

Persua glances at me, and then away. Passive aggressive bitch[18].

I hesitate. I should give the request to Persua. Even if she fails it, there’s no skin off my back. In fact, if she gets in trouble for failing the request even better. Although she’ll probably wriggle out of it somehow.

Yeah, I hate her guts. And I don’t feel like giving in to her bullying, especially because I know the only reason she wants to do the delivery is for the easy money and the opportunity to sponge off of Magnolia. So you know what? Let’s escalate things.

“It’s urgent.”

That’s not what Persua wants to hear. She glances at me in irritation.

“So? I can make it.”

The receptionist glanced around uncertainty.

“If we can’t get it to Magnolia within the hour, the delivery won’t be any good. Can you make the run in time?”

“I can.”

“So can I.”

Both the receptionist and I glance at Persua. She’s already sweating, probably from running back to the city to take the request.

“Can you?”

She glares at me. But I know bodies, and I know running. Sallow girl is sweaty, tired, and she has terrible running form. I’d done a run too, but unlike her I know how to conserve energy. I turn to the receptionist.

“Give me the request.”

Persua’s sallow face grew even more pinched, if that were possible. She glared daggers at me.

“That’s not fair. You’ve already done the request. I deserve it!”

“Persua, please.”

The receptionist is already wrestling with something under the counter. She lifts it up to me and gives me a smile of relief. I guess she really didn’t think Persua could do it either.

“Here’s the delivery. It’s packed in ice, so try not to get it too warm if possible. You know where Magnolia’s house is. They’ll be expecting you.”

Persua stomped her foot angrily as I put the large metal canister in my backpack. Cold. And it is wrapped with melting ice, so I’ll have a wet backpack after my run. But it’s worth it to see her get mad.

“I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Good for you.”

If looks could kill…but Persua’s looks only annoy. She stomped towards me until my nose burned with her stupid perfume. She hissed at me.

“You’ll regret this.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes!”

Some people. I turn away from Persua and hear her make a sound like an angry hamster. I look around and see her cronies, the other Street Runners, glaring at me.

Whatever. I really don’t care about their opinions or whatever Runner’s Code they claim. I’m here to do my job.

I nod to the receptionist.

“I’m off.”

I’m out the door before Persua can make another comment. You can’t tell, and I don’t have a mirror.

But I’m grinning again.

----

This time it’s the head maid who opens the door. She sniffs down at me.

I nod at her. I’m out of breath, tired, and my back is really, really cold. But I feel great, because I made it here in just forty minutes. That’s almost a record, and it’s at least twice as fast as Persua’s best time.

“Delivery for Magnolia.”

“That’s Lady Magnolia.”

Now here’s someone whose looks can really kill. I shrug and take off my pack.

“Seal?”

“Wait.”

The head maid closes the door on me as I wrestle with my damp delivery. Well, looks like I won’t be talking to Magnolia today. That’s actually a relief. I don’t mind the bubbly, excitable noblewoman, but I actually prefer the maids. They might be abrupt and rude, but that means less talking.

Okay, icy package is in my hands. I wait as patiently as I can outside the door, and then hear a muffled conversation. It sounds like someone arguing, and then I hear a familiar energetic voice.

“Nonsense! Ressa, how could you—of course I insist you let her in! Dirty feet or not!”

The door opens and a familiar woman greets me. How can one woman’s hair stay that curly? I’m fairly certain they don’t have hair curlers in this day and age, but Magnolia’s blonde locks look as stylized as any I’ve seen from my world.

“Please, allow me to apologize for my servant’s rudeness. Come in, please!”

I hesitate, and the maid—Ressa—standing behind Magnolia looks unhappy.

“I can just deliver the package if you have the seal—”

“Oh, I won’t hear of it! Come in!”

Ressa makes a face, and I try not to. Reluctantly, I walk into the foyer of Lady Magnolia’s mansion and wish there was a rug to wipe my feet on. Magnolia beams at me while Ressa perfects her death-glare behind her back. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want my dirty feet walking all over the marble floor. I’d prefer not to be here too, but the delivery isn’t done until I get the seal.

“This way, please. You can put it in the drawing room. No, not the secondary one, Ressa. The main one!”

She leads me into a carpeted room. Again, I hesitate, but there’s no helping it. The rug is very soft, and my feet are very dirty, but Magnolia doesn’t care. She peers excitedly at the metal container burning my hands with frost and dripping onto the carpet and beams at me.

“Oh my, that was quick! I was told this would be travelling the entire way from the port city of Hazenbrad! Did you bring it here yourself?”

“No. Other runners brought it most of the way.”

“Well, you and your people have certainly done me quite a service! Thank you!”

Magnolia presents me with her silver-sapphire seal.

“It’s Ryoko, isn’t it? It’s rare that I see the same Runner in so many days.”

Ryoka. But I’m used to people mispronouncing the name. I take the seal and slip it into my pouch. Right, now how to get out of this place tactfully?

“I’ve got to go. More deliveries.”

Actually, I don’t have any more, and I’m tired. But I’d rather go to sleep now, and deal with annoying jealous Runners tomorrow.

Magnolia’s face falls.

“Oh, but won’t you stay? I’d love to share this delightful treat with you—and you’ve run so far and so quickly too! When I heard a runner was setting out from Wales[19] I was sure it would take at least an hour for you to get here!”

“Mm.”

Again, what do you say to something like that? ‘Yeah, I’m awesome, now give me more money?’ This is why I hate talking to people.

“Besides which, I was never able to talk properly with you both times before now. I truly would love to converse with you—and ask about your peculiar choice of footwear, or should I say, its lack! Won’t you stay for a while?”

Magnolia entreats me with her eyes, and Ressa the maid gives me a look that says I should do whatever she wants and stop sweating and getting the carpets dirty while I’m at it.

I hesitate. But—I’m tired and I don’t feel like talking. Like always. True, Magnolia is better than Persua any day of the week, but her enthusiasm makes me feel tired. So I edge towards the door.

“I’m sorry, but I really should go. I’m very busy.”

Magnolia smiles at me.

“Are you that eager to be away? You may simply tell me if you don’t wish to converse.”

I jump[20] and stare at her. Magnolia smiles.

“Really my dear. It’s written all over your face. But besides that, I am a [Lady], and most of us learn [Sense Intentions] quite early. And I am quite high-level at that. So, therefore, sit.”

I sit. I don’t even think about it. She spoke, and I—okay, that was something else.

“I would like to talk with you. It is rare that I meet a young lady as interesting as yourself.”

Try to stand up. No? Okay legs, I’m your boss. Stand. Stand.

Magnolia gestures to the chair I’m trapped in.

“Please sit here. I would like to share this delivery you’ve worked so hard to bring me.”

I’m still struggling with my unresponsive body. Magnolia gives me another smile and addresses her hovering maid.

“Ressa? Please be so kind as to open up the delivery? And I believe we will need two bowls and silverware. I would like the blue porcelain today.”

“Very good, milady.”

Ressa gives me a silent, warning look. Probably to tell me to behave, and disappears out the door. She’s probably going for reinforcement maids. And that leaves me with Magnolia.

The larger woman gives me another charming smile. For the first time I eye her, and not just as a rich, silly lady. Sure, she looks like something of a stereotype with her bright clothing and expensive jewelry and unambiguously good-natured personality, but what the hell did she do to me? Is that a skill?

“I do hope you like sweet things, Miss Ryoka. Forgive my rudeness, but I simply find that sometimes it’s best to pin people down and get to know them, don’t you?”

“Mm.”

“I’m so glad you agree!”

Now, that. That sounded a bit like sarcasm. Well, well. Looks like Magnolia has layers. Or her petticoat does. Looks like I’ve underestimated her.

“Well, continue sitting there for a moment. I simply must try this delight, although I fear it’s rather ruining the carpet. Ah, well, it was due for a change.”

Magnolia bustles out of the room. I try to run for it, but my legs are still unresponsive. Well, damn. She’s got some power. It might be worth talking with her after all.

Magnolia. What an aggressive, pushy lady.

I think I like her.

----

Lady Magnolia fussed around the drawing room, and her maids fussed after her. She was busy overseeing the opening of a large metal cask, the contents of which had been surrounded in ice.

Ryoka sat in front of one ornately wrought table, conscious of her dirty feet on the rug. It might not have been Persian, but that was only because Persia didn’t exist in this world. It was certainly expensive, and it was certainly getting dirty the longer her feet were on it.

Occasionally, Ryoka’s legs would tense, but she remained sitting, much to her vexation.

“And here we are!”

Magnolia clapped her hands together in delight. Ryoka glanced up as the two latches on the metal canister were undone and icy vapor escaped. She had no idea what she’d brought, and so it was with interest that she saw a maid carefully scoop something out of the canister.

It was…white, wet-looking, with a few dark flecks mixed in the creamy color. Magnolia’s eye sparkled as another scoop was transferred to a blue and white porcelain bowl. Even the maids looked covetously at the soft cream.

To be specific, the soft ice cream.

Ryoka stared.

Magnolia gestured towards her guest, and the maid hesitated before setting the bowl down in front of Ryoka. The young woman stared silently at the gold filigree on the spoon she was handed. She stared down at the ice cream.

“Now, this is quite a treat.”

One of the maids pulled a chair out for Lady Magnolia and the noblewoman sat across from Ryoka. She accepted another bowl and smiled at Ryoka.

“Don’t be afraid. This is in fact a very rare delicacy I had imported. It’s quite, quite expensive, but once you try it, I think you’ll agree it’s worth the cost.”

Ryoka hesitated. She wasn’t sure if she should eat first, but Magnolia waved one hand at her.

“Oh, go on. What kind of host would I be if I did not allow you the first bite? I must warn you though—it’s quite cold!”

Ryoka hesitated, but Lady Magnolia was staring at her with earnest expectation. That was in sharp contrast to the maids behind her, who were all giving Ryoka the glare of death. She had the distinct impression refusing would not end well for her.

Prompted by the all the eyes on her, Ryoka slowly took a bite. Her expression didn’t change one iota. Lady Magnolia blinked. The maids would have muttered, but their training kept their faces carefully neutral.

“Huh. Ice cream.”

Ryoka paused and cursed inwardly. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud. Again, Magnolia blinked at her and her mouth fell open delicately.

“My. You know what this is?”

“…No?”

“My dear, remember what I said about my skills? I know you’re lying. But how can that be? I would swear that this delight hasn’t been invented but for a week! I just heard it had been created by a master [Chef] in the northern continent. But you’ve had some before, haven’t you?”

She could tell the truth, or she could lie and reveal the truth. Ryoka shrugged.

“Yeah.”

The maids murmured. Magnolia sighed, and tasted the ice cream herself.

“Delicious. Oh, but pardon me. I couldn’t help myself. Well, this is one surprise that quite trumps my surprise! I must say, I’m rather put out and delighted that you know this treat. What did you call it? ‘Ice cream’?”

“Is it called something else around here?”

“I believe it was referred to as ‘gelato’, or some such. But I rather like your name! It certainly is quite reminiscent of cream, isn’t it? But the coldness—and of course the sweetness is incomparable!”

“Mhm.”

“Well, now you simply must tell me how you know of this treat.”

“Uh, it’s common in my home country.”

Magnolia raised her delicate eyebrows.

“Common? Sure you—but you are telling the truth. How curious.”

Ryoka shifted in her seat. This was bad. She felt like her mind was being read. Well, even if it were just her intentions and whether or not she was telling the truth, there were enough landmines in the conversation to fill a battlefield. She had to shift the conversation.

Gingerly, she took another bite. The ice cream wasn’t actually as sweet as the one from her world, but it was hauntingly familiar. She pointed to the melting canister.

“Uh, how much did this cost?”

That wasn’t an appropriate question, to judge by the glares she got from the maids. But Magnolia seemed to take the question in stride.

“Well, I hate to bring up such issues in polite conversation, but this little treat cost seventy gold coins, not including the cost of shipping it across the sea and rushing it all the way here.”

Ryoka choked on her bite of ice cream and nearly bit the spoon in half. Magnolia waved a hand at her.

“Oh, please. I know it’s a lot, but for a treat like this? Very worthwhile.”

Silently, Ryoka stared at the canister of ice cream. It was probably, when all was said and done, the size of a tub of ice cream she could have bought for three dollars in any supermarket in her world.

Oblivious to her inner thoughts, Magnolia smiled again at Ryoka as she delicately spooned more ice cream into her mouth.

“I fear we must eat quickly before our ‘ice cream’ melts. But I’m sure we could chat over tea as well. And then you can tell me about how you know of this ice cream, and where you come from. I must say, your features are quite striking.”

Ryoka’s expression didn’t change, but Magnolia’s eyes flickered.

“Well, if you don’t prefer to say I quite understand. But I would like to chat.”

This was hard. Ryoka frowned at her mostly melted ice cream and thought carefully. Then she looked up. Magnolia’s smile grew even wider.

“Oh? I know it’s terribly rude to point out what you’re thinking, but that was quite the inspiration you just had.”

“Yeah. I was just thinking about the ice cream.”

“Would you like another scoop?”

“No. But I do know a lot about it.”

Magnolia leaned forwards in excitement. Ryoka looked down her bosom and felt like she understood part of the attraction of visiting Magnolia. At least, the attraction for the male City Runners.

“Really? I’m afraid I wasn’t able to learn anything about what creature produces such a delightful treat. Do you know where it comes from?”

“Better. I know how to make it.”

1.03 R

Some days were odd days. Some days you ran, and some days you found yourself in another world with nothing but an iPhone and the clothes on your back. Some days you made ice cream.

But it was a rare day that Ryoka found herself making ice cream in a noble woman’s house, surrounded by maids, in a kitchen that could have rivaled any cooking show’s setup for expense and expensive things.

She felt out of place in the spotless room, handling the equivalent of stainless steel cooking utensils. Ryoka was still barefoot, and she was painfully conscious of how her feet were dirtying the flawless floor tiling. Not that Lady Magnolia seemed to mind.

The beaming lady of the mansion hovered around Ryoka, excitedly showing her the contents of the amply-stocked kitchen. She opened pantry doors and revealed shelf after shelf of exotic ingredients that Ryoka half-recognized. Sugar, okay, that made sense. But red sugar? Harvested from the desert? And that was normal compared to delicacies like Wyvern meat.

“Nasty stuff. I tried it once but couldn’t bear the taste of it. It’s very healthy, or so I’m told but…”

Lady Magnolia indicated the purplish haunch sitting on a plate on a shelf. Ryoka stared at the glistening meat and silently wondered what it did taste like.

The oddness of the kitchen wasn’t that it was so grand, or had so many equivalents to modern cooking equipment. No, it was that most of the food storage in the kitchen consisted of shelves of food left out in the open. And even in the pantry, items like milk, butter, and even fresh vegetables had been neatly stockpiled away without any kind of refrigeration.

There was no helping it. Ryoka had to ask. She cut off Lady Magnolia as the other woman began talking about a strange jello that looked like it was moving.

“Doesn’t all this rot?”

Magnolia glanced at the shelves of uncovered food while the maids following her gave Ryoka silent glares.

“This? I shouldn’t think so. I paid for the best preservation spells and I have an [Enchanter] come by every year or so to make sure the runes are holding. My chefs are quite pleased with all the space, which I do need for all the delightful treats I order.”

Ryoka stared at the tiny etched runes on the side of each cupboard. Preservation runes? Well, that was handy. She wondered just how expensive they were.

“Not too expensive, at least for the quality of work done. Mages charge very affordable prices. I gather most inns and some of the larger shops use such runes quite often.”

Lady Magnolia smiled as Ryoka’s head shot up and the younger woman looked at her.

“Not mind reading my dear. Just an educated guess and a few skills. I’m sure you’ve heard it said that it is a frivolous class, but [Ladies] have a few useful tricks in social situations.”

“Mm.”

“Oh, you are quite taciturn, aren’t you? I’ve met dragons more forthcoming, but very well. Let us make this ice cream! How shall we begin?”

Magnolia waited excitedly as Ryoka looked around the room and tried to remember all of the ingredients. It had been a long time since Ryoka made ice cream. She’d almost forgotten how, but as a child—

“We need some salt too. A pinch of it. And vanilla.”

“Of course. Ressa?”

The head maid nodded and directed her maids to the appropriate shelves. She paused as one maid brought her a bundle of wrapped vanilla bean stalks.

“They are quite expensive, milady.”

Lady Magnolia pshed and waved at Ressa impatiently.

“Oh, nonsense, Ressa, don’t be a spoilsport. I’m minded to give Ryoka anything she wants if she can make this ice cream.”

“One stalk is fine.”

Ryoka accepted the dry, stick-like piece of vanilla from the glowering maid and broke it open. She sniffed at the strong smell and began extracting the beans from within.

“Now we need to heat the milk, salt, and sugar together in a pot. Got a big one?”

Lady Magnolia clapped her hands together as Ressa glowered and found a large, polished pot and set it over one of the kitchen stoves.

“Oh, I see! You’re making a custard! How delightful!”

Silently, Ryoka mixed the ingredients together and created a creamy, off-white custard in the pot. She poked at it with her spoon and decided it was thick enough for ice cream. What next? Oh, right.

“…Crap.”

This time Ryoka’s language nearly earned her a slap on the back of the head. Ressa’s hand twitched, and a small vein began to throb on her forehead.

“What’s wrong?”

“I might not be able to make this after all. I forgot something.”

Lady Magnolia looked dismayed. She peered into the pot.

“It looks perfectly fine to me, but—is there an ingredient missing?”

Ryoka shook her head. She gestured at the pot.

“We need to freeze this. Or rather, we need to freeze it slowly while stirring.”

That was a big problem. For all this world had things like preservation spells, Ryoka was sure they hadn’t invented freezers or air-conditioning. But to her surprise Lady Magnolia laughed and put her hand over her ample bosom in relief.

“Oh, is that all?”

Magnolia waved an airy hand. She turned to another one of her maids.

“Yvony, would you be a dear and send a message to the Mage’s Guild? Tell them I need an [Elementalist] mage capable of using basic ice magic.”

Bemused, Ryoka watched as Yvony, a fair-haired maid with fairer complexion bowed and quickly trotted out of the room.

“Is she going to run there?”

Lady Magnolia chuckled politely and the other maids smiled.

“We are not all as fleet-footed as you Runners. No, she’s just here to bring me—ah, thank you Yvony.”

The maid had returned with a small, blue book covered in gold latticework on the cover. Lady Magnolia opened it and showed Ryoka the blank pages as Yvony unscrewed an ink pot and dipped a quill in it.

“If you will observe, this is a magical book. One of two, in fact. Whenever one writes on one page, the other book immediately copies over the same writing. It’s quite the ingenious way of talking without needing to cast a [Telepathy] or [Far Chat] spell each time.”

She handed the book to Yvony as the maid wrote a few brisk, short lines on the paper. The book glowed once, and then the light faded from the pages. Magnolia clapped her hands together and turned to Ryoka.

“And now we wait. A mage should be along in a matter of minutes. The Mage’s Guild is quite prompt at responding, and happily they are located only a few streets away. Shall we retire for a cup of tea?”

Given her choice, Ryoka would have refused, but the thing about a request made by a lady is that it is not really a request. In short order she found herself sitting and sipping from a hot cup of tea and trying not to make a face.

Her heritage as a Japanese-American said that she should at least appreciate good tea, as Ryoka had Japanese grandparents who insisted she try the stuff. But her American roots and personality insisted coffee was the only way to live. Sadly, she hadn’t encountered that beverage yet so she pretended to drink her tea while Magnolia chattered away.

“I must say, I have been absolutely dying to know what it is that makes you run, Miss Ryoka. If I may confess—I’m not asking you solely out of pure interest as well. I have a teensy bet going on with some other ladies in my gossip circle about it.”

Ryoka paused. She was used to attention for running barefoot, but this was the first time she’d ever been bet on.

“Really?”

“Why, haven’t you realized what a splash you’ve made? The tale of a new Runner with exotic features appearing in the middle of a crowded street suddenly is quite the story, and that’s not even with you becoming the fastest Runner in the area. People are wondering why you run barefoot. Is it part of a special class? Or is it a secret?”

“No secret.”

Magnolia waited, but the young woman sitting across from her said nothing more. She cleared her throat politely.

“Then—would you mind telling me? I would simply love to know.”

Lady Magnolia leaned forwards over her tea eagerly. Even the maids were quietly listening as they bustled around the drawing room performing menial and unneeded tasks.

Ryoka shrugged.

“I just like running barefoot. I hate shoes.”

Her audience blinked at her. Ryoka shrugged. There wasn’t much more to say. She eyed the maids as they shifted and exchanged glances behind their mistress’s back. Idly, Ryoka wondered how much gossiping they did when they were done with work.

Silence followed Ryoka’s answer, which was then broken by laughter. Lady Magnolia chuckled, and then laughed quietly. It wasn’t boisterous or uncontrolled; like everything else about her, it was polite and refined. But it was genuine.

“You, my dear Ryoka Griffin, are the most delightful young lady I have ever met!”

She lifted her cup and a waiting maid filled it with the dark brown tea that Ryoka was trying not to ingest.

“A simple answer, but not from a simple person. I suppose our little gossip circle will have to annul the bet. How interesting. Well then, now that my curiosity has been assuaged, shall we play a game while we wait for our mage to arrive?”

Ryoka paused. She glanced at Magnolia’s face and frowned.

“…What sort of game?”

“Oh please Ryoka my dear. Don’t be so suspicious. I don’t intend to pry—well, I do, but I won’t force you to say anything you truly don’t wish. I simply propose a game of guessing. I play it all the time with friends for dirty secrets and intrigue. You may ask one question of me, and I in turn shall ask a question which I hope you will answer truthfully. Does that sound fair?”

Ryoka shrugged. Magnolia smiled wider.

“Well then, since I have asked you about your bare feet, why don’t you start with a question.”

Reluctantly, Ryoka pondered. She looked down at her tea, up at the ceiling, around at the maids, and then at Magnolia. At last, she shrugged.

“I can’t think of a question.”

Magnolia’s face fell.

“Not even one? Aren’t you curious about something? I have a veritable wealth of gossip and actual knowledge at my disposal.”

Again, Ryoka shrugged. It wasn’t that she couldn’t think of a million questions to ask, but she really didn’t want to ask Magnolia said questions.  And she enjoyed the older woman’s discomfort.

“…Not really. Why don’t you ask a question?”

Although she was clearly disappointed, Lady Magnolia rallied in an instant.

“Well then, I would dearly love to know where you come from Miss Ryoka Griffin. Let me see. Are you, by any chance, a native of the northern continent?”

Ryoka raised an eyebrow.

“Which one?”

Magnolia’s face went blank.

“Which one? Well I suppose—the main one. Unless you mean one of the islands is a continent? No—I am referring to the human continent, Terandia. Are you from there by any chance?”

“Nope.”

“Well, well. In that case, are you from the east? The Isles of Minos house a small human population. Or perhaps you are an islander? In the archipelagos there are many exotic peoples with features not unlike yours.”

Ryoka shook her head. She was learning a lot.

“Never been there.”

Magnolia pursed her lips.

“My instincts are completely off. Fine then. I wouldn’t guess it, but—the frozen archipelago? Or perhaps the untamed wilds of this continent?”

“No, and no.”

“Well, are you from the southern lands? I can’t imagine how, but perhaps you grew up among the Gnoll tribes or among the Drake settlements?”

“Nope.”

Ryoka smiled. Magnolia eyed her with a slight frown.

“I merely ask as clarification—you did not grow up among the Antinium, perhaps? They have several Colonies to the south and one unique Colony in the city of Liscor.”

Again, Ryoka shook her head. Magnolia tapped her spoon against her tea cup in vexation.

“Very well. But if you aren’t from one of the main continents…aha! You grew up in Wistram, the isle of mages! Or—or in the mountains among Dwarves? Far-fetched, but perhaps…you lived on the sea as a child?”

“All wrong.”

Ryoka grinned. Around her the maids looked suspicious, as if they suspected her of lying to their mistress. But Magnolia gazed at Ryoka with a frown. She opened her mouth, but at that moment a firm but polite knock echoed from the front door.

Reluctantly, Magnolia turned her gaze away from Ryoka. She put down her tea cup and swept to her feet.

“Hm. Well, let us not keep our mage waiting.”

Ryoka was already up, and she followed Lady Magnolia to the front door. Because she was standing behind her, she didn’t see the deep frown Magnolia wore on her face before she turned it into a smile as she welcomed the ice mage into her home.

----

Ice cream. It tasted sweet, was hopefully cold, and apparently, was about as addictive as hardcore drugs to those who’d never had it before.

She hadn’t been too sure about her recipe, but at Lady Magnolia’s insistence, Ryoka had filled a huge pot with custard. After the mage had arrived and the ice cream had been successfully churned into the frozen treat with a few hiccups, Lady Magnolia, her maids, and even the mage had joined Ryoka in eating the ice cream.

As a result, the big pot was now empty and Ryoka’s stomach was not happy with her. The mage had left just half an hour ago, clutching at his stomach and head. He still had a blissful smile on his face, though.

To Ryoka’s surprise, the mage had been quite interested in making ice cream. Perhaps that was just his personality, but it was also probably due to Magnolia’s infectious enthusiasm. She’d had a maid taking notes of Ryoka’s every action as she’d figured out how to mix the ice cream properly.

Well, that was fine in the end because it meant that Ryoka didn’t have to explain how to make the ice cream twice. And now that the ice cream was eaten, Ryoka could finally leave. She was at the final stage of that process—trying to shake off Lady Magnolia at the door.

“I still can’t believe you won’t take at least some token for teaching me this delightful recipe.”

Ryoka shrugged as Lady Magnolia fussed around her. The almost-lethal amounts of sugar the older woman had imbibed didn’t seem to be slowing her down like the other maids and Ryoka. Even Ressa, the faithful head maid looked slightly ill after coming down from the sugar high and realizing how much she’d eaten, but Magnolia was as energetic and bright as ever.

With a sigh, Lady Magnolia gave up on the issue, much to Ryoka’s relief. She’d refused all suggestions of payment. It felt wrong, especially for ice cream. At last, Magnolia had given up the argument and Ryoka was finally about to leave.

“Won’t you at least take some of your delightful ice cream with you? We happen to have several baskets enchanted with preservation spells. I would be most happy to make a gift of one to you.”

Ryoka hesitated as the maid named Ressa coughed and muttered about the expense. That was tempting. Not the ice cream—but a magical basket sounded extremely useful. But again…

“…No. I’m fine, thanks.”

Lady Magnolia sighed, but she made no further arguments, much to Ryoka and her head maid’s relief. Ryoka finished stretching out the leg that had fallen asleep and then moved to open the door. Ressa intercepted her and held the door open politely. Her hands were gloved. Apparently, that made a big difference to what she could touch and Ryoka couldn’t.

Time to run. But Ryoka turned at the door and nodded to Lady Magnolia.

“Thanks.”

“On the contrary, it is I who should thank you Miss Ryoka. But if I might have one last question before you go?”

Ryoka reluctantly paused at the door as Ressa closed it in her face. She turned slightly and glanced at Magnolia.

“Do you, in fact, come from any place in this world?”

Silence. Ryoka’s face didn’t change, but Magnolia smiled.

“I hope you will accept more requests from me in the future. I would so love to chat.”

Ryoka was gone before Magnolia finished speaking.

----

Lady Magnolia watched Ryoka jog and then transition into a slow run as she reached the end of the street.

“My, but she is quick.”

Behind her Magnolia sensed but did not see her maid Ressa nod her head in silent agreement. One of the perks of being a [Lady] was the ability to detect far more than her posture or physical limitations indicated. It also allowed Lady Magnolia to exhibit a certain degree of poise at all times, no matter how much her stomach might be hurting.

But these were lesser concerns, and so Magnolia banished them from her mind. Her eyes followed Ryoka as the Runner vanished around the corner and tapped her lips. Then she turned to her maid.

“Ressa, please contact the Mage’s Guild and let them know I request a spell cast upon my person tonight.”

Ressa bobbed a curtsy.

“Very good, milady. Which spell do you require?”

“Hm. The long distance speaking spell. I forget exactly what the name of the spell is. They are familiar with the one.”

Ressa paused. She bowed her head.

“Begging your lady’s pardon…”

“Go on, Ressa.”

“That particular spell is—quite expensive, milady. Would a lesser spell of communication not suffice?”

“No, I’m afraid not. The spell is expensive, but it is also worth the cost of secrecy and privacy. I appreciate your concern dear Ressa, but nevertheless. Make the request.”

“Yes, milady.”

----

I have to slow down after I get a few streets away from Magnolia’s house. I put my hand on my stomach and try not to throw up.

“Woog.”

Ice cream is not good for my body, especially if I have to run. I feel like I’ve got a rock in my stomach. And yet, it might have been worth it. If only it hadn’t been vanilla[21], life might have been perfect.

As I slowly walk and then transitioned back into a slow jog I think about Magnolia, or as I now know her, the scariest person I’ve met in this world. Apparently, someone with her class can practically read minds, or at least tell how I’m feeling. That is not a comforting thought.

Jeez. She nearly figured out where I came from in a few minutes. What a terrifyingly scary lady.

It might be wrong to think, but when I first met her I thought she was just another plump social butterfly without a thought in the world. But…that’s what she wants people to assume about her. The real Magnolia is sharp and intelligent. Remember that next time you visit her.

…Which won’t be for a while. I know there’s going to be hell to pay if Persua has her way, and besides, now I have a good reason not to visit Magnolia in the future.

“Right. No Magnolia deliveries for a while.”

But with that said, I will be doing research on her. I’ll just bet Garia knows something about her—how Magnolia got her wealth, if she was married, etc. Know your enemy, right? Well, Magnolia isn’t my enemy, and I’d like to keep her that way.

…Garia. Her name triggers a thought in my mind as I run down another street. It’s getting empty this late in the day, but I see another Street Runner disappear the instant I turn down the street. Garia. Oh. Oh yeah.

Tomorrow I have to do that delivery with Garia. That will be a pain. Not just because we’ve got to carry fifty pounds on our backs, but because she’s going to talk to me the entire time. Which is fine. It’s a normal, human thing to do. It’s just a pain in the ass.

Well, I promised so that’s that. Forget about it, but don’t actually forget about it. At least I won’t have to stick around the Runner’s Guild too long waiting for another job.

I wonder whether there will be any consequences for making ice cream. What a ridiculous thought but…let’s explore that. Hm.

It probably wasn’t a good idea to share the recipe, but it got Magnolia off my back about where I came from. But what does it mean to spread that kind of information?

Well…if I had to guess, it would mean that the poor person who invented ice cream isn’t going to be as rich as she or he hopes. But it also might mean a revolution of sorts within the city. Ice cream is exceptionally possible, and thanks to magic, easy to make even in this day and age.

Does that mean I might soon see it on the streets? But no—unless you have a mage on standby, ice cream isn’t easy to keep. I guess the nobility will enjoy it for the most part until someone revolutionizes the ice box or fridge. That’s the way it goes, right? Trickle-down, just like how the ice cream cone melts.

I get that far in my reasoning when I notice the other runners. They appear from behind me and from other streets in a huge crowd. Ten—no, twenty Street Runners appear out of nowhere and surround me. It’s so sudden that I don’t think of running away before they’re all around me.

What the hell is going on? Suddenly, I’m running in a crowd and they’re jostling and forcing me to run at their speed. I recognize a few of them from the guild, but why are they here? Well, whatever they’re doing it’s aimed at me. I try to push out of the crowd, but they’re packed too tightly.

“Get away.”

They ignore me. Well, of course they do. I try to shove my way left, but when I do they bunch up and ram into me. Hard.

“You annoying—”

Okay, no more nice girl, not that there ever was one to begin with. I stop suddenly, and trip up two of the runners behind me. It turns out to be a mistake, because they trip and fall and their shoes kick into my feet and ankles as they go down.

“Damn it.”

Gyaaaaaaah! That really hurt! But now I’m free. I really want to check my feet and see if their stupid shoes ripped any skin, but something’s up. I turn and run left even as the pack of Street Runners turns to follow me.

They shove me left, onto a smaller street. At this point I’m really starting to get annoyed. I could get nastier, but if it comes down to a fight against this many people they’d kick the crap out of me. No, screw it. I can lose these idiots the instant I get out of the city gates. I’ll go to Remendia and if more of them show up there I’ll talk to the City Watch. Or the Runner’s Guild.

All I have to do is break free of the group. And that’s easy and hard at the same time. The easy part is grabbing one runner by the shoulder and shoving her hard so she smacks into a wall. The hard part’s going to be when they start trying to hit me.

But they don’t. All at once the pack of Street Runners in front of me breaks up. Another three steps and I’ll be in the clear. Why the hell would they—

I see it too late. A foot’s there to trip me up, and though I try to jump over it, it catches me and down I go.

Ow. All the air goes out of me. Okay, damn. But they’re gone. That means—

Rumbling. I feel it in the ground and look up too late. A heavy cart pulled by a large mule thunders at me down the small street.

Oh. Of course.

I roll, and see a familiar sallow face grinning at me as the other Runners disappear into alleys. Get up. Get up!

The cart barrels down towards me as I scramble to my feet. I dodge left, but then something slams into me. It feels like I just hit a patch of solid air. Magic. Down I go, winded.

I look up and see the massive wheels crunching down the road towards me. So quick. And I’m lying right in its way.

Oh. Yeah. I’d almost forgotten what I hate about the world. Sometimes I forget, but I’m always reminded in time. What I hate about the world is—

People.

For once I’m too slow.

Snap.

1.25

They are called Workers. It is their designation, their life, and their role. They serve their functions well. A Worker is many things. A hammer to build and tear down foundations, a butcher’s knife to separate meat from bone. The Workers work. That is their purpose.

But when the Klbkch brought back the twelve Workers they were not the same as the ones who had left. They told the other Workers during their sleeping shifts and resting shifts of a strange task they had carried out. They spoke of visiting an ‘inn’, of meeting a strange creature and eating delicious food, and of learning a ‘game’ called ‘chess’.

These were deeply disturbing revelations to the other Workers. Much conferring and deciding was done during the dead of night. All was uncertain. Their Queen did not speak to them in the purity of their souls but with messages passed from her chambers below. They had no orders to guide them, and so the Workers could only rely on their own counsel.

This new ‘game’ the other Workers brought and the strange bits of paper they wrote on to make the game. Was this an Aberration? It surely seemed so, but the Prognugator had not eliminated the twelve. And so it must not be an Aberration. And if the Queen had ordered Klbkch to take the twelve to learn of this game then it must be of significant importance.

Therefore, the next day during the designated resting period the twelve Workers set up chess boards using bits of scrap paper and stones and explained the game to the other Workers once. Then the games were played.

Twelve Workers played the twelve who had journeyed to the inn. All lost the first game completely. But the Workers were intrigued, and some expressed desire to play. This new game of chess was not Aberration, but it was intriguing.

However, during the fifth round of games an Aberration occurred. One Worker stood up from the chess game and retrieved a butcher’s knife. The individual-who-was-no-longer-a-Worker returned to the chess game and stabbed his opponent until the Worker died.

Before the Prognugator was summoned, six more Workers were killed and their parts used to decorate the tables.

----

Klbkch walked into the small cavern, stooping his head to pass through the small tunnel which brought him here. Although it was extremely dark, with only a few patches of glowing fungus to light the way every twenty feet or so, Klbkch could still see perfectly fine. He stopped and stared down at the severed head of a Worker and then studied the green ichor covering the ground.

A Worker, or at least, something that looked like a Worker stood in the room ahead of Klbkch. He had a dripping blade in two of his hands, and he sawed and hacked at the body of another Worker as Kblkch approached.

“You have killed your fellow Antinium, Worker. How do you explain your actions?”

The Aberration turned and dropped the arm it had been sawing off from the Worker. He raised his blades threateningly, but Klbkch’s hands made no move to their swords.

“I correct the fault in the others. They play ‘games’, and go against the will of the Hive. They deserve nothing but death.”

The Aberration pointed to the other Workers, who stood silently against one wall. They did not flinch away from him, but stood, silent. Watching.

“Their lives are not yours to take. You are an Aberration. You are a failure.”

The strange Worker shook his head.

“I have not failed. My mind is intact. But I am no longer a Worker.”

He tapped himself on the chest.

“I am.”

Klbkch paused.

“Then do you claim to still serve the Hive?”

“I refuse to serve. I refuse to acknowledge the will of the Queen. Her words are madness. Heresy.”

The Klbkch nodded his head. He drew his swords.

“Have you a name?”

The Aberration shook his head. He raised his knives.

“I refuse. Names are meaningless. The Experiment is failure. I refuse.”

“Very well.”

The Aberration charged Klbkch and stabbed him twice before he was cut into pieces. He didn’t stop stabbing until his head had been severed and his limbs detached. Even then, his arm jerked on the ground for a few seconds until it finally stopped. Klbkch burned the pieces and ordered the Workers back to their duties.

----

The Workers disposed of their fellow comrades and tended to the wounded. And then, since their resting period had ten minutes left, several played a game of chess using Lightning rules.

That night, the games of chess continued. Not all Workers took part. It was decided that only a quarter should play this new game in case of further Aberrations occurring.

The Chosen Workers played four games of chess before their designated sleeping time occurred. The next day they conferred among themselves and decided that their knowledge was insufficient, their abilities too limited.

Therefore, when the Designated Worker approached Klbkch he had the support of all the Workers behind him. He was the best player—his win/loss ratio was 54.692% and thus he had been chosen to make the request.

Klbkch was not on duty at this time of day. He had retreated to his personal quarters within the labyrinthine tunnels, a hollowed-out room of stone and dirt near to the surface. He looked up at the knock on his door. When he saw it was a Worker he immediately drew his sword.

“State your business immediately or be cut down.”

The Worker bowed its head towards Klbkch.

“This one would request time off, Prognugator.”

Klbkch hesitated. He did not lower his sword.

“Why?”

“This one wishes to visit the Innkeeper Solstice.”

Now Klbkch stood up. He strode towards the Designated Worker and held his blade low, towards the other Antinium’s abdomen.

“For what purpose do you wish to visit Erin Solstice?”

“This one would play a game of chess.”

“Chess?”

Neither Antinium blinked. They were incapable of doing so, but Klbkch’s antennae twitched.

“Explain yourself.”

“This one would learn more of chess for the sake of imparting knowledge onto other Workers. The Workers perceive a limitation in growth after a collective 416 games played.”

Klbkch paused as he digested this information.

“I see. Your request will be considered. Return to your duties. Now.”

The Designated Worker bowed his head and left. Klbkch sheathed his sword, stared at the door, and then banged his head with one of his hands. Then he strode off to make an urgent report to his Queen.

Within the hour he had left the city with the Designated Worker in tow.

----

After two days of experimentation, Erin had to face the facts.

“…I still can’t figure out how to make ice cream.”

All she could make was weird, sugary butter. She stared down at the pan of churned cream and ice cubes and wondered whether it was still edible.

“Hm. Sugary.”

Erin licked her finger and decided it would go well with cereal. If she had any cereal. Well, there was that porridge-stuff, but she didn’t like how much chewing she had to do.

“Maybe I’ll feed it to Pisces.”

Glumly, Erin poured her fifth failed experiment into a glass jar. Glass jars were the way to go. Since she didn’t have tupperware and most airtight containers were jars with lids on them, glass jars with corked or glass lids were her best way of keeping things fresh.

“Too bad I don’t have any preservation runes.”

Erin grumbled to herself as she heaved the jar of milk onto a counter. She’d asked Pisces how much it would cost to get fancy runes done. He’d put the price at anywhere from twenty to sixty gold coins, and added that she’d need to replace her cabinets if she wanted to make sure the runes stayed intact.

“Too rich for my blood. But refrigerators cost a lot too, right? But you only buy one and that’s that. So I could save up, if I ever got any customers. Big crowd one day, radio silence the next. And today as well. That’s life, isn’t it?”

Erin’s head snapped up as she heard the door opening.

“Speak of the devil.”

She raised her voice.

“Have a seat! I’ll be with you in a moment!”

Erin looked around and cursed. She didn’t have any food ready. It was only lunchtime—she hadn’t expected anyone to actually come by except Pisces, and he could wait forever. But he would have already made a snide remark by now.

No helping it. She hurried out of the kitchen and spotted a short creature standing in the inn. It had familiar green skin, pointy ears, and red eyes. Erin started to smile, and then stopped.

“Wait a second. Who the hell are you?”

----

The four Goblins watched from the cover of a patch of long grass as the door shut. They watched, and saw the other Goblins surrounding the inn. One had already entered, and the other Goblins were waiting to enter behind him.

The hiding Goblins weren’t waiting to enter. Rather, they were watching with dull dread in their stomachs. They would have liked to do something. Shouted, perhaps. But that wasn’t in their natures, and they were afraid.

They had been nine, but now they were four. And they feared making sound and alerting the other Goblins around the inn to their presence. They were forbidden to be here. They had been nine, and now they were four. And they feared becoming zero.

So the four watched, helplessly. The one Erin called Rags gripped a dagger in her hands, but she felt the bruises and cracked bones from the beating she’d taken just last night. She could only watch. They were four.

The Goblins surrounding the inn were forty.

----

“Uh, hi there.”

Erin stared at the large Goblin as it glanced around her inn. She was sure she’d never seen this particular Goblin before in her life. He was larger than the rest, taller, brawnier. And he was carrying a short sword at his waist, not a dagger or a club.

The Goblin looked up at Erin. He was still shorter than her by a good head, but he didn’t seem intimidated by her height. On the contrary, he seemed like he wanted to be the one doing the intimidating.

“Look, can I help you? Do you want food, or something?”

Normally Erin would have offered him a plate of something at once. But this particular Goblin wasn’t like Rags or her timid friends. There was an aggressiveness about him she recognized in guys back in her world that she really didn’t like.

The Goblin glanced at Erin and said something. He sauntered up to her. She stared down at him.

“Excuse me? What do you—”

He poked her. In the stomach. Actually, it was closer to her pelvis since he was shorter, and uncomfortably close to another area.

“Stop that.”

He grinned, and reached out to poke her again. Erin slapped his hand down.

“Stop that. Tell me what you want, or get out.”

The big Goblin’s eyes narrowed. His hand went to his short sword. Erin made a fist and showed it to him.

“Try that and I’ll kick your face in. Got it?”

He glared up at her. Then, surprisingly, he grinned. He turned his head and called something in that scratchy language over his shoulder.

Erin looked up as the door opened. A Goblin walked into the room, and then another. And then another. And another and another and…

Suddenly there were a lot of Goblins in her inn. A lot. And suddenly, purely by coincidence, Erin had just broken out into a cold sweat.

“Well. You have…friends.”

More Goblins filed into her inn. It was an unending stream of them. They surrounded the bigger Goblin, exactly like a gang of…gangsters. Or, in Erin’s mind, much like a gang of children following the bully.

Erin took one step back as the leader of the Goblin mob grinned at her. He stroked the sword at his waist. Erin thought of the knife in her kitchen but abandoned the idea instantly. Every Goblin in the inn had a weapon, and most were holding them casually in their hands.

She had a bad feeling—no. Not just a feeling. She knew she was in trouble.

The big Goblin looked around the inn and snorted. Then he spat.

A glob of greenish spit landed right on one of Erin’s clean tables. Next to a chess board. The Goblin looked at it, and then walked over and picked up the pieces.

She could run. In fact, Erin was pretty sure she could outrun them. If she got to the door and slammed it shut, then she’d be able to take off. They’d never catch her with their stubby little legs.

Erin slowly edged around a table, as if she were nervous. The Goblin tribe watched her, but they clearly weren’t expecting her to attack. They knew they outnumbered her. She didn’t need to get that close to the door, but if she were just a few feet away she could—

Tapping. Erin looked over and saw the big Goblin leader smacking one of her chess pieces hard against the stone chess board. He grinned; a bully with a new breakable toy that didn’t belong to him.

Smack, smack. He was watching Erin out of the corner of his eye as he bashed a carved figurine of a Drake knight on the board.

Erin saw bits of the fragile chess piece breaking off. Her mouth opened.

“Oi. Put that down.”

The Goblin sneered. It deliberately tossed the knight on the ground. The other Goblins watched as their leader deliberately stamped on the chess piece. It snapped in two.

Erin stared down at the small, stone figurine lying in pieces. She looked up at the grinning Goblin.

----

The four Goblins heard the faint sound of something cracking as they waited outside the inn. Then they heard silence.

The next thing they saw was the big Goblin smashing through a window. They ran for cover as Erin strode out the door with a chair in her hands.

The big Goblin snarled at Erin and struck at her as she approached. She stepped back, and then belted him over the head with the chair. She lost her grip on it, but that didn’t even slow her down. As the Goblin swung at her she delivered a punch to his face and then jumped back. Erin didn’t know how, but when he tried to rush her she instinctively stepped sideways and knocked him flat with a kick to his back.

It was like magic. Or—a skill. [Bar Fighting]. That was it. Erin had never really punched someone in her life, but when she made a fist and drove it into the big Goblin’s face, it floored him.

He was trying to rip the short sword out of its scabbard. Erin kicked the blade out of his hands as he got it free and then kicked him in the face. As he shouted in pain she picked up the chair and drove it into his midsection.

“Not so tough now, are you? Huh?”

Erin raised the chair to hit the Goblin again. She prepared to swing it down—

And something poked her in the side. Erin turned around. She saw a knife sticking out of her stomach.

“…Ow.”

A Goblin was behind her. He stared at Erin in horror as she turned. She punched him into the ground, but then another Goblin was next to her.

Stab.

It was a dull sensation. She felt her skin tearing as he raked her side with it. Erin shouted and hit him with her chair hard enough that she felt something in him break. But then another Goblin was next to her. He slashed her in the leg.

She didn’t feel it. And that was the scariest thing. As another Goblin stuck a knife in Erin’s back, she felt it go in, but she didn’t feel the pain. And the Goblins were suddenly surrounding her. They poured out of the inn as Erin tried to keep them away. And they all had knives.

Stab. Stabstabstabstabstabstabstabstabstabstabstabstabstab—

Erin swung her chair and knocked three Goblins senseless. She kicked out and sent another one flying, and then punched one so hard he fell over unconscious. She didn’t know how, but she was suddenly a fighting machine. But the Goblin kept coming and their knives went in and she didn’t feel a thing.

Two more Goblins went down to Erin’s punches before she toppled over. It wasn’t that she’d tripped. She just fell down and saw the blood pooling. Erin wanted to reach out and touch it, but her arms wouldn’t move.

The big Goblin was standing over her. When had he gotten to his feet? He had the short sword in his hand and he was raising it. He snarled around his broken nose. Then his head fell off.

Klbkch beheaded the large Goblin with one sweep of his swords. He stepped forward to shield Erin as his swords scythed out and cut two more Goblins apart. He addressed the other Antinium by his side, the Worker holding the pieces of paper in his hands.

“I must save Erin. Cover me.”

The Worker nodded and dropped its pieces of paper. It charged at the Goblins who scattered before this unknown threat. Erin looked up and tried to wave at Klbkch as the ant-man knelt swiftly beside her.

“Stay awake Erin. I have a potion. Stay alive for a few seconds longer.”

“Another p-potion?”

Erin laughed weakly. She wanted to say ‘you shouldn’t have’, but her mouth stopped working. Klbkch’s hands were a blur as they dove into the pouch at his waist. He uncorked the bottle and splashed half of it over Erin’s legs. The other half he made her drink. He had to hold her mouth open because she couldn’t open it.

She felt the noxious liquid go down and something happened in her body. But Erin wasn’t paying attention. She felt like a spectator, a ghost who wasn’t really attached to the thing Klbkch was cradling in her arms. She saw the Worker fighting as the Goblins recovered from their shock. She saw him dying.

The Worker had no weapons. He only had bits of paper. But he charged into the mass of Goblins, striking them with his four hands, biting, hitting them. Like how a child fights.

The Goblins fell back at first from the ferocity of the assault. But as soon as the Worker found himself in the midst of them they closed in.

One second the Worker was grabbing at Goblin, the next, they covered him. Countless Goblins piled onto the Worker, stabbing, hitting any part of his body they could reach. The Worker fell to the ground, but seized one Goblin by the leg. His mandibles opened and he bit.

The Goblin screamed and stabbed him in the eye. The other Goblins stabbed and clubbed him and then left the broken, crushed shell of the Worker on the ground. They swarmed away from him except for one Goblin which still screamed in agony as it tugged at its leg. It came away with a sickly snap as the leg and flesh ripped from the Worker’s jaws to reveal yellow bone.

Erin blew out a bubble of blood, and then coughed. Something warm was flowing up from her cold legs. She could feel them again and—pain. But she could feel them.

As the Goblins spread out around the human and Antinium, Klbkch stood up from Erin’s side. He drew both swords and daggers and faced the forty-odd Goblins.

“Come.”

The Goblins didn’t wait. They charged, howling with blood and fury. Klbkch waited for them and attacked with all four arms at once. His swords cut arcs in the air as they lopped off limbs and heads while his lower arms stabbed out with his knives. The first few Goblins who approached him died before they could take a step.

But—so many. Klbkch stepped back as the Goblins kept coming. He spun left and shredded two Goblins with his swords as his lower two arms stabbed a Goblin in the neck with his daggers. One sprinted under his guard and raked his legs with a dagger, but only managed to cut into his exoskeleton. Klbkch beheaded him, but more Goblins jumped on his back. He shook himself like a dog and cut them off of him.

Erin watched through lidded eyes. The potion was coursing through her, but the drowsiness was making her sleepy. She couldn’t stay awake. It was like her mind was shutting down every few moments.

She kept blinking. Her eyes would close, and then her head would snap back up. Each time she opened her eyes more Goblins lay in pieces around her. Blood stained the ground and her clothes. And Klbkch. But his blood was green. And there was a lot of it.

Erin opened her eyes and saw Klbkch stagger as a Goblin stabbed him in the back with the short sword. The Antinium turned and beheaded the Goblin, but two more struck him glancing blows from his other side. Even as he turned more lunged forward. He swept his blades to keep them away, but he couldn’t guard every angle.

Why didn’t he run? He was surrounded. If he had his back to the wall he could fend them off.

Oh. Right. He was defending her. And that meant he couldn’t watch his back.

Erin’s head lowered. The darkness closed in. Then she opened her eyes and saw Klbkch lying on the ground. No—not lying. Fallen. He was on his knees. He still had his blades, but he couldn’t stand up. Green blood dripped from the wounds on his body. So many.

But he’d taken vengeance for his injuries. Erin looked around and saw dead bodies everywhere. Pieces of Goblins. Heads. Limbs. Blood coated everything, including her.

Nine Goblins spread out around Klbkch in a wary circle. They didn’t dare approach the Antinium, for all he was fallen. Erin wondered what they were doing. Oh. They were waiting for him to die.

“Miss Solstice.”

It was rasping whisper. Erin looked at Klbkch. The Antinium didn’t move, but spoke to the ground as he used one sword to keep himself upright.

“You must flee. I will buy you a moment.”

She stared at him.

“No.”

“Can you not move?”

“I can feel my legs. Sort of.”

“Then go. Once you are in sight of the city you will be safe.”

“No.”

He clicked his mandibles together.

“I cannot slay the rest. Nine Goblins are too many—I am a failure.”

“No.”

Erin said it automatically. Her brain still wasn’t working.

“No. There aren’t nine. There are thirteen.”

Klbkch looked up. He saw the four Goblins as they swarmed out of the grass. The other Goblins hesitated, afraid to turn away from Klbkch and in that moment the small band of Goblins struck them from behind.

The four Goblins worked together. Two grabbed one Goblin and held him down and Rags stabbed him in the face while the forth kept the other eight at bay. He was armed with a large stick and covered his friends from the enemy Goblins. They would have rushed him, but Klbkch was on their other side and he shifted whenever they moved.

Rags and the other three Goblins moved from the dead Goblin to flank the other Goblins. They feinted as Klbkch guarded Erin and the other Goblins turned their attention to them. In an instant, Klbkch threw one of his swords and speared a Goblin through the chest.

As the seven remaining enemy Goblins turned their attention to Klbkch, Rags and the three Goblins rushed forwards and repeatedly stabbed another Goblin in the back. They fled backwards even as the other Goblins sliced at them.

Tactics.

The seven Goblins backed up. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. They had come to kill a lone human however dangerous she might be, not fight deadly insect-monsters and their own kind.

They edged away from the wounded Antinium. It was clear that he couldn’t move, and wounded as they were, they still outnumbered Rags and her friends. Rags and her comrades retreated until they had the inn at their backs. But it was still two-to-one.

The Goblin that had picked up the short sword pointed at Rags and screeched a command. The seven Goblins turned away. And one of them collapsed with a knife in the back of his head.

Erin blinked down at her hand. She’d picked it up and thrown it without thinking. And it had hit its target. The Goblins turned in shock and looked at Erin.

She stood up and hit the closest Goblin with an uppercut that snapped his head backwards. Her legs felt like jelly. But they were whole. She kicked, and another Goblin flew and smashed into a wall.

Two more would have rushed her, but this time Klbkch threw. He missed with his daggers, but his sword hit one of the Goblins vertically and lodged in his head. He fell down and Erin hit the other Goblin and knocked him down.

She turned for the other three, but they were already dead. Two Goblins held the last one down as he screamed while Rags stabbed him repeatedly in the chest. He convulsed and died.

Erin breathed out shakily. She lowered her fists. She didn’t even notice the two Goblins she’d hit getting to their feet and running. Rags and her Goblins raced after them, screaming their high-pitched war cry.

Slowly, Erin looked around. The Goblins were dead. Their blood covered everything. Her breathing was ragged; she felt like there wasn’t enough air in the world. The world grew dark and she staggered. She would have sat down and passed out, but then something moved.

Klbkch. He collapsed in a pool of green ichor that mixed with the red around him. Suddenly Erin’s body was full of electricity and panic. She ran over to him. He was trying to get up, but his exoskeleton was full of holes. He was leaking.

“Oh god. Oh god no.”

Klbkch clicked at her.

“Erin Solstice. You are safe? Good. My Queen will send—her soldiers will come. You will be safe.”

He tried to reach for her. Erin grabbed his hand and then released it. She helplessly held her hands over the oozing gaps in his body, but his blood ran over her fingers. Klbkch touched at her hair and let his hand fall away.

“Beautiful.”

“I can’t—how do I stop the bleeding?”

He didn’t answer her. Klbkch only sighed. He stared up at the sky.

“I will die free.”

He fell silent and still. Erin couldn’t tell if he was breathing. She put her hand next to his mandibles, but she could feel nothing. Nothing.

She stared down at Klbkch. He was bleeding. She had to stop it. She had to heal him. But he’d used her potion.

She needed help. She needed Relc, or Pisces.

“Someone!”

Erin looked around and shouted. But there were only the dead Goblins.

“Help. Help me.”

Erin whispered. She looked at Klbkch. He wasn’t moving. He’d curled up into a ball. He was still bleeding.

She had to get help. She had to.

Erin shook. She didn’t know what to do. But she had to—she had to—

Erin slapped herself. She hit herself so hard in the face that the world turned back for a moment. But she’d stopped shaking. She grabbed Klbkch and hauled him up.

Fireman’s carry. She’d learned how to do that in class. It didn’t work the same way with Klbkch because he was bulkier in places. Still, she got him onto her shoulders. He was light. Was it the lost blood?

Run. Erin was already running. She dashed down the hill with Klbkch on her back. Blood ran down her shoulders and soaked her clothing. Blood. She couldn’t feel anything from the burden she carried on her back. No heartbeat, no breathing. Only blood.

Erin ran and ran. Her heart was bursting out of her lungs, and each breath was fire. She felt the muscles tearing in her legs. But she ran on. And she felt the blood as it slowly dripped down her body and onto the grass.

----

Below Liscor, the Queen of the Antinium stirs. She looks up through dirt and bedrock. She knows. Already her soldiers march towards the surface at her command. But they are too late to stop what is happening. She feels it.

“Klbkchhezeim?”

1.26

Silence. Erin walked in it. It was the numbing static in her head. It was the sound of tears falling in her heart. It was everything.

She walked in the darkness. Short, narrow walls of dirt enclosed her. She followed a massive shape as it led her through the tunnels.

Noise. Erin still heard it echoing in her memories.

“Klbkch? Summon the Captain! Get a [Healer], now!”

“—Not breathing. Contact his hive! Get the Human out of the way!”

“Klb? Buddy? Speak to me.”

“—Human. What have you done?”

Erin looked up. She was standing in a massive cavernous room. Across from her, something sat in the shadows. The Queen of the Antinium under Liscor.

The gargantuan figure moved. Erin couldn’t see. It was so dark. But she caught a glimpse of a massive, bloated body and bulbous backside. The massive Queen of the Antinium was so huge she couldn’t move from her spot.

The Queen raised one massive foreleg. She wasn’t like her subjects who looked vaguely humanoid. The Queen was completely insectile, and her wide, faceted eyes glowed with dim orange-red light as they focused on the human before her.

“Your name is Erin Solstice. I have summoned you to explain the death of my subject to me.”

Erin looked at the Queen. She didn’t know what to say. Her chest was hurting, but her heart was already broken. They’d taken his body away. She felt like she was still dying. She couldn’t feel the pain, it was so great.

The Queen gestured behind Erin. She pointed to the two silent giants flanking the doors.

“Do not fear my soldiers. They will cause you no harm.”

Erin glanced over her shoulder. She’d been grabbed in the midst of the confusion. A group of giant Antinium had swept her out of the guard barracks against her will and the protests of the other guards. Now, they silently watched her.

The two guards that stood in the back of the massive chamber were giants among Antinium. Unlike Klbkch or the Workers, these Antinium were nearly twice their size, with massive forearms and spiked, sharp gauntlets formed of their exoskeleton.

What was strangest and scariest about them was that they held no weapons. Instead, their four arms were bent and they appeared to be ready at any moment to leap on Erin. Their hands—Erin saw their hands had no real digits, just awkward stumps and tearing barbs. These Antinium were clearly soldiers, built for war.

“Erin Solstice. I hold you accountable for the death of Klbkchhezeim.”

Erin looked back at the Queen. She opened her mouth and didn’t know what to say. There was nothing. The silence in her was too large for words.

But she had to speak.

“I’m sorry. I never meant for it to happen.”

The Queen loomed above her. Her deep voice deepened further.

“Is that all you have to say?”

Erin shook her head.

“I don’t—I can’t say sorry enough. Klbkch—he died protecting me. He was a hero. I’m so sorry.”

The Queen silently watched as Erin wiped at her eyes. She raised a single leg.

“Human. You misunderstand me. Klbkch’s death in itself means little to me. Individuals die in service to the whole. That is natural. But his death was wasted—needless. I am told he perished fighting Goblins. That is what I find unacceptable.”

“…What?”

“Klbkchhezeim was more than a match for a hundred Goblins. If he were by himself and failed thusly I would eliminate his memory from the Hive in an instant. But even so, his foolishness has cost the Antinium living within the city greatly.”

Erin stared at the Queen in shock. In turn, she felt the giant Antinium’s eyes piercing her to the core.

“I am disappointed, Erin Solstice. I had expected better of my Prognugator’s judgment. He spoke highly of you. Klbkch called you a Human worthy of emulation. But I see nothing to back up his claims. I see no reason why he would have wasted his life saving you.”

What? Erin’s head felt fuzzy. What was she saying?

The Queen continued. It was hard to discern emotion in her monotone rumble, but there was a definite element of irritation in her voice.

“My Workers play games in their resting periods. They gain useless levels in classes not needed for their work. Three have already become Aberration. This experiment has created naught but waste. My Prognugator’s judgement has been in error.”

Erin struggled for words.

“He—he was only doing what I asked him to. He was helping. He saved my life.”

She felt the titanic gaze on her. Erin had to look down. She couldn’t meet the Queen’s eyes.

“Nevertheless. Klbkch died a failure.”

Erin’s head rose. She stared at the Queen.

“Take that back.”

The Queen’s presence beat down on Erin, but this time she refused to look away.

“I will not. My Prognugator’s foolishness has cost Liscor and the Antinium this day. He died a failure.”

“He was a hero!”

Erin shouted at the Queen. The guards behind her stirred, but the Queen raised one foreleg.

“He died worthless, against enemies he should easily have overcome. He died a failure.”

“No. He died free.”

The Queen paused. She stared down at Erin.

“Klbkchhezeim said that? Then he is a fool as well as failure. We Antinium are not free.”

Erin stared up at the Queen. The massive insect regarded her, and then looked away. She flicked one foreleg at her.

“You do not understand. You, the creatures of the above world fail to understand all of what is Antinium. Enough. I waste valuable time.”

Erin was shaking. The two Antinium soldiers marched up to her, but she stepped forwards towards the Queen.

“Why’d you summon me then? To tell me how worthless Klbkch was? He wasn’t. You’re wrong.”

The soldiers seized her roughly. The Queen gestured, and they released her.

“You are not what we seek. You cannot understand. Begone from this place, Erin Solstice. I have much to do.”

The Queen slowly turned away towards the far wall. Erin was dragged out of the cavern by the two soldiers. She wanted to say something, anything, to the Queen of the Antinium. But she could think of nothing.

----

Erin walked out of the entrance to the Antinium tunnels and back into the light of the day. She blinked, shading her eyes. The two Antinium soldiers turned and left without a word. She was alone.

For a moment. Even as Erin looked around another Drake walked up to her. He was the yellow gatekeeper Drake.

“Human. You’re wanted by the Captain. Follow me.”

Erin walked after him without a word of protest. As she walked down the street she was conscious of people watching her as she passed by. Some murmured and pointed. Others flinched away.

She realized she was still covered in blood. Hers, the Goblin’s and Klbkch’s.

The yellow Drake stopped when he realized Erin wasn’t following him. He turned and opened his mouth angrily until he saw her throwing up. Silently, he passed her a water bottle and cloth. Erin wiped her face and rinsed her mouth. She walked on.

----

The guard barracks was full of quiet voices and one loud one. They all fell silent when Erin entered. She looked around, and saw a blur pushing his way through the crowd of guardsmen.

Two Drakes tried to grab Relc, but he shoved them aside like they were made of paper. More grabbed him as Relc loomed over Erin.

“You.”

She looked up at him. Relc snarled at her. His tail was thrashing around and his fists were clenched at his side.

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? Sorry? Klbkch died protecting you! All because you didn’t want to kill those damn Goblins!”

“I know.”

“This is all your fault.”

“I know.”

Erin stared at the ground. Relc stepped forward and the other guardsmen all tensed. But he didn’t attack. Instead, he took a deep breath and spoke with a trembling voice.

“I had a good partner. He was a silent guy and a real idiot, but he was one of the best guys I knew. And then he died because he went and tried to protect a damn Human.”

“I’m sorry.”

Relc narrowed his eyes as he stared down at Erin.

“I don’t want to see you around here again. And if you come running here for help again I’ll stab you in the gut. Got it?”

Erin looked up at Relc. His thrashing tail stopped dead as he saw her wipe away the tears in her eyes.

“Yeah. You do that.”

She walked over to a seat and sat down. Tears began flowing from her eyes once more. Relc hesitated. He turned away and kicked a chair. It exploded in a shower of splinters.

Erin barely noticed as the pieces of wood rained down around her. She covered her face with her hands, but the tears leaked through her fingers. She heard a door open, and a loud, female voice.

“You! Human!”

Erin barely moved. The other Guardsmen moved aside as a female Drake advanced. She marched up to Erin. She glared down and snapped.

“Thanks to you, the fourth-strongest Guardsman in the city is dead. Not only that, he died because he wasted his emergency healing potion on you.”

Erin didn’t look up.

“Who are you?”

“I’m the Captain of the Liscorian watch. Klbkch was one of my best Senior Guardsman. Without him, there’s no one to control the Antinium.”

“Okay. I’m sorry.”

The Captain’s tail twitched.

“Really? Is that all? From what I’m told, Klbkch had to protect you from a mob of Goblins. You’re no citizen. He should have let them eat you.”

“I guess so.”

Erin didn’t look up. The Captain’s eyes were narrowed in fury and her tongue flicked out. She hissed.

“The Liscorian Guard should never have interfered themselves in the affairs of outsiders. You don’t live in Liscor and you are not one of their citizens. From here on out, the Watch will cease patrols in your area.”

The Captain of the Watch glared at the young woman holding her head in her hands. Erin didn’t look up.

“Is that understood, Human?”

No response. The female Drake’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

“I said, is that understood, Human?”

“You done?”

Erin looked up. Her eyes were red, but she’d stopped crying. She met the Captain’s gaze without flinching.

The female Drake stared at her. She had a scar on the left side of her face. Her scales were light blue. Her eyes were yellow and narrowed with rage. She held Erin’s gaze and then turned away in disgust.

“Get out of my city.”

The Captain slammed the door shut behind her. In the silence, Erin looked around the room at the other guardsmen.

“Klbkch died protecting me. He was a hero. He looked out for me when no one else would, and he helped me even though I’m a human. He was a good person. I’m sorry that he’s dead.”

She looked at Relc. He looked away.

Erin wiped at her eyes and then walked out of the room.

----

Selys found Erin sitting next to Krshia’s stall in the marketplace. The human had curled up into a ball and was hiding her head in her arms.

“Hi? Erin? Are you—are you okay?”

“Go away.”

Erin didn’t look up. Selys hesitated, and then came to stand by the stall.

“Hi Krshia. Um, how’re you?”

The Gnoll shopkeeper sniffed and nodded without smiling to Selys.

“Miss Selys. I am well, but Erin is not. She is resting here, away from unkind words. If you have any you will leave, yes?”

Selys raised one hand as her tail twitched.

“No, not me. I just wanted to see how Erin was doing. I uh, heard what happened.”

“Everyone in the city has heard.”

Krshia nodded. She finished arranging a display of onions.

“It is a dark time. Others mourn, but many are simply upset. The death of Klbkch, it is a bad sign for the city. He was strong. Without him there will be trouble. But it is wrong to blame it all on the Human. So think I and other Gnolls.”

“Really. Really? That’s surprising. I uh, thought you lot would think differently.”

Krshia shrugged. She crushed a rotten onion and tossed it in a bin of refuse behind her with more force than necessary.

“Blood and death. It is not Erin Solstice’s fault where Klbkch chose to fight and die. It is not her fault the Goblins attacked, yes? We do not blame those who are not guilty.”

“That’s good.”

Selys looked at Erin. She wasn’t moving. Tears trickled down her cheeks.

“Look, Erin, I wanted to talk to you. I know this isn’t a good time, but I don’t think you should go back to your inn. You should stay here, at least for tonight.”

Erin didn’t move. Selys glanced at Krshia. The Gnoll shrugged impassively. Selys tried again.

“I know you felt safe in the inn, but after this things will be different. It isn’t just about Goblins. If the Watch doesn’t patrol the plains, more monsters will start appearing. Without protection or high levels, you won’t survive.”

Again, no response. But then Erin wiped her eyes on her sleeve before she buried her head back down.

“Look—I could get you a job in the Adventurer’s Guild as a receptionist. Some of the others might not like it, but you’d be safe there and you’ll earn enough to eat and live in the city.”

This time Erin moved. She shook her head slightly.

“No.”

Selys opened her mouth, but Krshia placed a huge furry hand on her shoulder and shook her head. She squatted down next to Erin.

“Erin. I regret the loss of Klbkch. He was a strange creature, but a good one, yes? Many in the city mourn his death. But he would not want you to die. And it is death without the Watch to keep monsters away. Know that.”

“And it’s not like you have to stay here forever. We could look into finding you a place in a Human city if you really didn’t like it. It’s just that it’s a bad time to be here. I know it’s not your fault but the others—”

“I’m not going.”

“Look, Erin, I know how you’re feeling but—”

“I’m not going.”

Erin stood up. Her eyes were swollen and red with tears. Her nose was dripping and she wiped her face on her sleeve. She glared at Selys.

“I’m going back.”

“Not a good idea. Those Goblins might still be out there.”

“They’re all dead.”

“But—there’s monsters. Just stay here. I have an apartment. You can stay the night, okay?”

“No.”

“Erin, please.”

Selys wanted to say something else, but she looked over Erin’s shoulder and gasped.

“Oh my—”

Erin turned. The street had gone deathly quiet. Every shopper and shopkeeper in the marketplace was looking in the same direction. They slowly backed away as a procession of dark insects slowly walked through the market.

They weren’t soldier Antinium. They were just Workers, but there were nearly a hundred of them as they slowly walked towards Erin. The group stopped a few feet from her as Selys stepped behind the counter and Krshia sneezed.

Erin looked around. Black-bodied Worker Antinium filled the street. They stood in front of her. Suddenly, they all bowed their heads and the Worker in front spoke.

“These ones offer condolences to the Innkeeper Solstice.”

Selys whispered in a panicked voice to Krshia and Erin.

“What are they doing? They shouldn’t be here! Someone should call the Watch!”

Krshia nudged Selys hard.

“Silence. Listen.”

The Worker continued.

“These ones wish for the Innkeeper Solstice to heal from wounds received. These ones express their regret for her suffering.”

Erin stared at him stupidly.

“Why?”

The leading Worker appeared confused.

“It is part of custom. These ones are taught to express regret/sadness/loss for death.”

“But I didn’t die. What about Klbkch? What about your—friend. The other Worker? He died protecting me.”

The Worker paused, and then shook his head.

“The Prognugator carried out his duties. The Worker died carrying out his duties. No mourning is necessary for broken shells and dead individuals. These ones merely express regret of individual Klbkch’s failure to protect.”

Erin stared at him.

“So you’re saying you’re sorry I got hurt?”

“These ones express regret for the failure of the Prognugator to protect the Innkeeper Solstice.”

“It wasn’t failure. Don’t—don’t say that.”

The Worker bowed his head again.

“This one offers apologies for its mistake.”

“Can’t you feel sorry? For Klbkch? And your friend?”

“This one apologizes. But this one cannot. These ones offer regret to the Innkeeper Solstice.”

Erin waited. But the Worker just kept its head bowed.

“Is that it?”

“Yes. These ones will disperse to assigned duties. Forgive these ones for disturbing the Innkeeper Solstice and others.”

As one, the Workers turned. Erin hesitated.

“Wait.”

They stopped, and turned back to her. She paused, and closed her eyes. Erin took a deep breath, and then looked at the Worker.

“…Come to my inn. I’ll feed you, and you can play chess with me.”

“What? Erin!”

Selys grabbed for her, but Erin was moving. She reached out and touched the lead Worker on the shoulder. He went very still.

“You said you’re sorry? I’m sorry. It was my fault Klbkch and the other Worker died. And that’s a bad thing. Even if you can’t understand it, I want to do something. Let me help you. Somehow.”

The Worker hesitated.

“These ones are not permitted to leave the city or move about without permission.”

“Why not?”

“These ones are not suitable for independent action. These ones must not be unaccompanied.”

“I’ll accompany you. Just—come with me. Please? It doesn’t have to be all of you. What about just you? What’s your name?”

The Worker went deathly still. All the Workers did. Erin looked at them curiously. Selys gasped and ran forward.

“Erin!”

She grabbed the human’s shoulder urgently. Selys whispered loudly in Erin’s ear.

“You never ask them what their names are! They don’t have any!”

“Why not?”

The Worker shuddered and looked at Erin. Selys raised one hand as her tail thrashed wildly.

“They just don’t!”

“This one has no name. This one is not important. This one is not an individual.”

“You could be.”

“Erin!”

This time Selys tried to grab Erin and drag her away. Erin fought her hands off.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

She poked the Worker in the chest.

“You’re an individual. You’re you. And the Worker who died? He was someone. Klbkch was someone. You’re all important, and that means when one of you dies it’s a bad thing.”

The Worker shook his head as the other Workers around him backed away.

“This one is not an individual. This one cannot be.”

“You are. Can’t you understand? You’re all special.”

The Worker froze, and then looked at Erin. Something changed in his eyes.

“This one—I understand. This one has become I.”

Selys gasped in horror. The Worker stared down at his hands and then looked up.

“I understand sorrow. I understand regret for the death of individual Klbkch and Worker.”

“Good.”

Erin didn’t notice the other Workers backing away. The Worker that she’d addressed quivered. His hands opened and closed restlessly. Selys and the other Drakes instantly backed up. Krshia slowly reached below her counter.

“I. I am. I have become I. I do not understand.”

He looked around, up at the sky, at Erin. He shook like a leaf.

“If this one—is not—how are the many one? An individual cannot exist—the many are—how am I?”

He shook. Erin grabbed him.

“I don’t know. I try not to think about it. Come on. Let’s play a game of chess.”

He stared at her. Selys was trembling, and air in the marketplace was tense. But then the Worker nodded.

Erin turned.

“I’m going.”

She began walking out of the marketplace. The Worker followed her, and the rest of the Antinium followed in a silent, winding procession. Selys stared at Erin’s back, eyes wide. She looked at Krshia.

“She’s insane. They’re going to kill her. It’s going to kill her.”

Krshia nodded.

“Yes. Let us follow quickly, yes?”

“What?”

Selys yelped, but Krshia was already gone from behind her counter. She barked something at another Gnoll and strode in the direction the Antinium had gone. Selys stared around at the other wide-eyed Drakes and then ran after Krshia.

----

The Worker walked behind Erin, and his fellows followed the two in a silent mass. She left the city gates behind, ignoring the Drake shouting at her. She walked as fast as she could, trying not to think, to feel.

Behind her, the Worker shuddered and twitched as he walked. Erin ignored that, but she heard him begin to mutter as he walked along.

“I. I am. But it is wrong. All is wrong. When the many become one, it is Aberration. I am Aberration.”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“I cannot be individual. I cannot have names. I cannot choose my own actions. It is wrong.”

“Klbkch did it.”

The Worker shook his head. He opened and closed his four hands restlessly.

“He is Prognugator. I am—was Worker. I should not be.”

Erin turned her head.

“You’re fine. You should be. It’s fine to be a person, and not a thing.”

“I cannot understand. I am Aberration. All is Aberration. This Experiment—I cannot accept it.”

“…I’m sorry. But I wanted you to feel something.”

“I feel. I feel all.”

“Good.”

Erin kept walking. But the Worker stopped. He started twitching again, and then his gaze snapped on the back of her head. Slowly, the Worker increased his pace until he was right behind Erin. She didn’t notice, lost in her thoughts.

In the silence, the Worker reached out for Erin as he walked behind her. The other Workers watched as they followed. They said not a word.

“I don’t know what it means to be me.”

Erin said it as she walked along. She didn’t know how to explain it to the Worker. She had to say—something. To tell him what it was like.

“I don’t even know what it means to be human. All I know is that there’s a big hole in my heart. Because Klbkch and the Worker died. I don’t know who I am or what I’m doing. I’m just—sad.”

The Worker paused. His hands hesitated at the back of Erin’s neck.

“Why?”

Erin smiled. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she walked through the grass.

“I just am. That’s how it works. You don’t get to choose to be someone. You just are. Even if you’re not special. Even if you don’t want to be. You just are.”

He paused. Slowly, the Worker lowered his hands.

“I do not understand. But—I am. And I too am sad.”

“Good. That’s—that’s good.”

Erin sniffed and wiped at her eyes and nose. The Worker slowly walked faster until he was next to her.

“Innkeeper—Erin Solstice. I am sorry for the death of Klbkch and the Worker. I regret their death and your suffering.”

“Thank you.”

They walked on in silence. Eventually, the Worker spoke gain.

“I am no longer a Worker. I am an individual. I would like a name.”

She looked at him.

“I can’t help you. I’m not—I can’t give you one. Couldn’t you ask your Queen?”

He shook his head.

“I—do not wish to. I must have a name. Where may I find one?”

“I don’t know. Can’t you choose one for yourself?”

The Worker paused. He turned his head to Erin and hesitated before nodding.

“I will do so.”

She waited. After a minute of walking, the Worker spoke again.

“I would like to be known as ‘Pawn’. It is a fitting name for this individual.”

Erin nodded. She gave him a weak smile.

“Hi, Pawn.”

“Hello. Erin Solstice.”

“…Will your friends be like you?”

Pawn looked over his shoulder. The other Workers looked away. He bowed his head.

“They are afraid. They will not be like me.”

“That’s fine.”

“But I have told them what it means to regret the passing of individuals. They understand.”

“Really? Good.”

Pawn nodded.

“They—we. We are all sad.”

“…I’m glad.”

They came to the inn on the hill, and the bodies. Erin stared down at the blood and collapsed. She’d forgotten they were still there.

Pawn caught her before she hit the ground. He helped her up, and Erin sat down while the other Workers surrounded the area. They paused as they surveyed the wreckage of the inn and corpses, and then seemed to come to a decision. As one, the Workers began hauling the corpses away while other of their number began digging several hundred feet away from the inn. More still entered the inn and began dragging out broken wood.

Erin sat in the grass and looked away. She glanced up as one of the Workers dragged out the body of their comrade. Then she threw up.

Eventually, Erin felt someone tap her on the shoulder. She looked up, and saw it was Krshia.

“Erin Solstice. I was looking for you, yes? The Workers, they have finished their cleaning.”

She looked, and saw it was true. The area around the inn was clean. Even the grass had been cleaned with water, and the Workers stood silently around the inn. They were all staring at her.

“Thanks.”

She said it to Pawn, and then to the other Workers. They nodded as one.

“We assist to maintain order and preserve peace.”

“Thank you.”

Krshia stared at the sign above the Wandering Inn. She looked around, and then followed Erin as the human stepped inside.

“So, this is your inn, yes? It looks better than I had thought. Worth defending.”

Erin nodded. She looked around the empty room. The Workers had cleaned it almost to perfection. All the broken chairs and tables were gone. But they hadn’t touched one thing.

A splintered chess piece lay on the floor. Erin slowly walked over to it. It stared up at her, a Drake caught in mid-strike, a spear in his hands.

She looked down at the broken knight piece on the floor, and picked up the base. Carefully, Erin put it in her pocket and looked around. Silent Workers filled the room. More stared through windows.

Erin looked around. She saw the chess board and picked it up. It was heavy in her hands. She remembered sitting at a table and staring at a brown ant across the board.

Her eyes stung, but there weren’t any tears left. Erin brushed at her eyes and then turned with the chess board.

Slowly, Erin brought the board out and set it down in the grass outside the inn. The Antinium formed a huge circle around her, and Pawn stood in the center next to Erin. She sat down, and placed the board in front of her. She gestured, and Pawn hesitated, and then sat opposite her.

Erin looked at him. He was a bit shorter than Klbkch, thinner, and his features were somehow less sharp than Kblkch’s had been. He looked nothing like Klbkch at all, in fact. But her heart still hurt to look at him.

Slowly, Erin put the broken knight on her side of the chess board. Pawn rearranged the pieces on his side. She stared at him. She stared up at the sky. It was too blue, too pristine for a day like this. It wasn’t even night yet.

The sky should be raining blood. The world should be filled with darkness, and the earth should have opened up and swallowed her whole. She should have been paralyzed by sadness, but Erin just felt hollow. She understood nothing. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.

And there was nothing she could do about it. So Erin moved a piece on the board. The broken knight moved up to C3. She looked at Pawn. He stared back, and the rest of the Workers stared with him at the human who wept for Antinium.

Erin bowed her head.

“Let’s play chess.”

1.27

Erin sat on a grassy hilltop and played a game of chess. It made life easier. When she was playing, she could forget about life. She could forget about suffering.

She moved her pieces on the chess board, pausing, considering, moving, retreating, taking. It was a dance of strategy and perception and she had learned many of the steps long ago. But chess was always different, with every game. That was why she could lose herself in it.

And yet, it wasn’t just calculation that Erin did. A chess player played against an opponent, and unless it was a computer, they read the other player and danced with them. Mind games were part of chess, just like basic strategy and knowing fundamental moves was. But Erin had never played against a mind like the one that sat opposite her.

She looked up over her pieces at Pawn. He was staring at the board, pondering his next move. Something was wrong with him. It wasn’t just that he had a name. Erin didn’t understand the Antinium, but she understood chess players. And something had seriously gone wrong with him.

He was too good.

“I still don’t get it. Where do levels come from? Why do people have them? Why do people only level up when they sleep?”

“I do not know Erin Solstice. These are mysteries of the world. They are that they are, yes?”

Krshia shifted in her seat in the grass. She sat with Selys, inside the circle of watching Antinium Workers, but distinctly apart from them. She was calm, at least in that she was watching Erin play Pawn, but Selys kept glancing around at the silent Workers nervously.

“Fine. But if that’s the case, why don’t we get levels for everything? Like…walking. Is there a [Walker] class?”

Krshia shook her head.

“Walking is something we do, not something we live for, yes? Only things that we make our goals and dreams form classes.”

“But that does mean you could get a class for eating, right?”

“You mean a [Gourmet]? I’ve heard some rich merchants and nobility have that class.”

“Okay, I think I get it. But people can have multiple classes, right?”

Selys nodded. She was the bigger expert on classes, apparently. It probably had to do with her being a receptionist. Erin frowned, looked at a knight and nearly ran right into the trap Pawn had set. How had he become so good?

“In theory, you could have as many classes as you want. But in practice, even most Adventurers only have three or four classes, tops. It’s because you don’t just get a class even if you qualify for it. It has to become part of your life.”

“Oh, I get it.”

Selys paused. Her tail curled up as she sat with her claws folded politely in her lap. Erin had noticed Drakes were expressive with their tails where their faces told nothing. Krshia on the other hand had a perfect poker face and her tail wasn’t nearly long enough to give anything away.

“Um, did…no one ever tell you this when you were growing up, Erin? I mean, everyone knows this stuff. It’s basic.”

“Even the Antinium? Even the Workers?”

Pawn looked up from the board.

“Yes, Erin Solstice. We are taught such things as we first hatch. All Workers know of leveling, but we seldom do.”

“Why? I’ve gained ten…yeah, ten levels this month.”

Krshia and Selys exchanged a glance. Even the Workers twitched their antennae at each other in their seats.

“Are you serious?”

Erin looked up and saw Selys gaping at her.

“What? I’m only Level 10. Isn’t that low?”

“It is—but—I mean, it is but no one levels up that fast! Erin, normally someone has to apprentice to someone else for years before they hit Level 10. Most kids—well, most people our age are barely Level 12 in their chosen profession around now.”

“Really? That just seems so…low.”

Again, Erin had the impression she was the only person in the group that thought that way.

“Well, Level 100 is the highest, right? Doesn’t that mean most people would get to…I dunno, Level 60 or higher before they die?”

Selys laughed—more incredulously than politely.

“You’re joking. Right?”

Erin shrugged. She moved another pawn and took a bishop. Then she realized it was another trap. She was going to lose her other knight.

“Am I wrong?”

Krshia nodded.

“I have known many elderly people. They all have levels in their twenties or sometimes thirties, yes? Not one was above Level 40. Few even reach their thirtieth level. If I had to name those above Level 50, there would only be a few in each continent, yes?”

“So someone over Level 70 for example…?”

Selys looked at Krshia. The Gnoll shrugged.

“I don’t think I know of one living, in any class. I’ve heard legends about warriors that reached that level, but those are ancient stories. You know, the kind where a single hero defeats armies by himself or slays Hydras and Krakens single-handedly. People just don’t level that high.”

Erin nodded.

“Okay. I think I get it. So people level up, but not that high. And you can have more than one class, but you have to level that one up from the start, right?”

Selys nodded. It was a different nod than Erin’s. Her neck was longer, so it looked more like a long bob than the short motion Erin was used to.

“Right. If you were a [Spearmaster] like Relc, say, and then you picked up a sword and started using that, you’d probably get the [Warrior] class until you were high enough level and had enough skills for a [Swordslayer] class or a [Duelist] class or something like that.”

“So classes change names?”

“Are you sure no one’s ever talked to you about this?”

“Klbkch explained some of it to me.”

“Oh. Um. Oh I—well, yes, classes change. It’s just usually in name to represent you’re more specialized or—or you’ve hit a higher level. For instance, [Tacticians] can become [Leaders] or [Generals] or just stay the same depending on what skills you have.”

“And…I think I remember this. Skills define classes, right? But doesn’t everyone get the same skills when they level up?”

“No. They do not.”

Krshia stared at Erin. Her eyes narrowed as her brow creased together in a frown. Erin paid no notice. She could see more than people thought when she played chess, and she learned more than she let on. But right now? It didn’t matter.

“Everyone gets different skills when they level. Often, they’re the same, but some people get them at different times, or get different variations on skills…it’s about need. Need and want determine what skills we get.”

“And what we do, right? That determines our classes, which determines how our level ups affect us and whether or not our classes change.”

Selys looked relieved Erin was finally getting it.

“Exactly.”

Erin looked at Pawn. He and all the Workers were staring hard at the board.

“Do the Workers have lots of levels? You guys work all the time, so you’ve got to have lots, right?”

He paused and Erin noticed something odd. All of the Workers were focused on the board. But when Pawn moved a piece, suddenly they looked at her, or elsewhere. But whenever she moved a piece, they immediately focused on the board again to the exclusion of everything else.

“We have very few levels, Erin. I myself am a Level 2 [Butcher] and Level 1 [Carpenter].”

“What? Is it—is it because you’re young or something?”

“I have lived more than half of the average Worker’s lifespan. The Workers do not level up frequently. Some do not level at all.”

Erin turned in her grassy seat to look at Selys and Krshia. The Drake flicked her tongue out in surprise.

“I…didn’t know that.”

“Neither did I. But it is not unexpected, yes? Leveling comes from learning, and trials. Without such things there is no experience gained. For one who does the same thing without change, they will not level.”

“And that’s probably why you’ve leveled so quickly, Erin. Starting an inn by yourself—that’s got to be a lot harder than just working in one or taking over a business.”

“Oh. Okay.”

It had been the hardest thing Erin had ever done in her life. She looked down at her stomach and legs folded pretzel-style beneath her. They should have been full of holes, or scarred from countless stab-wounds. Yeah, it was different than just being an innkeeper in a city.

“So the Antinium don’t level up much? I guess Klbkch was an exception.”

“A big one.”

“But doesn’t that mean they’re weak, then? If most Drakes around my age are Level 10 or higher, why aren’t they way stronger than all the Antinium?”

“Erin, have you seen those giant soldier-types the Antinium keep in their tunnels? I caught a glimpse of one walking through the streets this morning.”

Selys shuddered. Her tail twitched several times.

“They don’t need levels, Erin. They’re deadly enough as it is. If you gave them high levels and churned them out the way the Antinium can, they’d be an unstoppable army.”

“Yeah, that’s true. I guess levels can’t replace numbers or muscle, can it?”

“Well, it can, but only if there’s a big difference in levels. Relc for instance…he’s strong. He could probably take on a lot of those soldiers. Not that he would—don’t get me wrong! But he’s Level 32, I think. That’s incredibly different than a Level 13 [Warrior]. Does this all make sense, Erin?”

Erin moved another piece and knew how the game would end.

“I think I get it. Thanks for explaining.”

“I just don’t understand why you don’t know all th—”

Selys was cut off as Krshia elbowed her hard in the side. She hissed rather than squeaked and sat straight up. Krshia broke into the conversation.

“It is curious you do not know of levels, but perhaps your people do not believe in it the same way we do, yes?”

“Yeah. Something like that. Is leveling big a part of people’s lives here?”

“Some would call it religion. Some yes, some worship levels. No one worships gods, Erin. They are dead. In some places leveling is preached and those with the highest level are worshiped. I have heard it said that to each one of us is a maximum level given, and when we reach that level we have reached the end of our life.”

Silence fell over the grassy audience. Erin turned in her seat and stared at Krshia.

“Seriously? Some people believe that?”

Krshia’s gaze didn’t waver.

“Yes.”

“That’s stupid.”

Selys gasped, but Krshia shrugged.

“Some believe, Erin. And who is to say what is true?”

“…I guess.”

Erin turned back to the game and saw Pawn had moved. She tipped over her king.

“I forfeit. Good match.”

Pawn bowed from his seat to her. Erin bowed her head back.

“It was a good game, Erin.”

“It was a great game!”

Selys sat up in her seat and stared at the two players.

“I don’t know much about chess, but I’ve seen Olesm play. You’re way better than he is, Erin. And you…um…Pawn.”

He bowed to her and she flinched.

“I merely learn from Erin Solstice. She is an expert in this game.”

“And that’s another thing. How are you so good at that, Erin? Olesm says you’re the best player he’s ever seen or heard of. Are you a high-level [Tactician], then?”

“No.”

“What about some other class? Or is it a rare skill?”

“No, it’s just skill. Not the kind you get from leveling up. Just skill in the game. I don’t have any levels besides [Innkeeper].”

“But then how are you so good?”

Erin took her time before answering. She reset her pieces and switched the board around. Silently, Pawn moved a piece forwards and she countered. Another game began, but she had the same feeling.

“I just played since I was a kid, that’s all. Every day. At first it was just a hobby, y’know? Something I saw an adult do, but then I found I liked it. When I won my first tournament, I was over the moon. And after that I just kept playing.”

Selys glanced at Krshia.

“But wasn’t chess invented only a year ag—”

Again, she received an elbow in the side and glared at Krshia, but then she stared at Erin in sudden interest.

“Well, I guess maybe here it’s new. But chess has been around a lot longer where I come from.”

Erin smiled briefly.

“A lot longer. And lots of people love to play it where I come from. There’s strategy books, lessons online, tutors…I learned it all. Fun fact? I learned how to play chess blindfolded before I learned how to ride a bike.”

She moved another piece. After a second of staring, Pawn moved his queen and took it. She frowned and kept playing. Memory was overlapping with reality.

“I was never the best. But I was good. Really good. For my age? I was incredible. I played in tournaments, I stayed up late playing chess—my parents let me. They knew I had a gift. So I would study chess every moment I had free time, play adults, go to chess clubs and tournaments after school, and I kept winning. But then once you get to a high enough level, you start losing.”

Like now. Just like now, and then, Erin stared at a board and felt outclassed. She moved a rook and watched it die two moves in the future to protect her queen.

“It happens. And it’s not surprising. Even a genius kid can’t beat an adult who’s played thousands—tens of thousands more games. But every time I lost it crushed me. So I quit.”

“You q—ow! Stop hitting me!”

Erin smiled, but it was fleeting. Her entire focus was devoted to the game before her, and speaking.

“Somewhere…sometime I guess I lost interest in playing chess. Or maybe I stopped having fun. I don’t know how to explain it. I was just a kid, but I spent every waking moment playing the stupid game, going to tournaments, studying, winning, losing—I never really lived. I never played with my friends.”

She moved a pawn. The Workers paused, and then Pawn moved a piece.

“When I realized that, I quit. I just stopped playing, threw away my chess set…I did normal things. It took me years before I even looked at a chess board, and then it was fun to play. But I never wanted to be a Grandmaster again. The pressure, living just for that one game—it’s too much.”

Pawn took her queen. Ironically, with a pawn. It couldn’t be avoided, but Erin knew how the game was going to end now.

“I guess I’m just a normal girl who’s better than 99% of the world at chess. But that last 1%. That’s a heck of a large gap.”

“If that is the case Miss Erin, I shudder to imagine what kind of geniuses live in your home nation.”

At some point Olesm had appeared, and Pisces, and even three of the four Goblins. Rags sat in the grass among the Workers, silently watching the game. The Antinium looked at the Goblins and then away, but Selys gripped a dagger at her belt as she glared at the Goblins and Krshia sneezed. But there was peace, however tenuous. Perhaps it had to do with the pile of Goblin corpses buried in the unmarked grave a mile away.

“I’m sure you don’t think of it this way, but I cannot imagine a player better than you, Erin. I have skills that allow me to play the game better than most, but I cannot beat you no matter how hard I try.”

Pisces nodded in agreement. Erin grinned mirthlessly. They hadn’t seen how the last few games had been played.

“Why don’t I level, then? I don’t have any levels in [Tactician], but Pawn tells me the other Workers have leveled up in it. Probably the Goblins as well.”

Erin moved another piece and watched Pawn hesitate. Well, good.

“We’ve got a ranking system in my world. People who play chess in tournaments get a score, which goes up and down when they win or lose. A Grandmaster’s got about 2600 or more points, and the really amazing chess players all have over 2200 points. If you have that many, you’re pretty much one of the best in the nation.”

He decided to lose a knight as opposed to his bishop. Erin frowned. The game was ending. How was he this good? It was impossible. She felt like she was playing…

A Grandmaster. But it couldn’t be.

“I got to just over 2000 when I was a kid. That’s insane but—it’s still a huge difference between that and being a Grandmaster. If kept playing maybe I’d be around 2400 right now. But either way, I’m one of the best in the place where I lived. In this world—I probably am the best. So why don’t I level?”

Olesm appeared distressed.

“…I could not say. It does not make sense.”

“I can.”

Pisces nodded self-importantly as everyone looked at him. He was still arrogant, but it was muted arrogance, subdued. Erin was grateful for that.

“Classes are based on what we pursue. Yet—by that same notion, what we consider unimportant or trivial fails to trigger the same classes in other people. It is a known phenomenon I studied during my time in Wistram Academy. I wrote a paper that—well, suffice it to say, if you do not consider chess to be anything other than a game, you would not level.”

Olesm and Selys looked incredulously at Pisces.

“A game? But it’s obviously a game.”

“Allow me to rephrase my statement.”

Pisces looked annoyed as he searched for a better explanation.

“What I mean to say is that if Mistress Solstice does not considered any of the tactical applications of learning to play chess – how moving pawns is similar to organizing warriors for instance – she would not level in the [Tactician] class. To begin with, the amount of experience gained from playing chess is far lower than actual work as a strategist, so if she cared not at all about games of war as opposed to games of pieces…”

“I don’t level. Makes sense.”

Erin tipped over her king and sighed.

“I lose. Again.”

She sat back in the grass and looked up at the fading sky. Olesm and Pisces stared open-mouthed at Pawn as he carefully set the game back together.

“How are you doing it? No one gets this good overnight. Not even a genius can play like that on his first go.”

Pawn ducked his head in front of Erin’s stare, cowed.

“Apologies. But the Innkeeper Solstice makes a mistake. This one—I am sorry. You misunderstand, Erin. At this moment you are not simply playing me, but all the Antinium gathered here.”

He gestured around at the grassy knoll where the countless workers, the two Drakes, two Humans, Goblins and single Gnoll sat.

“The hundred play as one mind. We see a hundred moves and play them all in turn. We think together and play as one body.”

Erin stared at him.

“Hive mind.”

“Just so. We think as one. That is the nature of the Antinium. Even if—that nature has been compromised by the experiment. Though I am individual, that is still true of me.”

“And Klbkch? And the Worker?”

“We felt their loss, Erin. We knew their death and intention in the moment of their demise. They are not lost to us. Though their individual memory and body is lost to all but the queen, the Workers remember.”

Erin stopped placing chess pieces back on the board. She stared into Pawn’s fragmented eyes, urgently seeking the truth.

“Everything?”

“Everything.”

“And you won’t forget?”

He shook his head.

“We are the Antinium. So long as one exists, we never truly die.”

Erin paused. She looked down and wiped at her eyes.

“I wish that were true.”

Selys shifted in her seat. She bowed her head. Olesm cleared his throat.

“As much as it pains me to say it, Klbkch was truly unique. He was the first – and only – Antinium ever to be accepted as a member of the Watch. Ever since the Antinium entered the city eight years ago, he’s been the one who acted as a liaison between their Queen and our city. He is—was the representative of their race.”

“I never knew he was so important.”

Krshia nodded.

“He was humble. It was why many liked him. And now he is gone.”

“Not so long as the Antinium live.”

Pawn stared around with something approaching defiance. Erin shook her head.

“But he can’t speak to us, Pawn. He’s gone for us.”

He hesitated.

“I—see. I feel there is much misunderstood, but I respect your grief.”

Awkwardly, he placed his king back in position.

“Will you play another game, Erin?”

“Would it do any good? I can’t win. You—you’re better than I am.”

Olesm and Pisces began to protest, but they were quickly drowned out. Every Worker clicked in denial of Erin’s statement. They made a low buzzing sound that was quiet individually, but sounded like the sound of armageddon bees together. Selys clutched at Krshia’s fur.

“There is much we learn from each game Erin Solstice. Please do not stop teaching.”

Erin smiled hollowly.

“Teaching?”

It didn’t feel like that. It felt like running away from everything. But fine. She owed the Workers. She owed the Antinium. So fine.

Slowly, she drew the board away from Pawn, batting away his hands.

“Stop that. Let me show you something.”

She reversed the board and moved the white pawn forwards.

“This—is an Immortal Game.”

Instantly, Pawn stopped protesting. Pisces and Olesm exchanged a glance, and moved up. Rags was already sitting next to the board. Erin slowly moved the black pawn up in front of the white one.

“In the history of chess, there are a lot of famous games that we study because of how brilliant they are. Some people call other games Immortal Games as well. And there are a few famous ones. But this. This is the Immortal Game. Some of the moves aren’t considered as good nowadays, but this is still considered one of the pinnacle moments of chess in my world.”

Krshia breathed in sharply, but Erin’s words passed over the audience as she moved the chess pieces slowly across the board. Slowly, the two sides played against each other. Erin pointed out each gambit, each strategy and attack and counter as the game played out.

“King’s Gambit Accepted to open with, and then the Bishop’s Gambit…see here, he tries the Byran-Counter Gambit with the pawn? And then the white side attacks the queen with a knight here…”

She played the game out from memory. She’d seen it so many times in her head it was second nature to her. The chess players watched, frowning, trying to keep up with the dizzying display before them. But the Workers stared at the board, and as Erin moved into the last phase of the game and took the white queen, Pawn spoke.

“We can see the ending.”

Erin looked up. Olesm and Pisces stared at Pawn in disbelief.

“Show me.”

Pawn hesitated, but then reached out and moved the white pawn up. Erin stared down at the board and played the next move, checking the white side’s king with a queen. Pawn moved the king diagonally, and the game continued.

A perfect game. He played the game exactly how Erin remembered it. In the silence, she toppled the black king and looked up. Olesm and Pisces were staring at Pawn as if he’d turned into a horrific monster.

“Good. Now play me. One last time.”

Silently, Pawn sat opposite Erin and set up the pieces once more. She stared at the board. She was white. Slowly, she moved a pawn forwards.

“I was always afraid of losing as a kid. Always. I studied so hard so I wouldn’t lose. Maybe that’s why I never improved. I thought losing was a terrible thing.”

Pawn waited, and studied the board. He moved a knight forwards in response. Erin whispered.

“But chess? Chess isn’t scary. Not compared to other things.”

That was the last thing Erin said. She wiped at her blurry eyes and set aside her heart for a moment so she could play. It was a relief. It felt so good to lay everything aside, and at the same time to let it all out. To let it hurt and play.

Her pulse pounded in the back of Erin’s mind. The world around the chess board vanished, and it grew before her eyes. Each piece consumed her vision, and she heard only the click of moving pieces. That sound was thunder in her head.

Pawn sat in front of her, but she didn’t focus on him. He couldn’t be read. He couldn’t be outthought. There were a hundred of him thinking over every move. So Erin just played. The chess board was her world, the pieces parts of her soul.

She looked at her opponent and saw another Antinium sitting opposite her. Erin dreamt as she played. She was playing in her heart, in the core of her being, in her wishes of what might have been.

In this place, there was only the game. And Klbkch.

Erin was crying as she played. Her tears fell on the chess board and into the grass. She played and moved pieces and lost them. But it was all part of a bigger plan, one she couldn’t see, couldn’t understand. She could understand chess. That was easy. But she couldn’t understand anything else.

She took the enemy pawns. She took his rook, his knight, his bishop, and his queen. She hounded him, lured him into traps and pushed into his lines and kept her own pieces safe, or gave them away to tear his apart. She pushed and pushed, until he had nothing left.

In the silence of her dark world, Erin saw the king topple over. She blinked, and the moment was over.

Pawn bowed his head. Erin heard ringing in her ears, and then snuffling. She looked over and saw Olesm was crying. The [Tactician] wiped away tears from his eyes.

“I will—I will never see—I cannot explain what it is.”

Pisces was covering his eyes, rubbing them with the heel of his hands. Rags was staring at the pieces, her eyes bloodshot as if she hadn’t blinked in an age.

“It was—that was a display beyond anything I’ve seen. It was pure! I couldn’t see how it would end! I couldn’t predict the next move! How are you not a [General] or—or a [Tactician] of the highest level?”

Erin shook her head. She looked at the chess board.

“It’s just a game. I’m no tactician or even a warrior.”

She stared at her hands.

“I’m just an Innkeeper. I don’t want to be anything else. I don’t even want to be that, but I am. That’s all.”

She stood up. Pawn stared at her. The Workers stared at her. She met their eyes and bowed her head. She wiped at her eyes and let her tears fall into the grass.

“I’m sorry.”

Then she left. Slowly, Erin walked inside her inn and collapsed onto the floor. She slept, mercifully, with the blackness of oblivion and no dreams.

[Innkeeper Level 11!]

[Skill – Lesser Strength Obtained!]

[Skill – Immortal Moment Learned.]

1.04 R

Ow.

Fuck.

Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ouch. Ow.

This is why painkillers were invented. Damn it. Stop moving.

Flip the page.

It’s hot. Why can’t people invent air conditioning in this stupid world already? And the common room of an inn is not the best place to read in peace. But it beats sitting in my room and listening to drunk people banging down the hall or having sex.

This is why I hate people.

Okay. Focus. Ignore them. What does it say?

‘…The incursion of the Antinium hives into the southern region of the continent led to the bloody year-long war known as the Incursion War, or more generally, the First Antinium War, in which hundreds of thousands of Antinium soldiers established huge colonies across the southern plains, razing cities and forcing Gnoll tribes to retreat into the lower plains regions.

Initially, the northern cities and allied confederacies were slow to react to the Antinium sweeping through the plateaus and rugged mountainous regions of the continent, underestimating the dangers of an entrenched Antinium hive and the true numbers of the Antinium concealed beneath the earth. It was only after five cities were lost that—’

GYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! My foot!

Why, why, why did the stupid chair have to be right there? The pain!

Crap. Did I bust open the injury? Let me see.

It’s hard to scoot back from my table to peer underneath it, but I can see the heavy white gauze. It’s bloody, but no more than it was last time I checked. Wonderful.

And it still hurts. I’ve broken bones before but it never felt anything like this. But considering this injury—

Yeah.

Fuck.

One of the barmaids is looking at me. I stare right back at her and she turns away. I’m really not in the mood for attention. And thinking about the pain only wants to make me scream out loud. Half from the pain, half from searing rage. So. Back to the book.

Okay. Ignore the pain. What was that about Antinium? Are they still around? I flip through the pages.

Confederacy of states…hasty alliance…skip all that. Ah.

‘The tide of the war only changed after the discovery of the Antinium’s fatal weakness. Using their newfound tactics, the Southern Alliance used long-range mage spells to assault Antinium hives and deter attacking forces.

Several hives were destroyed entirely before a temporary truce was formed between the Antinium Queens and the leaders of the city states. This peace was tenuous however and lasted for only eight years when the Antinium attacked again, leading to the Second Incursion War…’

Weakness. They had a weakness? Must have missed that bit.

Let’s see. Where would that be? And why haven’t I seen these ant-people around? Well, they’re pariahs or outcasts to most societies, so I guess that’s why. But do they have any useful features or are they just bug-people?

Oh, here’s the weakness.

I pause with my finger on the passage as I hear a cheerful voice calling my name above the hubbub of the inn. Oh. Oh no. Not her again.

----

Ryoka Griffin was sitting in the middle of an inn. It was not an extraordinary inn—just one of the many inns located in the human city of Celum.

She was reading and scowling. Because she was talented, she could do both at the same time. She was also sitting by herself, occasionally eating from a cold plate left in front of her. A cold glass of juice beaded with condensation on the table in front of her. That at least she regularly drank from, which was necessary in the crowded heat of the inn.

“Hey there, Ryoka!”

A cheerful voice drowned out the ambient noise of conversation and drew every head towards the person that had entered the inn. Ryoka looked up from her book and spotted the girl making her way towards her. Her expression didn’t change, but her eye twitched once.

“Hey, Ryoka, how are you doing?”

“I’m fine, Garia.”

Garia Strongheart slid into an empty chair at the table and smiled cheerfully at Ryoka. Her cheerfulness was not reciprocated in kind. Ryoka just glanced up at Garia and went back to reading.

Undeterred, Garia flagged down a barmaid and requested one of the local drinks, a strong, semi-alcoholic beverage that was cool and flavorful at the same time. In Ryoka’s opinion, it was a shame that the flavor in question was beer.

“So, how are you doing? Is your leg feeling any better?”

Ryoka glanced up and glared.

“Guess.”

Garia’s smiled faltered.

“Did you—did you go to see the [Healer] I told you about? She’s a good one. Works with us Runners all the time.”

“Couldn’t help. The bone’s too badly broken.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.”

Ryoka had a talent for shutting down conversations. Garia stared at her, and tried to surreptitiously glance at her bandaged leg. She winced, and covered her wince by changing the subject.

“Is that a book?”

Ryoka glanced up from her book. She eyed Garia.

“…Yes.”

“What’s it about?”

“History.”

“You mean, world history like you were asking me about the other day? Sorry I didn’t know more.”

Ryoka shook her head.

“The history of the cities.”

“Oh. Is it, um, interesting?”

“Not really.”

It was fascinating. Ryoka was no history buff, but it was amazing what being transported to another world did for her interest in mundane things like economics and politics.

“It must be nice, being able to read.”

The envy in Garia’s tone made Ryoka look up at last.

“…You can’t?”

Garia turned red.

“Not so much. I can do signs and math but – I mean, most folk can’t read too well. Not books or anything fancy like that. Fals can read, though. I’ve seen him reading books.”

Ryoka raised her eyebrows.

“Good for him.”

Again, Garia was forced to continue a mostly one-sided conversation.

“Where’d you get the book?”

“I bought it in the market. Didn’t cost much.”

“Really? I thought most books were several gold coins – at least.”

“Some sell for silver. Either way, it’s fine.”

Ryoka scowled as she chomped on another lukewarm slice of ham. The lack of any library in this city meant she had to buy any books she wanted to read, and some were annoyingly expensive. But she wasn’t about to get into a discussion of economics with Garia and fuel the conversation.

The problem was, Garia was more than capable of finding topics of interest by herself. The other girl stared at the pile of books on the table.

“Are you going to read all of these, then?”

“Read ‘em.”

“What, all of them?”

“Not like I have anything else to do.”

Ryoka deliberately turned a page.

----

I really wish she’d go away. Or do I? At least she’s keeping drunk guys from hitting on me.

I hate this. I hate her, I hate this inn, and I hate this entire world. If I could burn it down to the ground I’d—

Probably not. At least, she’s not the one I hate. So maybe destroy all the world except for a few people.

But the pain. And boredom, let’s not forget. It’s a sad day when Garia’s daily visit is the most interesting thing that happens to me.

It’s been one week since my ‘accident’. Another week of this and I might seriously snap. But my leg—

Damn it all. If I could kill every damned Street Runner in the world I would in an instant. Even if I had to stare into their eyes as I choked them to death. I will have vengeance, I swear it.

But until then, how the hell do I heal my leg? How, how, how? If it’s really beyond most normal magics—

Ask Garia. She might know of a better way, even if her first idea failed. Worth a shot, and I hope I have enough money for whatever I need. Crap, she’s been talking and I have no idea what she said. Better wing it.

Huh. That’s a crowd coming in right now. Hope they don’t want to share the table. They look familiar, though.

Who’s that? Another Runn—

Her.

Kill her. Stab her. Break her bones. Don’t do it. Do it. Hurt her. Smash her stupid face in. Kill. Killkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkill—

----

Garia realized Ryoka hadn’t heard her question the third time she repeated it. The other young woman had frozen in place, staring at something over Garia’s shoulder. Garia turned, looked, and knew there was about to be trouble.

“You.”

Ryoka shoved her chair back and swung up onto her good leg. Persua smirked at her.

“Oh, Ryoka? I didn’t see you there. Fancy meeting you in this inn. How are you doing?”

It was hard getting her leg out from under the table. But when she did, Ryoka stood up on her good leg and lunged for Persua faster than anyone would have guessed. She never made it, though.

Garia grabbed Ryoka by the shoulder and gently pulled her back. Despite Ryoka’s attempts to shake her off, she refused to let go and dragged Ryoka back from the smirking Persua and her gaggle of Street Runners.

“Let go.”

“No, calm down Ryoka. If you start a fight you’ll be the one in trouble.”

The expression on Ryoka’s face suggested she was fine with that, but Garia could count. There were at least eight Street Runners behind Persua, and they looked ready to cause trouble. One-handed, she pulled Ryoka back and made her sit back down.

That should have been hard to do, even to an injured Ryoka, but Garia was stronger than she looked. And she looked like a farm girl capable of lifting bales of hay with one hand.

As she pinned Ryoka to her chair, Garia moved so she was between her friend and Persua.

“Why don’t we all settle down? Persua, you and your friends can go have a drink somewhere else, okay?”

Persua spread her hands innocently and ratcheted up her pitch another octave in innocent protest.

“I don’t understand what you mean, Garia. I’m just saying hi to Ryoka who’s had a little accident. Can’t you understand that? Or are things going too fast for you to keep up with?”

Now it was Garia’s turn to flush, but she didn’t rise to the bait.

“You’ve had your fun, but I think you should leave, Persua.”

Persua gave Garia and Ryoka a sickly sweet fake smile.

“But as a fellow City Runner, I want to let Ryoka know how terribly sorry I am that she got in the way of that runaway cart. If only she’d listened to her fellow runners. We were all trying to warn her, you know. But that’s Ryoka for you. She just doesn’t listen now, does she?”

Garia could feel Ryoka’s shoulder trembling under her hand. It was getting harder to hold her down, and that was before Persua ‘accidentally’ mentioned how horrible it had been that no one was able to help Ryoka until she dragged herself to the nearest guardhouse for help.

What might have happened next was anyone’s guess. Persua was still gloating, oblivious to the trouble, but Garia could see Ryoka glancing at a sharp knife sitting on her plate. The Street Runners behind Persua were numerous, but they were getting unfriendly looks from other inn patrons who might just relish a bar fight if it meant getting rid of unwanted strangers.

Garia was debating the merits of getting stabbed and preventing a fight, versus witnessing Persua’s death, regardless of whatever consequences it entailed.

But then the door opened again, and a hush fell over the room. Where the Street Runners had entered into the noise and chaos of the inn, the next group that entered brought silence with them.

Casual inn-goers of the variety of merchants, farmers, shopkeepers and so on scrambled out of the way as a huge, armored Minotaur strode into the room. He had a massive steel battleaxe strapped to his back, and he was followed by five more adventurers: three mages and two more warriors all armed to the teeth.

The Horns of Hammerad looked around and spotted Ryoka and Garia on the other side of the inn. Their leader immediately made a beeline for the two, walking in an open space of his own. No one wanted to get in the way of the Minotaur’s path.

Persua was still mocking Ryoka and Garia, oblivious to the newcomers in the inn. The Street Runners behind her were nervously eying the approaching adventurers, but they didn’t move from their spot.

The Minotaur named Calruz stopped in front of the Street Runners and glared down at them. Persua turned and let out a high pitched scream as she saw his face. He jerked one thumb and pointed.

“You. Runners. Out of the way.”

The Street Runners exchanged one glance and then shifted out of the way. Calruz snorted in contempt and brushed by them as they edged away.

Persua made a disgusted face and pinched at her nose as he passed by. But when one of the female mages glared at her, she shrank back as well. There was an unspoken difference in power between the Runners and the Adventurers, and once they realized the Horns of Hammerad had business with Ryoka, they decided to leave the inn quickly.

Garia gaped as the six adventurers stood in front of the table. They were all wearing armor, or robes of high-quality cloth. The two warriors standing behind Calruz wore shining chainmail, and the mages carried glowing staves and a wand that gave off ethereal fiery sparks.

That last bit was especially concerning to the innkeeper who nervously eyed the wand, but he didn’t make any vocal objections. The tall, mustached human warrior standing next to Calruz nodded at Ryoka and gave her a friendly smile.

“Ryoka Griffin? We’re part of the adventuring party, the Horns of Hammerad. You bailed us out of a tough situation last week. Do you mind if we sit?”

Ryoka stared up at the adventuring party. She didn’t appear overly impressed.

“You’re blocking my light.”

The vice-captain blinked. He exchanged glances with the other warrior while the mages frowned, but the Minotaur laughed.

“Hah! Spirited! It is good to see that in a Human at last!”

He stuck out a massive, gauntleted hand.

“I am Calruz of the Beriad. I lead the Horns of Hammerad, an adventuring party in these parts. I am in your debt, Ryoka Griffin. May we sit?”

Ryoka blinked in the face of this direct approach. She paused and then reluctantly nodded, shaking Calruz’s hand.

“Fine.”

Immediately, the Horns of Hammerad pulled up chairs and another table to sit next to Ryoka and Garia. Calruz had to sit perched in his chair which creaked ominously beneath him, but seemed happy enough.

Once all the adventurers were seated, a barmaid approached and they ordered drinks and food. Ryoka wasn’t hungry, and Garia, awestruck by the company, was too shy to eat.

In between the barmaids bustling around and delivering drinks and food, the vice-captain leaned forwards and addressed Ryoka.

“We owe you a debt of gratitude for that delivery you did for us a week ago. Without it, we’d all have been killed by that damned Lich. Thanks to you though, we managed to kill it and recover a lot of magical artifacts. Ceria’s got a new set of mage robes she owes all to you.”

One of the female mages nodded and gestured at her clothing. She was wearing a dark blue set of robes embroidered with glowing golden sigils around the hem and edges of the rich cloth.

It seemed foolish to bring such expensive clothing into an inn, but Ryoka noticed that when Calruz accidentally splattered the dress while reaching for a tankard, the liquid simply ran down the cloth and onto the ground. She was immediately impressed and wondered how much the magical cloth cost.

Garia looked around the table, wide-eyed.

“I just heard that Ryoka was doing a delivery to the Ruins. Was it that helpful?”

One of the warriors snorted.

“Delivery? Hah! She charged right past the Lich that had us pinned down and dropped the potions off right in the center of the battlefield! He was casting fireballs and lightning around her, but she even drew his fire as she left—gave us a chance to regroup!”

Ryoka shifted uncomfortably as Garia gaped at her. The problem with being in an inn was that other people were listening. Already she could tell patrons on the other tables were listening in on their conversation. She shrugged.

“Just doing my job.”

“Your job? No other Runner would have pulled off a feat like that. You saved our lives.”

She was having a hard time meeting the earnest vice-captain’s eyes. Ryoka shrugged and picked at her ham as he continued.

“Without the potions the best we could have hoped for would be a retreat where we didn’t lose too many of our party. In the worst-case scenario we’d have lost over half of our group and that’s if the Lich didn’t follow us.”

Calruz nodded.

“Instead, we managed to break that damn skeleton’s head in. The treasure we recovered more than made up for the expedition. And while the rest of our group is still healing from the battle, we’re here to repay the debt we owe.”

Ryoka raised her eyebrows. Minotaurs. Honor? They didn’t seem to go together, but either Calruz was an exception, or Minotaurs had quite a strong sense of right and wrong.

The vice-captain cleared his throat awkwardly.

“We expected to meet you again, since we heard you were a popular Runner around here. But when we heard about your injury, we decided to drop by.”

Garia looked surprised. It was a long way from the Ruins of Albez to Celum for someone who wasn’t a Runner.

“You came all the way here just to do that?”

Calruz nodded impatiently.

“Of course. What does distance matter? But let us introduce ourselves properly.”

He poked the female mage at his side and she jumped and glared at the Minotaur. The mage nodded to Ryoka and Garia. She was wearing a hat indoors which was presumably bad manners, but as she removed it they realized why.

Her ears were slightly pointed, and although she appeared human, this mage seemed subtly different from her companions. Ryoka noticed her skin was—rather than being paler, appeared subtly more vibrant. It was as if her body was simply realer and more vivid than the rest of the world. It was a slight thing, but grew more noticeable the longer Ryoka stared.

Her eyes tracked down to the young woman’s face. Again, her features were beautiful, but not simply aesthetically. They possessed another dimension she couldn’t explain that added to the exotic nature of the mage’s face. Ryoka saw that her eyes were pale yellow, but made no comment.

The mage stuck out one hand and Ryoka took it. She wasn’t an elf. But she wasn’t human either.

Half-elf.

“Ceria Springwalker.”

“…Ryoka Griffin.”

“I’m Garia Strongheart. Pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

The rest of the company introduced themselves, but Ryoka was still thinking about Ceria. She shook hands mechanically, impassively nodding as the vice-captain expressed his admiration of how she’d saved them. She’d already forgotten his name.

“Enough of this.”

Calruz snapped impatiently as soon as the introductions were done. He pointed down towards Ryoka’s leg as it stuck out awkwardly.

“We didn’t come here to chat. We’re honor-bound to repay our debt, which is why we’re here. And you’re injured. How’d that happen?”

“Got run over by a cart.”

“What?”

The adventurers looked at Ryoka in frank disbelief.

“Getting run over by a cart I’d believe of normal people, but a Runner? I thought you lot were fast on your feet.”

Ryoka shrugged unhelpfully and stared at her plate. Uncertainly, Garia cleared her throat.

“It wasn’t—exactly an accident.”

She turned red as the Horns of Hammerad focused their attention on her. Calruz tapped a finger on the table.

“Explain, please.”

“Well, I don’t know how to say it, but Ryoka sort of broke an unspoken rule in the Runner’s Guild. She did this delivery and made a lot of folks mad—”

“—And they decided to run her over with a cart?”

The vice-captain stared incredulously at Garia.

“Are you serious?”

“Most of us didn’t know anything about it until it happened. But some of the Street Runners and City Runners – they’re part of a group that enforces the rules. I mean, they’re not real rules but we all obey them.”

Garia jumped as the mug in Calruz’s hand cracked and shattered in his grip. He angrily shoved the glass pieces aside and gritted his teeth.

“What pathetic, cowardly lot. I’d challenge them all to an honor duel in a moment if I had cause.”

Ceria shook her head as she put her hat back on.

“We don’t recognize duels under the law, and they’d run away if you looked at them sideways in any case. It sounds like there’s quite a lot of politics in the Runner’s Guild – and dangerous politics at that if this is what happens to people who disobey.”

The other adventurers murmured and grunted in disgust.

“Runners.”

“Money grubbing backstabbers.”

“Barely worth the coin we spend to hire them. And for the rates they charge, I could buy a new sword!”

Garia looked like she wanted to object to the insults, but she didn’t dare. Ryoka was interested.

“You don’t like Runners?”

One of the warriors shook his head.

“You we like. And your friend here doesn’t seem bad. But the rest of your lot are worthless pieces of waste as far as we’re concerned.”

“We’re not all bad.”

Garia protested weakly. The vice-captain and the mages shook their heads.

“You don’t understand, uh, Miss Garia was it? Most Runners don’t do deliveries to battlefields, and some of the ones that do only deliver after the battle ends. We could be in serious trouble, but your people won’t approach until all the monsters are gone. And even then, we have to pay triple—sometimes five times as much just for deliveries to areas we’ve already cleared.”

“Besides, Runners are only concerned about their pay, not anything else. They won’t stop to help even in emergencies unless we pay them. Even adventurers have more integrity than that.”

The Horns of Hammerad grumbled, but at least their ire wasn’t directed directly towards Garia and Ryoka. Ceria eyed the dispirited Garia and cleared her throat.

“That’s not to say all Runners are bad. I know a lot of you deliver goods quickly and for reasonable rates. It’s just that there are quite a few bad Runners in your Guilds, especially the ones that we have to deal with.”

She nodded at Ryoka.

“Case in point, your leg.”

Calruz snorted angrily as he grabbed another mug from a scared barmaid.

“This is intolerable. A good Runner shouldn’t be crippled. You. Mages. Can’t one of you lot heal her leg?”

Ceria eyed Ryoka’s leg as as the other mages shook their heads.

“None of us know advanced healing magic, Calruz. Besides, that looks like a complicated break.”

He grunted.

“So? What about a healing potion?”

The mages all made a face. The male mage holding the sparking wand shook his head.

“Oh, sure. If you want to fuse the bone back together that might work. But healing in that way is only good for quick fixes. I’ve seen fighters come back with bones attached the wrong way round, or off-center.”

“Is it just a broken bone?”

Ryoka shook her head and grimaced.

“Bone’s shattered. Splinters are in the flesh.”

All the people sitting at the table – and in earshot of the conversation – winced. Ceria however just nodded to herself and put a finger to her lips.

“I thought so. If they were trying to hurt you, they had to injure you badly enough that you wouldn’t be able to recover so easily.”

“Why don’t healing potions work? They fix people with stab wounds up in seconds. Why not bones?”

Ceria shrugged.

“Healing potions just accelerate the body’s natural healing. But this is far too complicated for a potion to fix. In situations like this, time or magic is the only solution.”

Ceria looked at Ryoka.

“What you need is a high-level [Healer]…no, better yet a [Cleric]. If there were any [Clerics] left alive, I mean. A [Healer] who also has a [Mage] class would be best.”

Garia looked confused. Ryoka was confused, but her expression didn’t change outwardly.

“What’s the difference? I thought they were both the same.”

Again, all the mages shook their heads. The female mage who owned the staff with the glowing orb whose name Ryoka had forgot answered.

“Most [Healers] just use herbs and minor spells to treat injuries. That’s fine, but if you want to heal this leg within the year, you need a real magic practiced by a mage. And a high-level one at that.”

“And how much would that cost?”

The female mage hesitated. Ceria looked glum as she answered for her.

“Something like that…that would cost at least a few hundred gold coins. And that’s only if you could find a high-level healer. And they’re very rare.”

Deathly silence fell over the table. Calruz was grimacing darkly, and the vice-captain reluctantly shook his head at him.

“Too bad.”

Ryoka pushed her chair back and stood up. She paused and winced as her bad foot touched the ground, but then began limping towards the stairwell. Garia, distressed, called out.

“Where are you going, Ryoka?”

The other girl didn’t look around.

“Sleep. I’m tired.”

Instantly, the vice-captain stood up.

“In that case allow me to help you up the stairs.”

Ryoka eyed the stairwell and looked back at him.

“I’ve got it.”

“I insist. Please, let me—”

“No.”

The vice-captain hesitated. He was looking from the steep stairwell to Ryoka’s splinted and bandaged leg. She set her jaw stubbornly.

“I don’t need help.”

“But—”

“Piss. Off.”

Ryoka brushed off his hands and began dragging herself up the stairs. She had a method for it; she walked backwards up the stairs so she didn’t have to move her bad leg more than necessary. It was awkward and cumbersome, but the look in her eyes dared anyone to give her a hand.

Crestfallen, the vice-captain returned to the table and sat down. The other warrior patted him on the back. Garia awkwardly apologized.

“Sorry. She’s just—unfriendly.”

“I like her.”

Everyone looked at Calruz. The Minotaur was watching Ryoka with approval as she swung herself up the stairs.

“She reminds me of females of my kind. Fiery. The ones who would stab any male that offends. Much better than the simpering human ones I keep meeting.”

He stood up. The vice-captain eyed him worriedly. Ceria leaned forwards and poked Calruz hard in the back.

“Calruz. I wouldn’t bother her. Human females aren’t like Minotaur females.”

He snorted dismissively.

“Bah. All that’s needed is courage and spirit to win her over.”

He knocked his chair back and walked over to the stairwell. The vice-captain looked like he wanted to say something, but lost the initiative. Calruz called over his shoulder.

“Don’t wait for me. I’ll find you at the Guild later.”

The remaining adventurers watched Calruz ascending the stairs and muttered amongst themselves.

“Should we stop him?”

“If we do, it’ll be a fight. You know what happens when he loses his temper.”

“Another destroyed inn? We’ll lose all the money we just earned!”

The vice-captain’s eyes narrowed. He drained his mug and stood up.

“This is unacceptable. I’m going up there.”

Ceria grabbed him by the shoulder.

“Calm down, Gerial.”

He glared at her.

“You’re letting him go? Are you mad?”

She shook her head.

“Calruz isn’t an idiot. He knows the law. He’ll go if he isn’t wanted, but that’s not what I meant. Ryoka Griffin can take care of herself. Or don’t you remember why we’re here?”

He hesitated, but then everyone downstairs heard Calruz’s unmistakable bass rumble. From downstairs, Garia could hear Ryoka’s annoyed voice. She hadn’t known Ryoka long, but Garia knew her well enough to guess what she was saying.

Garia started biting at her nails as Calruz’s voice rose and he made what sounded like an attempted joke. Ryoka snapped something but he kept talking.

Uncertainly, Garia stood up. None of the adventurers stopped her as she walked to the stairs and looked up. Both human and minotaur were standing outside her room, arguing. Well, Ryoka was arguing, while Calruz was…flirting.

Which was a mistake, Garia knew. She heard Ryoka’s voice as she snapped at Calruz.

“Get out.”

He said something in reply, and she pushed at him. Since he was wearing armor and outweighed her by at least two hundred pounds he didn’t move. Calruz captured Ryoka’s hand in his own. Garia saw Ryoka’s eyes narrow.

The patrons of the inn downstairs clearly heard the crack, and the bellow of pain from Calruz. From her position on the stairs, Garia saw and heard Ryoka punch the Minotaur in the face and then saw the Calruz’s form overbalance on the top of the stairs. She watched in slow motion as the massive figure of the Minotaur reeled back from the blow. He grabbed at the wall, but the wood splintered as it broke under his weight.

If. If Calruz hadn’t insisted on wearing plate armor. If Ryoka hadn’t hit him quite as hard. If the inn was newer and wasn’t so old. But there were no ifs. Calruz toppled down the stairs in a terrific crash of metal on wood, splintering the stairwell, and smashing the floorboards on the ground where he landed.

Everyone stared at the fallen Minotaur as he stared up at the ceiling. Half of the inn’s patrons were already making for the doors, while the other half waited for the ensuing bloodbath.

At the top of the stairs Ryoka raised her middle finger, flipped the prone Minotaur off, and then limped into her room. The door slammed behind her.

Calruz blinked up as the remaining pieces of the stairwell fell down around him and the innkeeper screamed in horror. He stared bemusedly up at Garia and the rest of his adventuring party. Then he grinned.

“Strong. I like her quite a lot.”

1.05 R

As soon as she slammed the door shut, Ryoka collapsed against her bed. Static seemed to crawl over her eyes and roaring filled her ears.

Pain. It was coming back.

She would have lain there forever, but the pain made her move. There was only one relief.

Ryoka staggered over to a chest at the foot of her bed. She fumbled at it and realized it was locked. Key. Where was the damn key?

The static was everywhere and the pain was getting worse. Ryoka had just finished opening the lock when she gagged and nearly threw up. It hurt.

Inside the chest was a roll of odd bandages and several green potions. Ryoka instantly grabbed one and popped the cork.

Sitting with her back against the bed, she stretched out her bad leg as far as she was able. The bandages were red with blood now, and the flesh was beginning to puff up. She’d pushed too far.

Gingerly, blacking out with pain, Ryoka poured the green liquid over her leg and tried not to scream. But the effects were instantaneous.

The pain—vanished. For an instant, a wonderful instant, all was well. Ryoka watched in blissful peace as the swelling around her leg faded, and below the bandages, the broken skin and torn flesh closed.

But it didn’t last. After only a few seconds, pain started to return to the area. Dreadful, biting agony.

The bones. The bits of shattered bones that couldn’t be healed. They cut into her flesh and stopped the healing. Ryoka stared down at her leg. It hurt, but far less now. At least, for the moment. She had a few hours to half a day, depending on what she did to her leg before her flesh would tear and—

The bandages were now completely bloody, but Ryoka didn’t dare change them. They were the only things keeping the rest of her leg on her body.

Magic. She sensed it in the cloth bindings. They’d been what—ten gold coins? More expensive than the healing potions, even. But they had magic in the stitching, or so the [Healer] had claimed. And she felt it. They were the only reason she could move about, let alone keep her leg…intact.

The magic in the bandages provided stability, structure, and stasis. She could actually move about on a leg where she couldn’t feel anything below her knee due to the bindings holding her leg in place. And so long as she applied a healing potion every few hours, she could keep the damage from her leg at bay.

But eventually, the magic always wore off. And then the swelling would begin, and if it kept on too long the leg would start to rot.

Magic bandages and healing potions. Ryoka thumped her head back against the footrest of her bed. They could barely keep her injuries in check, but not heal them. What they were really doing was buying time. Time, until she could find a way to heal herself—

Or lose the leg.

She couldn’t feel it anymore. Rather, it was the broken stump just below her kneecap that screamed agony at her each time she agitated it. But her foot and lower leg?

Nothing.

The [Healer] had told her it was still attached, still living flesh so long as she kept healing it with a potion, but it wasn’t about to start healing on its own. It was too badly damaged.

Maybe if there was a surgeon, one from her world. They could have realigned the bones and connected them with metal rods. If she’d been in a hospital she would have had a chance. But here?

Ryoka put her face in her hands. Garia kept suggesting better [Healers], or treated her injuries as something that would heal given time. But Ryoka didn’t have any time left.

“What do you think splintered bone means?”

Garia didn’t get it. But then she hadn’t seen Ryoka’s leg in the moments afterwards. She hadn’t seen how it wasn’t attached, wasn’t solid anymore. The adventurers understood.

Crushed bone. Splintered bone. Not a break or a fracture. It wasn’t like joining two pieces back together. Ryoka’s right leg was a mass of bone splinters without a chance of reattaching on their own.

Medically, the answer was simple. Until the modern era, there would have been no chance any other way. And even then—her legs wouldn’t have ever been the same. Ryoka knew what had to be done. They’d told her as she sat in shock as the [Healer] poured potions on her leg and tried to save her flesh.

Amputation. Either that or a spell that she couldn’t afford.

For a while she’d hoped it was just her imagination. She’d bought the bandages from the [Healer], scraped together all the money she’d earned so far to buy enough healing potions to last until now, and prayed that her leg would start to heal. But each day passed with blood and pain and no relief.

No one could help her. Ryoka knew that. Garia cared, and even the Horns of Hammerad had stopped by. But what could they do? A hundred—no, hundreds of gold coins. Why make them worry? Why waste energy reassuring them with useless words?

So Ryoka pretended not to worry and did everything herself. Because of pride. Because she didn’t want to appear weak – because that in itself was weakness.

Because there was nothing anyone could do to help her.

Ryoka rested her head against her arm. Pain. Cut it away. They said it would be quick. No. But it was the only choice. She had—three healing potions left. Enough for a day or two. And then she’d be out of money and out of time. Unless she could pay. But she had no money.

Well, she knew someone who had thousands, tens of thousands of gold coins, didn’t she? Of course. And it could be done. There was still a chance.

But the cost—

Ah, the cost.

Ryoka closed her eyes. Damnation. That was the cost. And she still wasn’t sure if it was worth her leg. She’d thought about it long and hard. And she still wasn’t sure. But she wanted to know the cost. And to do that, she had to bargain.

So what Ryoka was really doing, what she was really thinking as she sat in the wet puddle of the healing potion and blood was nothing. Nothing. She could worry, or fret, and she was afraid and in pain, but there was nothing she could really do. All she was doing, in truth, behind everything, was waiting.

Waiting. Waiting for her to arrive. Waiting to make the choice.

In her mind she could feel the wind on her face and feel the ground flying beneath her feet. In her mind she could see the consequences of her choice.

A world burned by fire. The dead lying in piles. War, endless and putrid. That was the cost.

Ryoka closed her eyes and tried not to cry.

----

It was evening by the time Garia managed to excuse herself from the inn and make her way back to the Runner’s Guild. By that point she’d already imbibed quite a lot of liquid, most of it alcoholic.

Garia had an extremely high tolerance for alcohol, so she only stumbled every now and then as she jogged towards the Runner’s Guild. She wasn’t intending on making a delivery of course; that would be dangerous in the fading light even without being drunk, but she wanted to pick up her payment for the week. She was running low on money after insisting she pay for her meal.

She’d left the rest of the Horns of Hammerad in the semi-destroyed inn, still drinking and talking about how they could help Ryoka. It was strange. Garia had only heard of the Horns as one of the up-and-coming adventurer teams, but she hadn’t really believed the rumors about them being honor-bound like their leader.

Well, everyone knew that Minotaurs were supposed to be honorable, but that was hard to believe when you saw one up close. A Minotaur’s word was as good as a Knight’s supposedly, but how did you square that with their cow heads and fierce tempers? But Calruz hadn’t been overly violent – he’d even paid for all the damage he’d caused.

It was strange. The number of non-humans Garia had seen, let alone met she could probably count on both her hands. This far north you didn’t see any of the other races, not even Drakes or Gnolls. But Calruz had seemed so—so—human.

And he liked Ryoka. And that was something Garia wasn’t going to think about. Instead, she was going to open the door to the Runner’s Guild without falling on her face and walk inside.

Most of the Runners glanced up and then away, ignoring Garia as she entered. She wasn’t particularly powerful within the Runner’s Guild, but she was liked well enough that no one bothered her. That was what Garia preferred. Being unnoticed was safest.

Garia noticed a commotion occurring around the receptionist’s counter, which made her heart sink. The unnoticed part of her reputation also meant she wouldn’t be helped until they sorted out what was going on. Glumly, Garia went to sit down at one of the tables when she heard someone calling her name.

“Garia! How’s my favorite City Runner?”

Garia’s heart skipped a beat and then started going into overdrive as she recognized the voice. Fals. She turned around and gave him what she hoped was an annoyed look.

“I bet you say that to every Runner, Fals.”

“Only the ones I like.”

Fals walked over and smiled at Garia. He was handsome and tall, and Garia could see several female Runners glaring at her as he approached. She tried not to smile back too quickly.

“Are you finished with your deliveries for the day?”

“Yup. Nothing too special; I did a few trips to Lindol and back, but that’s it. How about you? Taking a late-night request?”

Garia shook her head.

“I’m just collecting payment. What’s with all the panic, though?”

She pointed to the group of Runners and staff of the Runner’s Guild who were standing around in a cluster at the counter, arguing and looking panicked. Fals made a face.

“You won’t believe this, but for the last few days Lady Magnolia’s been asking for a delivery. Trouble is, she only wants one Runner to do it. Guess who?”

Garia didn’t even need to think.

“Ryoka. Oh. And what did the Guild tell her?”

“Oh, I don’t know the details…”

Fals waved a hand self-deprecatingly, but that was just an act. Garia had no doubt he knew exactly what had been said, and probably had a part in shaping the message. He was one of the most influential Runners in all the northern city-states and the local Guildmasters listened to him.

“The Guild told her Ryoka was indisposed. We kept offering replacement Runners, but Magnolia kept insisting that she only wanted Ryoka. And now…well, it sounds like she came in person and demanded some answers just a few minutes ago. I was going to see what happened myself. Want to listen?”

Garia hesitated. It probably wasn’t wise to put herself in the spotlight—but then again, Fals was the one in charge. So she nodded and followed him across the room.

Fals whistled as he passed the board full of delivery requests. He stopped and pointed to one unmarked request Garia recognized.

“Wow. Look at that unmarked request. Whoever’s posted it is offering twenty gold coins for a delivery.”

Garia peered at it.

“It’s the same one I saw a week ago. Why hasn’t anyone taken it yet? I’d have thought you would have jumped at the opportunity, Fals.”

He shook his head.

“Are you kidding? I still want to live. Didn’t you see the location? The High Passes. That’s a death trap for anyone.”

“Even for you?”

He mock-glared at Garia.

“Even for me. For any Runner who takes it. I hope no one’s stupid enough to head out there, but with that reward—I think we might lose a few.”

“Then who will do it?”

“Dunno. Maybe a Courier will do it if the reward keeps rising. But even a decently leveled [Runner] isn’t nearly fast enough to avoid the monsters around there. Maybe the one who posted it will give up after a month or two.”

He shrugged.

“But frankly, even if they doubled the reward no sane Runner would risk a delivery like that. Profit’s important, but our lives are worth way more.”

Garia remembered something one of the adventurers had said. She frowned.

“Fals? I know you’re one of our best Runners, but why aren’t there any older Runners than you? You’re only twenty two—”

“Twenty three. I’m getting old, Garia. Please don’t rub it in.”

She blushed and tried not to stammer.

“—Twenty three, then. But why aren’t there any other Runners? I know a lot of us die or get hurt, but surely there should be some more, right?”

Fals considered her question. He sighed, and raked his hand through his blonde locks.

“We don’t have many experienced Runners because no one who does this job lives very long. We’re the only people crazy enough to deliver. Most folks change classes after they earn enough.”

“I heard people say Runners only care about money.”

Fals eyed her sternly.

“What kind of people have you been talking to, Garia?”

He didn’t wait for her response.

“Never mind. Okay, sure, a lot of Runners are interested in the bottom line. But isn’t that normal? Adventurers, shopkeepers, merchants…even nobles care about money. Why shouldn’t we charge what we do and prioritize the best deliveries? We work a tough job! And we risk our lives every day, running from monsters, dealing with bad weather, natural disasters…it’s enough to make most folk quit within their first week.”

He thumped at his chest.

“But we—we’re Runners. We don’t quit! Everyone who makes it past a year is a real Runner, Garia. We’re the people who keep the northern cities—no, the entire world connected. Without us, nothing would get done on time. So if people call us money-grubbers, well, let them. We’ve got our own honor and we deserve every coin we get, am I right?”

His words lit a spark in Garia’s heart, and within the other Runners within earshot. She nodded enthusiastically as other Runners called out to Fals.

“That’s our lead Runner!”

“No wonder you’re the best in the cities!”

Persua appeared out of nowhere and purred at Fals. Garia jumped as the skinny girl smiled and fussed over him with her gaggle of Street Runners, edging Garia away.

“No wonder they call you Fleetfoot Fals!”

He grinned and shook her head.

“That’s an old nickname, guys. And anyways, Ryoka’s faster. I wonder if she’s got some sort of skill?”

Persua’s face soured. Garia scratched at her head.

“Now that you mention it…she’s never mentioned what level she is. She must be high-level, though.”

“Well, she may be quick, but she’s not running now, is she? Besides, she’s so unpleasant. Who’d want a Runner who never smiles like her?”

Garia winced as Persua glared at her from behind Fals. For his part, Fals made a face and took a deliberate step next to Garia, preventing her from being shunted further away.

“Right. About that. I know Ryoka broke a few rules recently, but she is a good runner. And we need all the Runners we can get.”

He smiled at Persua, and the younger girl sighed and turned red as he met her eyes.

“So…Persua. I don’t want you or your friends to bother Ryoka again, okay?”

She sulked and pouted, but then gave Fals a sickly smile. He returned it with a slight wince that she didn’t appear to notice.

“Anything for you, Fals. Not that we did anything to Ryoka in the first place or anything. She just happened to have an…accident.”

“Well, let’s not have any more of those, are we clear? We’re all on the same team, right?”

The other Runners nodded and voiced their agreement. Fals went around the room shaking hands and slapping Runners on the back. He eventually managed to get Persua to clear off by hinting that she and her cronies smelled sweaty, and finally he and Garia were left alone again. He sighed, but smiled at Garia.

“See what I mean, though? We can’t be divided. Us Runners have to work together.”

Garia glared at Fals. She whispered out of the corner of her mouth.

“You know she was behind it. Everyone does.”

He looked uncomfortable. Fals kicked at the ground with his expensive leather shoes and sighed. He combed his hair with one hand as he addressed Garia.

“Ryoka broke a rule. They shouldn’t have gone that far, but I did warn her. We’ve got to work together, Garia. Even if one of us is faster, it’s better to share the wealth rather than compete. You’re new, but you understood that. Ryoka didn’t and now—well, now we’ve got trouble with Lady Magnolia and we’re down a City Runner.”

This didn’t sit well with Garia. She grimaced and stared hard at Fals. But when he met her gaze with a rueful smile and shrug she colored and looked away.

“I still don’t like it. Persua’s crazy. Ryoka won’t be able to run for at least a year! Even with potions to help her heal! Have you seen her leg?”

Fals hesitated.

“I heard it was just a bad break that the [Healers] can’t fix right away. Is it worse than that?”

Garia looked miserable as she shook her head.

“I don’t know. I’m no expert, and she’s got it wrapped in layers of bandages. They look magical though and—and I met a mage who said that the only way she’d get it healed was to pay hundreds of gold coins to a high-level [Healer].”

He hissed through his teeth.

“That’s—no! I can’t believe it! They told me they wouldn’t—”

Garia interrupted Fals.

“You knew? You knew and—I can’t believe you, Fals!”

Garia’s voice rose incredulously. She advanced on Fals, making fists with her hands. He raised his hands defensively as he backed away towards the counter.

“I had no choice! Look, you know what Persua and her friends are like. I told them not to do anything drastic, but even if I’d stopped them, some other runners would have organized something. You know the rules, Garia. Remember Perial, when he broke them?”

Garia remembered Perial. She didn’t remember what he’d done wrong, but she remembered that a bunch of Runners had dropped rusty nails in his path and forced him to run through them.

Fals closed his eyes tightly and then opened them. He looked tired.

“Okay. That changes things. Look, Garia. I’ll—I’ll talk to the Guildmaster after I see it in person. Persua’s gone too far, even if Ryoka broke the rules.”

“That still won’t fix her leg.”

“No, but it’s all I can do. Okay? And I don’t know that any injury would really cost a hundred gold coins for a spell, Garia. I’ll see Ryoka myself, but even if her bones are broken beyond a healing potion’s ability to repair, how bad could it really be?”

“It’s bad.”

“We’ll see. I know a few good [Healers] and even a [Mage] that owes me a favor. If Ryoka’s really hurt that bad I’ll call in a few favors and get the Guild to help out. She’ll be on her feet by the end of the month, I promise. But can we see what the commotion is?”

Garia nodded. She felt a lot more upbeat with Fal’s promise. He always kept his word. She followed him to the counter as the Runners parted for him. Fals addressed a harried-looking receptionist at the counter.

“What’s going on? Is there more trouble with Magnolia?”

“Trouble? Oh, there’s been trouble alright.”

The receptionist laughed somewhat hysterically.

“Lady Magnolia was here just half an hour ago. She came in person to complain to the Guildmaster, but he was out! She wanted to know where Ryoka was, and when she heard she was injured she was not happy. She even suggested that she might stop ordering through our Guild altogether!”

Garia and Fals stared in horror at the receptionist. Lady Magnolia was one of the Guild’s biggest patrons. Besides that, she was important. Even on the other end of the continent there were people who would know her name.

“Did she want anything else?”

“She wanted to know where Ryoka was right now. Fortunately, we at least knew her address so she was somewhat satisfied, but what will we do? If she stops ordering—”

Garia interrupted urgently.

“Wait, she wanted to know where Ryoka was?”

The receptionist blinked at her. Normally Garia would have been brushed off in an instant, but Fals was with her.

“Yes, she wanted to know.”

“And you told her?”

The receptionist grew defensive at Garia’s accusatory tone.

“What? It’s in the guild’s best interest to keep her happy. If she wants to know where one of our Runners is, we’ll tell her.”

“But she wanted Ryoka! And if she knows where she is, she’ll go and meet her!”

Fals groaned and pulled at his hair. He looked around frantically, but Magnolia was already long gone.

“Have you even met Ryoka? Remember what happened when she met the Guildmaster? She doesn’t respect anyone! If Magnolia shows up, she’ll probably throw her out of her room! Or—or—”

“Punch her.”

Fals turned to Garia.

“No. She wouldn’t do that. No one’s crazy enough to punch—she wouldn’t.”

Garia looked nervous.

“She punched a Minotaur when he tried to invite himself into her room this morning.”

The receptionist and Fals both paled.

“We’ve got to stop her. Or stop Ryoka.”

“Follow me!”

Garia turned and raced out of the Guild, Fals hot on her heels. She wasn’t one for prayers, but Garia still prayed that Ryoka would be civil, or at least acceptable before they got there. She didn’t have much hope, though.

She knew Ryoka.

----

Lady Magnolia sat in the small, cramped bedroom of The Rat’s Tail, a moderately prosperous inn in the city of Celum. She clearly did not belong there. For one thing, her expensive, patterned, latticed, light pink dress with floral embroidery probably cost more than the inn itself.

But she sat on the rickety chair the innkeeper had personally delivered to Ryoka’s room, looking perfectly content while she chatted with its inhabitant. Behind her, Resse the head maid stood in one corner of the room, glaring daggers at the poverty, the dirt under the windowsill, and Ryoka herself.

“My dear, I really was shocked to hear of your accident. Won’t you tell me what happened?”

“I got bored and played tag with a cart.”

“You are always full of unique answers, aren’t you Ryoka? I can’t imagine how you can tell jokes in the face of such an injury.”

Not that Lady Magnolia had actually seen her injury, Ryoka reflected. She was lying on her bed, her sheets wrapped around her leg. Magnolia had walked in on her while she was resting and Ryoka hadn’t yet unwrapped her protective cushion from her bad leg.

As she shifted, Lady Magnolia raised a quick hand.

“No need to trouble yourself, Ryoka. I imagine you must be in quite a bit of pain, even if you’ve been using healing potions. No, I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Offer me a deal, you mean.”

Lady Magnolia blinked for a second, but in a flash she wore her same genuine smile again.

“You are quick. Well, yes, to put it inelegantly I would like to offer you a deal. When I heard of your injury you may be sure I was astounded and not a little outraged—especially since I was given to understand that the event in question occurred only a few feet away from my mansion after you left.”

“Took you a while to learn about it?”

Once again, the smile on Magnolia’s face flickered for the briefest instant before it was back in full force. Only someone watching for it would have noticed, and Ryoka had been watching.

“The Runner’s Guild has been…less than cooperative regarding your condition, as well as providing me with an explanation of how you were injured. I am still making discreet inquiries of my own, but I will have answers, believe me. But that is not why I’m here. I wish—”

“You want to offer me a deal to heal my leg, right?”

Ryoka shifted her weight in the bed discretely as Lady Magnolia blinked and recovered again. She ignored the maid glaring at her and reminded herself not to be so impatient. It would be funny if things didn’t hurt so much. But astute noblewoman and political wrangler that Lady Magnolia might be, she wasn’t nearly as unpredictable as she might like. Too bad nothing seemed to faze her either way.

“Well then, let me skip straight to the details, Ryoka. I understand that since you are still injured, healing potions aren’t working. As it so happens I have—let us call her a friend of mine—who is able to cast [Restoration] and other spells of the 6th Tier.”

Ryoka’s face didn’t change as she tried to understand what that meant. Clearly, it was impressive, but what was that about magic? Then she remembered.

Tier Magic. It stood in stark contrast to the undisciplined magics, whatever that meant. But from what Ryoka had read in her extremely brief introduction to magic, Tiered Magic organized magic in…tiers.

That was to say that a spell capable of being cast by all mages was generally thought of as 1st Tier Magic or 0 Tier Magic, while a spell that was 2nd Tier was more potent, requiring a better mage and longer periods of study to learn it. 3rd Tier magic was generally the bar for most mages, and they would know only one or two spells of that level. Anything higher got into the range of extremely powerful magic, exponentially stronger and just as hard to learn.

That presumably meant that Magnolia’s friend was an incredible mage, but the book had said lower-level mages could cast higher Tier magic with enough practice and time. It also meant this mysterious friend was probably extremely powerful.

Ryoka’s eyes narrowed. Magnolia smiled brightly at her.

“I guess I should be impressed? But if your friend is so powerful, why can’t I visit her myself?”

“Well, she’s very busy as you might expect for someone with access to that kind of magic. And I will admit—normally receiving an audience with her, let alone persuading her to cast that kind of exhausting magic would be quite the feat.”

“But you can do it.”

“Let us just say that she owes me a few favors.”

Ryoka rolled her eyes.

“And you want something in return. Get to the point.”

Behind Lady Magnolia, Ressa snapped at Ryoka.

“Be respectful! You are addressing a Lady of the five Founding Houses and—”

“Ressa, please.”

Ryoka bared her teeth as Magnolia settled her maid back down. She stared into Ressa’s eyes as the stern-looking maid attempted to vaporize her with her own stare.

“Can your maid fight?”

Lady Magnolia blinked in bemusement.

“Ressa is quite skilled in a number of areas, my dear Ryoka. Among them is a talent for handling untoward guests, I must admit.”

“And dealing with filth that approaches my lady.”

Lady Magnolia tsked in disapproval, but Ryoka just shifted her weight on the bed.

“Bring it.”

The look in Ressa’s eyes suggested that if Lady Magnolia stepped out of the room—or even turned her head for a minute, quite a lot of violence would be brought. But once again, Magnolia waved a hand at her.

“I wouldn’t try anything, dear Ressa. I do believe it might backfire on you, and besides, I don’t think that Ryoka Griffin would learn or even be humbled by a beating however soundly administered.”

The look in Ressa’s eye suggested she would be willing to try. But she subsided and Ryoka turned her attention back to Magnolia.

“So if I don’t accept your ‘generous offer’ you’ll be…what? Offended?”

Lady Magnolia laughed again.

“My dear, I’m only offended by those who have nothing to offer me. No, I imagine it would take some doing for you to cause me any real offense. If you refuse I would merely be—”

“Annoyed?”

“Disappointed. Very greatly so. After all, it is in my best interest and yours for you to be running again. For you it is your livelihood, and for me—well, I suspect you would be far more amicable when you’re not grumpy and irritable with pain.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Can you just tell me what you want in return already?”

Lady Magnolia sighed.

“Ryoka, I have to ask. I have a number of skills, one of which is [Charming Demeanor], yet it seems to have no effect on you. I’ve dealt with stubborn generals and obnoxious Dragons and had more of an effect. Would you care to explain your extraordinary resilience?”

Ryoka shrugged.

“I’ve met people more charming than you. I didn’t like them either. What do you want?”

Lady Magnolia pursed her lips in gentle vexation.

“Well. I’m prepared to pay whatever my friend desires and have her over here in a blink of an eye, even if I must pay for teleportation. But I do want something Ryoka. Nothing too arduous—merely answers to a number of burning questions I find myself saddled with.”

“Answers. How many?”

“How many? Ryoka my dear, I would hope for what I offer I would be allowed to ask as many questions as I dare. Not to put a fine point on it, but a spell to heal your leg is costly. Aren’t a few answers worth the price of asking?”

Ryoka shook her head.

“Not to me.”

For once, Lady Magnolia seemed off-balance. She exchanged a quick glance with her maid.

“Then what did you have in mind?”

“Twenty answers to twenty questions.”

“You must be joking. Ryoka my dear—”

“I’m not going to tell you everything. I’d answer a limited number of questions, but not everything.”

For the first time, Lady Magnolia seemed genuinely shocked. She cast around for a reply.

“You know, it may have been naïve of me, but I had assumed coming here that I would be able to name my own price for discrete assistance. But you have a price of your own, I take it. Ryoka, is your leg worth say, four hundred questions?”

Ryoka gritted her teeth.

“No more than eighty—no, forty questions.”

“…I cannot accept that. Even two hundred questions—do you harbor such dire secrets that you must put a price on this?”

“If you’ve got to ask, you know the answer. Forty questions. Take it or leave it.”

Lady Magnolia blew out her breath in exasperation.

“I am in shock. Truly. And if I called your bluff?”

Ryoka’s eyed narrowed. She removed the sheets around her leg and swung herself out of bed. Her flesh screamed at her, but the bindings on her leg held it in place.

“There’s the door.”

Lady Magnolia didn’t move. Her eyes were transfixed on Ryoka’s bound leg, and even Ressa looked ill. But Magnolia was genuinely shocked. She knew what bad injuries looked like.

“Ryoka. How are you still moving around on that leg?”

“Magic. Duh.”

Lady Magnolia blinked. She looked up and met Ryoka’s eyes.

“And how many healing potions have you used up so far?”

Ryoka shrugged.

“Forty? Fifty? I lost count.”

“And you’ve been sitting here, without going to see a proper [Healer]? Why?”

“Not enough money.”

“And you didn’t visit me and request my assistance because…?”

“If I tried to reach you, they’d run me over again.”

Lady Magnolia’s frowned darkly.

“No one would dare assault a guest on my doorstep.”

Ryoka shrugged again.

“It might happen. And I don’t want to lose both legs.”

“I cannot believe—this goes beyond a mere act of sabotage. Whoever did this intended to cripple you. I trust you know this? Even an experienced [Healer] would have had a near-impossible task saving your leg.”

Ryoka grinned. Her face was deathly pale, but she kept herself propped up on her elbows.

“They wanted to amputate it right away. I said no.”

“And you won’t accept my offer?”

Lady Magnolia stared at Ryoka. Her eyes pierced the young woman to her core, searching for the truth. That was what Ryoka was afraid of. But she met the eyes and shook her head.

“Forty questions. That’s all I’d answer. A finite number, not everything.”

Once again, she received the impression she’d truly surprised Lady Magnolia as the older lady hesitated and seemed to grapple with Ryoka’s offer. But the noblewoman shook her head at last.

“A good gambler knows when to bet and when to fold. My offer stands. Answers to all my questions and I will have your leg healed by the end of the hour, my word on it.”

Ryoka bit the inside of her lip until it bled and tried not to let her disappointment show on her face. But then, Magnolia would sense it either way, right? But she didn’t say anything. Instead, Ryoka collapsed onto her bed and stared up at the ceiling.

Magnolia stared at her, still seemingly in a state of shock.

“Incredible. And you still refuse. What secrets do you hold that would be worth that price, Ryoka Griffin?”

Ryoka didn’t answer. After a moment, Lady Magnolia stood up.

“Very well. I believe you will change your mind. I will wait for your response.”

Still, Ryoka didn’t respond. She heard rustling, and then Magnolia pressed something cold and hard into her hand. Ryoka raised her head slightly and saw it was a strange medallion—bronze and seemingly not that expensive, but inlaid with a precious blue sapphire in the center of the metalwork.

“Simply shatter the gem in the center and I will know you accept my terms.”

Lady Magnolia stared down at Ryoka as the young woman lay on her bed. She didn’t even glance up at the noblewoman. Instead, Ryoka smiled bitterly at the ceiling.

“You play hardball, huh?”

“I gamble with lives and opportunity, Ryoka my dear. And I am convinced that this is a gamble worth taking. Accept my offer.”

“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

More silence, and then Ryoka sensed Lady Magnolia move towards the door. Ressa held it open for her, but the noblewoman paused in the doorway for a long minute.

“Is information truly worth such a high price?”

At last, Ryoka raised her head. She saw Lady Magnolia staring at her with what looked like genuine worry. Ryoka grinned. Her brow was covered with sweat and she was pale under her tan. She wasn’t really grinning, either. Just showing a lot of teeth.

“You want trust. That’s too high a price for me.”

Lady Magnolia paused and opened her mouth. Then she shook her head.

“I will wait. But hurry, Ryoka. Your time is running out.”

The door closed. Ryoka was left alone. She covered her eyes.

“Damnit. Gods damn it all.”

----

I’m an idiot. I have to cover my eyes to keep the tears from leaking. I’m such a complete and utter, stubborn idiot.

I should have accepted her offer immediately. No—even if Magnolia wanted me to be her slave, or her maid, or to work for her for ten years I would have accepted her offer in a heartbeat.

But she wanted me to tell her the truth. Damn it. Damn her and her insight. That’s the one thing I can’t give her. Ever.

My leg is agony. But my heart is ice. And now that I’ve been given the offer, the path is clear. Two roads stretch out before me, and a world waits upon my choice.

Is that dramatic? It’s too dramatic. But it is true.

Stand up. I need another healing potion. My leg hurts—I need a clear head for it.

I get up and open the chest. Pain shoots through my bad leg. Three healing potions. Damn it, again. I can’t waste them. Not if—

Well, if I refuse there’s no point to them. They’re weak things, anyways. But they told me a stronger healing potion would start growing each fragment of bone out of my skin, and that would destroy my leg beyond any healing.

Something. Oh. I see at the bottom of the chest the only thing I really own in this world. From my world. It lies at the bottom of my chest. Useless, without power. At least the earbuds are still attached, but again, useless without electricity.

I look at the piece of plastic and metal lying at the bottom of the chest. Would she accept that instead? But I’d still have to tell her what it is, and that could be as potentially dangerous as—

No. No, it’s worthless in any case. If there was power left in it I might be able to make the trade but—no. It’s information she wants. And that price is just too high for me to pay.

“Information.”

The word rots on my tongue. It sounds so stupid, so simple and easy to give away when you say it like that. And it would be simple for me to agree to answer however many questions.

Except that Magnolia can read minds. Or sense untruths. And she’s cunning, smart enough to keep asking questions. If I gave her unlimited answers she’d have the entire truth eventually.

I could lie. But she’d sense it if I didn’t intend to fulfill my bargain. Trapped, again.

Pride be damned. I’ll go back and beg her if need be. The cost—I’ll think of it later. But even if it means selling part of my soul or my world’s secrets, I will run again.

But…no. I can’t do that. No, never. Because if she asks questions—

If she asks questions she’ll learn about my world. Good? That’s fine. Even if she knows, can she get there so easily? I don’t think it matters. If someone could travel between worlds so easily, we’d already know about it. Maybe she could, but we have guns and way more technology that she does.

But that’s the catch, isn’t it? We have technology, and if she asks more questions, she’ll know about our world’s technology. Not just things like hygiene or bacteria, but the things that should never be told. Secrets, jumps forward in capability that would make any nation a superpower in an instant.

Gunpowder. Firearms. Germ warfare. Steam power, electrical power, locomotion. Everything from interrogation techniques to how to build a tank or a bomb. Nuclear weapons.

Does it sound stupid to say it like that? I don’t know how to make nukes. But I do know what goes into gunpowder. I aced chemistry class. I know exactly how a turbine works, and I’m pretty damn sure I remember all of the techniques the FBI illegally used on terrorists.

Damn it. It’s a moral choice, isn’t it? Lose my leg, or give away the secrets of death and destruction. If it were anyone else I could lie, or tell only small truths. But she can read my damn mind. And I know exactly where to gather all the ingredients of gunpowder. And guns wouldn’t be hard to make, not in this world.

Lady Magnolia. I know nothing about her. Just rumors and that she’s a powerful and influential lady with wealth and connections. Even if she appears nice—especially if she appears nice—I have no way of knowing if she’d use that power to help or harm.

No. It’s simpler than that.

Even if I could trust her, the secret would spread. That’s how it works. She’d want to see a demonstration, and someone would put the pieces together. Ressa, her maid, maybe. Sooner or later technology would spread. I’d be responsible for bringing guns into the world. And maybe it’s not that far away from that level of technology already but—

“Belfast. Beruit. Phnom Penh. All flesh is grass.”

When I was a girl, I went to the Newseum in Washington D.C. I saw the pictures on the walls. I looked at the children, the dying and the dead. My dad thought I was too young to understand.

All flesh is grass. The “War Photographer” by Carol Ann Duffy. Is it a straight line between bringing the capabilities of gunpowder to the world and terrible war? No. But where there is knowledge, there is power. And even if she used her power to help her nation, that would only lead to war in the end.

Napalm. Mixed petroleum with a natural or synthesized rubber like latex. It wouldn’t be hard to create the same kind of thing. Not with Magnolia’s influence.

I want to run. I want to walk again.

I’m no Walter White. But I remember too much. Too much National Geographic and other shows about the world. Not a perfect memory. But too close.

Damn it. I can’t do it. I don’t want to be the one who creates a Hitler or gives another white…woman a gun and a mandate to conquer the world. But I want to run.

I can’t figure it out. I can’t decide. I waited a week—a damn week for her to arrive. In pain and fear. And now that she offered me what I was dreaming of I should have leapt at it. But I hesitate. I draw back.

I sit on the edge of the abyss and wonder if my soul burns well in hell. It’s not fair. All I ever want to do was run. I don’t want to lose my leg. I want to run. I want to live. I want to walk.

I don’t want to see the child sitting alone. I don’t want to see the vulture. I don’t want it to be my fault.

Alone, I sit in my room, sitting with the fate of two worlds in my hands. This world’s, and my world. I live to run. My legs are what define me.

The medallion is cold in my hands. I could shatter the gem in an instant. Grind it against the floorboards. It would be so quick, so easy.

It would—

The door opens. I look up. A face like perfection and a dream stares at me. Half perfection, half mortal. The cruelest of both worlds. Ceria Springwalker.

She hesitates, and then steps into the room. I expect hollow words and hollower promises. I expect to be let down, or to feel nothing but despair. But she doesn’t bring any of that.

She brings salvation.

----

“I know it’s bad.”

Ryoka sat on the bed. Ceria stared at her leg, and then looked away.

“I’ve seen an injury like that before. I’m aware it can’t be healed so easily. I’m not sure if your friend really understood—”

“She doesn’t. It doesn’t matter. She can’t help. Neither can you.”

“We owe you a debt. You might not understand it, but Calruz hired every member of the Horns of Hammerad because we believe in honor. If we can help, we will.”

Ryoka bared her teeth.

“Got a few hundred gold coins?”

“No. That’s beyond us, frankly. Even if we sold our armor and weapons – and Calruz might, to impress you – I doubt we’d be able to get close to a [Healer] of that level. They’re in constant demand. Thousands camp around the home of a famous [Healer] in Tenbault each day, hoping she’ll tend to them. Even if we had the money they charge it would take a miracle.”

Ryoka grunted. Her hand was clutching a medallion Ceria recognized. A simple spell was embedded in the gem in the center. She made no comment. Instead, Ceria looked at Ryoka. Ryoka gazed back.

What the young woman saw, Ceria could guess. A half-breed, perhaps. A memory of what was lost, or maybe she just saw a mage, someone who pursued strange goals few understood. It didn’t matter. And for some reason, Ceria thought that the Runner known as Ryoka Griffin looked at her differently than the rest. But duty was duty. Honor was honor.

“My peo—I don’t trust the nobility.”

Ceria glanced sidelong at Ryoka, as if hoping for a conformation. Ryoka grunted.

“I don’t trust anyone.”

“I know that Lady Magnolia offered you…something. I saw her on the way in. You might want to accept, but all deals have a price. Even if she doesn’t say, she’ll want something.”

“I know.”

“A spell is probably the only way to cure your leg. But there’s magic that she offers, and then there’s…another way.”

“Another way?”

Ryoka looked at Ceria. Her eyes seemed to pierce the young half-Elf to her core. Ceria Springwalker had lived for over sixty years, but she hadn’t ever seen someone as desperate as Ryoka.

“Tell me.”

The eyes seemed to be boring a path straight into her soul. Ceria took a deep breath.

“…How do you feel about necromancy?”

1.28

After a few days, Erin concluded that she had three types of customers. The first type was the Antinium, namely Pawn and the Workers. He brought them every day, or every other day as soon as the sun touched the tops of the mountains in the south.

The south. Apparently, the sun set closer to the south than the west in this world. Erin felt stupid for not noticing earlier, but then, she didn’t carry around a compass, did she?

But the Workers arrived like clockwork, many bringing chess sets of paper or stone. Apparently, Workers did earn some kind of pay and they spent their money exclusively on chess and food.

Erin felt bad about that, especially given the price she charged for acid flies. But Pawn told her that before this, the Workers didn’t claim any of their weekly stipends. And besides, they ate like pigs. Starving pigs with a taste for crunchy flies.

But despite their obsession with her food, the Antinium were polite, quiet except when they were eating, and they played chess. In other words, Erin would have been glad to have them over every night.

The second kind of guest she got were the Goblins. They were like the Workers, but smellier, dirtier, and they paid her with coins covered in blood, dirt, and occasionally—

Erin had instituted a policy in her inn. Goblins had to jump in the stream, or at least wash themselves before they were allowed in. Not that many visited. In truth, it was just Rags and her posse.

And it was a posse. Or a group. Or gang. Erin was sure she was the leader of whatever they were, but while Rags was in command, it was also clear that she wasn’t in charge of her tribe, if there was still a tribe.

Occasionally the small Goblin would come in alone, but often she had two bigger Goblins following her. They were almost always injured—not seriously, but with small wounds that suggested scuffles and fighting. Erin wondered if the reason she didn’t see more Goblins was because they were recovering from injuries.

Nevertheless, Rags paid for her followers’ meals and her own and ate in silence. Occasionally she played a game of chess, but Erin got the distinct impression the small Goblin was watching her.

That was fine, but Erin had grown…warier over the last few days. She always checked to make sure she knew how many Goblins were around her inn, and even when Rags was alone in her inn, Erin never left any knives or other weapons out in the open. She also made the Goblins leave whatever they were carrying outside the inn.

Still, if the Goblins were an issue that occasionally made the Workers pause and Erin count the knives in her kitchen, they were still decent customers. They paid money, which was more than Erin could say for the last type of guest: annoying mage.

“Do you know how much money you owe me for all these meals?”

Pisces looked up, mouth bulging with soup. He swallowed, grabbed a piece of bread and munched it down before replying.

“I am as always reliant upon your good graces and tolerant nature, good mistress. Rest assured I will pay off my debts in due time as soon as I acquire the necessary funds.”

Erin planted her hands on her hips. The inn was empty except for Rags sitting in one corner, slurping down another bowl of soup.

“You keep saying that, but do you actually have any money on you?”

Pisces raised his eyebrows.

“What is money but a concept? If you are referring to the notion of money, I am indeed wealthy in—”

“Coins. Do you have them?”

“Not as of such, no.”

He shrugged as Erin glared and went back to his soup. It was amazing how Pisces could manage to scarf down her food and still grimace at the same time.

“I know you study magic all day, but would it kill you to get a job? Then you could pay for food instead of mooching it off me. And you could pay for someone to wash your robe, too!”

Pisces glanced down at his travel and food-stained robes. They were probably white, but constant use and little washing had rendered them colorfully gray and splotched.

“I fail to see your point.”

“Your clothes. Are filthy.”

He shrugged.

“Do they emit any kind of unsavory smell?”

“…No.”

“Then once again magic has eliminated another tiresome chore. As to your point about employment, I remind you that I am banned from entering Liscor due to my magical inclinations.”

“And because you stole food and money from people by pretending to be a monster.”

“That too, I suppose. Regardless, it behooves me to stay away from the Watch. Even this far from the city I must occasionally evade their tiresome patrols.”

“Well, you won’t have to do that much longer.”

Erin sighed, and tossed her cleaning rag on the table next to Pisces. He eyed it, and then her.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, they’re not going to patrol around the inn any longer. After—after Klbkch—anyways, the stupid Captain said she’s not going patrol this area. And Relc doesn’t hang out here, so I guess you don’t have to worry about the Watch.”

Pisces repeated Erin’s words slowly.

“They aren’t patrolling this region any longer?”

“That’s what I said.”

He scratched at his chin and glanced out the window. It was still morning, but Erin had closed most of the shutters. It was an unexpectedly chilly day today, and she didn’t feel like building a fire.

“That would be…problematic.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

Pisces leaned back in his chair and fiddled with the spoon he was using. He stared at the ceiling, a sign Erin knew meant she was about to hear another lecture. Resigned she picked up the bar rag and turned to clean another table.

Rags was sitting two tables over. Erin blinked as the Goblin quickly looked away. She hadn’t even heard the small Goblin move. Was she…listening in on Erin’s conversation with Pisces?

“The local fauna and flora of the area around Liscor is not the most hostile of environments, but there are several notable monster types that do pose a serious threat, even to me.”

Erin glanced over at Pisces.

“Even a great and glorious mage like you?”

“Let us just say that several of the species around here deter adventurers from pursuing their trade. Not that Drakes and Gnolls tend towards adventuring as much in any case. But without the Watch to keep local populations down, it will become hazardous quite quickly. I would suggest you hire some form of protection before this occurs.”

“What, like a bodyguard? I don’t have the money for that.”

Pisces shook his head.

“I was referring to thugs with weapons aptly known as bouncers, but you do raise a good point. I doubt many would be willing to travel this far to offer protection—and even if they did, their prices would be quite exorbitant.”

“That’s what I just said.”

“Yes, well, regardless some form of personal defense would be highly advisable.”

“I can fight. I’ve got uh, [Bar Fighting] as a skill, you know. I can totally crack someone over the head with a chair.”

Pisces raised his eyebrows and applauded silently. Erin glared at him.

“Most ah, impressive. However, I doubt your prowess with a wooden chair would deter anything but the average Goblin. Most creatures are a tad studier than that I fear.”

This time both Rags and Erin glared at Pisces. He ignored Erin, but he seemed less sanguine about Rags, who had moved over to the table next to his. Gingerly, as if expecting her to bite, Pisces flapped one hand at Rags who shied away from him.

“Let me put it another way, Mistress Solstice. In words you may more easier understand. Monsters, strong. You, weak. Regardless of your level, you have only the [Innkeeper] class which has few skills meant for fighting or survival.”

Pisces took another bite of bread and then reached for a cup as Erin fumed.

“I’m not completely helpless, you know.”

“I never said that you were. But fighting is far different from self-defense.”

He was right. In fact, Pisces was often right, but the problem was that he was so aggravating in being right that Erin didn’t like to admit it. She changed the subject to something she’d been waiting to bring up with him.

“By the way, I learned a new skill after the—the game.”

Pisces paused with his tankard to his lips.

“Oh?”

“It’s called [Immortal Moment]. I have no idea what it does.”

“Hm.”

He frowned and took a deep drink, grimacing at the water in his cup.

“I have not ever heard of such a skill in any of the directories I have read during my time as a student. Nor have I heard of such a skill at any point in my life. Have you found out what it does?”

“Nope.”

Pisces shrugged again.

“It sounds like quite a useless skill, to be honest.”

“That’s what I thought, too. But do you know if it has anything to do with chess? That’s probably where I learned it from.”

He thought about this as he drank.

“It is possible, although skills that focus on one task are generally easier to understand from their name. It is more likely that this is some kind of ability you gained during the course of the game. But as to what that might be or how such a skill could be used—”

He turned up one hand and finished his drink. Then he scowled and plonked the empty cup back on the table.

“Do you not have any alcohol? Or at least if you must serve drinks, would you do the courtesy of bringing out the Amentus beverage?”

Erin raised her eyebrows. Pisces pointedly glanced at his empty cup and she more pointedly made no move to fill it.

“People who pay their tabs get blue juice. And as for alcohol—I’m underage, you idiot. I’m only 20.”

Pisces stared at her incredulously as Erin glared at him over the counter.

“Underage of what, precisely?”

“The drinking age of cou—”

Erin stopped.

“…Nevermind. Okay, yeah, I could buy alcohol, but it’s expensive.”

“And customary for an inn.”

Erin thought for a second. She vaguely recalled something.

“I do have [Alcohol Brewer] as a skill. I guess I could…make beer?”

Once again, Pisces’s tone was laced with sarcasm.

“Ah. I see having a skill replaces the need for hops, barrels, the fermentation process, yeast, and of course the grain needed for such a beverage. Do show me how you make ‘beer’, and let me know when you’ve decided on what type of ‘beer’ you would like to create.”

Erin glared at him. The odd thing was that she understood exactly what Pisces meant. The skill in her head was telling her all kinds of crazy things like how long she’d have to ferment the wort she’d get after adding boiling water to grain, and all the supplies she’d need. And guess what? It turned out making alcohol was a pain in the ass.

“I can make wine too. Wine is easier.”

He shook his head.

“I trust your expert opinion, of course. But may I recommend testing your drink out on the Goblins, or perhaps the Antinium before serving it with your meals?”

This time Rags poked Pisces hard in the side. He yelped, swiped at her, and nearly fell out of his chair. He glared at Rags.

“Mistress Solstice, please keep your guest away from me. Elsewise I may be forced to use magic to remedy the problem myself.”

Rags instantly scooted away from Pisces in alarm. Erin folded her arms and glared at him.

“You’ll do no such thing if you want to eat here again. Stop bullying the Goblin, and stop insulting them while you’re at it. Besides, she’d probably beat you in a fight.”

“I doubt that.”

Pisces muttered darkly, but he subsided back into his chair and began shoveling more soup into his mouth. Rags deliberately looked away from both humans and pretended to be engrossed in picking at dried scabs on her side. Erin sighed. Touchy mages and inquisitive Goblins. She missed the Antinium already.

“I get that the Workers and Goblins travel in groups and run away from monsters, but how do you survive out here by yourself?”

He shrugged sulkily.

“Any decent mage has a number of spells to avoid detection. [Invisibility] is one of my fortes, for instance.”

“Oh. Right. I forgot you could do that. You know a lot of spells, huh?”

“I am quite adept in a number of magical fields. But yes, [Invisibility] is a 4th Tier spell I have acquired after much practice and study. It is useful in almost every situation.”

“Like for what? Spying on people? Hey—you haven’t ever come in here while you’re invisible, have you? Because if you have…”

Erin made a fist. Pisces raised both hands and made a face.

“Perish the thought. I do have standards to adhere to, and besides which, you are aware that most mages use the [Farsight] and [Scrying] spells to gaze with impunity on anyone they like, are you not?”

“What?”

Erin looked at him in horror. Pisces smirked a bit.

“Is it so surprising? Most upper-class dwellings and bath houses have spells to prevent such unwanted attention. But fear not—there are no human mages in the area besides myself, and I suspect any Drake mages if such exist would prefer their own species to gaze upon.”

Erin shivered.

“That is the creepiest thought I’ve ever heard of. All of you mages are perverts, I swear.”

He looked indignant at that.

“Magic is a sacred art, Good Mistress. If a few use it to untoward ends, that is a small consequence that cannot be avoided. But to all others who pursue magic, the benefits are enormous. For instance, I do not have to worry about monster attacks even should the Watch give up patrols in this area entirely.”

“So you’re Mister Powerful, huh?”

“You saw my effectiveness against the acid flies, did you not?”

That made Erin pause.

“Oh. Yeah. You were pretty cool then. Um, thanks again.”

Pisces waved a hand at her and fixed his attention back on his soup quickly. Erin thought his cheeks were slightly pink. She smiled, and had another thought.

“Why don’t you teach me magic, then? I’ll get rid of your tab if you do.”

The mage looked up from his soup and stared at Erin.

“Teach you. Magic? Good Mistress—”

She glared.

“Erin, then. You do realize that magic is not as simple as waving a wand about and chanting words, don’t you? Becoming a mage such as myself requires years—sometimes decades of intensive study.”

“I know.”

Erin didn’t actually know that, but it made sense. But now that the idea had hit her, she was suddenly caught up by the idea. Magic. It seemed so strange and incomprehensible and yet—

“But uh, can’t you teach me a bit of magic? I’d love to learn. I think mages are cool. I was a big fan of Harry Potter growing up, although Draco was sort of cute too—”

Pisces glanced at Rags and got a blank look in return.

“…Who?”

Erin blushed.

“Never mind. Forget that. But will you teach me something? It doesn’t even have to be a lot. I just want to learn about magic.”

Rags looked up and stopped picking at her scabs. Erin sensed the Goblin scooting closer from chair to chair as Pisces considered her offer.

“And you would forget my tab?”

“I’ll forget your tab and I’ll start buying alcohol.”

That seemed to swing the scales. Pisces nodded. He sat back ponderous in his chair and intoned in his important-sounding voice.

“Very well then. Let us begin with the Mage’s Test. Observe.”

Pisces raised a finger which began to glow with blue-white light. He began to trace something in the air. Where his finger moved the light from his finger seemed to leave an ethereal residue. Erin squinted at it, fascinated.

“This is the basic test for determining aptitude. I am drawing—”

The gentle glow of blue magic was half-complete in the air when something interrupted Pisces’s lecture. A flash of light bloomed right in front of his nose. Pisces yelped, overbalanced in his chair, and crashed to the ground.

Erin backed up. Pisces flailed around on the ground as Rags dove out of her chair and underneath a table.

“What was that? Get it off!”

Something was hovering in the air in front of Pisces. He batted at it frantically, and then paused as he saw what it was. Slowly, he sat up and Erin saw something floating around his head. It looked…like a firefly? A firefly made of red and gold—no, more like a spectrum of those colors, flickering together and winked out in front of the mage’s face. It was beautiful and mysterious.

“What is that?”

Pisces stood up. He slowly reached out, and the firefly became motes of light that danced around his hand. He stared at them.

“It’s a messaging spell, but I haven’t seen one like that since—”

He broke off, frowning. The pinpoints of light began to coalesce into strange, flickering shapes. Erin squinted at them, but they didn’t look like letters. Or…were they words? She couldn’t describe it—no, she couldn’t even understand it.

Each fleck of light twisted and became hovering runes or symbols, but they also made Erin think they were words. But could you make a single letter or shape into an entire concept? And they…they hurt to look at. Erin’s eyes ached trying to take the strange magical shapes in.

It was as if they didn’t exist in normal, three-dimensional space. And the more Erin looked at them the more she developed a painful headache and stinging behind her eyes. She had to glance away.

Rags was desperately trying to stare at the magical message, but she seemed to be in as much pain as Erin, clutching at her head and prying her eyes open with her dirty fingers.

Only Pisces seemed to be able to look at the shapes without any pain. He frowned, and stood up.

“I must read this. I, ah, will be going now. Thank you for the meal.”

“No—problem.”

Erin shaded her eyes and watched as the dusty robes and sandaled feet made their way to her door. They paused and she heard Pisces’s voice again.

“—Regardless of your feelings, you should still hire some sort of protection. The more aggressive types of monsters and wildlife will soon return to this area.”

Erin looked up, and blinked as one of the shapes pulsed a message she couldn’t understand into her brain. She covered her eyes. When she dared remove her hand, Pisces was gone.

----

Bodyguards. Hired help. Bouncers. Security. People with pointy sticks. They ranged from people who were good in a brawl to retired or active adventurers willing to take easier jobs in exchange for pay.

They were expensive, but it beat being stabbed repeatedly or eaten by a monster. That was Pisces’s opinion. Erin heard pretty much the same thing when she saw Selys next.

The two young women or young…female adults were walking through the marketplace in Liscor, shopping. Erin was accompanying Selys, having placed her orders with Krshia already.

It was very strange. In some ways, Selys was just like any girl around Erin’s age. The female Drake looked at the latest fashions, checked out jewelry, bought food and supplies for the week, and chattered happily with the shopkeepers like any young woman living on her own.

If Erin closed her eyes she could imagine she was back in her world. But when she looked at Selys, it was hard to ignore the scales. And the tail. And the conversation topic.

“Look Erin, I know you want to stay in your inn, but it’s not safe. At least hire one of the low-level adventurers. They’re not that strong, but I could get you a good deal. Maybe we could call it a perpetual extermination request. Then the Guild would pay some of the costs.”

Erin shook her head as they walked down the street.

“I don’t see why I need protection, Selys. I haven’t seen any monsters lately, not even the rock crabs. The only things I see are those weird dino-birds in the sky and Rags and the Goblins.”

“Those are bad enough. But you haven’t seen the really bad monsters because the Watch keeps them away! Look Erin, I don’t want to hear you’ve been eaten or munched up into little bits one day.”

“Lovely image.”

“Thanks. But the Watch is here for our protection. If they’re not guarding you—”

Selys broke off, frowning. She and Erin stopped their progress down the street. There was a crowd ahead of them, mainly Drakes with a few Gnolls mixed in.

“What’s that all about?”

Someone was shouting. No, someones were shouting. Erin stood up on her tiptoes but couldn’t see past the bodies in front of her. Then all of a sudden the crowd opened up and several Drakes thrust their way through.

“Out of the way!”

Erin jumped aside and stared as a group of four armed Drakes pushed their way out of the crowd. These weren’t guardsmen, but they definitely weren’t civilians either.

“Adventurers.”

Selys whispered it to Erin as she drew her against one side of the street. Indeed, all of the pedestrians were giving the Drake adventurers a wide berth.

The Drakes shouted angrily back into the crowd behind them and stormed down the street. Erin watched them go. And then out of the crowd came a familiar figure.

Relc pushed aside the crowd and emerged from the press of bodies, tail lashing angrily. He turned, reached back into the scrum and pulled out a smaller, dazed-looking Drake guardsman.

“Stop!”

He shouted at the backs of the Drake adventurers, but they ignored him. Fuming, Relc went to chase after them, but the other guardsman grabbed him. Relc and the Drake began arguing furiously.

Selys looked from Relc to the adventurers anxiously.

“They must have gotten into a fight with the Watch. There will be trouble over this.”

Erin looked at Relc uncertainly. His tail was furiously lashing the ground as he argued with the other guardsman.

“Is he going to arrest them?”

“I hope not. Adventurers and the Watch don’t get along. If he does, there will be trouble. Well, there’s already going to be trouble at the Guild, but an arrest would really make things worse.”

Selys watched anxiously as Relc seemed to get angrier and angrier, despite the other guardsman clearly trying to calm him down. He tore himself away and began marching down the street after the adventurers who had already disappeared from view. Coincidentally, his path took him right in front of Selys and Erin.

The Drake froze up when he saw Erin. She hesitated, not certain what she should say, if anything. Before she could make up her mind Relc whirled around and marched in the opposite direction, dragging the hapless Guardsman along in his wake. He didn’t look back once.

Selys breathed out softly.

“Well, that was lucky. It’s a good thing he decided not to do anything. I’d hate to see a fight break out in the market, especially since we’re not done shopping. Good thing seeing you calmed him down, right, Erin? Erin…?”

She looked over at Erin’s face. The human was wiping at her eyes. Selys’ eyes widened and her tail began to twitch.

“Oh. Um. Sorry. I didn’t mean—let’s—let’s go.”

Gently, she took Erin by the arm and led her away. The crowd stared at the human curiously, but lost interest now that the adventurers and Relc were both gone. Only a few Gnolls stared after Erin’s back, but quickly looked away when a certain Gnoll shopkeeper stepped out of her shop and glared at them.

----

“Here. Have a cup of this.”

Selys handed Erin a steaming cup of something bittersweet. Erin sipped at it gratefully and tasted what she imagined was a root-vegetable. Well, it wasn’t bad and it was warm.

“Sorry about that.”

“…It’s fine. I just—I guess Relc wasn’t expecting to see me. He looked angry.”

“Well, yes.”

Selys bustled around her small home, fetching another cup of root-tea for herself as she made Erin at home. The room she’d brought Erin into reminded Erin of a normal apartment, except it was quite open and spacious. The chair she was sitting on was also sized differently, so that the legs were higher off the ground than normal.

At last the female Drake took a seat next to Erin.

“I guess it was another incident with the adventurers. I didn’t recognize them from the Guild, so they must be from further south. And the ones we’ve been getting lately, well, they don’t like to obey the laws as much so we’ve been getting a lot of complaints at the Adventurer’s Guild.”

“Mm.”

Erin had almost forgotten Selys was a receptionist at the Guild.

“They were all Drakes. Aren’t there Gnoll adventurers too?”

“Oh, a few. But that was probably an all-Drake team. Gnolls—well, Gnolls don’t like working with other races as much. And not as many become adventurers, so we haven’t been getting as many.”

“What about humans? Aren’t any of them adventurers?”

“Lots. Most, in fact. But this group is from down south.”

“…Right?”

Erin frowned at Selys. Selys frowned back.

“They’re from down south, so they’re all Drakes.”

“Right, right. Because all Drakes live in the south…?”

Selys paused.

“…Erin. Do you not know the local geography?”

“Um, no.”

Erin fidgeted in her seat. Selys sighed, but smiled.

“You really need to pay more attention. Wait here for a second.”

She put down her cup and bustled about her home, rummaging around in drawers. Erin sipped at her tea until Selys came back with a piece of paper.

“Do you know anything about this continent?”

“I know we’re on a continent. How’s that?”

Selys jabbed Erin playfully with one claw. Erin yelped and nearly knocked over her tea.

“Sorry, sorry! I forgot how soft you Humans are! Sorry!”

“It’s okay.”

Embarrassed, Selys picked up a quill and unscrewed an inkpot.

“Here, let me show you. The name of the continent we’re living on is Issrysil—well, I know the Humans have another name. It looks…like this.”

Selys drew on the piece of paper and outlined a body of land that looked vaguely like a triangle up top, but narrowed near the center and became vaguely shoe-shaped near the bottom. It was fairly ovoid in total though, or maybe that was just the result of Selys’ drawing skills.

“Okay, this is roughly where all you Humans live. See? The entire northern part of the continent except where the mountains start. From here…to…here.”

Erin peered at the giant squiggly oval Selys drew around the northern section of the continent. Then she added small triangles for mountains two thirds up the map, a long line of them stretching across the continent, nearly cutting the top third off from the bottom.

“And here’s Liscor. See, we’re the only way through the mountain range aside from the High Passes over here…and of course the coastal routes to the east and west.”

Selys drew arrows through two sections of the mountain range and circled the small dot where Liscor was. That was roughly in the center of the map, where the continent was narrowest. Erin wasn’t good at geography—or topography—or whatever maps were, but it looked like Liscor was in a valley of some sorts.

“See, that’s why Liscor is so important. Without us, any goods have to go by land or sea all the way around the continent, or brave the High Passes. And that’s not a good idea.”

“These High Passes aren’t safe?”

“Not even for high-level adventurers. Nasty creatures live around there—they make the local monsters look harmless by comparison.”

“Oh. But if all the humans live in the north, what about the south? Are they all…Gnolls and Drakes?”

“And Antinium, but a few other races live there.”

Selys shook her head as she began marking the bottom half of the map.

“Here are the six known Antinium colonies. Past this point is their territory. Now, it’s not dangerous there per se, but no one ever ventures there. For one thing, the Antinium there aren’t like ones in Liscor. They’re—wild.”

“Wild?”

“I guess I mean—well, it’s more like they’re hostile rather than just creepy like the ones here. I don’t really understand the difference, but the ones here have some sort of bargain with all the southern cities. They won’t fight and they don’t have an army, but the other colonies—”

“Bad news. Got it.”

“None of the cities will trade with them. Not that they do much trading, what with all the fighting that’s always happening down there.”

“Lots of war? Oh, wait. That’s where your army is, right?”

“Right. They’re always being hired by one of the cities or alliances that pop up. And there are a lot of them.”

Selys began to furiously mark the lower half of the map with cities and circles.

“Okay, it gets a bit complex, but the big groups are the Walled Cities over here, the Gnoll Tribes of the plains, and the independent ports and cities in this area. Most of the inhabitants are Drakes, it’s true, but there are other races. For instance, nearly a third of the population down there are Gnolls. We have a few hundred Humans here and there…sometimes String People, or even Centaurs, Selphids, or other folk, but just they’re individuals rather than a community. However, we have a good portion of Minotaurs that come and go.”

Some of the races Selys mentioned made no sense to Erin. What was a String Person? Or a Selphid? Or…

“What about Beastkin? I keep hearing that they live around here, but I’ve never seen one. Unless they look exactly like Gnolls. Where do they live?”

“Not really anywhere. I guess you might find more of them among the Gnoll Tribes—but they don’t belong there either. They come from another continent further to the east, but they’re peaceful and easy to work with.”

“Uh, are there other kinds of people like you? What about Lizardfolk?”

Selys scowled.

“No lizards. We wouldn’t tolerate their kind in cities, anyways.”

Erin stared at the map. Selys finished marking it and smiled at Erin.

“Well, does that make sense?”

“Yeah, I think so. You explained it all well, but the map is making my eyes hurt.”

“Hey! What’s wrong with my map?”

Selys glanced down at the confusing jumble of squiggly lines and dots on the piece of paper.

“…Oh.”

Erin tried to keep a straight face, but couldn’t hold it in. She laughed, and after a moment Selys laughed with her. That was a bit of happiness.

When they were done, Selys pointed to one of the dots near Liscor.

“Most of the new adventurers are coming from Lyszen. I bet we’ll get a lot more, and probably even some Human ones, but not for a few more days at least. Anyways, the reason all the adventurers are here is because of those new ruins. Didn’t you hear about them? Apparently, it’s some kind of underground temple—a huge one!”

Erin remembered hearing about ruins, but it seemed like a distant memory.

“Oh yeah. That’s a big deal, isn’t it?”

Selys nodded seriously.

“It’s huge. We’re getting a huge amount of merchants, adventurers, and business because of it. But of course that means more trouble when they get into fights with the Antinium, or break the laws. I hear the Watch is working overtime and now that Klbkch is—”

She cut herself off and tried to backpedal.

“Um, what I mean is that without—without enough guardsmen—”

“I get it.”

Erin patted Selys on the shoulder.

“So, there’s going to be a lot of adventurers? I might finally get some business in my inn.”

“Only if you can protect it. Like I was saying, Erin—”

“I need protection. Got it.”

Erin sighed.

“It’s so weird. I guess I just got used to the inn and the local area, y’know? I haven’t seen any monsters so I just can’t get worried.”

“Well, you are in a place that used to have quite a few villages.”

Selys conceded as she marked a few x’s around Liscor.

“They all got abandoned or destroyed over time, especially after the Necromancer.”

“Pisces?”

“Who? No, not that human. The Necromancer. He was from a while back and—well, we lost a lot of the area around Liscor. But the place you’re in is safe. But if you go a few miles in any direction you can find a lot of strange stuff.”

Erin was intrigued She studied the second map Selys was drawing.

“Really? I guess I’ve never…huh. You know I’ve never really gone exploring. I mean, aside from finding the inn and a few other spots, I didn’t really go anywhere else. I started repairing that inn and…yeah, I didn’t ever really go any further.”

Selys shook her head.

“Good thing you didn’t. Some of those places are pretty dangerous. I mean, not now obviously since it’s not the right season, and the Watch was keeping it clear, but I’ve heard stories.”

“Like what?”

“Oh you know the adventurers. They always talk about treasure and finding magical artifacts in caves and so on. But the ones around here are always poor, so I wouldn’t pay attention if I were you. Most slither on back to the city before they get much further than your inn, anyways. They’re all low-level which is why none of them have dared enter the ruins yet. They’re waiting for the stronger-adventurers to clear the way before they flood in.”

“So what you’re saying is that there’s a lot of unexplored land out there?”

“If you stray from the roads, I guess. But who’d risk exploring out there?”

Selys paused, realized what she’d said, and stared suspiciously at her friend. Erin kept a perfectly straight face.

“Erin…”

“What?”

“No! It’s too dangerous! Don’t be stupid!”

“I just want to see what’s around the inn. I won’t go far. And I’ll run away if I see anything.”

“No. I won’t let you go alone.”

“Oh come on. I’ll be careful. I’ll only walk a few miles in every direction, okay? But I really don’t know what’s around the inn. I just want to explore a little.”

“Erin—”

“I’ll be fine, I promise, Selys. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Knock. Knock. Erin rapped her knuckles against the table.

“You’re going to get yourself hurt! Or killed!”

“There’s nothing out there that can hur—catch me.”

Knock. Knock.

“We were just talking about you needing someone to protect you! Without Relc and Klbkch—Erin, remember the Goblins? And there are far worse things out there! Believe me, I work with adventurers. I know.”

“Nothing’s going to bother going after a lone human in an inn in the middle of nowhere, I’m sure.”

Knock. Knock.

“Why do you keep on doing that?”

1.06 R

Once, she’d broken her arm. When it had happened, Ryoka hadn’t even felt the pain of it. It was just the shock of it that hurt. Only when she’d dragged herself from underneath the motorcycle and waited for the ambulance did she feel the pain.

It hurt. But oddly, the worst part hadn’t been the pain.

Now, if her broken bones had actually pierced her skin at that time her arm would have hurt far more than it did. But back then, Ryoka had been more overwhelmed by the dizzy nausea of it all, and the feeling of wrongness in her arm. That had been the real trial as she waited for help.

She remembered that moment now. The memory floated up in her hazy mind like a bubble of the past. It was important to remember. She didn’t do it often enough.

Ryoka leaned on the table with the arm she’d once broken—her left. It was a pain in the ass to break your dominant hand. What was she thinking about? Oh yeah.

Memory.

Maybe if she’d remembered, she wouldn’t have made the same mistakes. But she repeated the same errors again and again. Pissing off everyone around her until they dragged her down into the mud. The same thing again and again. The symptom of madness—except that it wasn’t. That was one of the things idiots thought was true but was actually a lie.

Ryoka looked around. At this time of night, the common room of the inn was deserted. The innkeeper was in his bed and the barmaids were all gone. But he’d left a candle on for her. Not that he would have done it if she’d asked, but a Minotaur’s polite request is quite another thing.

She rested her head against the table. She felt hot. And tired. But mainly hot, in the bad, stifling air sort of way. Not the hot that made uppity Minotaurs try to invite themselves into her room sort of way.

It was night. It might have been dark and stormy, but Ryoka was sitting inside the inn, so she couldn’t tell. She wasn’t doing anything right now. Just sitting, and…waiting.

Memory. Pain. Broken bones. Ryoka felt time slipping around her. First she was waiting and then—a half-Elf was talking to her.

“Ryoka? Time to go.”

Why was she talking so quietly? Oh. It was night. Ryoka pushed her chair back. With Ceria’s arm around her she stood up. She had to be helped to the door. Humiliation. Or was it practicality?

They helped lift her into the carriage. Another bit of shame, but there were no steps up. And they’d placed hay to cushion her leg. The other adventurers nodded to each other as Ryoka lay against a pillow of straw.

Credit where credit was due. For all the Horns of Hammerad bickered and their leader was a perverted cow-man, they moved fast. Within the hour of Ceria receiving her reply from the mysterious necromancer she knew, they’d hired a carriage and horses and plotted a route to their destination.

It was a city far to the south by the name of Liscor. Ryoka didn’t know anything about it. Apparently there weren’t any humans there, just Drakes and Gnolls, whatever they were. She’d let them do it. In fact, Ryoka’s only actions since Magnolia had left were to agree to Ceria’s idea and then to sleep.

No—not sleep. Even as the carriage started with a jolt that banged Ryoka’s leg, she knew it hadn’t been sleep. The painful haze of dozing and waking couldn’t be called that. But now she was tired, mortally so.

The thing about broken bones? Ryoka blinked as the carriage rumbled down the cobblestone street. She was trying to remember. What was it? Back then, it hadn’t been the pain that was uncomfortable.

Yes, it was the other things. The pressure, the wrongness, the dizziness and nausea. All the things she felt now. Her leg felt hot underneath its wrappings. Ryoka’s mind was clouded. But the pain was gone.

Ryoka stared at the soaked bandages she could barely make out in the moonlight night. If she took the bandages off, she wouldn’t be able to think or move. Then the real pain would come back and her leg would dangle like a dead fish. She was still tempted, though. Just to do it to see her leg bend obscenely as it flapped about on her dead skin. Flop goes the piece of flesh and shattered bone. Flop, flop. Floppy the Leg-fish.

She was aware that she wasn’t…wasn’t thinking too straight. Sleep deprivation from the pain just made everything harder. But now the pain was gone. Gone, and far away.

Magic.

She could hear the other adventurers talking around her. Four of the Horns of Hammerad sat in the cart—or was it a wagon? It was big enough for five with room left over, so a wagon, then.

“Is she okay?”

That was Gerry—Gerial. The vice-captain. He liked her, she could tell. Ryoka didn’t like him back.

Ceria glanced at Ryoka. The mage was sitting next to her in the cart. Her eyes glowed in the light shining from the tip of the mage’s staff.

“She should be fine. I think.”

“She seems—odd. What spell did you cast?”

Calruz. Ryoka didn’t like him either. Not like that.

“It wasn’t me. Peminac cast [Numb], I think. It takes away pain, but it makes the affected slightly…odd. She should be fine, and it’s better than her feeling the pain. We just need to make sure to keep healing the leg every few hours.”

“You still haven’t told us how your mysterious necromancer friend will help heal the leg, Ceria.”

One of the adventurers whose name Ryoka didn’t remember turned in the cart. He wasn’t one of the mages. He gripped the mace at his side.

“You mean the Necromancer? I thought we were just visiting another mage!”

The armored warrior looked horrified. He shook his head vigorously.

“If that’s the case, count me out. I’m sorry, but not even a debt of honor would make me face that monster.”

Calruz rumbled. He was striding along next to the cart. Even as they picked up speed as they left the city gates and rumbled down the road he didn’t seem to notice the quick pace.

“In that case, get out. And consider yourself banned from the Horns of Hammerad while you’re at it.”

“Calruz—”

Gerial intervened. He patted the warrior on the shoulder.

“It’s not the Necromancer we’re going to meet. Just an ordinary necromancer, so don’t worry.”

“We don’t need cowards! Jump off and run back into the city!”

“Running from the Necromancer isn’t cowardice, idiot.”

Ceria called down from the cart as she stabbed her staff at the Minotaur’s head for emphasis.

“You weren’t on the continent when the Necromancer attacked with his legions ten years back. But even in Wistram I heard about the devastation he wrought. And believe me—even if we were all ten levels higher, we’d still be no match for him. So stop questioning the courage of your own party!”

Calruz glared, but he eventually relented. Ryoka could hear him rumbling what sounded like insults as he kept pace with the horses.

Her eyes were closed because that made the world spin less. But Ryoka had to ask.

“So this Necromancer is still alive?”

A pause. Did they think she’d been asleep? But then Gerial replied.

“No one found his body. And if you don’t find the body of a mage, chances are they’re still around. But he hasn’t been seen since, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Ceria cleared her throat.

“In any case, the mage we’re going to visit is not the Necromancer. He just…practices necromancy.”

“Ah.”

Someone shifted on the cart. Ryoka heard the scraping of metal on wood. She peeked open an eye and saw the half-Elf looking at the other female mage on the cart.

“I still don’t like it. Ceria, how do you know someone like that?”

She shrugged.

“We studied together in Wistram Academy. I was a friend of his…once. We parted ways badly several years ago, but I knew he was in the area. Besides, Pisces isn’t very dangerous. Annoying, yes, but not dangerous. He’s greedy, arrogant, and rude, but that’s all.”

Gerial leaned forwards.

“You told him what you want him to do?”

“I gave him the barest details. The messaging spell I used didn’t give me time for more, but he agreed. He’ll meet us at an inn a few miles southeast of Liscor. Don’t worry; he’s competent. But I suspect he’ll want money, and lots of it.”

“We can cover the cost.”

Calruz interjected before Ryoka could speak. Which was good, because she was completely broke at the moment. Even the healing potions and carriage had been paid for by the Horns of Hammerad.

“Why’s he out there?”

“He’s in hiding.”

“Why does he practice necromancy?”

A pause. Ryoka’s eyelids felt heavy. Then Ceria spoke.

“I suspect because he likes dead people more than he likes the living most of the time.”

“I get that.”

Ryoka let her head fall back against the bouncing carriage. She meant to ask more questions, but she was so hot. And tired. The parts of her shattered leg she could feel felt like they were throbbing. But the pain was gone, thanks to the magic.

In this moment, that was enough to make the bumping, rattling cart smelling of hay into heaven. Ryoka sank back into the hay.

She closed her eyes, and slept.

----

Riding on a carriage pulled by a horse is not fun with a shattered leg. Even with healing potions and anti-pain spells. But compared to sleeping in an inn sans anti-pain spells and with limited healing potions, it’s bliss.

I slept until morning, and well into that. When I woke up, it was already past midday and apparently, we were two thirds of the way towards our destination.[22]

I missed the details of what happened while I slept. But apparently, the Horns of Hammerad made a few stops at another city. Firstly to let the rest of their injured party members know what they were doing, and secondly, to swap out horses. Then they continued their journey into the night, half of them sleeping in the cart and then swapping out with the others in the morning.

They even took care of my leg. The bandages weren’t changed of course, but they’d used another healing potion so my leg didn’t look as puffy and horribly red. Just…puffy and red at the moment.

“How are you feeling?”

Ceria leans forward over the hay when she notices I’m awake. She hands me a roll of sweet, crumbling bread spread with jam and butter. It tastes delicious.

“Good. Thanks for everything.”

My voice wakes up one of the guys sleeping in the cart. Gerial blinks up at me and gives me a charming smile. I guess it’s charming. Someone else would probably think it was, at any rate.

“We’re happy to repay our debts, Ryoka. And it hasn’t been that much of a chore so far.”

Says the guy sleeping in hay after a riding through the night. Well, maybe that is normal by this world’s standards.

“I’ll remember this.”

Crap. That sounded like a threat. And…now he’s looking confused. Great. Change the subject, fast.

“—So. About this mage.”

Ceria nods. She fiddles with her staff. It’s not glowing anymore. I guess it takes mana to keep it lit.[23]

“Pisces. I told you that he’s a necromancer. In truth, he’s probably not that strong of one—I remember that he was about Level 22 when we were students together in Wistram Academy. Even if he’s leveled up a bit, he shouldn’t be a threat if you’re worried.”

I hear a snort. Huh. Calruz is still keeping pace with the cart. Did he…run throughout the night? Even I’m not that kind of crazy.

“I fear no mage, especially not a weak one who practices cowardly magic like necromancy.”

Gerial shook his head.

“He’s still the same level as most of our group. That’s not bad. But why did you say he was hiding out, Ceria?”

She adjusts the hat on her head and glances over the side of the cart. Not directly away from Gerial, but I know evasion when I see it.

“He was kicked out of Wistram Academy. And he’s wanted by several cities for causing trouble, I gather. Not murder—just extortion and troublemaking.”

Time for more information gathering.

“Let me guess. He was kicked out because they found he was practicing necromancy, right?

“Oh, no. It wasn’t just that. No, it was because of what he did with necromancy that he was expelled.”

Again, the awkward silence. I hate this kind of conversation, but someone’s got to ask the obvious question. Thankfully, it’s Gerial not me that gets to ask.

“What did he want to do?”

Ceria tightens her lips.

“I can’t talk about the exact details of what his research involved. Let’s just say that it violated what few magical laws we have. And suffice it to say, there’s a reason why he stays around Liscor.”

Curious. I guess. I’m not too interested in this mystery necromancer’s past except whether or not he’s competent.

“Is he competent?”

“Oh yes. He’s got the levels to do what we need and he’s smart. You could even call him a genius in a limited sense.”

“How so?”

Ceria scowls and tugs down the brim of her hat over her head.[24]

“Well, he’s only a brat—I mean, he’s only around twenty in your years which I suppose makes him old. But he’s got levels in multiple mage classes. If you add them all up, he’s got more than I do and I’m three times his age.”

Don’t they say never mention a woman’s age in public? But I guess half-elves don’t care about that sort of thing.

“So this operation. What—”

I stop and cover a yawn. Really? I just slept.

“What—”

I’m still yawning? What’s wrong with me?

“Tired?”

I want to smack the grin right off of Gerial’s face.

“…Guess I’m tired.”

Ceria nods.

“The [Numb] spell and all the healing you’re doing is probably taking its toll. If you need to sleep—sleep. We won’t get to Liscor for several more hours, and we still need to water and feed the horses.”

“Worthless nags.”

“If you want to go faster, pull the cart, Calruz.”

…Crap. I’m already slipping back into sleep. Why? I guess…just that tired?

I hear the last fragment of a reply as I drift off.

“—I personally believe he’s delusional and that he’ll never achieve his goals. But regardless, he won’t stay in the area long. Every time the Academy learns where he’s staying, they send out a team to capture him. So far he’s escaped, but it’s only a matter of time before he stays in one place too long and gets caught.”

And then—and then—

I go back to sleep.

----

When Ryoka woke up the second time she looked around and knew that she was in a different place. The grasslands still stretched around her, but the grass was longer here, and to each side she saw towering mountains enclosing the area.

She was in a valley. A pass between the mountain ranges that she normally saw as distant shapes in the distance. And the dirt road the wagon had been travelling on was now stone. The increased rumbling and jolting as the cart struck uneven stones was probably what woke her up. Also, something really stank and it was hard to sleep through.

“Evening.”

This time Ceria handed Ryoka a piece of bread with some sliced cheese and meat. Again, Ryoka devoured the meal quickly before she spoke.

“How was the trip?”

One of the other mages enjoying his lunch looked up and replied.

“Uneventful. We scared away a few Razorbeaks that wanted to take a bite out of your leg, but we haven’t’ seen any other monsters.”

Ryoka blinked stupidly. Her head still felt stuffed.

“Razorbeaks?”

“Large, green birds. Leathery. Got teeth sharp as a knife, but they’re not too dangerous. A few sparks scare them away.”

“Not a challenge.”

Ryoka looked over and realized what the smell was. Calruz sat at the far end of the cart—downwind of the other adventurers. He was sweating, heavily. To put it politely, he reeked. The smell reminded Ryoka of a workout gym right in the middle of rush hour crossed with a barn right in the middle of a different kind of rush hour.

“We near Liscor?”

“A few miles away. But we should see the inn Pisces mentioned any minute now. You have good timing.”

Ryoka shrugged. She kept looking around. The plains really were quite empty. She supposed sleeping through most of the journey had a lot to do with that, but really, the landscape she could see had very few variations in it. Just a few trees over…there, and some weird rocks scattered all over in another directions. And over there—

“Goblins.”

Ryoka said it at the same time as Ceria. The other adventurers sat up and squinted to see as they reached for their weapons. Calruz took one look and sat back against the wagon.

“Bah.”

Gerial squinted as the warrior by his side pulled out a longbow from the supplies in the carriage and began to string it.

“Goblins. Looks like a fight within their own tribe.”

Ryoka could see two groups of Goblins slashing and clubbing each other in the distance. It was hard to tell, but it looked like one side was being led by a small Goblin, while the other was leaderless. Still, the numbers favored the leaderless side.

“Hm. Looks like one of those Goblins has some experience fighting. See—they’re using formations and fighting together.”

Calruz didn’t even look up as he stretched out.

“Rabble. Not worth dirtying a blade over.”

“You wouldn’t say that if you ever saw a raiding party—or a warband. Besides, the Guild offers a copper piece for every four pairs of Goblin ears.”

The bow-wielding warrior drew an arrow and sighted down the shaft.

“I can probably hit the runt if you slow the carriage down. Might stop a new chieftain being selected for a few more days. Want me to make the shot?”

Calruz waved a hand indifferently, clearly uncaring. The warrior glanced at Gerial. And Gerial glanced at Ryoka. He hesitated, and then shook his head.

“This isn’t our area, and besides, it’s a tiny tribe. Let the local adventurers deal with it if it becomes an issue. Let’s go find that necromancer.”

“He should be waiting at the inn. Anyone see it?”

The other adventurers looked around as the warrior unstrung his bow, grumbling about a missed opportunity. Ryoka looked around too, but the landscape was full of hidden hills and dips that made seeing in a straight line hard.

It was half an hour before one of the mages pointed.

“There’s the inn. We’re here.”

Ryoka’s head shot up. She saw in the distance, a rising hill, broad enough to almost be called a plateau, and on it—

An inn.

It was quite ordinary. Ryoka glanced at its weathered façade and immediately paid no attention to it. Because standing on top of the gently sloping hill and staring down towards the party of adventurers was a mage.

He was clearly a mage. He had robes on, and he looked pasty-skinned and like he was more used to wielding books than a sword. His robes were white—well, as the cart approached they became more colorful, but he was wearing robes.

The cart rumbled to a stop as the sweating horses finally finished their long journey. The adventurers slowly and silently slid out of the cart. Ryoka tried to get up, but Calruz simply picked her up in his arms and hopped off the wagon before placing her on her feet. She glared at him, but then focused on the mage.

Pisces. He looked quite harmless as the Horns of Hammerad spread out in front of him. But Ryoka noticed that while none of the adventurers had drawn their swords, they weren’t relaxing in front of him. And they were in formation – two of the mages in the back while the warrior with the mace stood in front of them. Calruz and Gerial flanked Ceria as she stepped forwards.

The half-Elf walked forwards until she and Pisces were a few feet apart. They appraised each other. One, a part-immortal with beauty that bordered on the supernatural, wearing robes woven with magic and finest cloth. The other, a mage in dirty robes standing in front of a run-down inn.

Ceria inclined her head slightly. Pisces nodded.

“Pisces.”

“Ceria.”

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Quite.”

Both fell silent as Ryoka balanced on one leg. She looked from one face to the other. Clearly, there was little love lost between the two, but they weren’t enemies. It was another one of the awkward social moments she hated.

Ceria broke the silence. She nodded towards the inn.

“Is there anyone in there? Can we buy supplies and rest, or do we have to go into the city?”

He shrugged.

“Not at the moment. The owner is currently elsewhere, it seems.”

“Well then, I guess this is as good a place as any.”

“I suppose so.”

More silence. Ceria tightened her grip on her staff.

“You know what we want you to do?”

“Mend shattered bone? A simple task.”

Pisces shrugged casually. This seemed to infuriate Gerial. The vice-captain stepped forwards.

“We’ve travelled over a hundred miles to get here, mage. You’re supposed to be a necromancer able to help us, but I haven’t heard how you’d be able to mend bone. Necromancers deal with the dead, so what makes you special?”

If looks could kill—Pisces’s icy stare would merely have wounded. He took his time replying and sniffed hard as he looked down his nose at Gerial.

“Necromancy is a misnomer for the true nature of my magic. Reanimation is but one component of raising the dead. Another, crucial aspect is the manipulation and fundamental understanding of—”

Ceria interrupted.

“Bones. He can control bones.”

Pisces sniffed.

“Thank you for the simplistic explanation. I suppose that does explain it, however. In any event, know that I am a necromancer capable of your request. Kindly refrain from addressing me with pointless questions again.”

He turned to Ceria, completely ignoring the outraged Gerial.

“And my fee? As requested?”

Ceria made a face.

“We’ll give you twenty gold coins. No more, no less.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“For what you want? When any [Mage] would charge you two hundred coins for a [Restoration] spell? Sixty, no less.”

“Thirty. And even that is robbery.”

“Fifty.”

“Forty.”

“—Fine.”

Pisces nodded. Ceria looked over at Calruz, who tilted his head imperceptibly.

“We’ve got a deal then.”

“Very well. And the injured party I’m to heal?”

This time all the Horns glared at him. Ceria pointed at Ryoka’s bad leg. Pisces glanced over and sniffed.

“Of course.”

Ceria let out a sigh that spoke to Ryoka of long suffering. She gestured at the inn and grasslands.

“Where do you want to cast the spell?”

“There’s no need to move. Now that we’ve agreed, let’s begin.”

Pisces reached down and put a hand on Ryoka’s leg. She felt something begin to shift inside her leg and bit back a shout of surprise.

“Pisces!”

Ceria shouted and the other Horns reached for their weapons. Calruz clenched his fist and loomed forwards ominously, but Pisces didn’t look around.

He was shifting his finger as he stared hard at Ryoka’s leg. And something was moving around in there. Ryoka could feel multiple points of contact as the skin on her leg rippled and twisted.

It didn’t hurt. But it felt more unpleasant than anything she’d ever experienced. For once, her body was not in her control and Ryoka didn’t like it one bit.

But almost as soon as it had started, the feeling stopped. Pisces glanced up from her leg and narrowed his eyes at Ceria.

“I would appreciate no shouting during the process. You know how much concentration this takes even without interruption.”

The half-Elf stepped forwards and jabbed Pisces hard in the chest, making him wince.

“You idiot! At least have her lie down before you do that!”

Pisces shrugged insolently.

“The comfort of the patient is of no object to me. Regardless…I’m done. Where’s my payment?”

The other adventurers stared at him incredulously.

“Already?”

“Impossible!”

Gerial strode forwards and jabbed at Pisces angrily.

“You can’t have finished so quickly! You must be lying!”

Pisces stepped back rather than let Gerial get near him. He sneered at the older man.

“You may doubt all you wish, but I believe my fellow student can attest to my competence. Besides which, any spell would confirm the veracity of my statement. Tell them, Springwalker.”

Ceria nodded reluctantly.

“It’s true. He’s restored the bone to normal.”

The Horns of Hammerad exclaimed in surprise and shock. They immediately appraised Pisces again, all except for Ryoka. She was still staring down at her leg.

“Fine, then. Your money.”

Ceria looked at Calruz. The Minotaur grunted and fished at his belt pouch. He tossed Ceria a small sack of coins. She caught it and upended it over her palm. Gold coins poured out—far more than the bag should have contained.

Pisces waited until Ceria had counted the coins out. There were more than could fit in her hand, but as the coins poured out, Ceria’s hand shimmered with faint green light and they began to float in the air.

The gold coins flew upwards and then resolved themselves into four perfect stacks of ten standing straight up in the half-Elf’s hand. She handed it to Pisces with a face as if she were plucking a tooth. He smiled as he poured the gold into a pouch at his side. Ceria whirled away and the Horns of Hammerad retreated to confer around Ryoka’s leg.

“I have plans for this gold. Not least, it will help shut up a certain annoying innkeeper—”

He stopped when he realized no one was listening to him. Pisces glared around, turned, and walked away.

----

“Sorry about that.”

Ceria apologized once Pisces had moved out of earshot. She sighed and rubbed at her brow.

“I’d forgotten how annoying Pisces gets, and I remembered quite a bit.”

Gerial was close to tearing out his hair. He snapped at Ceria while glaring at Pisces’s back.

“If it was that simple, why couldn’t you have done that? The entire spell barely took seconds!”

“Exactly.”

Calruz grunted. A large vein was throbbing in his head as he clenched his fists.

“That little runt of a human was mocking us the entire time. We travelled all this way and paid all this coin for a spell that any one of you could have done? Explain yourself, Ceria!”

Both captain and vice-captain of the Horns of Hammerad glared at their mage, but she was at least equal to them in projecting ire.

“I couldn’t have done that. And that was no spell—at least, not any spell written down.”

Calruz paused. His massive face wrinkled up.

“What do you mean?”

“Pisces was moving around each of the shattered bones and knitting them together. He could sense where they are and he knows how to reassemble them. That isn’t something any normal mage could do.”

One of the other mages shivered.

“Ceria is right, Calruz. I wouldn’t know where to begin with an injury like that. But the speed and precision of that necromancer…and you say he’s only Level 22?”

Ceria twirled her staff in her hands as she took her time responding.

“Pisces is a genius. He possesses an intimate knowledge of human bodies. No one but another necromancer could have done that so easily. If a normal mage tried they’d fail—and I wouldn’t recommend trying.”

“And it worked?”

Now the adventurers stared at Ryoka’s leg. It seemed…unchanged, at least under the bandages. That was to say, the bandages were so red and dirty that none of the actual flesh could be spotted underneath. At least the leg didn’t appear swollen.

“The flesh is still probably broken, but the bone underneath should be repaired if Pisces is right. He doesn’t know healing spells, but he could easily reinforce and repair the bone.”

Ceria peered at Ryoka. The girl hadn’t moved the entire time—since Pisces had begun changing her leg she’d been frozen, staring down at it.

“Ryoka? How do you feel?”

No response. It was as if Ryoka were lost to the world. Ceria frowned, worry crossing her expression.

“…Ryoka?”

----

“…Ryoka?”

Someone is calling my name. And I want to answer them, I really do. But something else is occupying my mind. If you put the second coming, Armageddon, an alien invasion, and Elvis Presley rising from the dead right in front of my face I wouldn’t be able to look up.

Because I can feel it.

The magic on my leg is still there, but I can feel it. The flesh may be broken, but the bone is whole. My bones are whole.

I. Am whole.

“Ryoka? Are you okay? How do you feel?”

What kind of question is that? How do I feel? Am I okay? How could—how could words, mere words describe what I’m feeling at the moment.

It took just a moment, but the difference between the me of now and then is—is the difference of a lifetime. I am healed. I am me again.

“Ryoka?”

Ceria puts a hand on my shoulder. It brings me out of the moment, just for a second. And it’s annoying because this is a moment I wish could last forever. If I could capture this feeling—if I could remember it, I would never despair again. This is what it means to have hope fulfilled.

But she wants an answer. How do I feel? Am I okay? What a stupid question. But I have to respond with something. Something…something pithy, like ‘how do you think?’

I open my mouth, and something changes.

…What?

For once there’s nothing angry in me, no heart full of rage and hurt. Instead—instead, as I open my mouth I hesitate. The bitter, harsh words stop on my tongue and refuse to come out. And something inside of me asks: why? Why, and when?

Why was I about to lash out at the person who saved me? Saved. Me. Why would I ever do such a thing, repay all her kindness with rudeness? Am I that kind of person?

When did I forget gratitude? Since when was my first response always anger? When did I forget what it meant to say ‘thank you?’

Who am I, and where did the girl who smiled go?

I don’t say anything. I swallow the bitter words unspoken. Instead, I turn to Ceria and look her in the eye. Her eyes are gold, the molten core of suns and burnished gold. The color of wheat fields in the fading sun and caught in their depths is a glimpse of something deeper, something greater. A bit of eternity.

I bow my head, low. It’s been too long since I looked at my own two feet. I can feel the surprise of the people around them, but it’s only natural. It’s the least I can do. Should do.

“Thank you.”

Again, surprise. But I keep my head bowed. I can’t look them in the eyes just yet. The ground is blurry. So I repeat the same words.

“Thank you. Thank you, thank you. Thank you.”

Insufficient words. They’re not enough. How could words ever be enough?

The Japanese—the people that make up half of my heritage—they have a type of bow they use for apologies. It looks like prostration, and that’s what it translates to in English.

土下座. Dogeza. I once swore that I’d never do that for anyone. Not kings or queens or even God if he existed. But I’d do it now if I knew it wouldn’t make them feel so awkward. But I do it now, in my mind and soul. Thanking the people who gave me back what matters most to me.

My legs. My wings. My ability to fly. So I thank them in every way I can.

“It was nothing—”

I look up. Ceria is blushing. And on her face, it is truly cute rather than beautiful to see. I smile, and turn. Calruz blinks down at me. Surprised? But I think I know how to thank him, and it is differently than Ceria.

“I am truly grateful. And I’m sorry for my rudeness earlier. I owe you a debt I can’t repay. But I know the Horns of Hammerad now, and I know what defines you.”

I stick out my hand towards him.

“Honor.”

Calruz pauses again. But then he seizes my hand and grips it tight. His eyes were deep and blue—I hadn’t guessed. We shake hands.

“Honor and duty above all. Without it we are animals.”

I turn to Ceria and shake her hand next. And then Gerial’s. And the rest of the adventurers. How long? How long since I properly shook hands and acted like a decent person?

Firm grip, look them in the eye. Just like dad taught me. And they smile in return. They smile, and I feel it again.

Trust.

“My name is Ryoka Griffin. I am in your debt. Whatever I can do—if ever you need me, just ask.”

I stand straight and tall. Whole, once more. And my mind continues where my voice stops.

Ryoka Griffin. Freshman in Columbia University, or—I would have been. I never got to set foot on campus. Accepted with a Track and Field scholarship, specializing in the 400-meter run. 3.89 GPA average, hobbies include hunting, sports shooting, and reading. Not decided on any particular major. A fan of Youtube videos and playing video games, but didn’t put that on the college application.

Ryoka Griffin, runner, unfriendly daughter who doesn’t like her dad, 4th Dan in Muay Thai although I like Parkour a lot more. Refused Mensa membership, kicked out of two high schools. Angry girl. Lost soul.

Loves songs she can run to, a huge fan of rock and an enemy of pop, techno, and opera. Favorite artists include Meatloaf, Imagine Dragons, Fun, Lady Gaga[25], and…Five for Fighting.

Currently—

Grateful.

1.29

When they removed the bandage from Ryoka’s leg, the other adventurers flinched back. All except for Ceria and Calruz, that was.

Ryoka stared down into the bloody, ripped mess of skin and once again was profoundly grateful for the numbing magic they’d put on her leg. Gerial looked pale as he gathered up the bandages. They were soaked with blood and grime, but they were still valuable.

“The flesh—”

“It’s fine.”

Ceria reassured the others. She fished out a red potion and uncorked the bottle.

“That’s what happens when you move bone around. But now the leg can be healed properly since the bone is repaired.”

Carefully, she poured the healing potion over Ryoka’s leg. It was a stronger, more expensive potion so the effects began instantly once the liquid hit her flesh. Ryoka watched with nauseous interest as the flesh and sinew began to re-knit, shifting around like a bunch of worms. At this point most of the Horns of Hammerad had to look away, but she kept watching. It was her body after all.

After about a minute, the top layer of skin began to close. Ryoka saw her flesh flow together to become smooth and whole. It was the most satisfying sight she’d ever seen.

Ceria tapped the bottle for the last drops of healing potion to fall out and then tucked it away in her belt.

“Looks good. I’m going to dispel the magic now. Ryoka, how does it feel?”

Ryoka shrugged.

“I can’t feel anything. But it looks good. Go ahead.”

Ceria nodded and grabbed the staff at her side. She muttered a few words and Ryoka winced. The words—they weren’t part of any language she’d heard. The half-Elf’s voice seemed to resonate, and the sounds, or rather, the meaning conveyed in the sounds made her head ache to hear them.

After a few seconds of speaking, Ceria raised her staff and brought it down lightly. Then she stared at Ryoka’s leg. All of the adventurers crowded close, alternating between staring at Ryoka’s face and her leg.

For a few seconds Ryoka’s face was blank. Then, slowly, she stood up. She rested her full weight on both legs, and then on her bad leg. She took one step, and then two. Then—

She smiled.

“How’s it feel—”

Calruz nudged Gerial and cut the other man off. He watched as Ryoka took another step, and then stretched her leg out. She gingerly tested her leg by taking a few forceful steps. Then she hopped up and down.

Ryoka spun on one leg. Then she jumped, and kicked out with it, before landing and doing a pivot-kick that cut the air. The adventurers blinked, impressed.

Hop, spin, kick, jump. Ryoka leapt about the grass like a monkey, or a martial artist if you wanted to be flattering. She did a cartwheel, and then a spinning back kick. At this point Gerial and the other adventures were gaping openly, and that was before Ryoka started doing back handsprings and front flips.

“I take it you’re feeling better, Ryoka?”

The young woman stopped and grinned at Ceria. She flicked some sweat off her forehead.

“I’m great. Better than great.”

This time Calruz was the one who was lost for words. Gerial had plenty, though. He stared openly at Ryoka.

“How did—I’ve never seen anyone do that.”

The other adventurers nodded in agreement, but one of the mages shook his head.

“I have. Tumblers and performers have those kind of skills. Do you have the [Performer] class, Miss Ryoka?”

She looked at him, mildly insulted.

“No, I’ve just got skill. You should see me do parkour.”

“Par—what?”

“It’s a type of running. Or—I guess you could call it a type of martial arts.”

Again, Ryoka had lost her audience.

“Marital what?”

“I’ve heard of that.”

Ceria nodded and smiled at Ryoka.

“You are full of surprises, aren’t you? And your leg doesn’t hurt? You don’t feel any twinges or pain?”

Ryoka smiled.

“None.”

“Pisces did his work well, then. I thought he would. He might be an idiot, but he’s a competent one.”

Gerial cleared his throat.

“I’m glad. Well uh, what should we do now? It’s been a long trip and there’s the inn or Liscor…Ryoka, did you want to uh, do anything?”

The Horns of Hammerad stared at Ryoka. She was practically vibrating with energy, unable to sit still.

“I’m going to run back.”

“What?”

“I’ve gotta run. Sorry but—”

Gerial and the other Horns of Hammerad exchanged glances. The male warrior nodded and grinned at her.

“We understand. I’ve broken bones before, too.”

Ryoka nodded. She was already looking at the wide, open plains. But then she looked back and hesitated.

“I don’t want to get in your way. I can probably find my way back on my own if you want to stay—”

“Nonsense.”

This time it was Calruz who interrupted. The Minotaur snorted.

“We’ll follow in the cart. There’s over a hundred miles between here and Celum. Even I—you couldn’t run that far.”

She gave him a grin.

“Wanna bet?”

But then Ryoka paused, and tried to adjust her words.

“Um, thanks anyways, though. But if you need to rest—I know you were up all night.”

“We’ll give the horses a stamina potion, don’t worry.”

Ceria smiled at Ryoka.

“If you’re going to run, stick to the road. Monsters around here are fairly dangerous. Stay away from the big rocks. They’re actually giant monsters in disguise.”

All of the other Horns of Hammerad eyed Ceria, askance. But Ryoka just nodded. Her entire body was coiled like a spring. But again, she paused before running.

“Thank you. I really mean it.”

Calruz snorted.

“Enough words. Run already!”

Ryoka nodded at the adventurers. She gave them a rare full smile, and at least a few hearts in the Horns of Hammerad skipped a beat. Then she took off.

Calruz must have had the idea to run with Ryoka, at least for a while, because he took off with her. He got ten steps before she’d left him completely behind. Ceria whistled softly as she saw Ryoka blaze through the grasslands.

“Let’s tend to the horses and get on the road if you want to follow her, Gerial. It looks like she’ll go at least forty miles before she runs out of steam.”

Gerial nodded and began ordering the Horns around, although they already knew what to do. Calruz stomped back, looking half-pleased, half-disgruntled.

“Fast. But that’s why she is worthy.”

Ceria eyed him while Gerial deliberately began fiddling with a blue potion he’d pulled from his pack.

“It’s worth repaying our debt to her, but it’s too bad we can’t stay in Liscor, Calruz. You know those new ruins are nearby. It might be worth getting the drop on the other adventuring teams and exploring it first.”

He shook his head.

“Not without a full-fighting party. There’s a reason none of the cowards around here have dared breach the upper levels yet. If we come back, it will be after we know what monsters have been sighted there and our wounded have recovered.”

“Practical, I suppose. I’m just surprised to hear that coming from you, Calruz.”

Calruz eyed Ceria irritably.

“Why? Because I am a Minotaur?”

Her gaze didn’t waver.

“Pretty much.”

He snorted and grinned.

“I’m no fool, and the Horns of Hammerad aren’t Gold-ranked just yet. We will wait. Now, let us follow the quick Ryoka Griffin.”

The female mage groaned as she climbed into the wagon.

“Another day and night of riding. Too bad we couldn’t stay at the inn.”

Calruz eyed the currently empty inn and shook his head.

“Bah, it doesn’t look that inviting anyways. Let’s go!”

The Horns of Hammerad set out, travelling down the central slope and for several miles until they found the main road. They kept going for an hour before Gerial raised his head and sniffed from the driver’s seat.

“…Does anyone smell smoke?”

----

Ryoka ran. She ran through the grass and kicked off the ground. With every step she felt like she was being reborn. And she was running fast, perhaps faster than she’d ever run before. Her wings were back.

She crested a hill, stormed down it in half a second, and then hit the flat ground before another crest made her dig into the soft grass. The bumpy landscape of the area was perfect for muscle training, if she’d been so inclined. But as it was, Ryoka was just enjoying the feeling of running again.

She kept to the main road. Even with all the passion in her soul, Ryoka wasn’t about to risk running into whatever monsters Ceria had mentioned. She eyed the large, immobile rocks as she ran and wondered what was living underneath them.

At this time of day, the road was actually crowded with a few travelers. Ryoka either hadn’t seen them in her delirious ride to Liscor, or it had been too late at night/early in the morning. But now she saw merchants riding in armed caravans, farmers sitting on wagons, and even the lone traveler. Some were human. Most were not.

Giant lizards. Hairy dog-people. Ryoka would have stopped and stared—or discreetly observed them, but the fire of running was burning her from the inside out. She ran at a good distance from the road as she flashed by the travelers. In turn, they stared at the human running by them with undisguised curiosity and amazement.

Merchants, traders, travelers, peddlers, caravan guards, farmers, and the occasional group of adventurers all travelled the road to Liscor. Oh, and one more group.

Guardsman.

Ryoka blitzed by a party of Gnolls who sniffed and turned their heads almost too late to see her go by when she saw the group of armed Drakes. They reacted to her presence by reaching for their weapons, but when they saw it was just a lone human they relaxed. All except for one, that was.

Her legs and body were still fine, but Ryoka was thinking of slowing down to conserve energy when she saw the blur move out of the group of guardsman and chase after her. She heard the whoops and cheers of the Drakes and realized one of them was trying to race her. Ryoka looked over her shoulder.

A green blur was charging after her. It was one of the guardsman, a big Drake with a spear on his back. Another one of the bone-head types who thought they could outrun her just to show off to her friends. She increased her pace. And…so did he.

He was fast. Ryoka sensed him behind her, and then he was right next to her. She gaped as he appeared by her side, giving her a smug grin. He was huge, and he was carrying a weapon and wearing armor, but he still was nearly as fast as she was. Nearly.

Her feet dug into the soft grass. Ryoka increased the tempo of her legs, and went into overdrive. The Drake blinked as she accelerated. He tried to speed up, and for a few seconds he managed to keep pace. But Ryoka had wings on her feet and this was her first run in nearly a week. He might as well have tried to catch the wind.

How fast was she going? Ryoka saw the travelers on the road blur, and then disappear with each step. She was in a completely different world of her own now, and even the insanely fast Drake couldn’t keep up. This was her world, a world few people would ever know.

People are awesome. For a second Ryoka wished her iPhone was working so she could listen to some music or record herself running for one of the compilation videos on Youtube. But then she left those thoughts behind. She ran.

The guardsman fell behind. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t keep up with her. Ryoka turned her head and flashed him a smile for a good race. He desperately pumped his arms and his legs, but his weird speed was no match for her. And his posture was terrible.

She heard him call out after her, but Ryoka had hit the zone and she couldn’t be stopped. She ran on, and smiled into the breeze. The feeling was back. She was back.

She was free.

----

Relc gave up running when the human female was over a hundred feet ahead of him. Disgusted, he ground to a stop, tearing up the grass with the force of his momentum. A nearby caravan of human traders stared in amazement at him, but that was only because they were far too late to admire the runner still sprinting in the distance.

Frustrated, Relc pulled his spear out and stabbed the ground. This was a first. He’d never—well, seldom ever been outrun. And never by a human. He stared at Ryoka’s tiny back with a hint of admiration in his eyes.

Then he turned and began trudging back to the group of guardsmen he’d left. They were several miles away. Relc grumbled about the inconvenience, conveniently forgetting he’d been the one to challenge Ryoka to a race. He took one more glance into the distance, but couldn’t see Ryoka’s figure anymore.

“Humans. Huh. I wonder if Erin knows her?”

----

Somewhere around the same time, Erin wasn’t shopping. Nor was she in Liscor.  In fact, she’d left the city several hours ago. Right now, she was lost.

Not completely lost. She knew where Liscor was – roughly. She could follow the mountain range to get to it, and therefore back to her inn. So she wasn’t lost in the grand scale of things.

But on a closer, localized level she was very lost. In fact, Erin would go as far as to say she was completely lost.

She’d left the Wandering Inn behind with her supplies and then…

It was like stepping into a maze, but instead of the walls being vertical, they were all horizontal. Erin frowned. Did that make sense?

The hills and valleys of the grasslands were nearly indistinguishable from the flat ground at a distance, and the uniform long grass made things worse. Erin had to navigate using what little landmarks she could see by.

For instance, there were helpful rocks in the distance…except they occasionally moved around and getting close to one was a bad idea. And there were patches of red and white flowers that Erin saw now and then, but she had a bad feeling about them.

“[Dangersense].”

At least, it was probably that. It could just be a random bad feeling, but that was pretty much the same thing when you got down to it. Either way, Erin had decided not to try and smell the pretty flowers.

She looked around as she walked through the grasslands. This was amazing. In more than one sense. For one thing, she’d just spotted a road a few miles to the left. A road. She had no idea Liscor even had a road!

Well, that probably wasn’t that big a surprise. But Erin had just realized how narrow her little world had been. She’d practically lived only in her inn and occasionally in Liscor, without exploring any other direction. And why?

Oh yeah, because of the monsters. Well…there weren’t any she could see. Erin wasn’t too far away from the main road, and Selys had said that was the safest area. She’d made Erin promise to stay close to the area the Watch patrolled.

But now Erin had found a forest, and she was going to explore it. Because it was a forest. Literally the only trees Erin had found aside from the blue fruit trees. But these looked like proper trees…except they were missing all their leaves.

This could have something to do with the season. Apparently, it was around fall, closing in on winter. Erin hadn’t believed it, but Selys had assured her it was true. Apparently the mountains made it so that the seasons didn’t hit the area around Liscor as hard or something.

“Or maybe this is like Florida, or California. No snow, no searing heat. That’d be nice.”

Erin muttered to herself as she approached the dry-looking trees. It was a lovely forest, and not too far away from her inn. Only…forty minutes if she walked straight? Okay, that was a good distance, but only because Erin was on foot.

Hm. The brown wood of the trees was definitely brighter in color than the ones back in her home. They actually looked closer in color to how trees were drawn, not how they actually looked with all the dark bark, moss, and whatnot. Erin wanted to go closer, but then a bell went off in her head.

The [Dangersense]. It had been pulsing whenever Erin thought about going close to the flowers, but now it clearly and definitely rang out in her mind. It was like a bad feeling in her gut—except in her head. And it told Erin that she did not want to get closer to the trees.

Erin quickly stepped back. Something was wrong with the forest. But what? They were just trees. But was something living in the forest? In the trees?

Cautiously, Erin reached into the bag she was carrying with her. She’d brought a small rucksack loaded with a few essentials for a day-long exploration. It hadn’t been too expensive, and she had wanted to be prepared. It wasn’t as if she were completely reckless like Selys and Krshia clearly thought she was.

Erin rummaged with one hand as she kept an eye on the forest. It was hard to feel around in her bag without looking, especially because she wanted to keep a certain item in there from breaking. Where was it…?

She’d brought a flint and tinder, which she actually knew how to use in case she needed to make a torch. Not that she planned on exploring any caves, but it seemed like a practical choice. There were also bandages, but Erin didn’t want them. Her hand rummaged through the rucksack blindly.

She also had a long knife in a leather sheath she’d bought from the Adventurer’s Guild. They sold a number of items for adventurers behind their counter, and once Selys realized Erin wasn’t going to be dissuaded, she’d insisted Erin take one.

And a healing potion, of course. It was expensive – nearly a gold coin even for a weak potion, but Erin would have bought one regardless of the price. She’d learned her lesson.

Something smooth. That was the hand mirror. Apparently, this was an adventurer’s tool to check for injuries like poison barbs or in case of Basilisk attacks. Erin had bought it because she really wanted one, but the thought of a grizzled warrior checking out his appearance was also pretty funny.

Erin had laughed, but then Selys had told her about how some bugs could sink into an adventurer’s skin and lay eggs that would hatch and eat them from inside out. That had been disgusting and made Erin feel like a jerk for laughing. But it still hadn’t stopped her from her exploring, especially after Selys admitted those insects didn’t live anywhere near Liscor.

Selys didn’t seem to get it. Come to that, Krshia didn’t really get it either. The Gnoll seemed to think Erin was trying to avenge Klbkch. She’d offered to come along to ‘hunt’ with Erin, but Erin had refused.

None of them really understood. They thought Erin was crazy and she probably was, but her reason made sense to Erin. This was something she had to do.

“I wish—”

Erin broke off and shook her head. What was she doing? Erin stared at the object she’d pulled out of her pack blankly. Oh, right.

She was holding a rock. In fairness, it was a nice rock. Rough around the edges, true, but a prime specimen of a rock nonetheless. Erin could hold this rock and know it was definitely made of stone. It was nicely heavy too, and it was her prime defense against anything.

Erin hefted it and squinted at the tree. Hm. She backed up until she was around fifty feet away. That seemed safe enough. Then she lifted the rock, took aim, and threw.

Erin had never played baseball as a kid. It was a boy’s game, at least where she’d grown up, and they were all jerks when it came to letting girls have a turn. But she’d played catch now and then, and there were plenty of baseball games on TV that she would occasionally watch. In short, Erin had a pretty good idea of how fast a baseball could be thrown.

The rock she tossed had about the same velocity as a fastball. Not a major-league fastball, the kind that could dent metal or kill people but—actually, this was a rock. It could totally kill people even at Erin’s slower velocity.

And it had perfect accuracy. Erin watched the rock she’d thrown strike one of the trees dead center, hard enough to dent the bark. Another skill. [Unerring Throw]. With it Erin literally couldn’t miss.

The rock fell to the ground. Erin watched the tree. The branches were shaking from the impact, but nothing else happened. Maybe there wasn’t anything living in trees after all. Or maybe it was hiding, or only lived in certain trees, or somewhere deeper in the forest. Or maybe—

Waitaminute. Erin froze. The branches were still quivering long after the impact. Why were they doing that? But the tree seemed to flex and—

Fireworks. Each branch and twig on the upper section of the tree instantly and spontaneously exploded outwards like a shrapnel bomb going off. Acorns, pieces of bark, and small bits of the branch fired outwards, thousands of bullets.

Erin dove to the ground as the deadly wooden hail rained around her. She was lucky. The explosion was far enough away that most of what hit her had lost its momentum. She felt bits of wood showering her as she covered her head with her hand. Only when she was quite, quite sure everything had stopped did Erin look up.

The tree was completely denuded of bark and most of its smaller branches. It stood among its fellows, the pale yellow-green-white of its trunk showing. Around it in a hundred meter radius, bits of the tree lay on the grass.

Shakily, Erin got to her feet. She felt something trickling down her face and touched at her cheek. Something—an acorn—had cut a shallow gash down her left cheek. She looked at the blood on her fingertips and tried not to throw up.

----

It was only after she’d put at least a mile between her and the exploding trees that Erin stopped to call herself twenty kinds of stupid. Then she decided never to ever go near anything tree-related again without a flamethrower. Monsters were one thing, but this—

Erin sighed and sat down on a small hill. Well, that was probably why no one explored around this area. Exploding trees. Unless you were wearing armor—and even if you were—those things were deadly. She imagined what would happen if Rags and her Goblin friends tried to gather firewood from the trees and shuddered.

Curiously, her near-death experience left Erin ravenous. She opened her rucksack and fished around cautiously inside until she pulled something squishy out. She unwrapped the wax paper and revealed a slightly squashed sandwich. Apparently, Drakes weren’t too keen on bread – they had a very meaty, fishy, and sometimes insect-y diet, but Gnolls ate the stuff.

This particular sandwich had mustard, or something sweet that tasted vaguely like it, cheese, and a lot of meat. Erin devoured it and then wished she hadn’t eaten so quickly. She clutched at her stomach and then she saw the spider.

“Oh god.”

It was a large spider. A large—no, huge spider. And it had—

“Oh gods. Is that armor?”

Maybe it wasn’t armor. Maybe it was. But the silver and black pattern on the spider’s back made the thick layer of…carapace look even more sinister than it was. It looked like armor, especially in the way the plating covered the giant spider’s legs and the top of its body. Erin was pretty sure it was armor.

Click.

The spider clicked its mandibles together as it approached Erin. She froze up, but then grabbed her rucksack and scrambled away. The spider scuttled faster, and Erin backed up even faster.

She turned and ran. That was, until Erin’s [Dangersense] went off like alarm bells. She stopped in place. What was—

It was nearly too late. Erin was just about to take another step when she noticed the odd way the ground seemed flimsy in front of her feet. She took a look behind her – the armored spider was still a ways away. She kicked at the ground, and it collapsed.

A huge pit opened up in the ground in front of Erin. The fake earth—in fact, some kind of green amalgam of dead grass and sticks fell down and Erin stared down into the face of hell. A nest full of spiders. And eggs.

They were everywhere, tiny spiders, big spiders, and eggs. So many white egg sacs that lay on the ground and walls of the massive cavern like obscene fungi. And as the trap ground fell in, they all surged into frantic motion.

Spiders began scurrying all over the huge nest, scurrying all over each other as they searched for the prey that had fallen into their nest. Meanwhile the prey standing at the edge of the nest backed away in horror.

It was only when she heard the scuttling of the other armored spider that Erin remembered it was behind her. She turned, screamed, and ran around the edge of the pit. It followed her but interestingly, the other spiders in the cavern below didn’t. They were still mindlessly swarming around the ground, protecting the eggs and searching for something to eat. But the large one was still hunting her.

She ran. It followed. Slowly, quietly. Even after Erin had run several hundred meters she could turn around and still see it approaching. And then she realized it wasn’t going to stop. It was a premonition. The spider was going to follow her until she stopped.

So Erin slowed from her run to a walk. She turned around, and took the rucksack off her back. Erin reached inside and pulled out two things. A rock and a small jar stoppered up extremely thoroughly.

It was stupid to go exploring. Selys had told her that a hundred times. Krshia had said the same thing, but she’d suggested coming along with Erin with a few more Gnolls. But Erin had shot down both ideas. She had to do this alone.

And maybe it was going to kill her. But Erin had woken up screaming and crying every night since Klbkch died. So she didn’t run. She picked up the rock and aimed at the spider.

Its head was black and Erin couldn’t make out any eyes or features really. She expected the spider to have large jaws or something but it was just blank and horrific. She hurled the rock at its head.

The stone smashed into the spider’s head. It reeled back and emitted a high-pitched noise that Erin could only half-hear. For a second she thought it had worked and the spider would run. But then the spider ducked low to the ground and advanced.

It wasn’t even bleeding. Not that Erin knew if spiders bled. But the armor covering the spider hadn’t even cracked from the rock. Erin stared at the spider. It was coming.

Huge. Nearly half as tall as she was. Every instinct in Erin was telling her to run. But she didn’t. If she ran, it would follow her.

If she ran far enough, maybe she’d be able to get to the city before she ran out of energy. Maybe she’d run right into another pit trap. But either way, someone would have to kill the spider. If not her, then a guardsman. Relc, or Pisces. Or even Rags. Someone would have to fight in the end, and someone might die.

So Erin didn’t run. She held her ground and stared at the spider. It would kill her, or she would kill it. She knew that would be the case, and she didn’t run. Because that was the reason she was out here.

To never see someone die protecting her. To never hold them in her arms and hear their last words. To never cry and feel guilt without end.

To never be weak again.

So instead of running, Erin picked up the glass jar she’d dropped in the grass. She threw it at the charging spider.

The jar broke and the acid covered the armored spider. Again, it screeched and this time Erin saw smoke rising from its armor. The acid bit into the spider’s armor, but again, it wasn’t enough. The spider curled up on the grass as smoke rose from its armor, and clawed frantically at its ‘face’. But then the smoking eventually stopped and the spider got up.

Erin waited. She’d blinded the creature, but now she was fighting a half-blind spider covered in acid that ate away flesh. It approached, and she saw the delicate silver and black plated exoskeleton was pitted with the green of the acid flies. But it wasn’t enough.

Erin reached into her pack and drew out the knife. She threw it and the blade spun through the air and bounced off the spider’s head. Useless. Erin emptied the rucksack and wrapped it around one hand. She walked forward, slowly.

Her ears were pounding. Blood and her crashing heartbeat drowned out everything else. The spider hesitated as Erin walked towards it. It touched at the ground delicately with one foreleg and tried to circle. Erin didn’t. She walked towards it. Her eyes stared at a monster scarier than anything else she’d ever seen in her world. But she didn’t run.

Erin stopped a few feet away from the spider. Her pulse was electric; her stomach was missing. She looked down upon it, and the spider hesitated. Erin spoke to it.

“I’ve held a dying friend and known pain. Try and kill me. You can’t eat a broken heart.”

She raised her fists.

“Come on. I’ll bury you deep.”

----

A wind blew down from over the mountains. It was a strong wind, but tired. After hundreds of miles the gale that had blasted across the sea was no more than a whisper. But it was enough. It carried smoke and burning on the wind.

The female adventurer stopped and looked to the north. The wind blew the dreadlocks of her hair, and she brushed at her eye. The smoke was irritating, but she had learned long ago to see even in sandstorms.

Still, it was curious. So the adventurer walked towards the smoke. She didn’t bother drawing the large sword at her side. She had no need of it yet. Her confidence was not unfounded either.

She wore armor made out of some dark metal. Not dark in the sense of jet-black iron or the lightless color of obsidian—just dark, orange-brown metal. From afar, it almost looked like rust, but the armor wasn’t rusty. In fact, it was fairly clean—it was just the metal that gave off that impression.

The female adventurer wore it like a second skin, and it did not impede her movement as she strode towards the smoke. But she stopped as she saw the spider.

It was crawling up from a hole in the side of a hill. Burning wood had been placed around the gap, but the spider was determined. It shoved its way past the fire, screeching horribly and smoking. When it saw the female adventurer it reacted instantly. The spider lunged.

The adventurer drew her sword and cut twice. The spider fell to the ground, legs and abdomen severed. Yellow pus oozed from its backside as the adventurer studied it.

“Kingslayer Spiders? No—Shield Spiders.”

She left the Shield Spider where it lay. The adventurer continued onwards and upon reaching the top of the hill, she saw the source of the smoke.

A large pit was giving off black smoke. Orange sparks and a terrible red glow lit the edges of the pit like a gateway to some abyssal plane. But that wasn’t what drew the adventurer’s eye.

A girl was sitting by herself at the edge of the smoking pit. She stared into it, ignoring the small campfire on her right. She was hugging at her knees as she stared down. She did not see or hear the second spider crawling up behind her.

It lunged. The adventurer gripped her sword, but the girl at the edge of the pit moved like lightning. She rolled sideways even as the Shield Spider launched itself at her back. The momentum carried the spider over the ledge and into the smoking hole. The adventurer heard an agonized shriek from the spider as the girl went back to sit at the edge of the hole.

Cautiously, the adventurer approached. Not out of fear for herself; but she was studying the girl with a great deal of confusion. Her eye narrowed as she appraised the girl. And she was a girl, especially to the adventurer.

As she moved closer, the girl looked up at her. She was human. She didn’t stand up, but merely angled the thing at her feet more precisely.

A small mirror lay in the grass in front of the girl, reflecting the landscape behind her. It was propped up on a small backpack, or what remained of one. In truth, it was more like a pile of cloth scraps.

The adventurer eyed the girl. She seemed unharmed. But she also didn’t appear inclined to chat. So the adventurer cleared her throat.

“Hello there.”

“Hello.”

The girl didn’t glance up. She hugged her knees and stared down into the smoke. Curious, the adventurer drew closer. Her hand wasn’t gripping her sword, but neither was she unwary.

Now that she was only a few feet away she could feel the heat radiating out of the pit. It was intense, but it was a fire in its final stages. Clearly, the fire had been going for quite some time but again, that wasn’t what drew the adventurer’s attention. No, it was the many shapes that lay curled up at the bottom of the fiery pit.

Spiders.

They lay in droves, their armored carcasses smoking and burning horribly in the flames that danced around the edge of the hole in the ground. Some had tried to climb. They hung, dangling, their legs still planted in the dirt walls where they had perished.

“A nest.”

“Yeah.”

The adventurer blinked her eye at the girl.

“Did you do this? By yourself?”

“Yeah.”

“May I ask how?”

The human girl paused. She rocked back and forth for a while before responding.

“I closed off all the entrances with dried grass and wood. Then I started tossing burning branches into the pit.”

“Where did you get the wood?”

“There’s a forest over there. Bunch of trees and lots of dead wood.”

The adventurer glanced over in the direction the girl was pointing. She nodded.

“Krakk trees. They do burn well, but you were lucky none of them exploded. They do that quite often and the shrapnel is deadly.”

“They did explode.”

The adventurer raised an eyebrow. She looked at the girl with one eye, and then opened several more to study her more fully.

“Oh?”

“I threw rocks at the trees until they exploded. Then I picked up the branches. It’s not dangerous if you make them explode first.”

“I see. Clever.”

“Thanks.”

One of the adventurer’s eyes glanced over to her right.

“Did you do that as well?”

“Yeah.”

“Few could best a Shield Spider with their bare hands.”

The girl shrugged again. She clutched at her arms unconsciously.

“It wasn’t hard. I flipped it and started stomping.”

“You have a skill. [Lesser Strength]. Even so, I see you were injured.”

The girl – no, the adventurer saw her name was Erin Solstice – rubbed at her arms. The adventurer could see patches of regrown skin, almost invisible to any eyes but hers covering her forearms.

“Yeah. I had a healing potion.”

“If you’d been bit the potion would have done you little good. Shield Spiders have a decently strong venom.”

“Lucky I wasn’t, then.”

More silence. The adventurer was slightly surprised. She was used to silence, especially on longer journeys, but she was also used to conversation when she met people. At the very least, she expected questions about her appearance, but the girl had only glanced at her once. She was still staring into the burning pit.

“Shield Spiders are considered to be a Silver-rank threat. A nest of them though…I wouldn’t be surprised if a team of Gold-rank adventurers were dispatched to handle it.”

“Okay. Thanks for telling me.”

“You are an [Innkeeper], Level 11, are you not? I am surprised you were able to accomplish such a feat, much less that you would risk something like that.”

“How do you know that about me?”

“I see it.”

“Ah.”

Erin stared into the pit for a while. She rocked back and forth.

“I wanted to see if I could fight. And the spiders—they were going to follow me.”

“Shield Spiders are notorious for tracking and killing prey across thousands of leagues. You were wise not to run.”

“I guess. But I wanted to fight. To see if I could.”

“Ah.”

The adventurer sat next to Erin. She felt the heat, but was not bothered by it. Her eye stung, though.

“And? What have you learned?”

Erin was silent. She stared into the burning tunnels. Amid the crackling flames she could hear the spiders screaming.

“…That I’m good at killing things.”

The adventurer was silent. Erin rocked. Back and forth. Back and forth.

“It’s strange. Up until this point I never realized I was a murderer.”

The adventurer raised her eyebrow.

“Murderer? That’s an interesting word. I would not use it to describe you.”

“Oh yeah? Why?”

“Murder is the sin of taking lives that matter. We who fight such monsters are exterminators. Killers perhaps; murderers no.”

“I’m not like you. I’m no adventurer. And I don’t want to be. That’s what I learned.”

“Oh? Then why fight? Innkeepers don’t level from fighting monsters.”

Erin laughed shortly and without mirth.

“You guys all say the same thing. It’s always about leveling with you. That’s not what I meant. I—I’m a killer. But I don’t want to be. And I don’t want to be a warrior, either.”

The adventurer leaned back on her hands. She studied Erin with her eye.

“Then why fight? Why not run?”

“So I can defend myself. So I don’t get people killed for trying to protect me.”

“Ah. But you have done more than that. This nest was a threat to many. You eliminated it. You spoke truly: you do have a talent for fighting.”

Erin stared into the pit.

“I don’t want to be a killer. So I guess I’m stuck as an innkeeper.”

“You have talent in killing things. You might be a good adventurer, especially since you wiped out a nest by yourself.”

The adventurer broke off as Erin laughed harshly.

“Killing? That’s a terrible thing to be good at. No.”

“What a waste.”

Erin slowly turned her head. She stared at the adventurer, and the adventurer felt another mild surprise. There were few who could meet her gaze for long without flinching.

“…Go away.”

“My apologies. I didn’t want to offend you.”

“Too bad. This—this isn’t something to be proud of.”

Erin pointed down into the burning pit. She gestured at the spiders and the white egg sacks slowly burning away. The adventurer could still hear faint shrieks coming from inside the resilient webbing.

“I killed them.”

Erin whispered it.

“I killed them all. And they—they scream when they die.”

“They would have killed you.”

“Yeah.”

Erin stared as one of the egg sacs below opened up. Small spiders frantically clawed their way out of the webbing and shrieked as they found themselves in the burning pit. They scuttled down across the embers, burning, dying.

“Babies.”

“Spawn. They are dangerous as adults in numbers.”

“They’re babies.”

The female adventurer shrugged.

“You might call them that.”

Erin looked down into the pit. She was silent for a minute. The spiders were running about, but the heat from the fire was less. They were dying, but dying slow. She saw one spider caught in the egg sac, frantically trying to escape.

“If you like I can end them now—”

The adventurer turned to Erin to offer. She blinked as Erin leapt into the burning pit.

The smoke obscured Erin from visual sight for a few seconds, but the adventurer could still see her moving around in the pit. She saw Erin fighting through the flames, reaching for something. Then she was dashing towards the edge of the pit.

The girl scrabbled at the dirt and managed to get a foothold. But she was hindered by her burden. She managed to pull herself up to the ledge but couldn’t get any higher up. The adventurer stared down until she heard Erin speak.

“Are you going to pull me up?”

“Of course.”

The adventurer reached down and effortlessly pulled Erin out. The girl was burned, but not badly from the few moments she was in the pit. She opened her left hand and showed the adventurer what she held.

A baby spider struggled and bit furiously at Erin’s fingers. She’d captured it from the top, so it couldn’t really get at her, but its sharp legs still scrabbled at her fingers.

“What are you going to do with that?”

Erin shrugged.

“Dunno. I could raise it.”

“I wouldn’t. It would bite and consume you first chance it got. Shield Spiders cannot be tamed. Unless you had the [Beastmaster] class, this child will eventually take your life.”

“Yeah, probably. This was a stupid idea.”

Erin stared down at the spider in her hands. It was trying to bite her.

“…Sorry. Really, I am.”

She held it for another second until the spider’s legs cut open more of her fingers. Then she hurled it back down into the pit. The adventurer studied her. A tear rolled down Erin’s sooty face as she watched the baby spider burn.

“What a curious Human you are.”

“…Is that your way of saying I’m an idiot?”

“Not at all. But I have met many Humans. Many Humans and many races, but never one as curious as you.”

“Thanks. I’ve never met anyone like you.”

“I am part Gazer. It is in my ancestry. You may call me by the name others not of my race give me. Gazi.”

“Oh? I’m Erin Solstice. A…an [Innkeeper].”

“Yes, I saw.”

Gazi held out her hand. After a moment, Erin took it. It was odd for her to shake Gazer’s hand. For one thing, she had odd arms with another segment to them. And only four fingers. But her skin was soft and smooth, even if it was reddish-brown. Really, even her hair looked pretty normal, black lengths tied into dreadlocks. It was only her face that really set her apart.

One huge eye stared out at Erin over a mouth filled with sharp teeth. Gazi had no nose. And around her central eye four smaller eyes opened and studied her with interest.

“I am pleased to meet you Erin Solstice, Innkeeper. I am an adventurer wandering through these lands.”

“Nice to meet you. Again. I’ve got an inn nearby. Would you…do you want something to eat?”

“That would be most welcome.”

“Okay. Okay then. Follow me.”

Erin picked up the mirror on the ground. She left her sliced up rucksack behind and began walking away from the burning pit. Gazi stared down into it and back at Erin.

“Don’t you want to claim the bounty on the Shield Spiders before you go? Their carcasses will not burn up in the flames.”

Erin paused. She turned around.

“…There’s a bounty on Shield Spiders?”

1.30

At first, the laden cart rumbling through the northern city gates attracted little attention. This late in the day, the traffic going in and out had thinned, but there was nothing odd about two passengers sitting on the back of the cart while a Drake farmer brought his merchandise into market.

The expression on the cart driver’s face and the way the guardsmen at the gate reacted when they inspected the bulky objects strapped under the tarp attracted some attention. So perhaps one or two merchants made a note to inquire about any unusual shipments, and the extremely bored people-watcher might have drifted that way. But many things passed through Liscor, sometimes objects considered illegal in human lands, or very illegal in every land. Those were usually confiscated.

The two passengers didn’t attract much attention either, at least to begin with. One of the two was a humanoid figure concealing her face with a casual woolen hood. That was normal, although anyone who actually saw the face hiding underneath the hood had a very definite reaction. But because they had to go through shock, denial, and optionally fear/awe, the wake of her passing attracted little notice. Again, at first.

The Human was another matter. For many of the Drakes who saw her, she was just another annoying Human arriving as part of the massive influx of adventurers, merchants, and all those seeking to profit from the ruins. At best she was exploitable and had lots of coin; at worst the Watch would throw her out if she caused trouble as Humans so often did.

Still, some of the Drakes recognized the Human girl, and remembered that this was the girl who had beaten Olesm in a game of chess and was rumored to have met the Antinium Queen. Not least, the Antinium bowed to her which was disturbing. So she attracted the most attention, but only in the form of interest from Drake observers.

Among the few Gnolls in the crowd however, Erin’s appearance was entirely noticed and significant. Several immediately began walking away through the crowd to find a certain Gnoll shopkeeper, and the rest followed Erin and the mysterious cart.

Well, mysterious was the wrong word. For the Gnolls who could smell better than they saw, the contents of the wagon were deeply disturbing. It was only because the contents were also definitely dead that they were willing to get near to the wagon at all. Even then, several wrinkled their noses at the burned smell.

Crowds have a flow and instinct of their own. Despite themselves, passersby felt drawn into the wake of the crowd as they sensed the flow of pedestrians shifting one way. And as a few people in the crowd shouted out the identity of Erin’s companion and some children peeked underneath the covered wagon and ran away screaming—

Well, at that point Erin really wished they would all stop looking at her and Gazi. It wasn’t that she minded the attention…

Actually, she did mind the attention. But more than that, she really needed to pee. But she didn’t want to start squirming in front of the nice people, so she suffered in silence. It really was a long way to the Adventurer’s Guild. And it got longer each time more people joined the crowd. She had a feeling that around a tenth of the excitement was due to the dead spider corpses packed in the cart, but the other 90% was definitely from Gazi.

----

When Selys saw Erin walk through the doors of the Adventurer’s Guild she couldn’t help calling out.

“Erin! Thank goodness you’re okay!”

Selys went from behind the counter to go up to Erin, but she quickly retreated as a flood of people poured into the room behind Erin. She stared at the crowd of pedestrians and then at Erin. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“…Erin? What’s going on?”

Erin smiled awkwardly.

“Hi Selys. Um, I’m here to collect a bounty? That’s how it works, right?”

“Bounty…?”

The Drake stared blankly at Erin until she realized everyone was now looking at her. Then she blushed, or rather, the scales on her face changed color.

“Oh, of course!  You can turn in—you have a bounty?”

“Yep.”

Selys looked Erin up and down. The human didn’t appear to be carrying anything in her hands or at her side.

“Is it…Goblin ears?”

“No…I think they’re called Shield Spiders. Is that right?”

Erin looked at a hooded person standing next to her. Selys’ eye was caught by distinctive features of the half-Gazer as she pushed back her hood. In her mind an alarm bell went off, but it was temporarily silenced by something Erin had said.

“Shield Spiders? Erin, that’s not a good—you’re mistaken. Or is this some kind of joke? You can’t be serious.”

Erin shook her head.

“No, really. There’s a cart of them outside. I didn’t count how many but—”

Erin broke off. Selys was giving her the flat, incredulous look she’d only seen in TV shows before.

“Shield Spiders?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“You. Killed them.”

“Yeah.”

“You. Erin Solstice. Killed Shield Spiders.”

Erin felt like she was in a comedy routine, only it was more awkward than funny. She pointed towards the door.

“Look, they’re right outside. I can go get one if you want.”

Selys’ gaze shifted over Erin’s shoulder. She appealed to the Drakes in the crowd, many of whom were watching the interchange.

“Shield Spiders?”

Erin sensed multiple heads nodding behind her. One of the Drakes—this one an adventurer by the sword on his waist and chainmail armor jerked a thumb at the door.

“They’re piled up in a cart. I saw them—over sixteen adults, dead and covered in soot. The Watch is trying to get some Workers to unload them, but there’s a huge crowd in the way and the Workers don’t want to do it.”

Now that she was listening, Selys could hear the shouting outside. She was still focused on the Erin-factor however, so she kept staring at Erin.

“How? Did an adventurer do it? It can’t have been just you.”

Erin frowned, dignity hurt. Since she agreed with Selys’ incredulousness though, she was only partially indignant.

“I totally did it by myself. I burned their entire nest. With wood. And fire.”

She didn’t know why she felt the need to add that qualifier, but at least it shut Selys up. One of the Drakes—the one with the chainmail—nodded at Erin and flashed her a smile.

“Fine work. I’ve never seen you around the Guild before. Are you one of the Humans from up north?”

“What? No. I’m not an adventurer. I’m an [Innkeeper].”

He stared. Erin was sort of getting used to that. Selys pulled at the frills at the top of her head.

“How did you—you know they swarm over anyone that falls into their nest and tear them apart, right?”

Erin nodded.

“They did that swarming thing—you know, where all of them climb up at once? Wasn’t fun.”

She stared at Selys. Selys stared back. After a few moment Selys threw her hands up.

“Okay. Okay, I guess—I’ll have to inspect them. And then we’ll need to weigh the bodies. It’ll take all day probably, but if you sign for them I’ll have your bounty waiting later.”

She reached under the counter and pulled out a logbook and handed Erin a quill and inkpot. Erin frowned down at the paper and began scribbling.

“Do I have to find a place to get rid of them after you’re done? Because I really don’t want to have to dig a hole and the nest is far away.”

“No—we’ll definitely take them. Do you even know how valuable Shield Spider bodies are? With the right skills a [Blacksmith] could create shields, armor…”

“Really? So the bounty—”

“Eleven pieces of silver on average per Shield Spider slain, but we’ll pay you more for their bodies.”

“I don’t want them. But you might have a tough time getting them down. None of the Workers want to go near them.”

Selys glanced towards the door.

“The Antinium hate spiders. No wonder the Workers are freaking out. I’ll have a few porters do the work instead.”

Selys put her face in her clawed hand for a second before she looked up at her human friend.

“Erin, how did you kill a nest of Shield Spiders? Even if you burned them, most adventurers would rather run than pick a fight with a Shield Spider if they’re not Silver-rank or higher.”

“Really? They’re that tough?”

Selys nodded seriously.

“Incredibly. Steel blades can’t even crack their shells.”

Erin blinked. But then she pointed to the adventurer standing next to her.

“Well she cut one in half.”

Every eye turned towards the Gazer standing next to Erin. Or—as some including Selys recognized, half-Gazer. A rare species made even rarer by her mixed blood. So rare in fact, that the odds were if you met one—

Selys’ scales were usually a good indicator of her mood, along with her tail. Erin watched now as Selys’ tail stiffened like a cat’s, and her light green scales paled until they were nearly gray.

“Oh. Excuse me.”

The half-Gazer looked at Selys and gave her a polite smile. Selys was reduced to nervous stammering.

“U-um. You wouldn’t happen to be—I mean, are you…?”

“I am Gazi of Reim.”

Dead silence. If Erin’s comment about taking down a nest of Shield Spiders had inspired quiet hubbub, Gazi’s name brought awestruck silence. Erin glanced around at the staring crowd. She didn’t get it.

But this seemed like as good a time as any. As Selys began stammering something and the adventurers and civilians around Gazi backed up to give her room, Erin pushed her way through the crowd and into the bathroom.

Curiously, Liscor architects didn’t use the stick-man symbols to mark the men’s rooms and the ladies rooms apart. Rather, they used tails. A long, straight tail marked the male bathrooms, and a curly tail marked the female bathrooms. It was quite simple when you got used to it. Curly tail, straight tail.

Even so, Erin peeked inside before she entered. She’d had enough of seeing unwanted genitalia, especially since the equipment the Drakes and Gnolls carried around were definitely different than the ones guys in her world had. Not that she was an expert or anything. She’d seen pictures but—

After a few minutes of experiencing relief and ruminating on biological differences, Erin reemerged from the restroom. Thank god for plumbing and balls of soap. She saw Gazi was still at the heart of the crowd of people fending off questions politely. Her large eye didn’t move from the Gnoll speaking earnestly to her, but one of her smaller eyes swiveled Erin’s way the instant the young woman exited the bathroom.

“Now that’s creepy,” Erin muttered.

“Don’t be rude!”

Selys hissed at Erin and nearly made the young woman scream. The Drake was heading to the bathroom, probably to relieve tension-induced pressure. She pulled Erin aside and the two began to whisper furiously in one corner, although only one person in the room was watching them.

“Erin, how do you know her?”

“Gazi?”

“You’re calling her by her first name?”

“She has a last name?”

“Pathseeker! And it’s Adventurer Pathseeker! That’s how you should be addressing her.”

“That’s confusing.”

“Erin! She’s a really, really important person! I could lose my job if I make her mad!”

“Really?”

Selys nodded rapidly.

“Gazi the Omniscient. That’s what they call her in other continents. She’s rumored to be over Level 40.”

“Um. Wow…?”

“Erin! How are you not impressed?”

“Well, isn’t Relc level thirty-something? That’s only a difference of ten levels, right?”

The look Selys gave Erin was a mix of incredulity and pure indignation. Not for the first time, Selys wondered if Erin Solstice wasn’t a bit slow, or at least strange. But she’d said she was from…a different country? Either way, she tried to explain the obvious.

“Erin, she’s a famous adventurer! You know; the kind people write down if they make a list of the top 100 adventurers in the world!”

“Oh.”

“Don’t you get it? There might be more powerful adventurers, but few of them have ever visited Liscor. And she knows you. Did she save you from the Shield Spiders?”

“No, she only cut one of them apart. But she lent me money to hire the wagon to bring them into the city.”

“She lent you money!?”

“Yeah, and I’ll pay her back so stop grabbing my shirt Selys. Look, she just seemed interested in me, but I don’t know her that well. But why do you think—”

Erin got no further because Selys’ claws dug into her arm. She yelped and tried to pry the Drake’s fingers out of her skin.

“Oh gods! She’s coming this way!”

Like a shark moving through a shoal of fish, Gazi’s presence seemed to literally part the wall of bodies. She approached, smiling at Erin.

“I fear we must part ways for a time, Erin Solstice. I must greet the master of this guild and the local ruling body. But I hope I may visit you at your inn for your promised meal.”

Selys’ goggling expression was slightly hard to ignore, but Erin smiled up at Gazi anyways.

“Sure thing. I’m going back to my inn right away, so you can come over whenever works best.”

Gazi gave her an amused smile that included the petrified Drake at Erin’s side. One of her smaller eyes flipped over so Erin could only see the light orange-pink of her eyeball.

“That may be slightly difficult at the moment.”

Someone was shouting outside. Or rather, someone was outshouting the shouting already going on outside. It was a familiar voice, too.

“Hey! Clear the way!”

Relc’s voice was irate, and he seemed to be yelling at the adventurers and other people trying to crowd into the adventurer’s guild. He was also on the verge of losing his temper, which wasn’t usual, but definitely wasn’t helpful at the moment.

“You lot are causing a disturbance! Clear the street I said! Move it!”

Everyone inside the guild heard a thump and then a shout and a crash. For all Gazi was their main focus, their attention quickly turned to the outside.

“What’s going on? What’s happening?”

Selys beat Erin to the window and nearly tore her hair-spikes out. Erin still wasn’t sure what to call the crest of hardened…scales or hair each Drake had at the top of their heads.

“Oh no. He’s picking a fight with the adventurers! That idiot!”

Erin peered out the window just in time to see an adventurer being lifted off the ground as Relc propped up a guardsman and shoved him into the arms of one of his fellows. It looked like tempers had flared and a guardsman had been knocked down by an adventurer. Possibly it was the other way around, but Erin saw both parties were all-male, so she had a pretty good idea what was going to happen next.

Gazi joined Erin at the window as six of the adventurers squared up and surrounded Relc and the other two guardsmen. Relc glared at them and tightened his fists, but didn’t draw his spear. Gazi stared at him and smiled.

“Ah. He is mighty.”

One of the adventurers took a swing at Relc and he dodged back. The human attacking was nearly as big as the Drake, a muscle-bound giant who looked like the guy who bench-pressed three hundred pounds for fun at the gym.

Erin nudged Gazi in the side. Selys stopped agonizing over the fight long enough to stare at her, but Gazi only looked down. She was wearing armor anyways, so Erin was sure she wasn’t bothering her.

“Hey, you’re supposed to be strong, aren’t you?”

Gazi nodded. She kept her larger eye trained on Relc while two of the smaller ones flicked towards Erin.

“Some have called me so; yes.”

“Why don’t you help him? It’s six against one.”

Erin pointed to the adventurer. He was still missing Relc, but now another one looked like he was about to sucker-punch the Drake. Relc’s eyes were narrowed, but he seemed to be focused totally on dodging for the moment.

Gazi smile down at Erin. She shrugged and indicated the sword at her side.

“My help in this situation would only cause death. I do not fight with my fists, Erin.”

She nodded at Relc as the big Drake swayed back.

“Besides—he is not the one who needs help.”

Relc had just jumped nimbly back when the big adventurer’s friend moved forwards. He was another human not nearly as big, but when he swung at Relc’s back he cut the air with his fist.

Still, he was far too slow. Even as his fist flew at Relc’s face, the Drake’s bent sideways and hit the adventurer back with an uppercut. Erin thought she actually saw the man’s feet leave the ground before he crumbled in a heap.

Relc spun around and backhanded the first adventurer who was still swinging at him. The big guy flipped over and crashed to the ground. Two of his friends came to his aid, but Relc picked one of them up—armor and all—and threw him into the crowd.

Open-mouthed, Erin watched as Relc began thrashing the other adventurers. She looked at Selys. The female Drake was covering her eyes and groaning.

“He always does this. There’s going to be a huge mess because of this, and he’s probably hurt a lot of them badly enough for healing potions!”

“How—”

Erin blinked and pointed at Relc.

“I thought—he’s just a guardsman, right? How is Relc tossing those adventurer guys like flies?”

Gazi studied Relc thoughtfully.

“His is over Level 30 in the [Spearmaster] class. That would be enough. The highest level among the adventurers is Level 21—the one he has just knocked unconscious.”

Selys nodded glumly. She tried to explain to Erin in a way the human would understand.

“If we’re just talking about active members of the city guards—then he’s the strongest on the continent, by far. Perhaps the world.”

Erin blinked at her. Twice.

“The world. As in…all of it?”

Selys nodded.

“Most people of his level, well, they either become adventurers, personal bodyguards, or soldiers. Being a city guard doesn’t pay much, but Relc likes it. Probably because it’s so easy.”

Erin paused. She didn’t notice Gazi watching her with one of her eyes. The large one. It studied her with its yellow pupil ringed by a black—no, shadow-black iris before flicking away as Selys glanced at her.

“But Klbkch—”

Erin paused and forced herself to go on.

“He was a Senior Guardsman too, wasn’t he? So weren’t Relc and Klb the same level?”

Selys shook her head. She watched glumly as Relc threw an adventurer wearing plate mail into the side of the building and winced as the outside plaster cracked.

“Klbkch was the fourth highest-level guardsman in the city. In terms of strength though, he was probably second to Relc. Look, Erin, both had more levels in other classes which is why they’re so tough, understand? But even Klbkch was ten levels behind Relc.”

“Which is a lot, I get it. But how’d Relc get so strong?”

“He was in the army. But he quit to become a guardsman. Thanks to him, we haven’t had to worry about monster attacks for the last four years. I’m not sure why, though. He was famous as a soldier too.”

Gazi shrugged. Her hand covered the pommel of her sword and her eyes defocused for an instant.

“Many have reasons to leave war. I too was a soldier once. As I am sure many know. But I left my position to become an adventurer. It is only worth being a soldier if one has a cause to fight for, a leader to follow, and a reason not to die.”

Both Erin and Selys looked up at her. Gazi smiled at them.

“It is hard to understand, I suppose. But I believe your friend Relc enjoys the quieter moments.”

Erin glanced out the window.

“Even a street-fight against a dozen guys?”

“That is quite restful, compared to war.”

The fight was over. Relc planted his foot over a pile of adventurers and raised his fists into the air like a boxer. The cheer he got from the crowd only served to make him preen even more in the spotlight.

Gazi turned away from the window and nodded at Erin.

“Well, I have not lacked for entertainment since travelling to these lands. I will seek lodgings within the city, then. Good day to you, Erin Solstice. We shall meet again.”

Erin raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Oh? You’re so sure?”

Gazi smiled at her without baring her teeth.

“I foresee it.”

The Gazer opened the door and strode out. It was so quick that all the tension she’d brought into the room left it in an instant. Selys breathed out hard as she returned to the counter. She didn’t go behind it, but leaned on it, panting as if winded.

“I can’t believe that just happened.”

One of the adventurers flexed his hand and looked down at it.

“I shook her hand. And when she looked at me—it was like she knew my thoughts.”

“Amazing.”

One of the adventurers agreed. Others nodded their heads.

“What an incredible experience.”

“Eh.”

“Eh?”

Erin shrugged.

“I wasn’t too blown away by her. She’s got that ‘mysterious aura’ vibe going on, but its all because of her eye, right? I remember seeing this street magician – David Blaine. You ever see—?”

Too late she remembered her audience. Selys was giving her an incredulous look along with the other adventurers.

“What?”

Selys shook her head slowly. At this point she wasn’t even that annoyed, just impressed more than anything.

“You are an amazing human, Erin. Does nothing faze you?”

“Lots of things.”

Erin propped her hands on her hips.

“Why are you all so impressed to see her anyways? She said she was a wanderer.”

“Yeah, but to see her so far from her home continent—I suppose she really is done with war.”

The other adventurers agreed. They began talking all at once, arguing, debating in a noisy confused mess.

“I wonder what she’s doing away from her liege…?”

“I hear she goes through continents looking for challenges. But to come this far—is it because of the new ruins?”

“Perhaps, but how’d she get word of them so soon? Unless—do you think she was heading to the northern continents to join in the war as a mercenary—?”

“Doubtful. Adventurers don’t like wars, even the former soldiers. It’d take something truly great to get her to go back to being a soldier. And hey—where’d the human go?”

Everyone looked around. The human, conspicuous because she was a human, was missing. Selys stared towards the door. It swung closed.

“Erin!”

----

Erin heard Selys call her name, but at that point she was out the door and had no intention of going back in. She appreciated gossip and learning new things as much as anyone, but this wasn’t the time. She was hungry, tired, and sore. And the last thing she wanted to do was have people ask her more questions and stare at her like…like…

Like a human.

They were all over the place. Well, not all over, and in fact there were very few humans in actuality – perhaps one human for every forty nonhumans. But to Erin, seeing one human was enough to make her stop in her tracks.

Two men, a tough-looking adventurer guy in his mid-twenties and a paunchier, richer-dressed merchant were sitting at an outdoor tavern of some kind, talking to each other. Erin wasn’t sure whether to call it a restaurant. She hesitated, and then wandered over, unable to keep away.

“Uh, hi there.”

The adventurer and the merchant looked up. They seemed annoyed to be interrupted, but their expressions cleared as they saw Erin.

“Oh—hello! Can we help you miss?”

“I’m sorry to interrupt. It’s just—I haven’t seen any humans in a while.”

The merchant raised his eyebrows.

“You’re a native here?”

“Something like that. I thought I was the only human around here, but suddenly…here you all are.”

“Ah, we’re part of the expedition to investigate those ruins that just got dug up.”

The adventurer stood up and held out his hands.

“Gabriel Dermondy, adventurer. Pleased to meet you, Miss…?”

“Erin Solstice, um, [Innkeeper]. Mind…mind if I sit?”

“Oh of course.”

The merchant moved his chair and the adventurer pulled one close so Erin could sit down. Before she knew it, the merchant had ordered her a drink and they were talking. At first Erin was surprised, but she fell into the conversation easily. It was just like talking to someone back from her world.

It was so normal Erin could have wept.

The adventurer and merchant had been talking about their grievances with travelling so far to get to Liscor. It seemed everything from wagons breaking down to people getting lost had plagued their caravan, and they’d also found almost all of the inns in the city crowded to the rafters, much to their displeasure.

“It’s nice to know that there are some humans living around here. I’ve been dealing with stubborn Gnolls and haughty Drakes all day.”

The merchant smiled at Erin while he made a face at the non-humans passing by on the street. Erin sipped the lukewarm beverage from her mug and made a polite noise to agree with him. The adventurer nodded, chomping down on a baked potato filled with spices.

“I swear, they’ve raised prices just because they knew we were coming. No love towards us humans, and the local Watch has been picking fights with the adventurers all week. To make matters worse, it seems there’s a human thief that came in with one of the caravans.”

“Really?”

Erin hadn’t heard anything about that. But then she’d been—busy the last few days. The merchant shook his head and made a noise of disgust.

“Of course, it could be a local Drake or Gnoll, but of course we Humans get the blame until the culprit is found. Lousy lizards and their damn suspicions.”

Erin blinked at the merchant, but the adventurer was nodding in agreement. She changed the subject quickly.

“Hey, do you know anything about that new adventurer? Gazi?”

Two blank faces were her answer. Erin tried to elaborate.

“She was getting a lot of attention this morning. She’s um, she looks sort of human, but she’s got one big eye in her head and four small ones…”

“Oh, a Gazer.”

The adventurer shook his head. The merchant leaned forwards and nodded at Erin.

“I heard about that. Apparently, she’s a famed adventurer but—”

He shrugged. Erin stared at him curiously.

“You haven’t heard of her? But everyone was talking about how famous she was.”

Gabriel the adventurer made a dismissive noise.

“Among non-humans perhaps she’s impressive, but I haven’t heard of her. But enough about that—you’re an [Innkeeper] you said? I haven’t seen your inn in the city, and I’m sure I would have noticed.”

Erin smiled at him. He seemed nice, or maybe she was just giddy from seeing a face not covered in fur or scales in such a long time.

“I have an inn—it’s just a few miles outside the city.”

“Really?”

Both men leaned over the table. The adventurer gave Erin a smile in return.

“If you’ve got room in your inn, I’d be glad to pay for lodging. It’d be a nice change to see some human faces, rather than all the scales and fur around here. Not to mention the smell! All these non-humans really don’t know how to wash properly, do they?”

Erin’s smile froze on her face as she stared at the adventurer. He hadn’t even tried to lower his voice. She sensed rather than saw the other Drakes sitting at nearby tables slowly glance over at her and the other two humans. They didn’t seem to notice.

“Oh. Um, well…I’d love to have you over. But ah—the upper floors are still under repairs I’m afraid.”

Both looked disappointed.

“What was the problem? If it’s simple repairs, I could introduce you to some skilled craftsmen…”

Erin waved her hands quickly.

“No—no need. I’m working on it. It’s just that we had a very bad incident with disappearing skeletons. And—I should get back there to make sure more aren’t missing.”

Hastily, Erin got up and excused herself. The adventurer and merchant bade her farewell and stared after the young woman as she disappeared into the crowd. When she was gone they exchanged a look. The merchant took a long draft from the fresh mug the Drake had served him and grimaced. Like everything in the city, he could swear the ale they served him was the lowest gutter-scrapings.

“Disappearing skeletons…?”

----

Far below the surface of Liscor, or at least as far as the Antinium were allowed to dig by their contract with the city, the Queen listened to a report. She was not happy.

“Humans in Liscor? They come seeking the ruins, no doubt, to unearth treasures and seek their fortunes.”

The Antinium addressing her bowed his head crisply. He was perfectly balanced upon one knee as he faced his ruler.

“Yes, my Queen.”

She waved a feeler at him.

“Such matters are inconvenient, especially at a time like this. Deal with the Council until I have finished. I must not be disturbed at any cost. To complete the project so quickly necessitates all of my attention. Is that clear?”

“Entirely, my Queen. I will handle all of your affairs with those not of the hive.”

“Good. And investigate the aberration while you are upon the surface. If he is truly free, I would speak to him afterwards. If he is not—”

The Antinium touched the blades at his sides. The soldier Antinium standing guard made no move despite his proximity towards their Queen.

“I will dispose of any Aberrations I find, my Queen. Worry not.”

“I will place my trust in you. Go, then, my Prognugator.”

The Antinium bowed and stood. He whirled, and the twin swords at his waist moved smoothly with him as he walked upwards towards the surface. His Queen’s voice rumbled through the cavernous tunnels after him.

“Go. Ensure humanity does not bring about ruin. Protect the Hive, and carry out my will. Go and do this in my name…”

“Ksmvr.”

1.31

Erin walked down the street, and she felt like sighing. No—she felt like her entire existence was a long, slow sigh.

She was tired. Tired, and weary in her very bones. But more than that, she was just disappointed. And that was the worst feeling of all.

Humans.

She’d missed them. Really, she had. She’d missed her friends and being back in her home. She even missed the way people said hello as you walked into the supermarket. And she’d been missing all of that so hard that she’d forgotten how nasty people could be.

They didn’t like Drakes or Gnolls. Humans. And now that Erin knew that, and heard the way the adventurer and merchant had been talking, she understood why the feeling was mutual.

It was pretty rude to insult an entire species in their own city. Erin wasn’t too sure about much when it came to talking about race, but she was sure of that.

Erin scuffed along Market Street. She wasn’t sure she wanted to buy anything, but she didn’t want to leave the city just yet. Not because she had anything to do here—it was just that the trek back to her inn was too much for her at the moment.

Politeness. It was only right to be polite. And that went double for judging an entire species just because you didn’t like their smell. Sure, Gnolls could be prickly, but they could also be really nice. The same went for Drakes.

“There she is! There’s the thief!”

Then again, there were jerks in every species.

Erin turned around at the voice. It was a familiar voice that set her teeth on edge and made her check her money pouch. Not just because of the thief comment.

Approaching at a high-speed strut down the street was a Drake shopkeeper. Erin’s eyes narrowed as he barged up to her and began shouting.

“I know it was you! You couldn’t resist attacking an honest merchant and you decide to have a bit of revenge, eh?”

“What?”

Erin blinked at the Drake. He was visibly red with rage. He jabbed at her with a finger and she stepped back.

“Enough!”

Another Drake pushed his way through the crowd. This one was a Guardsman, and he was visibly harried. He interposed himself between the shopkeeper and Erin.

“Lism, I’ve told you before. You can’t just start accusing humans at random!”

“Ah, but this one is different!”

Lism the shopkeeper pointed at Erin around the guard and raised his voice so more people could hear.

“This is the human who robbed me of my merchandise! She also cheated at the chess game with my nephew, I’ve no doubt! She’s been nothing but trouble since she entered the city, and now she’s stealing from honest folk trying to make a living!”

What was it about Erin and trouble? It seemed it followed her wherever she went. Erin gritted her teeth.

“I didn’t steal anything. I haven’t even been in the city—”

“Miss, please.”

The guardsman cut her off. He gently moved Lism back.

“I’ll look into your claims sir, but I can’t make any arrests. Unless you have proof—”

“Hey, I said I didn’t steal anything!”

“Hah! Another human lie!”

Lism jabbed a claw at Erin again, despite the guard’s best attempts to move them apart. Now Erin was getting mad. She opened her mouth and clenched her fists.

“I was out of the city all day! I have proof!”

“Well—”

The shopkeeper hesitated, but now he was too far in to back down.

“It could have been her. You know how humans get! They’re always sneaking around, going where they’re not wanted.”

“We’ll investigate your claims. Just please move back—”

“You can’t trust her word! All of these humans have caused nothing but trouble since they got here! First they start stealing, and then what? They’ll take our jobs, attack us on the streets—”

“Please! Move back!”

The guard finally managed to pull the enraged shopkeeper away from Erin. He struggled and hollered, but eventually he let himself be lead away. He still shot venomous glances over his shoulder at Erin, which she returned in kind.

That was unpleasant. Erin was just about to leave before the jerk came back and shouted some more when the guardsman returned.

“Miss?”

“Oh, hi. Thanks for getting rid of him for me. Was he mad about someone stealing his stuff?”

The Drake nodded. He looked out of sorts and tired.

“There have been a number of petty thefts across the city. Shopkeeper Lism was the latest one to be stolen from.”

“Well…I’m sorry about that. Good luck finding the criminal.”

Erin tried to excuse herself, but the guardsman shook his head.

“I’m sorry Miss, but I’m afraid I’ll have to investigate his claims. If you’ll follow me, I’ll take a statement from you. I’ll also need proof that you were out of the city this morning.”

“What?”

“It’s standard procedure—”

“But I—he—he’s just mad because I beat him at a game of chess! Or—I beat his cousin and—look, I didn’t do anything.”

The guardsman sighed wearily and raised his hands.

“I understand Miss, but I have to investigate all leads. Please, this won’t take too long…”

Erin looked around helplessly. This wasn’t fair. But who could help her? The other Drakes and Gnolls, well, some of them looked indifferent, others even sympathetic. But some of them were eying her. And none of them would help. What could they do?

A lot, if one of the people in the crowd was a certain female Gnoll who pushed her way through the throng and marched up to the guardsman. He visibly wilted as Krshia, shopkeeper, Gnoll, and currently Erin’s number one hero folded her arms.

“What are you doing if may I ask, guardsman? I hear you are taking an innocent human away on the word of a petty shopkeeper. But that would be wrong, yes?”

The guardsman backed up two steps from the angry Gnoll. He wasn’t a small Drake, but Krshia was big even for a Gnoll, and a few more Gnolls in the crowd were drifting her way.

“Look, Mistress Krshia, I’m just investigating—”

“I heard.”

Krshia sniffed and glanced down the street. Lism, the shopkeeper ducked back into his stall as she glared in his direction.

“Lism, the sheddings that he is, talks too much and lies when he knows nothing. Someone broke into his stall, but he saw nothing, heard nothing. But he claims it was a girl who bested him out of spite. And you would bother her without evidence?”

“That’s not—I’m just doing my job.”

“Well then, if you have a reason, find Erin Solstice and ask her then. But until that time, you will leave an innocent human alone, yes?”

“I—”

The guardsman was torn between duty and not wanting to deal with anything remotely approaching the trouble written on Krshia’s face. He hesitated, and then decided as several Gnolls casually walked out of the crowd and joined Krshia. They stood behind her and Erin, not looming but certainly projecting an aura.

“I believe I’ll continue my investigations into the break-in separately. Ah, I will contact Miss Solstice if anything comes up.”

Krshia smiled coldly.

“Yes, that is wise.”

“Well then.”

The guardsman backed off fast. Erin blinked, still confused by what had just happened. The entire moment—well she was grateful for Krshia obviously—but it struck her as slightly wrong that the local law enforcement would back down to a bunch of civilians.

Then again, when the civilians in question were Gnolls, Erin could see why. Even at their best, they did give off a much more…bestial feel than the Drakes. It wasn’t that Erin expected them to lose their tempers, but she also wouldn’t be too surprised if they did. That kind of feeling.

Krshia smiled down at Erin as the other Gnolls around her muttered or barked to her. She growled something back to them and they walked back into the flow of the crowd.

“Erin Solstice. I have been looking for you. And it is good that I found you just now, yes?”

“Yes. Thanks for that, Krshia. I didn’t know what to do and that shopkeeper guy—”

Krshia narrowed her eyes and snorted.

“Lism. He causes trouble, yes? Even though you bested him fairly, and his nephew is most admiring of you. But enough—I will make sure he causes no trouble. I wish to speak with you.”

“Um, okay? About what? The thief?”

Krshia flicked her fingers.

“Pshaw. It is a cowardly thing that hides and steals from us on Market Street and elsewhere. No one knows if it is human or another. No, I do not worry about such a thief. I wish to speak with you privately. I invite you to my home for food and drink.”

Again, Erin hesitated. She was grateful but—

“Um, does it have to be now? I’m really beat, Krshia. I could use a nap—”

“I have a bed in my home too. You may use of it and rest if you wish. Come.”

Gnolls were pushy. Or maybe it was just Krshia. But Erin found herself being dragged down the street before she quite knew what was happening.

“Look, I’m grateful, really, but this isn’t a good time. I just had to deal with some evil spiders and—”

“Erin!”

Krshia ignored Erin and the person calling her name. She marched through the crowd at speed.

“If we wait for a good time, we will never have time. Come, my home is not far.”

“Erin! Erin Solstice!”

Krshia visibly sighed and her ears twitched as the mysterious name-caller drew closer. She halted in the street and Erin finally managed to extract her hand from the Gnoll’s huge hand. She turned and saw another Drake heading her way.

“Olesm?”

The smaller, younger Drake stopped in front of Erin and Krshia, panting. He was clutching a piece of parchment in his hand and a quill and inkpot of all things. For a second Erin was struck by the sheer inconvenience of not having pens in this world, but then Olesm shoved the paper into her face.

“Take a look at this, Erin! I just received this and it’s the most fascinating thing ever! A new way to play chess!”

Erin blinked, but then the paper disappeared as Krshia gently but firmly pulled Olesm away.

“Most interesting, but Erin Solstice is busy. I will talk with her, and you will find her later, yes?”

She wanted to pull Erin away, but to the Gnoll’s dismay Erin was already standing next to Olesm.

“What was that about a new way to play chess?”

This time Krshia groaned, but Erin was already staring at the piece of paper Olesm was eagerly waving about. She tried one last attempt.

“There is time to play such games later, yes? Erin—”

But by that point Erin and Olesm were already engrossed. Krshia’s ears twitched again, but there was nothing she could do.

“Just look at this, Erin!”

“I will if you stop moving. What is it?”

Erin snatched the paper from Olesm’s claw and stared at it. Well, it was a piece of paper. And on that paper was an inked…illustration? Erin frowned, but then she got it. It was chess. Someone had drawn a chess board on the piece of paper.

She stared down at a picture – or rather, a drawing of a chess board. Someone had taken the time to draw out the grid, and then illustrate – in quite fine detail – each piece on the imaginary board. She stared down at a white king piece, a queen piece in the corner, a knight and a pawn a caught in the middle of a game against two black pawn pieces, two rooks, and naturally, a king piece hiding in behind the pawns in the upper left-hand corner.

Olesm hovered over Erin’s shoulder, chattering into her ear.

“I just received a long-distance delivery that went out to all the known [Tacticians] and chess players in the continent! It was this paper—and it’s a challenge, see? You have to—”

“Solve it in five moves?”

“How’d you know?”

Olesm stared at Erin. She pointed.

“It’s written right here. And white moves first.”

“Yes, isn’t it amazing? I would never have thought of that—but someone’s come up with a way to play chess across long distances without a spell! But this isn’t a game at all—”

“Oh, I know. It’s a chess puzzle.”

Olesm visibly deflated.

“You know what it is? But of course—how silly of me.”

Krshia walked over to stare at the chess boards. She squinted down at the paper and frowned at the pieces.

“I fail to understand this—puzzle. Why has someone sent it to you, Olesm?”

“It’s more like a challenge to anyone.”

Erin explained absently as she stared at the chess pieces.

“It’s a challenge or a problem for players. You have to find a way to win the game in a certain number of moves. It helps people learn to play chess, and this way you can write it down.”

Olesm nodded eagerly. He pointed to the paper.

“In this case the solution is to checkmate the black king, but I haven’t been able to figure it out yet. I imagine most of the players across the continent are trying to figure it out. It might take some time, but I hope to be one of the first to figure—”

Erin was still staring at the paper. She blinked, frowned, and then snapped her fingers. Both Krshia and Olesm jumped.

“Hm~! Got it!”

Erin smiled and flicked the chess puzzle with one hand.

“Done, and done!”

“What?”

Olesm froze and stared at Erin. She grinned at him.

“You—you finished it? Just like that?”

“Yep. It wasn’t too bad a problem. But I’ve seen several like it so…”

Krshia glanced sympathetically at Olesm. The poor Drake stared at Erin and then down at the chess puzzle.

“—I would deeply love to know how you solved it so quickly. But I should—yes, I should solve it on my own. Shouldn’t I?”

He looked longingly at the piece of parchment Erin was holding. She grinned and folded it up.

“You should. It will help you in the long run. Don’t feel bad—I just happened to know how that particular problem goes. But it was quite fun.”

“Fun.”

Olesm repeated the word. He looked down at the paper.

“I’ve been wrestling with this problem for an hour. But—of course with someone of your level I shouldn’t expect this to faze you. Of course.”

“Do you have any more?”

Olesm shook his head. He accepted the piece of parchment back from Erin.

“This was the first—I mean, I suppose we might expect more of the same in the future, wouldn’t we? This puzzle was sent to countless cities, so whoever designed it clearly wants to reach a large audience. I wouldn’t be surprised if they kept it up.”

Erin nodded.

“Oh, you mean sort of like a magazine, right? Or a newspaper?”

“A what?”

Both Krshia and Olesm looked at Erin blankly. She tried to explain. Olesm nodded his head uncertainly.

“Yes—yes, that sounds about right.”

“I’m just surprised. I thought sending stuff was supposed to be costly.”

Olesm shook his head.

“It’s not that expensive, especially if you sent it with the slower deliveries.”

“Slower deliveries…?”

The Drake nodded. He gestured to the parchment in his hand.

“This was sent along with a bundle of other letters in a caravan from the north. It probably came across the sea, but it wasn’t delivered by a Runner. You see, Runners deliver things quickly, but merchants and caravans and even ship captains will pass on long-distance deliveries for a very small fee.”

Erin frowned. She sort of got it. It was like snail mail by boat versus sending stuff by plane. But part of the process still confused her.

“How does that work if you trade the letter more than once? Do you pay the first guy a lot and have him give the money to the next person? That sounds risky.”

Olesm scratched at his scales as he tried to explain.

“It’s more like—well, I suppose you could call the letters a form of currency. Travelers will buy them for a few coins and complete the delivery in hopes of earning more when they sell them later or deliver them to their owner.”

“Oh. So it’s sort of a gamble.”

“Exactly, but it’s fairly certain that the letter will get to your destination in the end. Of course, sending something private is a bad idea, but you can send a message to another continent for only a copper coin or two. It might take a month or two but it will get there.”

Erin nodded. It all made sense. And it reminded her of—well, it reminded her of the post office in a way. Just without stamps. It was useful, it really was.

It was just that she was dreaming of email, the internet, and being able to call her family in two seconds at that moment. So she wasn’t that impressed, even though she was really trying to be.

“I wonder—do you think I could send the answer to the person who sent you the letter?”

“I don’t see why not. I know the merchant who delivered the letters—I could ask him to bring the letter back when he leaves.”

“I can write down the answer. Do you have any paper…?”

“Write it down here. I won’t look.”

Olesm handed Erin another piece of parchment and averted his eyes as she scribbled on it. She handed it back to him folded up.

“Okay, so you send it to this person. And then this person will send me something harder?”

“Perhaps. Or perhaps they might wait until others have sent in their reply. It could take a few weeks or up to a month.”

“That’s a long time.”

“But it’s so fascinating to play games across such a long distance, isn’t it?”

Erin tried to find the enthusiasm Olesm was giving off, but the truth was this revolutionary idea was small potatoes in her world. She sighed, but then she had a thought.

“I’ve got a better idea. Here, give me the paper back.”

She took the pen and dipped it in the ink pot Olesm held out.

“They sent me a puzzle, so I can send one back. Let’s see how they like this.”

Erin drew out a chess board with every piece in the starting position. She wasn’t an artist, but she did the best she could. Then she wrote in the upper left hand corner:

‘Black side will mirror white side’s every move. Force checkmate in 4 moves.’

“It’s a bit elementary, but it should be a good challenge for a beginner.”

She showed it to Olesm and Krshia. Olesm frowned at the paper while Krshia shook her head in confusion, but then he smiled.

“Ah. I actually know this one.”

“Wait, what?”

“Several new players like to challenge me this way. So I grew quite adept at beating them. It is quite a simple solution as I’m sure you know. If you move the queen like so—”

Erin scowled and snatched the parchment back.

“Give me that.”

She flipped it over and began writing furiously on the backside. Olesm blinked and Krshia grinned in amusement. When Erin showed Olesm the new problem he blinked.

“That’s a—a lot of pieces.”

“Checkmate in four moves. Black moves first.”

Erin grinned evilly at Olesm.

“Four moves?”

He goggled at the paper. Erin had heard of goggling, but she’d never seen someone actually do it.

“No. That’s impossible. But—no, it shouldn’t be—”

He frowned, his tail lashing the ground.

“I can’t even begin to—how did you come up with this so quickly?”

“It was one of the puzzles that gave me a headache back when I was playing a lot. It took me nearly a week to figure it out.”

“I can’t—may I copy this? Please?”

“Go ahead. And if you’ll send this back to the person who sent the other puzzle—I’ll pay for delivery.”

“Oh, of course. Certainly. Um, you can give me a few copper coins and it will get there, but more money means a faster delivery.”

“I get it.”

Erin thought about that and dug in her money pouch. She was feeling generous, so she handed Olesm two silver coins. From what Selys had told her, she’d be rolling in bits of shiny metal soon enough.

The Drake blinked down at the coins, but accepted them and promised to send the letter as soon as he copied down Erin’s puzzle. He hurried off, leaving Krshia and Erin behind.

She smiled, wondered a bit maliciously how long it would take the mysterious chess puzzler to solve her problem, and then completely forgot about it a minute later.

Krshia was still trying to get Erin to have a meal with her, but Erin was tired, still sore, and for that matter, hungry. And despite her best wishes towards Gnolls, their food was more than a little raw by human standards.

“Look, I’d really love to visit. And I will—how about tomorrow?”

“But today is quicker, yes?”

“Yes, but—”

Erin wavered. Krshia enticed her with promises of baked food and cooked meat. And it would be nice, even if she had the feeling the Gnoll wanted to talk to her about something important. Maybe she could relax?

But just as she was about to leave with Krshia, someone else called out Erin’s name. This time Krshia’s ears laid flat on her head and she turned with a glare. But the Gnoll stopped.

Gazi Pathseeker stood behind Erin in a vortex of attention. She smiled up at Krshia and the Gnoll stared at her. Erin blinked and sighed as the half-Gazer greeted her.

“Erin. Is now a good time?”

“I guess. Did you meet all the important people you were supposed to?”

Gazi shrugged.

“I have met with various individuals. But I am sure others will introduce themselves when they realize I am in the city. However, wonder if I might take you up on your offer.”

“Offer? What offer?”

Erin blinked at Gazi. The adventurer smiled and waved her hand.

“You mentioned you had an inn. If you wouldn’t mind I would very much like to see it and have a meal, if I may.”

“Oh. Of course.”

Erin glanced at Krshia.

“Sorry Krshia. It’s just that I promised Gazi—she helped me out earlier today. You don’t mind…?”

Krshia stood stock still and waved a hand silently at Erin. Gazi smiled in the Gnoll’s direction.

“Thank you, Shopkeeper Krshia. I apologize for my rudeness.”

The Gnoll murmured something, but Erin was already leading Gazi away. Krshia stared at the adventurers’ back, and then shook her head. She turned, grabbed the nearest Gnoll and began speaking quickly with him. She kept casting glances at Gazi’s back the entire time the adventurer was walking away. She hadn’t dared meet the Gazer’s eyes, and even now Krshia’s hair was puffed out.

She watched Gazi, but Krshia had no idea – or perhaps she did – that she was being watched right back.

----

Erin stared in horrified fascination as one of Gazi’s eyeballs slowly rotated to face forwards in her head as the two walked down the street. Apparently Gazers had 360° vision, which was awesome and incredibly disturbing.

She talked to Gazi while the female adventurer’s eyes roamed. She kept her big eye focused on Erin as she walked—out of politeness Erin guessed, but her other four eyes were all moving in other directions. In fact, it was quite disturbing how Gazi’s big eye didn’t move away from Erin the entire time. Since she had other eyes, she could focus entirely on Erin even while avoiding other pedestrians.

Not that there were any to get in her or Erin’s way. The other people on the street either knew Gazi or didn’t want to walk in front of the adventurer. She was still dressed like a warrior, and even if her armor looked rusty, she looked like serious business.

All in all—no, Erin wasn’t going to think it. But she couldn’t help it. It really felt like she was talking to a female version of Mad Eye Moody, as wrong as that sounded. A lot less grumpy, and with more than one crazy eyeball, but the thought was in her head and she couldn’t shake it.

And like the Harry Potter characters, Gazi seemed to be a sinkhole for attention. So much so that Erin felt uncomfortable as the two walked down the street towards the gates. She was used to scrutiny, but this time the Drakes and Gnolls weren’t even bothering to hide their stares. And sure, most were staring at Gazi, but a lot of them were also staring at the weird human talking to her.

“You’re really that famous, huh?”

Gazi shrugged and the armor on her shoulders rolled back.

“Some might say so. I apologize if the attention bothers you. Do you dislike such things?”

“Dunno. I’ve never been famous—or popular.”

Gazi nodded.

“I believe I am more infamous than famous.”

“I’ve never been that either.”

“I believe the difference between the two is quite minute in some senses. In other however—well, suffice it to say I appreciate staring as opposed to other reactions.”

“Right, right. I get you.”

Erin and Gazi stopped at a crowded intersection. Today seemed like a weekend—not that Erin had a good grasp of the week days in this world. She spotted several families out and about, which meant that they’d entered the residential district. She seldom went there, so the sight of children was—

They were so small. And cute! Well, the Gnoll kids reminded Erin of vicious puppies, but the small Drakes were terrifyingly cute. They ran about like normal kids, dragging their shorter tails about at they scuffled, played…did all the things normal kids did, really.

As they caught sight of Erin and Gazi, some of the adults stared. But a gang of Drakes and a few Gnolls pointed at Erin instead. One of the children ran up to the two and then away. It was a boy Drake—at least, she thought it was.

That was charming, especially the way the group of kids was clearly fascinated with her. Erin was smiling—until she saw the parents.

Two Drakes, both with lighter blue scales watched their offspring run about with his friends with affectionate interest. He ran up to her, and his parents called out, not wanting him to bother Erin. She was caught by the moment and the thought struck her before she could banish it.

Mother, father, and child.

Her smile flickered and vanished. But then Erin put it back on her face. She bent down towards the young Drake, not looking towards either of the parents.

“Hi there!”

Erin smiled at the Drake child. He immediately took a step back, but the other children pushed him forward.

“Can I ask you something?”

The boy Drake’s parents waved at him, telling him not to bother the human. But Erin smiled. She forced the smile, but it was a smile.

“Go on, I don’t mind. Ask me any question you want.”

The Drake grinned up at her. He had very sharp teeth. But it was a still an innocent smile. A mischievous smile, too.

“Can you really shoot blood out of your—”

----

Pisces was sitting at a table in The Wandering Inn, sipping from a mug at his leisure as he put his feet up on one table. At his side he’d dragged over another table and organized a smorgasbord of cheese, meats, bread, and some sweet pastries Erin had bought for herself last time she’d been in the city.

He jumped as the door to the inn smashed open and Erin stormed in. She was wearing a terrific frown on her face, which contrasted sharply with the amusement on the face of the Gazer who followed her in.

She didn’t even have to say anything. One look and Pisces’s feet came off the table and he began industriously polishing the wood with his considerably dirtier robe.

“Greetings, Mistress Solstice. Ah, are you well?”

Erin stood in the center of the room and glared at everything and nothing.

“I hate kids. I hate Drakes, and I hate people who don’t understand anything about female anatomy.”

That last comment was accompanied by a glare for Pisces. He opened his mouth to protest and then wisely shut up.

“In case anyone’s wondering, I cannot shoot blood out of my crotch.”

“I did not wonder. But it was quite amusing to see your reaction when the child asked you the question.”

Erin glared over her shoulder at the adventurer. Pisces eyed her. There was something familiar—

“Who asks that? Honestly!”

The adventurer shrugged. She was looking around the inn—with more than one eye? Pisces’s brows snapped together as he stared at her.

“Is it strange that other species do not know much about human reproduction?”

“Yes! No! I just—”

Erin threw up her hands.

“Forget it. This is my inn. I’ll get you some food. You can take a seat. Watch out for Pisces, the jerk over there. He steals stuff. Like my food.”

She glared at the half-eaten pastries on Pisces’s table and the mage flinched. Then she stomped into the kitchen, leaving him alone with…with…

As the adventurer took a table near him, Pisces’s eyes widened. If he had been eating food he would have choked on it. If he’d been drinking he probably would have sprayed it out his mouth and nose. Since he wasn’t doing either he just stared, wide-eyed at Gazi.

She smiled at him.

“Greetings, Necromancer.”

----

Erin rattled around in her kitchen, looking for something to serve up. She put a pot of pasta on the stove, poured out some blue juice – which Pisces had also helped himself to – and sliced up some bread with cheese and sausage. She realized she had no idea what Gazi or her kind ate, but she took it out anyways.

Pisces was sitting in his seat, looking meeker than Erin had ever seen him as he chatted with Gazi. Well, it was more like her asking questions and him replying quickly and nervously. Another person who recognized the famed adventurer.

“Here you go.”

Erin put the appetizers in front of Gazi.

“Let me know if there’s anything you want or can’t eat. Also, this is blue juice. It’s…its blue. But it tastes sweet.”

“This looks delightful. Thank you for allowing me to impose.”

“No problem. I rarely get visitors—”

Erin stopped as the door opened.

“I rarely get visitors.”

She was expecting the Goblins to enter, or perhaps Olesm, or even Pawn and some Workers. But instead the last person she expected walked in.

Relc.

He grinned at her, and sauntered into the inn, spear over one shoulder. And he wasn’t alone. Four more Drakes—all guardsman by the look of them entered the inn, looking around warily.

Erin wasn’t sure what to say. She stared at Relc. The Drake met her eyes and then looked away.

“Hi, Relc.”

“Miss Erin. How’re you doing?”

“Good. Um. You brought friends?”

“For a meal. Mind putting something on for us? I’m hungry.”

“Of—of course.”

Flustered, Erin retreated into the kitchen to double up on her dinner preparations. She reemerged to find Relc and his friend sitting close to Gazi. Since she’d chosen to sit next to Pisces, there was an odd triangle in the center of her inn.

There was also dead silence. Awkwardly, Erin put out drinks and appetizers for the guardsmen and Relc. The other Drakes accepted her drink and stared at the blue juice warily, but they were polite. Relc on the other hand was boisterous and noisy, thanking her and gulping down the juice quickly. He looked everywhere—except at her and Gazi, that was.

That was Erin’s first clue, but she was so busy running around the inn that she didn’t pick up on it. But as she began draining boiled noodles and mixing it with sautéed onions she heard Relc get up and walk over to Gazi.

“So. You’re the famous adventurer entering our small city. Nice to meet you.”

Erin peeked her head out of the kitchen just in time to see Relc leaning over the table. He stuck out one massive hand.

“I’m Relc. A Senior Guardsman here in Liscor.”

Was it just her or was Relc…bigger than before? But Gazi just smiled up at him and shook his hand with her gauntleted one. She saw the muscles in his arm tense, but Gazi didn’t even blink as she shook his hand.

“I am Gazi Pathseeker, a travelling adventurer.”

“Oh, an adventurer? That’s nice. I thought about being one, but it sounded like too much hassle.”

“The life of an adventurer is not for everyone.”

“No, there’s all the dirt and mud and monsters trying to kill you.”

“It becomes occasionally unpleasant.”

“Right, right.”

Erin didn’t need any special skills to sense the underlying tension in the air. She saw the four guardsman Relc had brought surreptitiously eying Gazi. Meanwhile, Pisces had scooted around the edge of the table to get away from the two.

Relc paused. Then he cleared his throat and eyed Gazi.

“So…mind telling me what you’re doing in my city? And uh, how long you’re going to be staying around here?”

Relc put a heavy emphasis on my. And he was leaning over Gazi in a not-so-subtle way. She didn’t seem to be bothered, though.

“I am merely exploring this continent. Rest assured, I mean to cause no disruptions while I am here.”

The big Drake nodded agreeably.

“That’s good. I’d hate for any of that. It seems like every other day I have to deal with uppity adventurers causing trouble. It’s because I’m the highest-level member of the Watch, you know. All the guys always call on me for help.”

“It sounds like you have quite a tough job. I am impressed.”

“Yeah, well, I’m just that good.”

“Indeed.”

Gazi seemed content with that. Relc scratched at his scales. His tail twitched a few times on the floor.

“So—what I’m saying is, I’d hate for your visit to get unpleasant, understand? This isn’t a good place for you to cause any trouble like the kind you get up to in your continent. You get—”

Erin tapped Relc on the back of the head with a plate full of food. Hard.

“Ow!”

He turned and glared at her. She glared back.

“Oi. Stop harassing my guest.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Stop harassing. My guest. And sit back down. The food’s ready.”

Relc glared, but he seemed to have finished. He glanced down at Gazi and walked off. The Gazer smiled at Erin.

“Ah. Pasta? It looks quite delicious. Thank you, Erin.”

“Yeah, looks good!”

Relc began digging into his food the instant Erin left it at his table. After some hesitation, the other guardsman did as well. Their wary expressions changed, and they soon began slurping down the noodles with good humor.

Pisces glanced around. Everyone else was eating—and Erin had even brought out some food for herself. But he was notably bereft of a plate and food.

“Ah, I believe you missed someone.”

“Did I?”

Erin eyed him balefully. She quite pointedly stared at the remains of her pastries on his table.

“Too bad. I guess I only have food for paying customers.”

He smirked at her.

“As a matter of fact, I believe today is the day I will pay off my tab. I have come into quite a bit of money as of late.”

“Really?”

Erin raised a skeptical eyebrow. Pisces pulled out a bulging pouch and showed her the contents.

“If you would observe.”

She stared.

“That’s a lot of gold. Hey! Did you steal that?”

He looked insulted.

“Not at all. I merely performed a complex bit of magic and received remuneration. But I believe this is more than enough to pay off my tab many times over. Allow me to repay my debts in full and tip you for your time.”

He reached a hand into the pouch, but before he could take any gold out the bag disappeared from underneath his hand. Relc pulled it away and deposited the bag on his table.

“Yoink.”

“Hey!”

Pisces shot to his feet. He grabbed for the money, but Relc raised the bag out of arm’s reach.

“Give that back! It is my property!”

“Nope! Confiscated by the City Watch!”

“Relc!”

Erin shouted at the Drake as Pisces grew redder and redder. The mage pointed a trembling finger at Relc.

“This is an abuse of authority! You have no right to steal my property—”

Relc grinned and waggled a claw at Pisces.

“I have every right. Or did you forget—you’re still wanted for all those thefts you did earlier. Scaring people—robbing graves—all of that should be nicely covered by this donation to the city, shouldn’t it?”

Pisces turned white, and then red again with outrage. He spluttered, but didn’t really have anything to respond with except unrighteous indignation. Relc laughed at the mage—until Erin punched him in the shoulder.

“Ow. Have you gotten stronger?”

“It’s a skill. Stop bothering my customers.”

“Fine. But I’m keeping this. Necromancer Pisces will be allowed back in the city and we won’t stab him with all his fines paid off—but I’ll be watching him.”

“This is unjust—not right—”

Pisces clenched his fists but Erin managed to get him back to his seat. He sat there in a huff, so she got him his own plate and food to calm him down.

“Honestly. I have a new guest here. Can’t you two behave for one night?”

“I am quite enjoying the spectacle. Do not mind me.”

Relc glanced sideways at Gazi. But then he ignored her and grinned at Erin.

“Sorry, Erin. I just wanted to say hi—after so long.”

She eyed him doubtfully.

“Really?”

“Really. I saw you just this morning and thought—well, it would be nice to see a friendly human again. I had to deal with so many rude adventuring types and annoying mages each day.”

Pisces muttered something darkly. Erin shot him a look and he shut up.

“I saw that. You were pretty impressive out there. I didn’t know you were that good.”

Relc grinned and put his hands behind his head as he leaned back in his chair.

“I try, I try. I’m not the greatest guardsman in the city for no reason.”

The four guardsman stopped their meal and looked up at Relc. One of them snorted.

“Greatest guardsman? Sure, one who can’t even catch a human Runner.”

The other three chuckled. Relc thumped back down on his chair and glared at them.

“I was wearing armor, and I had my spear, alright? She got lucky!”

Erin blinked at Relc as the other guardsman made more jokes at his expense.

“You got outrun by a Runner?”

“She was really fast! I’ve never seen anything like it! Any other Runner I’d leave in the dust. But her—”

“Sure you didn’t lose while you were admiring her?”

“Too busy panting and not enough breathing while you were running?”

“Shut up!”

Relc glared at the two guards and threw a bit of food at them. That earned him another buffet from Erin. He glared at her, but then switched tone.

“—By the way Miss Erin. You…wouldn’t happen to know any female Runners, would you?”

“Me?”

Erin blinked at him. Relc nodded.

“Sure, I mean, maybe, right? She was about your age.”

“What did she look like?”

This question came from Pisces. The mage was staring with some interest at Relc. The Drake frowned and shrugged awkwardly.

“She had…black hair. And she was—tall? Taller than Erin. And uh, she was fast. Ring any bells?”

Pisces and Erin exchanged a look. Erin planted her hands on her hips.

“How am I supposed to know someone by all that?”

“Hey, I’m doing the best I can! All you humans—you’re sort of similar. Anyways, I just thought you’d know her.”

“Because I’m human? And all humans know other humans?”

Relc scratched at the side of his head.

“Um. Yeah?”

“Unbelievable.”

Erin began banging together empty dishes she glared at Relc as the Drake spread his claws out innocently.

“Hey, I just wondered—that isn’t the only reason I’m here! I was going to tell you about the thief in the city.”

“I already know about the thief in the city! And before you cause more trouble, it wasn’t Pisces. If he were the thief you’d have caught him already.”

“Oh, we know that. There wasn’t any magic detected at the places that were stolen from. No, it’s probably just some human. But I wanted to tell you to hire some protection around here. You got lucky with those Shield Spiders, but you’re not going to be lucky forever. Hire an adventurer already.”

“And pay them with what? Adventurers are expensive!”

One of the guards nodded.

“They are. Unless you know one personally, the rates they charge are far too high.”

Relc glared at the guardsman.

“Way to help, thick-tail.”

“I don’t have money for that. Unless—”

Erin reappeared in the common room. She smiled at Gazi who was observing the argument with urbane amusement.

“Hey, Gazi, want a job? I can’t pay much, but I’ll feed you if you stay. I haven’t fixed up the rooms upstairs, but I could work on that.”

Relc, Pisces, and all four guardsman both started choking on their food. Gazi smiled and shook her head.

“As tempting as your offer is, I must refuse. But I believe you would be wise to invest in some form of defense as you are no warrior.”

“Once I have the money from the Shield Spiders I’ll see. But I’m not made of money. I don’t even have much money.”

Pisces had been following the conversation while eating a huge helping of pasta. Now a calculating look appeared on his face as he glanced at Erin.

“I might be able to help in that regard. Miss Erin, seeing as how my funds have been confiscated…would you accept—alternate forms of payment?”

She glared at him.

“At this point, as long as you pay me something I’ll be happy.”

Erin paused and hastily amended that sentence.

“But nothing icky. Or gross. Or—anything I won’t like.”

He smiled at her.

“I believe I have something in mind that may benefit us both.”

For some reason that struck her as ominous—and she hoped Pisces wouldn’t cause much trouble. It was practically a given he’d cause some. Erin shook her head.

“If we’re done with talking about stuff I can’t afford—anyone hungry for something else? I have acid flies if you guardsmen want to try them. I know Relc eats them.”

The guardsmen exchanged a glance while Relc patted his stomach and tried to decide whether he was still hungry. Pisces hurriedly waved away the bowl Erin was offering.

Gazi raised her single eyebrow.

“Acid flies?”

----

As Erin served food into the night, another girl pondered money and food. Unlike Erin however, she was not immediately in possession of either.

She skulked in an alleyway, not trying to keep out of sight, but refusing to go out into the street. She wouldn’t be bothered even if she did. Some guardsmen were looking out for thieves, but they would never suspect her. Her attire, and more importantly, her bearing would immediately allay any suspicions to her guilt.

It was a shame and a disgrace, then, that she was forced to stoop to such demeaning lengths to survive. Theft was not befitting of her station, but the greedy merchants and shopkeepers were practically inviting her to take their goods. Besides, she had no coin to pay – not that she would in any case.

What was hers was hers. What was theirs was hers too, for that matter.

She’d made a mistake in travelling south. The city she wanted to travel to was Celum—not this—wherever here was. But the foolish caravanner had erred in giving her directions—she certainly hadn’t made a mistake! Now she was stranded, and forced to even further depths to survive.

The girl’s stomach grumbled. She’d snatched some fruit earlier today, but the shopkeepers were on more of a lookout after a few days of her pilfering. She’d have to wait until late that night before she would be able to eat.

Soon. The girl licked her fingers and eyed the streets packed with hideous dog creatures and evil lizards. She just had to obtain enough coin and then she would be away from this city filled with monsters. She just had to find Magnolia Brynshart and then she would be welcomed with dignity befitting her rank and station.

Soon.

The girl’s stomach growled.

1.07 R

Running is a peculiar thing. And it’s one of the few things I’m qualified to talk about in any world. For me, running is as close to living as anything I do. I’ve studied it, practiced it, and made it mine. I can’t claim anything else like that.

But if running is pure, life is not. My body is not, for that matter.

Funny thing. Apparently, doing a record-breaking thirty mile marathon at my top speed has consequences, especially on a leg that just got healed. Suffice it to say that when the Horns of Hammerad caught up with me they had to let me ride on the cart most of the way back to Celum.

Lying down in the middle of a field during a complete physical shutdown is actually pretty relaxing. I was so tired I didn’t even think about what would happen if a monster found me.[26]

Anyways, I’m just lucky Ceria knows several locating spells. The Horns figured out what happened pretty quick when I stopped moving. Again, running a marathon on a light meal isn’t a good idea. I’ve tried ultra-marathons and the key to those runs isn’t speed or even that much practice. All you do is take it easy and eat the entire way through. My kind of fun.

Where was I? Oh yeah. Running. Running is simple, but nothing else is in life. Even jobs involving running are way too difficult.

Case in point, and why I’m still standing outside the Runner’s Guild rather than go in. I really don’t want to have to deal with the people inside—or anyone right now. In fact, the only thing keeping me remotely sane is the fact that my leg is better.

My leg is better. Four words, but it is all the difference in the world to me. From thinking I’d never run again to being able to run wherever I go?

Life is good.

—Unless of course you’re an out-of-work bum with no money who has to borrow from other people to survive. Dad always warned me this would happen if I didn’t shape up.[27]

I am quite literally penniless. Without Garia and the Horns of Hammerad, I wouldn’t even have been sleeping in the inn for the last few days, let alone eating. The reason for that is twofold. One—and again, this is my fault—I had to rest up from the stupid marathon I ran right after getting my leg healed. Even with a potion there was still some rehabilitation necessary. That took two days before Ceria told me I was fine.

The other reason?

People.

Every head in the Runner’s Guild turns as I kick open the door. Just as quickly most of the Runners look away.[28] Looks like half of the regular City Runners are here, plus a few people I recognize.

Fals is talking to Garia next to the receptionist’s desk. Both notice me, but Fals keeps talking and Garia’s too moonstruck to interrupt him. And watching Fals from a corner of the room with her posse is another charming person of interest.

Persua.

She glares across the room and then immediately ignores me to chat animatedly and loudly with her friends. I’ve got to make some time to research what the punishment is for murder in this world. But I’m not interested in her, so I walk over to the receptionist’s desk.

Fals and Garia are in front of me in line while the female receptionist deals with a kid trying to turn in a delivery. Normally I’d stay away from Fals and wait somewhere else, but then Persua would probably take my place and drag out her time just to piss me off. Besides, their conversation sounds interesting so I put up with Fals long enough to listen in.

Garia sounds pretty upset. Both Runners are talking about something. Oh, right, that unmarked request she showed me a week ago. Seems like ages, now.

“…Third Runner we’ve lost so far. Pestrom.”

“What? No. He was an experienced City Runner – Level 19! I—I saw him just the other week.”

Fals shakes his head. He looks genuinely angry and frustrated, but I’ve seen people wear perfect masks of emotion.

“None of that matters in the High Passes, Garia. The monsters there—you’d need fighting skills, or insanely high levels – something above Level 30 probably to get out unscathed. I told Pestrom that, but he wouldn’t listen.”

“You’ve got to do something about it, Fals. The reward’s gone up to forty gold. A bunch of the new Street Runners—they know it’s dangerous. But for that kind of money…”

Fals nods seriously. The Runner ahead of him is done, so he steps up to the counter and addresses the receptionist.

“Teressa, don’t let any Runners take that open request. Spread the word to the other Guilds. Anyone who tries to take the High Passes request will die. We need it off the requests board.”

The receptionist—Teressa whose name I will shortly forget—looks distressed. She clearly wants to help Fals out, and just as clearly she’s attracted to him, but there’s a problem.

“We can’t take it down, Fals. You know guild policy.”

Fals nods. He leans over the counter and smiles charmingly[29] at the receptionist.[30]

“I know. But you could ah, suggest to other Runners not to take the request, right? Believe me, it would save lives.”

The receptionist and Garia both blush when Fals smiles, which only ticks me off more. She nods.

“I can do that. And I’ll let the others know.”

“In that case, Garia and I will tell the other Runners to spread the word. Thanks Teressa, you’re a lifesaver. Literally.”

Fals smiles at her again. She blushes and starts fiddling with the delivery Seals on her counter.

“There’s no need for flattery, Fals. Anyways, don’t you have a lot of work to do?”

“I always have time to chat with a lovely lady. How’re the kids? Are you—”

Okay, interesting discussion I can deal with, but flirting/chitchat I’m not waiting around for. I don’t quite elbow Fals out of the way[31] as I step forwards. He jumps in surprise and looks around at me.

“Oh, Ryoka—”

Fals gives Garia a warning look and she shuts up. Just another reason for me not to like him or anyone else.

“You done?”

He flashes me another smile which goes unreturned.

“All yours, Ryoka.”

“Good.”

Okay, time for the nastiness. I put my hands on the counter. The receptionist is clearly far less happy to see me, or maybe it’s because of me taking away Mr. Handsome City Runner. I could care less.

“Got any deliveries for me today?”

She glances at me nervously, and then her eyes shift over to Fals.

“Oh, Miss Ryoka. I’m so sorry, but we’re out of requests. Again.”

“Really? You don’t have any requests? None?”

I find it amazing how people who lie can’t even meet my eyes.

“It’s a matter of—scheduling.”

Really? Is that a euphemism for annoying internal politics and the will of a group of idiots? I’m just staring down the receptionist at this point. It’s really awkward for me, but I bet she doesn’t like it either. She cracks in about five seconds and pulls a stack of papers she had ready for me.

“However, we have several contracts for Lady Magnolia if you’d like to look—”

“Pass.”

Damnit, damnit, damn it. I knew nothing would change. But what the hell can I do? This is life, now. Apparently having my leg crushed wasn’t enough of a warning – now it’s play by their rules or I’m out of work.

No requests. No deliveries, and no pay. That’s the message I’ve gotten every day since I got back. I tried Runner’s Guilds in three of the cities around here and all of them are doing the same thing. Every request is fulfilled, even if it means they have to work every other Runner around the clock to get it done.

In this case I’m staying in Celum just to see how long they can keep this up. Half of the Street and City Runners in here are practically dead on their feet, but they’re still doing it. And it looks like they’ve called in the better City Runners like Fals to help out.

In short, I’m being shut out until I give into their demands. Which I won’t do. What they actually want isn’t hard—

But I’m not doing it. I don’t give in to bullies and peer pressure. And the innocent look the receptionist is giving me makes me want to punch her lights out.

Screw this. It’s time to get unpleasant.

----

Garia watched Ryoka and sensed trouble. She didn’t have any particular skills like [Dangersense], but she didn’t need to. She knew Ryoka, not just as a friend but as a meteorologist knows weather. And if Ryoka was a storm, then she’d be a shipbreaking hurricane with lightning and hail thrown in for good measure.

The tall barefoot girl leaned over the counter and glared at the receptionist. Garia felt for the older woman. Teressa was nice and helpful to everyone—she was just doing her job even if Garia herself didn’t agree with it. It wasn’t her fault.

Then again, Garia wouldn’t have wished Ryoka on anyone when she was this angry. Maybe Persua. Ryoka’s bright green eyes flashed with annoyance.

“It’s been four days.”

Ryoka leaned over the counter and glared at the wilting receptionist.

“And you’re telling me that there are no requests? Except of course for Magnolia.”

Teressa opened her mouth, hesitated, and cast an imploring glance sideways. Fals stepped forwards and smiled at Ryoka in a way that made Garia’s heart beat faster. Ryoka turned her glare on him.

“We don’t want to get in your way, Ryoka—”

“Oh really? Then stop taking all the delivery requests.”

Fals scratched the back of his neck and smiled again awkwardly.

“We’d love to. Really. But Ryoka, it would be best if you took one of Magnolia’s requests first.”

She knew why, but Ryoka wasn’t in the mood to be helpful. She crossed her arms over her chest.

“Why?”

Another smile, slightly strained.

“Lady Magnolia’s refusing to take any other requests until you deliver something in person. That’s hurting Runners in every city around here.”

“So? Just do the deliveries yourself. She’ll take them if I don’t deliver anything.”

“We’d like to, really we would, Ryoka. But Lady Magnolia—no one tells her what to do, Ryoka. Take a look at her requests, won’t you? It wouldn’t even be that hard.”

From what Garia knew of Ryoka, an easy delivery would be even less attractive to her. But as Teressa held out one of the requests Ryoka grudgingly stared at it. She curled her lip as she read the requests one after another.

“Hot peppers? Cabbages? She could get that in any market.”

“But she wants a Runner. You, specifically.”

“So until she gets one I won’t get any other jobs, is that it? And I’m supposed to ask her to let other Runners take her requests, right?”

“We wouldn’t say that.”

“Oh?”

Fals seemed to choose his words carefully.

“If you’d—suggest to Lady Magnolia that she open up her delivery requests for every Runner, things would be—smoother.”

“Right. And you all get paid so everyone’s happy?”

Ryoka turned from Fals and stared around the guild. Street Runners and City Runners returned her stare countless times over. They were all silently watching Ryoka, and not with friendly expressions either.

“So until then you’re all going to keep taking the requests.”

Fals shrugged ruefully as if caught out in a prank.

“We’re just doing our jobs, Ryoka. But you’re right. We’re working together on this, Runners and the Guild.”

“I don’t like being pressured. By anyone.”

Fals put a hand on Ryoka’s shoulder, making the other Runner instantly tense up. He flashed her a reassuring smile that made Garia’s stomach do flip flops.

“Ryoka, I completely agree with you. But please, look at it from the perspective of the rest of us Runners. ”

He gestured to the other Runners and nodded in Persua’s direction. The other girl immediately switched over her death-scowl and gave Ryoka a sickly smile.

“We’re a team. Okay, sure we don’t all get along, but if every Runner was out for themselves it’d be a mess. We work together to tackle hard assignments and we share the wealth so everyone gets ahead.”

He tapped his chest lightly.

“We’re Runners. We might charge high prices, but we get the job done! And if some people don’t like that, it’s because they don’t understand how tough our jobs really are. We risk life and limb to help others.”

The other Runners in the room warmed to Fals’ speech. They murmured agreement as he continued.

“So if we work together – if we help support each other – we’ll survive. Hundreds of Runners die every year, but the Guilds around here lost the least amount of Runners each year. We don’t take dangerous requests and we team up if one of us is in danger. Sure, we might not earn as much as other Runners but we know we can count on each other.”

Ryoka stared at Fals as the other Runners in the room cheered. Then, calmly and deliberately she grabbed his wrist and plucked his hand off her shoulder.

“Nice speech. But you’re full of shit.”

Garia stopped smiling. The mood in the room froze over in a second. Ryoka stared around at the other Runners, unflinching. She looked back at Fals who was staring at her uncertainty. Then she shook her head.

“You want to talk about Runners and preach about playing nice and sticking together? Fine. But leave me out of your little party.”

She pointed a thumb at her chest.

“I’m a barefoot runner. If I cared about what people thought, I wouldn’t run at all. Runners run. We deliver stuff. It’s a job, not a calling.”

She looked around again and this time she caught Garia’s eye for a moment.

“I could care less whether or not you lot like me. All I’m here to do is deliver stuff and get paid. I don’t want Magnolia’s stupid requests. If you lot want to earn favor with her, deal with it and leave me out of it. I’ll stop taking all of her requests if that’s what you want.”

Fals spread his hands out helplessly.

“We’d like to believe you Ryoka, but—”

“You think I’m lying?”

The edge in Ryoka’s voice made Fals hesitate. She took one step forwards and he took one step back.

“I don’t lie. And I hate liars. When you make a promise, you keep it. When you speak, you look someone in the eye and mean every word. When I say I’ll do something, I mean it. If you want to do deliveries to Magnolia, take the damn requests. I don’t care about your politics.”

She poked Fals in the chest hard enough to make him take a step back.

“But if you get in my way I’ll kick your face in.”

Fals opened his mouth but this time Garia grabbed him and pulled him away. Ryoka turned and glared around the room. None of the other Runners were willing to meet her eyes but the feeling they gave off—

She stalked over to the request board and glared at it. Countless requests were listed, and not a one was for her.

There’s no point to taking any of the requests, she knew. Even if she took one to the counter it would be ‘miraculously’ already taken by another Runner. And they’d do it, too.

But—she had a thought. Ryoka pushed back several requests and selected one at the bottom. She brought it back to the counter and handed it to the receptionist.

“This one. I’ll take the request for the High Passes.”

“What?”

Teressa blinked at Ryoka. She stammered.

“That one’s—but you can’t—”

“Not a good idea, Ryoka.”

Fals pulled himself gently away from Garia and moved in front of Ryoka again. His face was concerned.

“The High Passes aren’t a place for Runners or even most adventurers. Whoever put that request in doesn’t know what they’re doing. You shouldn’t take it.”

“Why not? There’s nothing else for me to do.”

Ryoka snatched the piece of paper back from Fals. Then she grinned.

“Unless you want to do it? I’ll follow you out to make sure you get it done.”

Ryoka smiled maliciously at Fals. He recoiled visibly and she nodded.

“That’s what I thought. I’m doing the request.”

“You’ll die!”

Garia broke into the conversation. She flushed as all eyes turned on her but she continued, desperately.

“Ryoka, Fals is right. This is serious. Just take one of Magnolia’s requests! The High Passes—”

“I’ll survive. And I’ll complete the request even if it’s dangerous – not just for money. Apparently, that’s all Runners think about.”

Ryoka pushed Fals back and moved past Garia. She walked towards the door and stopped as another not quite barred her way. Persua and her posse of Runners all stared with undisguised hostility at Ryoka. She met Persua’s eyes.

“Are you going to try and stop me too?”

Persua’s look clearly said that she would like nothing better than to stop Ryoka, very painfully if possible. She tossed her head as if her hair were a whip she meant to strike Ryoka with.

“I don’t need to do anything. You’re going to die in the High Passes.”

“Oh really?”

Persua sneered at Ryoka.

“Why do you think none of the experienced Runners take those kind of requests? We’re smart enough not to risk our lives. We work together, not like you. You’ll die alone because you’re a fool.”

Ryoka nodded.

“You’re probably right.”

Persua blinked in surprise. Fals and Garia both stared at Ryoka along with the other Runners. Ryoka nodded and looked around the room again.

“If I do it your way, I probably would live long enough to retire. And maybe I’d even earn a lot of money, who knows? And if I kiss your ass long enough maybe you’d even like me. If I were like the rest of you, I’d never take this request.”

She paused. Then she stared right back at Fals as she delivered her next line.

“Too bad I’m not a coward.”

Ryoka turned and walked out of the guild even as the stunned silence turned into shouts of fury.

----

I burn bridges as I breathe. It’s a talent. I’ve done it all my life and I guess some things you just can’t change. Me and my big mouth. I got kicked out of one school for telling the principal what I really thought about him and the other—

They’re pissed. I can hear them yelling as I open the door. But I’m still smiling as I walk out the building.

One thing matters. One thing I cling to even in my darkest days. And that thing is integrity.

I am that I am. I am who I am. And I will not change for anyone except myself. Countries and cultures have their own laws. Society pushes and prods. Everyone has an agenda and no motive is honest.

But I will bow to no one, especially not petty tyrants and liars like Fals. So I smile even as I sever ties. It may be that after this I’ll have to go elsewhere. Actually, not ‘may’. Probably I’ll have to go or else have both legs broken this time.

How far does this group of Runners’ influence stretch? Well, no matter where I go they’ll probably follow with rumor and lies. And it will be the same wherever I go.

What a crappy, small group of people. But what a wonderful world. If I need to, I’ll run to the very edges of it to find a place to be free.

If only everyone weren’t so petty. Well, those that aren’t are like Fals and he’s worthless in his own way. But one of them—

“Ryoka—”

Crap. Garia’s the only person in that group worth a grain of salt. In her case, she’s probably worth a small mountain of salt. A hill, at least.

She jogs to catch up. Part of me wants to just keep walking and lose her, but even I’m not enough of a jerk to do that. Besides, she’s helped me so much that I owe her.

Garia hesitates as she slows to keep pace with me. I’m expecting her to defend the other Runners, but what she says next surprises me.

“I’ll keep them off your backs if I can. But they’re angry. Really, really angry.”

Huh. But maybe I should have expected that? Garia’s a stand-up kind of girl. That’s why I like her.

“They’re pissed off because I told them what I thought of their little cult?”

Garia hesitates.

“I didn’t—I don’t agree with everything Fals said, Ryoka, but I think he’s right in some ways. I think you’re right too, though. But you’re special. You—you can do deliveries by yourself but some of us need to work together. Without the way the Guild does things, we’d get hurt way more often.”

“So we work together and drag everyone down who doesn’t agree with us, is that it?”

“I didn’t say it was perfect.”

“Pack mentality. And Fals thinks he knows everything. Are we dogs or gods?”

I thought that was clever. Or maybe it was stupid. Ouch. Garia’s look makes me feel like a complete jackass.

“We’re neither. We’re just people, Ryoka. And they’re not perfect, I know. But we can’t all be like you. Some of us have to work together to survive.”

…Damn it. This is getting painful.

“I’d like to be able to run like you. But I can’t. I’m too slow—I can only carry really heavy stuff instead of fast requests. If it weren’t for the way the guild works I wouldn’t be able to run.”

“…I know. But I won’t answer to them.”

Garia nods, and then visibly braces herself. Here comes her pitch.

“Couldn’t you—couldn’t you just talk to Magnolia? Would it be that hard to just ask her…?”

In some ways? No. In some ways…

“In some ways, no. But in some ways, yeah. I’m not doing it either way.”

“I thought you’d say that. I told Fals you would.”

That bastard. He asked Garia to go after me. That manipulative—

“When are you going to go?”

“Now. Fals and the other Runners will probably try to stop me if I don’t. I know Persua will.”

“Okay, okay.”

Suddenly Garia seizes me in a bear hug. And she’s—strong. Seriously, I think she’s going to break a rib. But then she pushes me back.

“Go. I’ll try and keep them busy for a little bit. And don’t die, okay?”

She turns and runs away. Slowly, by City Runner standards. Her posture really is quite bad. But she’s got heart, and that makes her the best Runner of the lot in my opinion.

Okay. Okay, that was – surprising or gratifying? Both. Also a bit humbling. But that’s right. I’ve gotta go.

Body check. I’m all in one piece, and I’ve got no injuries. Plus, since I haven’t been running  any deliveries – I’ll call it at least 92% readiness. Perfect.

Motivation on the other hand—60%. Not good, not bad.[32] I’d like more, but even though I’m happy about being able to run, the amazement’s worn off.

Normally, that’s good enough for any kind of run. I could do a marathon like this, but as everyone’s said, these High Passes are different. I read up a bit on them with the local literature and—

Yeah, I might die. So I need to prepare a bit before I go, and quickly too. Fortunately I’m in Celum, and even more fortunately a certain Minotaur and a bunch of adventurers like to frequent the inn where I stay.

I pick up my pace as I head towards the inn. Garia might be able to slow the other Runners down, but I really doubt she’ll buy me more than a minute. I’ll make a pit stop at the inn and head out.

I’ve gotta hurry either way. It’s already midday, and the High Passes are far enough that I should hurry. I’ll be heading about halfway through the pass, so I do need supplies. And the Horns of Hammerad are the only people who’ll lend me stuff right now. Aside from Magnolia. She can go to hell along with the other Runners.

Damn it. I hate having no money.

----

Delays.

Ryoka tried not to grit her teeth. She hated delays. But explanations took time, especially when the ones she was trying to explain to weren’t that quick on the uptake.

Gerial blinked at Ryoka again. He, Ceria, and the male magician from the Horns of Hammerad had been eating lunch when Ryoka found them.

“Let me get this straight. You’re going on a dangerous delivery, and you need our help. And…you want us to take your belongings?”

Ryoka nodded.

“I’m going to be gone for at least a day, and the other Runners are probably going to trash my room while I’m gone.”

“Why would they do that?”

Ryoka shrugged.

“If Persua’s anything like the other girls I’ve known, that’s one of the first things she’ll do. Good thing I don’t have any shoes so she can’t fill them with thumbtacks.”

Again, Gerial blinked uncomprehendingly at Ryoka. But Ceria nodded.

“We’ll guard your things. Runners wouldn’t dare break into the Adventurer’s Guild and we have our own storage space. But what’s this about help? We could escort you to the outskirts of the Passes, but Calruz isn’t here and we’re understrength. And frankly, even at our best we wouldn’t be able to go far into the Passes.”

“I don’t need an escort. I just need supplies. Healing potions—food—I’d buy it myself, but I don’t have any money. I’ll pay you back—double what I’m borrowing.”

Gerial and Ceria exchanged a glance. He nodded. She reached down below the table and opened a travel bag.

“I’ve got some healing potions right here. And a few dry rations. Enough for four meals.”

“That’s enough.”

“Then take them.”

Ceria pulled out several colored potions from her pack and handed them to Ryoka.

“These are better quality than you’d buy in the marketplace anyways. And you’ll need them.”

Ryoka hesitated.

“Are you sure? I can buy some—”

“We still don’t have any contracts and Calruz isn’t back yet. Take the potions, Ryoka. If everything I’ve heard about the High Passes is true, you’ll need them.”

She was right. Ryoka nodded and silently began stowing the potions in her own pack. They were various hues of red and yellow which Ryoka fastened to the outside of her pack so she could reach them quickly.

Yellow health potions didn’t feel right to Ryoka, but apparently color didn’t really matter with most potions. Anyone could toss some food dye in a bottle to make potions whatever color they wanted. She supposed she should just be grateful health potions didn’t look like vomit. They tasted like vomit but that was an entirely different matter.

Ryoka gently set her pack down on the floor next to Ceria’s.

“Thanks. Really.”

Gerial frowned, anxious.

“I’m still not sure I agree with this. Are you sure you have to do this? If the Runner’s Guild is giving you so much trouble, why not seek work elsewhere?”

Ryoka shook her head.

“I’m taking a delivery request. The reward is for forty gold coins.”

All three adventurers whistled.

“Besides, if I take this request I should be able to find work even if they keep blocking me. I just need the money.”

“We could lend you—”

“No.”

Ryoka stood up.

“I’ll get my stuff.”

Gerial stared helplessly as she walked upstairs to her room. The male mage patted him on the shoulder.

“Nice try. But she’s determined, isn’t she?”

“I never knew the Runner’s Guild was like that.”

Ceria shook her head.

“It’s the same in every guild. Ours is no different.”

“But—”

“Believe me, Gerial. If you look close enough you see the same things repeated over and over. Humans are just like that.”

Both men looked sideways at Ceria but made no further comment. They stared at the stairs, silent in the general hubbub of the inn. They didn’t notice the girl Ryoka would have described inaccurately as sallow-faced sneaking up to the packs on the ground and swiftly rearranging the contents of both.

A quick few minutes later, Ryoka clattered down the stairs, nearly knocking a barmaid over. She had all of her possessions bundled in her arms which she dropped on the table, nearly into the adventurer’s meals. Only a quick flick of Ceria’s wrist made the bowls and plates spin off onto another table.

“Here.”

Ryoka didn’t have much. Just some clothing, the magic bandages, and quite a few books that interested Ceria. She handed them all to Gerial, ignoring his blushes as he handled her underwear and equivalent to a sports bra. Then she paused and pulled one last item from her pocket.

“Take care of this. It’s very fragile.”

Gerial blinked down at the rectangle of metal and plastic in his hands. He had never seen anything like it – in fact, the smooth casing of the iPhone was completely, unsettlingly alien to him.

Ceria leaned over the table, suddenly fascinated. She and the other mage stared at the iPhone, astonished,

“What is that?”

“A device. I’ll explain it if I get back.”

Gerial held it at arm’s length.

“Will it—will it do anything?”

Ryoka shook her head, almost sadly for her. She touched the blank display regretfully.

“It’s broken. Just treat it carefully—don’t put anything heavy on it and don’t drop it.”

“If it’s broken, can’t you repair it?”

Ryoka smiled as if Gerial had told a very funny joke.

“No blacksmith or craftsman in the world could fix this. Trust me.”

“Then what about magic?”

“What?”

The male mage shrugged. He pushed his plates aside and picked up a faintly shining wand from the table.

“Would you let me try a spell?”

Ryoka hesitated. She was clearly torn, but then she nodded. Very slowly, she handed the iPhone to the mage. He inspected it, running his fingers delicately across the touchscreen.

“What exquisite craftsmanship. I can’t detect any faults, but perhaps the issue lies within? Regardless, if it is not of magical creation—”

“It’s not.”

“Then this should work. [Repair].”

The mage waved his wand in a half-crescent and then tapped the iPhone. The tip of the wand flashed green as it touched the casing—

And then the iPhone’s screen flickered into life.

Ceria gasped, but Gerial’s reaction was even more dramatic. He shot backwards in his chair and crashed to the ground in surprise. Ryoka just stared. She stared and stared at the iPhone.

“Done.”

The mage smiled and handed Ryoka her iPhone. He stared with intense fascination at the brightly lit screen, and then at Ryoka’s face. She was just staring at the iPhone in her hand. Staring and staring. But then she touched the screen and swiped it.

The display changed. Ceria and the mage were astonished twice-over, perhaps because they could sense no magic in the iPhone despite what was happening, but Ryoka just sighed. She turned to the mage.

“Sorry, I never got your name. Or maybe I forgot. What is it?”

He blinked, and then smiled.

“Sostrom Reidez, at your service Miss Ryoka Griffin.”

“Sostrom.”

Ryoka took his hand and shook it. She looked him in the eye.

“I owe you a great debt.”

Sostrom flushed lightly. He was in his early thirties, or his very late twenties but unfortunately bald save for his eyebrows. He tugged his pointy hat lower on his head.

“It was nothing, really. Just a spell—”

“Not just a spell.”

Ryoka smiled at him. In the dim lighting of the inn, the iPhone’s glow lit up her face.

“Not just a spell. Someday you’ll have to teach me it. If I can do magic, it would be just to cast that. And now—those assholes aren’t going to know what hit them.”

She turned and walked out the inn. The three Horns of Hammerad exchanged a glance and then rose to follow her. They couldn’t tell what—but something had changed about Ryoka in the moments after Sostrom had repaired her phone.

She seemed different.

She was different.

----

The iPhone is warm in my hand. It glows, and it makes the rest of the world seem different. The vivid colors of this world are quite, quite different from the artificial colors on the display. Both are brilliant in their own way.

It is fixed. Completely, utterly. The power bar reads 100% at the top of the screen. It’s the most glorious thing I’ve ever seen, bar my healed leg. And it is fixed.

I barely even feel my body as I walk outside. It feels as though I’m floating in a world of my own. Legs—fixed. iPhone—fixed. That’s all I need.

It’s time. Time to do what I’ve always wanted to do.

I step out into the middle of the street. No carts are passing by, and the pedestrians are mostly in for lunch. The others ignore me. Some stare at my iPhone, but I am just another Runner. That’s the way I like it.

Except of course that there’s always someone watching. Ceria, Gerial and Sostrom have come out of the inn to watch me, but I can see several Street Runners casually lounging across the street. Ready to follow and intercept? Most likely.

And of course, I can’t see anyone else, but there’s a prickle on the back of my neck. I wonder if Lady Magnolia hires assassins, or whether her maids have a diverse skill set. Or maybe it’s someone else. Who knows? Who cares?

Death. That’s what everyone tells me the High Passes are. And they’re right. It’s probably the most dangerous spot on this part of the continent. Even if it’s not certain death, it’s more than any sane person would want to risk.

But I’m not sane. Nor am I a normal person. Fear and exhilaration share equal parts in my heart right now. I want to see it. People tell me something is deadly and dangerous? I want to see it for myself.

Besides, what about this world is normal? What about this world is sane? Ever since I’ve come here I’ve slowly pieced together the real shape of this crazy planet. From the local area you might think it’s safe, a kind of medieval culture advanced several hundred years technologically thanks to magic. But it’s not. I know it.

In this world the untamed wilds threaten to overwhelm the fragile peace of civilization. Though the thinking races of this world are numerous and possess technology and magic, their hold is tenuous. When the undead rise in numbers or the things living at the far edges of the earth venture out, nations burn.

The books I bought tell me different things from people. And that’s because books are written by individuals, while people are quite stupid. People only know what they want to know. The individuals who write books make it their business to know as much as they can.

Peace and stagnation. War that does not change. This continent is wracked by it. The human nations fight against the non-humans to the south, sending armies to fight and die in the Blood Fields each year. A genteel war to fight only in the same place? No. But the cost of a true war where cities fall is too much for either side at the moment. So it’s a long war of attrition and changing alliances. Meanwhile, the natural landscape and monster attacks are enough of a problem for the city-states either way.

But this continent is peaceful. Compared to some.

To the east far across the seas, the Blighted King wages an eternal war against monster tribes and demons. His continent has seen war for two thousand years and his is one of the last nations not consumed. Nations send their own armies to support him, but his people have never known peace. Their heroes and soldiers are some of the finest and the most impoverished. He fights a daily war that he is losing over the course of years.

To the south, an endless desert cuts off the more fertile lands from invading armies. Poverty is ever-present there too, but the nations still fight over what’s left like starving dogs.

Once, a warlord unlike any other managed to conquer the whole damn continent and was sweeping through this one when his empire suddenly collapsed. None of the books said why this was. This king did not die—nor was he apparently harmed. But he abandoned his dreams of world conquest. Now he sits in his crumbling kingdom as other countries pick apart his once-great empire. The King of Destruction sleeps.

The continent north of this one is filled with humans. They have subjugated their lands and created a peaceful continent, or at least one with fewer monsters. But despite that they fight amongst themselves in a never-ending battle for supremacy. Their royal families hold mighty artifacts in their vaults but fear to use them in case of mutually assured destruction.

Other nations. I have read of them. The western oceans are largely unexplored, but I’ve read of a continent close to a jungle, where few cities exist and the tribal peoples have thrown back every army trying to conquer them. An America that was strong enough to resist the colonial invaders.

An army of Minotaurs like Calruz fights against…something to the southeast as well. Some sworn enemy of the world is enough to keep nearly a million Minotaurs in a constant state of war and peace. Well, a million is the number the book I read touted, but it was written using information decades old. But the Empire of Minos has its own strange culture humans and other races don’t want to learn about for some reason.

More continents, more islands and places my books could only hint at. An icy Antarctic shelf with icecaps taller than skyscrapers. A graveyard of broken ships and a maelstrom that never ends. A legendary isle where mages gather to learn spells and where anyone is free to study. Ancient, mythological kingdoms in the sky that fell into the sea.

These are the legends and wonders that shape this world. Yet here I am, in one of the most boring places in one of the safest parts of the world and people warn me about the High Passes as if they’re dangerous? For all the unrest, this is an era of peace. All the terrible battles happened long ago.

The Gods fell in war tens of thousands of years ago. Because I knew to look for them, I found hints of the Elves, but no book of nations and countries lists their race anywhere. The Dwarves are hidden in the heart of mountains that make the Himalayas look like foothills.

The age of great wars, myth and legends has ended. Magic endures, but those who wield it have faded. Nations fight in brush wars, but the balance of power has been kept.

This is not a time of heroes. And that’s fine with me. I am no hero. But I want to see what remains. I want to see what wonders still lurk in this world. For I am certain: they are legion.

The world I’ve seen so far—the cities and people here—are so petty. They care only about their small struggles and what they think of each other. Magnolia, for all her cunning is a small landowner in a tiny part of the world. And that is wonderful.

The worst thing that ever happened to my world was globalization. Once we reached the ends of the earth we lost our curiosity, our drive to grow. But I feel it. It calls to me.

Adventure. Pure and simple.

I can see the other Runners watching me. But I don’t care about them. The iPhone is warm in my hand.

I tap the screen and it lights up. Gerial and the other Horns of Hammerad gasp again, and even Ceria looks amazed. But to me it’s like looking at an old friend.

An old friend. An iPhone 4, to be exact. Black, sleek. It used to be full of scratches and dents where I dropped it, but now the plastic shines in the daylight. It looks like it just came out of the box.

Slide to unlock. No password. If I lost my iPhone I deserve to let it get hacked. Not that there’s too much on there. A few books, saved files, an empty contact list, basic essentials like Safari which is useless here…only one thing takes up nearly all 32 GB on my phone.

Music.

It’s all there. Thousands of songs, some great, some only mediocre. But every song I ever liked and bought or more often downloaded illegally is here. All here.

I can’t help it. I start laughing. Laughing for the pure, joyous salvation of magic. It’s given me everything I’ve ever wanted. My wings, and now my music. With it—with this—

I am free.

----

Ryoka stared down at her iPhone and then began to laugh. For her, it was joyous. But for everyone else—

Gerial and Sostrom edged away from Ryoka and the other people on the street took one look at her and then hurried away. Ceria could only smile in astonishment.

“What an evil-sounding laugh.”

Perhaps Ryoka heard that, because she stopped. She reached into her pocket and drew out two earbuds. To the confusion of everyone watching she plugged them into her iPhone and then into her ears. Then she turned and began to jog.

The Street Runners left their positions and began to follow, but Ryoka’s jog turned into a fast run in an instant. She disappeared from view even as the Horns of Hammerad watched.

“What do you suppose that device was? Did it resemble anything you saw in Wistram Academy, Ceria?”

Ceria raised an eyebrow at Sostrom.

“I’ve no idea. Besides, that thing had no magic in it. How strange. But I can see why Magnolia is so fascinated by Ryoka and—”

A thought occurred to Ceria. She reached into the pack she’d brought with her, now stuffed with Ryoka’s clothes and began pawing through it.

“And—”

Ceria paled as she checked her pouches and pulled out a blue potion.

“Oh no. How could this happen? I swear I checked to make sure—”

“What? What is it?”

She turned to Gerial and Sostrom and showed them the potion she was holding.

“The healing potions I gave her—half of them were mana potions.”

They stared at her in horror. But even as they turned to shout, Ryoka was long gone. She was running. And she couldn’t have heard them in any case.

The music was about to begin.

----

Ryoka sensed the other Street Runners trying to keep up as she raced through the streets, dodging past cursing pedestrians and keeping well away from any carts, wagons, or larger vehicles. The paved stones felt wonderfully smooth underneath her feet.

Hm. The Street Runners were keeping up well. Only to be expected since Ryoka had to dodge too many things for her liking. But they weren’t smart. They didn’t know how to shift their weight to get the best out of every step, and how to turn corners quick. They were just talented amateurs or in most cases, just amateurs.

Ryoka reached the gate and sensed more Runners following her. City Runners. They were faster. She wondered if Persua was in the crowd trying to catch up. Well, they could prepare any kind of trap but they’d have to catch her first. She was already running faster than normal, but it was time.

She could barely contain the excitement burning in her chest. Time. After so long, the mere thought of it was giving her goose bumps. Ryoka ran while keeping the iPhone in her hand. She flicked through the screens, selected the Music app. Then—it was at the top of the screen, a pair of crossed arrows.

She hit the button.

Shuffle.

----

I’ve run races, marathons, even an ultra-marathon once. I’ve run through snow, rain, hail, through thunder and lightning and even hurricanes. But I’ve never run like this.

Motivation. After so long of running in silence, the instant I heard the guitar’s first chords my legs churn into overdrive.

“Sweet Home Alabama” thunders in my ears as I race out the city. Lynryrd Skynyrd’s lyrics blast through my ears as I pick up speed, shedding Runners left and right. The music’s not the best for running—but far from the worst. And it’s not the song that matters so much right now. It’s just the music.

Running. Music. Running music. The greatest thing ever to be invented in the history of ever. It takes away the pain of running and puts me right into the zone. I could run barefoot on nails and—

That’s a terrible idea. But I could probably dodge highway traffic and run a six-minute mile forever while listening to music. How is it that it can take away your focus on running and at the same time focus my mind even more on running? I don’t know.

It’s just music.

Sweet home Alabama, where the skies are so blue. I’ve always wanted to go to Alabama just to run around listening to this song.

Motion. A bunch of Runners are ahead of me. Fals and some of the highest-level City Runners. They want to cut me off and they’re sprinting as fast as they can. And it might be a skill or a Skill, but they’re quick enough that they could actually catch me.

On any other day.

I don’t even have to look down. I’ve memorized the exact placement on my iPhone so that my fingers can immediately find the next button. It’s not that I don’t love a good country rock song, but if I’m going to go full-throttle, I want faster music. The shuffle god works his magic. And then I hear it.

Oh. Hell yeah. I can tell when the first bell tolls which song it is. “I Will Not Bow” by Breaking Benjamin. Then the guitar and drums blast in and everything disappears. I run like I’ve never run before.

I catch one glimpse of Fals’ stunned face before I blow by him and the other City Runners. They can’t even turn fast enough to see me. The landscape blurs and disappears underneath my feet. I’m running just as fast as I did when I got my leg back. Fast as that. Faster.

I am heavy metal. I am death and rock. I am running and running becomes me. I will not be stopped.

The vocalist screams in my ears and I run on. The High Passes await. A mysterious delivery request, deadly monsters, and mystery. I leave behind intrigue, angry Runners, and petty infighting with every step. Onwards, ever onwards. I run with music taking away the pain of the world and run to keep death from catching up.

At last.

I am free.

1.08 R

I slow down after about twenty minutes of sprinting. Not because I don’t feel like running faster but I know I’ve got a long way to go.

So I reduce my pace from record-breaking speed to a sustainable jog. A bit faster than normal, but I can’t help it.

I’ve got the music.

Currently I’m running to the not-so-fast-paced song, “Heathens” by twenty one pilots. I love it. And the movie it was written for – Suicide Squad – I really wanted to watch it, even though I thought it might not be as insanely horrific as I hoped. PG-13? Really?

It came out just a month before I came to this world. I always meant to see it but I kept putting it off. Guess I’ll never see it now.

Hm. Thinking of home, or the world I came from hurts a bit. But it’s more like a thorn that I’ve pulled out of my foot[33] a while ago. It still hurts, but the place I’ve come to makes up for it. In some ways. In other ways it’s just as crap, but at least—

Yeah—At least the view is great.

An open landscape of rolling hills and an open dirt road stretches out before my eyes, punctuated only rarely by inconveniences like rocks or in the distance, small buildings. It’s the most glorious sight for a runner.

Actually, the geography reminds me a lot of Mongolia. I used to stare at pictures of the endless grasslands there and dream of running by myself for days. But this place, this makes Mongolia look like a cramped hipster coffee shop in the middle of a city.

This world is big. And even that word is too small to encompass the land around me. Endless is probably a better word for the scale of this planet. Even the sky is larger, or at least that’s how it feels. But how would gravity work if that’s the case?

Magic. Probably. Anyways, I’m not thinking about this again. Focus, Ryoka. Think about your job.

Hm. Let’s see. I’ve ditched Fals and the rest of the jackasses that call themselves Runners. That’s a good first step. Now, Celum is a ways away from the High Passes. The closest city to them is actually Liscor, although you have to run around the mountain range to get there.

In any case, I can relax. I’m running at a quick pace, but it’ll take a few hours to get there. So I relax, and let my mind wander.

----

Run. Run and eat. Run and stop to pee. Run and slow to a walk for a while. Normally, I’d be busy thinking all this time but instead I just listen to music. It’s been so long every song is fresh and amazing to listen to.

In between that I do stop the music to concentrate. As a Runner, it’s important to be aware of my surroundings. And a few things have been bothering me.

Firstly, I know the local landscape. Around here – around most of the northern part of this continent the geography alternates between relatively flat land and the mountainous passes that lead to the southern continent. True, there are heavily forested regions further north and from what I’ve heard, several large rivers that create a transportation network that makes Runners slightly obsolete. But that’s north, and I haven’t travelled that far.

In the same way, I haven’t gone past Liscor to the south. That’s where the landscape gets nasty, apparently. Marshes, mountainous landscapes, and what people call the Blood Fields dominate the largest southern section. No wonder humans don’t go down there.

So where I’m running – the plains – is one of the better parts to be. The only monsters around here are Goblins and a few weaker examples of monsters. But the closer I get to the High Passes, the more likely I am to run into something nasty. Exactly what monsters live in the mountains I don’t know, but they make the ones living in the human lands look cute by comparison.

That’s the first problem. The second is that there are a bunch of fireflies following me.

Fireflies. Or—animated sparks of light? That’s the closest thing I can think of to describe them. It’s like—well, it’s like some kind of magic maybe? These…symbols keep flashing around my head and I swear I can hear something whenever I look at these flashes of color that are whirling around my head. They keep trying to get a lock on me, but whenever they do I speed up and lose them.

It’s probably some kind of curse. I don’t know if Persua has enough money to hire a mage or if it’s possible to call down lightning on me, but I’m not dealing with whatever it is.

Keep running. I just wish whoever’s casting the spell would give up. It’s getting annoying. But I can turn up the music and the garbled speech tunes out. Okay, what else?

I’ve got the details of the open request memorized and written down, for all the good that does me. It’s a request to deliver a package, but what the package might be or who’s requesting it isn’t clear. That’s the uncertainty of an open request, and the reason why few Runners want to accept them. But the pay’s extraordinary, so that’s enough.

With open requests, I go to the location marked and I’ll receive my pay in advance. The sender tells me where to go and we can negotiate a second fee, or I tow the delivery back to the Runner’s Guild where someone else can finish the job.

It’s not the greatest system, but it works when dealing with areas where identity and safety can’t be assured. Apparently, all deliveries used to work more or less like this, but the new system in the Runner’s Guild is safer for Runners.

I could be walking into a trap. Please don’t let me be walking into a trap.

Anyways, I’m looking for a cave down the main road[34] of the High Passes. It will be marked by a yellow banner of some kind.

That’s all I have to go on, and I’m only a few miles away from the High Passes. Now I can see the mountains looming ahead of me, rust-colored rock towering in the sky. And they are huge. I can look up and not even sense the mountain getting smaller before it disappears into the foggy, clouded sky overhead.

A mountain taller than Everest? Perhaps not, but it’s probably close. And that’s just one mountain of the countless ones here. Together they form an impenetrable barricade, save for the small gap that winds through the passes.

Well, a small gap here is a road about as wide as two football fields placed side by side. And again, if it’s a road it’s the most crap road in the world. This one has boulders scattered through it taller than fully grown oak trees. But it is semi-flat, and that’s enough.

I really hope I don’t cut my feet on the rocks. I should be fine; my calluses are really tough, but—

Something flashes past my face and hits the grass. Instinctively, I duck, and that’s when I see them. A horde of little green men, except these ones ain’t aliens.

“Shit.”

I guess listening to loud music really isn’t a good idea when you’re supposed to be watching out for trouble. That’s probably why I never noticed the group of Goblins until they were right on top of me.

They spread out around me, a mob of Goblins. Not too many, at least by their standards but a lot. I can’t spare time to count. Twenty—thirty of them? Some have bows, like the one who just shot at me, but most are carrying weapons. Rusted swords, daggers, and even a buckler or two. But they’re unarmored, ragged.

They could dice me up in seconds. And they’ve got me flanked this time.

This is bad. But I raise my hands and make fists. I haven’t needed to fight before, but it’s not because I couldn’t. And today I’m at the top of my game.

The Goblins grin. They only see a human female, alone, separated, and unarmed. Not a threat. That’s fine by me. I see a bunch of guys who I can hit as hard as I want and who have way less muscle and reach than a normal group of thugs. And I know kung fu[35].

Widen my stance, tilt my body forwards and down, hands up and loosely clasped into fists. I put more weight on my front leg. I bounce up and down, ready to move at a moment’s notice.

I’ve been in fights. Not many; definitely not the kind of straight up bloodbaths you hear about in inner cities, but I’ve had to defend myself more than once. More than that, after my first fight my parents had me learn martial arts to defend myself. I studied how to fight.

The Goblins are still spreading out around me, waiting for one of them to make the first move. Maybe they can tell I’m not like a normal girl because I’m not screaming or trying to run. Instead, I dodge back and forth, keeping my distance, trying not to let them get my back.

One of the rules of fighting a group is never to let them surround you. Lead them on in a line if you can. Second, never let an opportunity to attack slip by. Be sure you know when they’re about to come at you.

And striking first is good. So as the first Goblin decides it’s time to get the ball rolling and darts forward with a shrill cry I step forwards.

Step in, rotate hips, and put all that motion into a punch. I catch the Goblin in the head right as he charges. It’s a satisfyingly solid punch and I feel it go right through the bugger.

He folds up. No confused blink, no comedic pratfall. The Goblin just falls down and doesn’t get up. That’s what a proper punch does.

The other Goblins blink in consternation. That shouldn’t have happened. But they’re fighters. They look cute in an evil sort of way, but they’re all killers. Probably even normal street thugs aren’t as vicious as these guys. So when they see the first guy go down seven come at me at once.

I back up. And then I turn and punch. Not to really hit a target, but to get the other Goblins behind me to back up. They were about to rush me but they flinch away and I dash past them. Okay, now my back’s safe. So I turn and let the others come at me.

A line. They’re doing the stupid tactic of rushing me without doing it all together. So I jump forwards, punch once, twice. Two Goblins fold up and I hop back, letting them trip up their friends.

A Goblin leaps over his friends and I hit him in the stomach in the air. He starts throwing up even as he lands. Another comes around the side and this time he’s smart enough to start swinging before he gets to me. I wait. Swing, swing…

As his knife goes too far left I step in and hit him. I’ve got a longer reach if I extend, way longer than his short arms. Another unconscious Goblin.

The last three Goblins slow, but one of them is dumber than the rest. He keeps coming, and I decide to get fancy. Instead of punching I back up, and then do a roundhouse kick.

Muay Thai is a martial art that emphasizes really strong kicks. And one of their famous kicks is the roundhouse. Naturally, it was one of my favorite moves to practice.

The Goblin lets me set it up. He’s watching my hands, so he never sees my leg flash up. I can kick nearly as fast as I punch and I catch him right across the head. Short as Goblins are, my kicks are more head level than at their side or chest like normal humans.

My foot connects with his head and I feel his flesh squish. And then I feel something give way and hear a crack. The Goblin tumbles, flies, and rolls to a stop in the grass. He doesn’t move. And my heart stops.

The other Goblins look down at their fallen friend and up at me. I know I should be watching to see if they’ll rush me, but my eyes are fixed on the Goblin. I—I didn’t mean to hit him that hard. Not in the head.

He’s too still. The fallen Goblin doesn’t even twitch. He—he’s—

He’s dead. I killed him. I’ve never killed another creature before. I’ve hunted for fun, but I don’t shoot animals. Even in fights I only broke bones. I don’t kill.

But he’s dead. And it was so quick, too.

I stare down at the Goblin and then see a black shape speeding at my head. I duck and the arrow misses my cheek by a few inches. The Goblin archer lowers his bow and shouts something at his friends.

Damn it. I have to focus. I have to think! The Goblins are moving again, trying to surround me. They don’t want to get close this time, but the archers are all pulling out their short, stubby arrows.

I need to run or fight. I’ll blitz the Goblin archers, hit them, and then run for it. My eyes narrow and I start weaving and dodging left and right, giving them less of a target.

The archer in the back, the one who shot twice at me is their leader. I need to hit him and maybe the Goblins will give up on me. He’s got a few Goblins in front of him, but if I rush the group.

The Goblin pulls an arrow and sights at me. My body tenses—

And the Goblin archer’s head disappears. Not disappears in a cute way like he ducked down or he fell over. No. The entire neck and skin pulls away as a massive jaw closes over his head and rips his head clean off.

“Holy—”

The Goblins turn. One screams, raises his sword and a claw cuts his stomach open. I back up. The Goblins back up. And the gigantic wolf casually grabs another Goblin, bites down, shakes him around, and tosses him to one side like confetti.

A wolf. A huge, giant wolf. Not the kind from my world; a proper, Big Bad Wolf of the plains, nearly as big as I am. Bigger. He’s got more mass.

The wolf sniffs and eyes me. The Goblins are already running, but he’s not interested in them. He’s looking straight at me.

Calm down[36]. It’s not the same as a Dire Wolf from George R. Martin’s books. Those things are big as horses, right? This one’s – this one’s only twice as big as a normal wolf. Only twice.

It has rust-red fur. Why the hell—is it because of the blood? It paws the ground, sniffs again, and then slowly begins to circle me. It’s so big, and unlike the Goblins I can see muscles rippling under its fur.

No time to run or even think. I raise my hands again. Wolves can outrun humans, just like bears. And running makes me prey. I need to get it to back down or leave.

“Bring it.”

Trouble is, this wolf isn’t like normal ones. Wolves from my world don’t hunt humans in general. But this one just ate a Goblin’s head. So maybe the ones here have a taste for humanoids.

It sniffs at me again. And then the wolf lowers its head. Oh shit. It’s gonna—

I barely see the wolf move. It launches at me and I throw myself sideways. The wolf lands, turns, and I run forwards and punch it in the head.

No thinking. Just action. I’ve practiced these moves enough that my body overrides my panicked brain. Punch, punch, step back. The wolf snaps at me and I twist. My leg flashes up and sideways and catches the wolf in the wide of the head. A solid strike.

Roundhouse kick. I once watched a documentary about the power behind Muay Thai kicks. Getting hit by one by a world champion’s roundhouse kick is like being hit by a car at 35 MPH. Well, I’m not world champion but the giant wolf still blinks and shakes its head. It wobbles on its paws and I step forwards.

Another kick that’s illegal in a MMA is hitting your opponent with your knee when he’s down. That’s a lethal move. Actually, all of Muay Thai moves are meant to kill, but knees and elbows are really nasty. I was taught a hundred times not to hit anyone in the head with a knee unless I wanted to kill them.

I just hope my teacher wasn’t exaggerating. I run forwards and knee the damn dog as hard as I can in the face. I heard something crunch. It feels like my knee.

The wolf blinks, backs up a few steps, and then snarls.

—Ah.

It’s funny. Back in my world I thought I was pretty hot stuff. Certainly, I’ve never lost a fight with the other stupid kids my age. And I was talented.

I reached 4th dan, which is insanely hard to get to, especially at my age. At that level I could teach martial arts myself if I didn’t want to be sexually harassed and laughed at all day long. Reaching that level at my age is extremely rare[37], and I know how to fight.

I’ve been in street fights, or at least, school fights and being jumped while running. There’s a difference between knowing martial arts and having a black belt at a Mcdojo[38].

I know how to fight. And even if I’m not nearly as good as someone who walks in and out of brawls or has trained longer, I’d put money on me beating most of the adventurers below Gold-rank. Because they’re human, or humanoid. And marital arts doesn’t exist in this world, at least as far as I know.

But martial arts was never designed to fight monsters.

The wolf I just roundhouse kicked and kneed in the face gets up and shakes itself like nothing happened. Then it looks at me and growls. It’s nose looks wet, but I don’t think I hurt it much. In fact, I think I just pissed it off.

It advances fast. I punch, but the wolf snaps at my hand and I nearly lose it. It dashes around me and I spin to keep up. It’s so damn quick!

The wolf snaps at my leg and I back up, kicking. But it’s too fast and the fur on the wolf is like armor. It rushes me again and this time I can feel it’s hot breath on my front as I leap back.

Muay Thai was never meant to fight a creature that fights with its teeth. I try to get my distance but the wolf advances.

Fuck. It’s not gonna let me get away. And I don’t know what to do. If I was faster I’d try to poke its damn eyes out. But the wolf is dodging left and right.

I try to punch the wolf, but again, the fur takes all the force away. And then the wolf twists its head and closes its fangs over—

Aaaaaaah!

Fireworks. I hammer at the wolf’s face and then mash one of its eyes. It lets go then and howls in agony. I do too.

My arm! It bit down for only a second, but I think it cracked the bone! I stagger away from the wolf and mercifully, it doesn’t follow. It’s shaking its head and I can feel something wet on my fingers. I think I destroyed its eye but I have to get away.

I start running. From a standing start to a sprint I’m running. Behind me I can hear the wolf howling. In agony? No—this sounds worse.

It sounds like a call to the pack.

Just as I think that I hear more howls, this time in the distance. But they start getting louder so I run on. My arm is bleeding freely, but I run on. No time to stop.

Glancing over my shoulder. I can see the wolf following, but only to keep me in its sight. It wants to gather the pack. And here they come. Blurring shapes race over a hill, fast, fast.

My arm! I can’t—the wolf tore away a huge chunk of flesh. I need a potion.

They’re in my pack, strapped to the outside for easy reach. I grab one, pop the cork and down it, choking on the liquid. Then I hurl the bottle at the nearest wolf, making it dodge away.

The foul liquid goes down and I wait for relief as I sprint desperately for the High Passes. The landscape changes beneath my feet. Suddenly I’m running across what feels closer to clay and the soil and even rocks turn a dark orange-red. And the mountains are right in front of me.

The wolves follow, howling even as more of them race out of the plains. They’re coming.

I’m never going to lose them on the open ground. I hear a growl and run left as a wolf jumps. It hits the ground and I scramble up the rocky ground. Up the slope. Aren’t wolves supposed to have a harder time climbing or something?

It works. The wolf packs slows and I can see them having a harder time scrambling up the rocks. But they are coming. And they’re still howling, making my blood run cold.

Gotta run. Must keep moving. I scramble up the incline, cutting my legs and hands against the jagged surface. And I feel sick? Why? My arm still burns. It should—it should be healing.

Up. I see a ledge and leap for it. Its high, but I grab the edge and hoist myself up. The wolves charge, but they’re too late. I’m above them, safe for the moment.

On the ledge I back away from the wolf pack and lean against the rock face, breathing heavily. I feel sick. Sick, tired, and the adrenaline in my veins is making me shake. And I’m still bleeding? Why?

Another potion. I fumble at my pack, pull out the bottle of red liquid and down it in one go. I wait for relief. Nothing.

Confused and sick as I am, I down another potion before I realize something is seriously wrong and at that point—

I throw up. Something is—the potion I drank is burning in my veins. What the hell? It’s not a healing potion. What is—

Something hops down from the rocks above me. I shout, hurl the potion bottle and nearly slip in my own vomit. The goat stares reproachfully at me and bahs loudly even as the wolves keep howling and snarling below.

“A goat?”

A goddamn goat. It scared the crap out of me. But it doesn’t appear frightened of me or the wolves. In fact, it takes one look at the wolf pack trying to make its way up to where I am and bahs again, loudly.

More bahs. This time they’re all around me. I look up and see goats lining the cliffs and rocks on the High Passes. They hop up and down the cliff faces easily, making for me and the pack. What the hell? Are they not afraid of the wolves? But now the wolves are backing away from me and snarling at the goats.

Why—

The goat near me bahs again, loudly. In fact, it sounds more like a scream at this point. A scream, and now it gets real close. Suddenly I have a really bad feeling. I back up and the goat advances.

The goat opens its mouth and I see its teeth. Goats should not have pointy teeth. And its mouth is unnaturally big. It screams and I scream and run but they’re all around me and—

----

“The High Passes.”

Lady Magnolia breathed the words as she stared at the man standing in her foyer. He was—well, knowing what she did of who the man was, Magnolia would have expected him to be wearing pure black clothing and armed to the teeth, but then he wouldn’t be very inconspicuous would he? And [Assassins] were supposed to be stealthy.

But this man was so ordinary looking he was forgettable. Magnolia was sure it was some sort of skill, just as she was sure she was not happy with the current situation.

“Please explain to me, Assassin Theofore, how it is that Ryoka Griffin was able to not only evade you and the others of your group, but that she is now, as I understand it, alone in the High Passes being chased by a group of Carn Wolves?”

The assassin named Theofore clearly did not like being addressed by his name, but he was also wise enough not to take issue with Magnolia using it. He spread his gloved hands out and bowed his head.

“My associates and I were fully prepared to guard Ryoka Griffin against attacks within the city and even outside of it. But we were unprepared for her to accept a request to the High Passes, let alone move so quickly.”

“I did warn you she was quick. And the wolf pack?”

“We were unable to do more than slay a few of the wolves gathering before they noticed our scent. And our group was not equipped for combat against monsters, lady. We assumed this would be a protection mission against other humans and armed accordingly. We were forced to retreat, and for our failure you will be fully reimbursed. But the Guild cannot take further responsibility for this, Lady Magnolia.”

Lady Magnolia pursed her lips, but the [Assassin] was right. No one could have predicted—

Well, actually she could have predicted this if she’d known about the unmarked request beforehand. Magnolia knew Ryoka’s personality well, both from experience and her Skill. It was a slight oversight that cost her now, and cost Ryoka—possibly her life.

She studied the [Assassin] and tapped her lips, glancing towards the window where the mountains loomed in the distance.

“If I were to pull strings and send several teams of adventurers to the High Passes, would they get there in time?”

“Perhaps to collect what remains of her corpse, Lady Magnolia. But even that is likely to have been devoured by now.”

Again, Magnolia had to suppress her vexation. Well, vexation was one word for it. She was considerably more than vexed, but a [Lady] took care to hide her emotions. Still, she had to give vent to it.

“I was assured of the highest quality in hiring your guild. I believe I made it quite clear how important Ryoka’s life was?”

The [Assassin] was not in a good spot. Technically he was a veteran of his Guild and perfectly able to take most lives with a single flick of his concealed blades. But he was standing in front of a woman who was definitely able to take any life she wanted, including his. Perhaps not directly, but the maid standing behind Lady Magnolia was setting off all of Theofore’s warning bells. He eyed her warily as he chose the best words to respond with.

“Had we known the Runner would venture into an area like the High Pass we would have charged ten times the cost and sent our best agents. And even then, we would not have guaranteed her safety. Practically speaking, we would have attempted to subdue Ryoka Griffin long before she entered that area. Countless monsters abound there, lady. The wolves would be just another type of prey, there.”

“Really?”

Magnolia brightened at that.

“Is there any hope these other monsters would devour the wolves and leave Ryoka alive?”

“Doubtful, Lady. They would try to kill anything that disturbed them. And it is likely that even if Ryoka outran the wolves, she would not be able to evade the most prevalent type of monster in the High Passes.”

“And which would those be?”

“Gargoyles.”

“Gargoyles? What are those?”

----

Gargoyles!

I think I’m screaming. I’m definitely running, but I can barely feel my feet getting cut on the rocks between my nausea and the terror electrifying my body.

The nearest oddly shaped stone unfurls its massive stone wings and seizes the first goat trying to rip me to shreds. The goat tries to break free, bleating in panic but the gargoyle just reaches up and pulls the goat apart. Blood rains down around me as more of the deceptively innocuous rocks spring to life around me.

I’ve just run straight into a nest of gargoyles. That would normally be terrible by itself if it weren’t for the pack of wolves and goats trying to eat me.

The rocky slope behind me is already filled with wolves and goats tearing each other to shreds. And the worst thing is that the wolves are losing. The goats came out of the cliffs in a horde and started eating the wolves, ripping them apart and fighting over the scraps.

I ran uphill to get away from the ones chasing me, but instead I just ran into worse trouble. For the gargoyles, it’s like I just offered myself up on a plate and brought a lot of hors d’oeuvres.

The gargoyle that just tore apart the goat tosses the pieces up. Its curved beak-mouth snaps and it crunches horribly. The goats swerve and immediately retreat, but the other gargoyles lumber forward. Half of them leap down towards the goats and wolves now in full retreat. The other half go after me.

I run on. I haven’t stopped running, but I find some more juice and tell my legs to go even faster. I don’t know how they’re doing it.

I feel sick. It’s like my body is shutting down, but at the same time it’s like someone’s hitting me with a taser[39]. Even though I want to sit down and throw up, I’m running as fast as I ever have. It’s like I can’t run out of energy, and I need every drop.

A huge gargoyle unfolds in front of me. It looks vaguely like a bird crossed with an ogre, a hulking giant beast with skin that looks like stone but slides around like flesh. It opens its mouth and I see a dark opening before something shoots out.

I feel something spin me around and then stumble forwards. My hand goes up and I feel at my shoulder. Sliced flesh. Deep slice. The gargoyle fires again and I stumble sideways. The stone fragments it spits miss me and eviscerate the wolf behind me.

The hell was that? It’s like a shotgun! And the sound the gargoyles are making—a roaring warble that makes rocks tumble down. I can feel it in my bones.

I can’t fight. I don’t even think of trying. Muay Thai doesn’t have any moves that teach you how to dodge bullets or break stone.

So I run. I was born to run. I was born to fly.

The nest of gargoyles is high up. It’s a relatively open area, looking down on the high pass. Fifty—sixty feet below? It’s not a straight drop—more like a sharp incline. Normally I’d descend with the utmost caution but the gargoyles lumber towards me, fast. So I dash towards the edge even as a gargoyle charges me.

My feet leave the ground as I leap. I jump over the gargoyle’s lashing stone tail and touch down on a rocky outcropping. Even as my feet find purchase I look and move. Another jump, and now I’m aiming right for the rocky slope.

Stone cracks and deceptive crevices leap up at me as I fall in slow motion. The slope is a maze of places to twist or break my ankles. But I can see every fault in the rock face. My foot hits the edge of the cliff and then I plunge down, sprinting down even as several rocky monsters lumber after me, spitting stone shards.

Left foot, stone spot. Right foot avoids the fragile green moss. I’m leaning forwards as I run down. Right, left, jump, pivot—

I lose my balance and slam against a rock. I’m tumbling down but I correct my footing and push off. I’m in the air for five seconds and then land and transfer the force of my fall into descending.

Fast. So fast. The slope is blurring beneath me, and I can see the open pass below. I’m going too fast to stop. So I twist—

----

The almost vertical slope leading up to the gargoyle’s lair crumbled away in the wake of Ryoka’s descent. Small stones bounced wildly down the uneven landscape, dislodging larger boulders and causing a minor earthquake. But even the avalanche was too slow to catch her.

Ryoka’s feet were a blur as she sped downwards, on a collision course with the ground. She was moving too fast. Even if she tried, the strain of taking all her momentum aimed downwards and transitioning to the flat ground might break her leg. So instead she threw herself into a roll.

Ryoka hit the flat ground and tumbled fifteen feet before she landed on her back. She stared up at the cloudy sky, winded. But in another second she was up and running. She was being chased.

The stony, half-avian half-hulking forms of the gargoyles launched themselves off the cliff. They did not fear breaking any body parts. One smashed into the ground behind Ryoka, making the earth shake around her. She ran on as the gargoyle surged upwards and chased after her.

Her body was electric. She felt like she was dying of the flu, yet more alive than she’d ever been. Ryoka was bleeding from her torn up feet, her bitten arm and the places where the gargoyle’s shrapnel fire had cut her flesh. Her clothes were torn and she was bruised from countless impacts.

The ground shook as more gargoyles launched themselves off the cliff and hit the earth like bombs. They couldn’t really fly, heavy as they were—but they could angle their descent. Ryoka ran on as stone monsters twice as tall as she was landed around her.

Birds shrieked in the sky, except they weren’t birds. Razorbeaks, the prehistoric avians with leathery wings and beaks full of teeth swarmed down out the sky. They dove down, seizing carcasses and entrails from the fighting monsters. Others dove at Ryoka, biting, tearing at her. She flailed at them as she ran on.

Death was everywhere. Ryoka felt it in every bite, every scratch. She was bleeding from a dozen wounds, and she felt like she was dying with every step. And she was confused. She was afraid—terrified out of her mind, and in pain. So why? Why—

Why was she smiling?

A wild grin covered Ryoka’s face, twisting away into a grimace as she dodged left, a flicker of surprise as she saw the small, ragged piece of yellow cloth waving at the entrance of a massive cave. Her eyes were alight with life, and as she ran into the cavernous entrance that a Boeing-747 could easily taxi into with plenty of space to spare—

She was smiling. The gargoyles turned and fled, the Razorbeaks peeled away, screaming in distress, and the remaining wolves and goats fled for their homes. Ryoka stumbled into the cave.

----

The Runner staggered into the cave, bleeding, injured, and sick. The sole denizen residing in the massive cavern looked up and blinked. He had a visitor. What a surprise. Even though he had requested one, he hadn’t really expected anyone to make it here for several more months.

Ryoka stumbled forwards, and found the rough ground had suddenly changed. She was suddenly walking along…marble? Maybe not marble, but some smooth, glossy stone had replaced the dark rocky ground. She left footprints in blood as she walked forwards, almost numb to the competing agonies in her body.

The monsters were gone. They’d stopped chasing Ryoka all of a sudden. She could barely process that, though. She was staring around. Around and up.

The cavern she’d entered had appeared large to begin with. But as Ryoka walked further into it, it was clear that rather than calling this place a cave, it was more as if someone had hollowed out the inside of the mountain. She walked into a massive auditorium filled with…stuff.

That was the word for it. Stuff. Huge, carved pillars flanked Ryoka as she walked further in. They gave way to tapestries hung from the walls, important-looking people and epic landscapes. Rows of bookshelves suddenly appear on her left, and then tables and countless pedestals holding things that glowed with magic and mysterious light. A huge table as long as a bus sat piled with pieces of paper and bubbling liquids. An alchemy lab, sitting next to a mirror that didn’t show Ryoka’s reflection as she passed, only a shimmering mist of strange colors.

Armor and arms stood against another far wall, an armory among armories. Swords and maces shared places with plate armor and weapons Ryoka didn’t even have a name for. The cavernous room was filled with wealth. It was a treasury of everything and anything expensive.

And standing in the middle of all of it was a man. Not just a man, though. Ryoka stumbled towards him.

Her mind—

Was failing. She felt herself losing blood, but she had to keep moving. If she stopped she’d collapse. Ryoka squinted. It was so far to walk but she kept going.

…

Who was he? Ryoka squinted. She felt like she was far away and close at the same time so she lurched forwards. She saw—

A massive Dragon sat in the cave, staring down at Ryoka. His brilliant yellow and gold scales glinted in the half light as he raised a claw—

“What?”

Ryoka blinked. Her head—she staggered towards the man in regal clothing, clutching at her side. He was an old man, one with a veritable mane of silver-gray hair. But for all that he was tall—taller than she was even. And his clothing looked like it was the most expensive stuff she’d ever seen, on par with Lady Magnolia’s attire.

But his face caught Ryoka. He was lined like an elderly statesman, but his features could have been used as a template for sculptures. He looked like the most handsome old guy she’d ever seen, and she was not attracted to older men. But she was to him.

He looked like an archetype of humanity, only one aged well into his sixties or seventies. He was magnificent—

And he was a dragon.

Ryoka blinked. She was lying on the ground. She picked herself up and saw the blood. It dripped onto the expensive stone. She got up, slowly. She couldn’t feel much, but she saw the man walking towards her.

She stood up. The occupant of the cave looked at her, a bleeding, dying human. She grinned at him and raised her hand.

“Delivery.”

Then she fell to the ground, unconscious. The elderly man looked down at the unconscious Ryoka Griffin and blinked a few times. How surprising.

—Upon closer inspection his ears were pointed upwards. If Ryoka had been in any state to inspect anything, that was. The ‘man’ sighed and muttered a few words that were loud and quiet at the same time. Ryoka’s bleeding stopped. He flicked his fingers and the trail of blood she’d brought in slowly flowed together into a crimson orb that floated towards him.

He caught it and tossed it on Ryoka’s body. The blood flowed towards her and into her. She stirred and sighed. He sighed too.

“Humans.”

It was probably best to let the magic work. She was suffering from mana poisoning, which was far more difficult to cure than mere blood loss. Meanwhile he could investigate this strange human on his own. His spells weren’t showing her Level or Class for some reason.

The occupant of the cave turned and strode away. He made it five steps before he tripped over a goblet and fell on his face. Quickly, he got up and made sure the human was still asleep. The elderly man scowled, kicked the golden chalice, and winced as it crashed into something in the distance and shattered it. He scowled at nothing in particular.

“Rot.”

1.32

Erin went out of her inn three times over the course of the next two days. The first time she went out she visited Selys and the two had a long chat—lecture, really—about not going out and fighting monsters alone. Then they visited a bathhouse, helped Erin pick out more clothing, and went to see the ruins.

The ruins were about ten miles out from the city, but such was the traffic going to and from the ruins that it was easy to hitch a ride on a cart. Erin wondered why the mysterious ruins were safe to visit until Selys pointed out the countless adventurers of various levels congregated around the ruins.

There were at least a hundred mostly human adventurers now, in the city and in the makeshift tent city that had already appeared around the ruins. But for all the shanty town’s size, it was dwarfed by the size of the excavated ruins.

They were massive. The excavation site itself was a giant pit in the ground – three times as large as a football stadium that had unearthed a dark stone opening, a massive doorway into a crypt, or so Erin and Selys were told.

They didn’t go anywhere near the building. Few of the adventurers did either, and the merchants offering goods had parked their shops on the edge of the crater.

Apparently, the ruins were still filled with dirt and dried mud from years of being buried. Thus adventurers were digging while fending off the monsters that lived within. Apparently, the place abounded with giant burrowing rats – a delicacy according to Selys – various types of the undead, varieties of spiders, and other low to mid-level monsters.

That was slowing up the adventuring teams, along with the sheer size of the ruins. But the main truth of it was that none of the diggers hired wanted to dig far in case they found something, and most of the adventuring teams felt the same. True, several had found small caskets of valuables like silver and jewels, indicating this was at least partly an old crypt, but several of the more adventurous teams had advanced further in and never come back.

Or they’d come back shuffling and moaning, trying to eat the flesh of the living.

That was the first visit, and Erin was lucky enough not to see any dead zombies – especially because she had a lovely lunch with Selys as they watched everyone mill about and not do anything much around the ruins. She attracted quite a bit of attention herself, being known as the innkeeper who slew Shield Spiders and, more notably, the human innkeeper.

Several human adventurers came by to talk to Erin, but didn’t get very far with Selys glaring at them. They promised to visit her inn later, a promise Erin didn’t know they’d keep when she told them she wasn’t serving alcohol yet.

----

The next day, Erin went out and visited Selys again, only this time it was for business. The business of being paid, to be exact.

Erin happily held up the cloth bag and shook it. It made a dull metallic sound. She frowned, but the lack of any satisfying jingle wasn’t enough to get her down.

“Money~!”

Selys smiled at Erin as she put away the signed receipt under the counter in the Adventurer’s Guild.

“Just don’t spend it all in one place, okay Erin?”

“Sure, sure. I’ll just spend it on important stuff. Like—fancy dust rags! Or alcohol! Or…a dress?”

Selys eyed Erin sternly and shook her head.

“How about a weapon? You could probably afford a good one, with that much money.”

All told, the bounty on the Shield Spiders plus the fee she earned from selling their carcasses earned Erin just over eleven gold coins, reduced some because some of the spiders had been burned too badly to use. That was generally agreed to be a lot of money, but not a lot for the bounty on the carcasses.

One of the more senior Drake adventurers not currently staring at the Ruins leaned over the desk to talk to Erin. He was friendly and yellow-scaled, and Erin couldn’t remember his name.

“You could have gotten a far better deal selling the spider’s bodies elsewhere. Probably half again as much, especially if you went right to the right merchants. The Guild charges far too much for its service.”

Selys glared at the Drake who had spoken.

“The Guild pays a good rate for monster parts! If you’ve got a problem Ylss, take it up with the guild master – or the council.”

Ylss flicked out his tongue dismissively.

“The Guild won’t listen, and the council won’t either. But I’ve been talking to the Human adventurers and they say their guilds pay them far better than ours does.”

“That’s because Human adventurers go out and fight monsters instead of their city watch. If you want to negotiate prices, go slay a Shield Spider nest yourself. Erin here—”

Selys glanced around. She spotted Erin with her hand on the door.

“Erin, are you going already?”

Erin waved and smiled and opened the door before Selys asked if she wanted to stay. She did not, especially if it meant listening to another argument. Drakes were surprisingly – or was that unsurprisingly? – hot-headed.

It was time to go back to the inn, before she splurged on everything. So Erin only bought a few essentials from Krshia, a few more from other shops, fended off the Gnoll’s attempts to get her to have a cup of tea, and went home for lunch.

----

When Erin returned to her inn she found it had been ransacked. She spent a few minutes staring at the trashed kitchen and her upended bags and supplies. They hadn’t ever been neatly organized in the first place, but the person – or people – who had visited her inn while she was away had tossed everything onto the floor and trampled it.

They hadn’t taken much. Erin didn’t have much. But they’d taken quite a bit of food, spilled the rest on the ground, and taken other of Erin’s vital necessities.

Like her toothbrush. When Erin realized that was gone she finally flipped. She grabbed the bag of her money – noting that the rest of the money she’d hidden in the inn was also missing – and stormed back towards the city.

----

Selys had to half-jog to keep up with Erin as the other girl stomped through the market.

“So let me get this straight. You don’t mind monsters attacking you, but the instant someone steals from your inn you want protection?”

Erin glared at Selys.

“Yes!”

“But they didn’t even steal anything important. Some food and a few coins—”

“One gold coin and three silver coins!”

“Why didn’t you hide it better? Or put it under lock and key?”

“I don’t have a lock. Or a key!”

“We can buy a vault, or an enchanted lock and key if you want. I know a good shop—”

“No. I want a weapon.”

“Suit yourself. Here’s a good shop the adventurers talk about.”

Selys pointed and Erin made a beeline for the store manned by a burly Gnoll. He bared his teeth at Erin and nodded silently at her.

“Erin human. Greetings.”

“Hi there.”

Erin smiled back at the Gnoll, showing her teeth as well. It was a Gnoll thing which she had learned. Selys just nodded at the Gnoll without showing any teeth.

“I’m looking for a weapon.”

The Gnoll nodded and spread one hand to indicate his wares. Erin stared at a veritable armory of weapons on display. Most made sense to her, but only in the sense of having seen them in movies. They all looked sharp.

“For a friend of Krshia, I will do my best to oblige you, yes? Do you fight with any weapon besides your hands, Erin Solstice?”

“Um. No. No…in fact I’ve never held anything larger than a knife.”

The Gnoll paused as he unhooked a devilish-looking scimitar from a weapon rack. He put the weapon back and nodded.

“We have many weapons for beginners and self-defense, yes? Daggers, clubs…these weapons would be best.”

Erin stared at the dagger he carefully offered her hilt-first. It looked pointy, and the metal was polished until she could see her vague reflection in it. But that was about all she knew about weapons.

“I’m not too sure a dagger would help against most of the monsters I see wandering around my inn.”

Then again, she doubted even the battleaxes would help if she was fighting a rock crab.

“…How about a crossbow? Do you have one of those?”

Selys looked confused.

“A what? You mean something like this?”

Selys held up two bows and made an X with them. Erin laughed.

“No! Never mind.”

The Gnoll shopkeeper scratched at his head and then shook himself. It was like a dog and Erin unconsciously edged away in case he had fleas.

“I have heard of these weapons. Minotaurs use them and some humans in southern continents. But they are not common or easy to obtain here, yes? It would cost many gold coins and take months to arrive.”

“Okay, no crossbow then.”

Erin sighed and stared at the racks of weapons.

“You don’t have to buy a weapon, you know. I keep telling you our adventurers will guard your inn.”

“For eight silver coins a day per adventurer? And that’s for the lowest-level ones, right? No thank you.”

Erin shook her head. She had a better idea than Selys’ option in mind, and fortunately it didn’t involve her learning to poke people with bits of metal.

“Do you have any good short swords? Is that a short sword?”

The Gnoll nodded. He pulled a sword that was indeed short off the display and placed it on the counter. Erin poked the hilt gingerly, keeping her fingers away from the blade. Selys hovered beside Erin, making sure the human’s hands were well away from the blade. Both she and the Gnoll seemed more anxious than Erin was around bladed weapons.

“You know buying a sword won’t immediately give you any classes? You need weeks—months of practice before you’ll learn any skills. And I wouldn’t try swinging it around by yourself Erin, I really wouldn’t.”

“I’m not stupid.”

“No, but—”

“How much?”

“For you, two gold coins and three silver.”

Erin looked at Selys. The Drake nodded cautiously.

“That’s expensive. But it is good craftsmanship.”

“Fine steel. You will not find better in the city.”

The Gnoll nodded and tapped the blade. He seemed honest, at least in that Erin hadn’t met a dishonest Gnoll yet. They were a bit more straightforward than Drakes, while Drakes were more like humans.

“Okay, how about a shield? A uh, buckler? Is that what they’re called?”

She pointed and the Gnoll brought out a metal shield rounded in the center. It was a tiny shield, meant to be held in the hand to deflect weapons rather than arrows.

Selys objected.

“It’s too small. Look, you need a larger shield if you really want to equip yourself. Which I still don’t recommend, by the way.”

“I know what I’m doing Selys. Anyways, it’s not for myself. How much for both?”

“We do not sell many bucklers. I will sell both for four gold coins, Erin Solstice, so long as you promise not to use either without first being instructed.”

She grinned at him, her hands already going into her money pouch.

“Deal. But like I said, these aren’t for me. They’re a gift. Or maybe a bribe.”

Selys was shaking her head as the coins changed hands and the Gnoll found a sheath for the short sword.

“A bribe? For who? Who’d use something as small as—wait. You’re not thinking of—Erin! No!”

Erin lifted both weapons into her arms. Even with her [Lesser Strength] skill, they were heavy. She turned to Selys and copied the Drake’s exasperated expression.

“Why not? They’re cheap, I know them personally, and they live around my inn.”

“They’ll stab you in the back when you’re asleep!”

Erin walked away from the Gnoll shopkeeper, arguing with Selys as he watched them in bemusement.

“They haven’t done it so far. Besides, these are the good ones. Well, sort of good. I already feed them.”

“This is a terrible idea, you’ll see.”

“No, it’s a great idea. You’ll see.”

----

Rags stared down at the shiny weapons Erin offered her and then up at the human smiling at her. Slowly, the small Goblin shook her head.

Erin’s face fell. She thrust the sheathed short sword at the Goblin and the Goblin backed up into her bodyguards.

“No? Why not? Come on, it’s a great deal!”

Rags shook her head again, and the other Goblins following her moved in front of her and barred Erin’s way. The far taller innkeeper scowled at them and they quailed a bit, but there were seven Goblins including Rags in the inn, and only one Erin. If it came to it—

They’d probably run. But strangely, Rags was confident Erin would never try to hurt them. She was a strange human, possibly a good one. She just had terrible ideas, like the deal she was offering the Goblins.

“Look. It’s really simple okay? I’ll give you these weapons and feed you guys as much as you want. In return you guard my inn. Keep thieves and monsters away. It’s not a bad deal, right?”

It was a bad deal. While Rags was no eloquent orator, her own train of thought was quite clear. Her splintered tribe had been small even before the Chieftain had been killed. Now, it was in a power struggle and Rags was leading the smaller breakaway faction who didn’t believe all humans should be eaten on sight.

More than that, the small Goblin knew the Floodplains and was sure that defending the inn was a death sentence. What the strange human girl was offering was a terrible deal. The magnificent weapons tempted Rags greatly, but even they couldn’t outweigh the massive disadvantages of Erin’s deal.

Now, how to explain that to an idiot? Rag’s brow furrowed and she tried her best. She gargled a few syllables in her own language at Erin, and then tried the language Erin spoke in. Neither worked. Erin just stared at her blankly, like one of the grazing animals—cows.

“You don’t want the sword?”

Rags nodded. She pointed at the other Goblins and at the ground and then shook her head.

“But you don’t want to guard.”

Rags nodded again.

“Why? Is it because there aren’t enough of you?”

Nod, nod. At last Erin was getting it.

“Well—you could be tactical about it, couldn’t you? What if I got you a bow and arrow? That might be better than running around in a huge mob like you guys do.”

This time all the Goblins glared at Erin. That was valid, traditional Goblin tactic. Rags had improved on the formula by swarming in controlled bursts and incorporating devilishly cunning tactics like feints into their strategy, but swarming was what Goblins did best.

“Fighting in a huge mob just doesn’t seem that smart is all I’m saying. But what if you all had bows or something?”

Again, Rags shook her head. She mimed shooting an arrow and then poked the Goblin in the head next to her gently.

“Oh, not strong enough? Really?”

Nod. Rags really wished she could speak other languages, or barring that, if only one human could understand her. It was just as well she was a genius and Erin was bright enough so they could communicate this way.

And it seemed like Erin got it. Bows were useful, but not as good as having many knives. Goblin’s shorter reach and weaker strength meant that they couldn’t fire as far or as hard as a human or Drake archer anyways.

“I get it. Small arms and small bows, right? Size does matter. Too bad you don’t have any crossbows.”

Rag’s ears perked up at that. But the Goblin didn’t react in any other way, letting the human girl muse on, oblivious.

“I guess—well, yeah, anyone in armor wouldn’t be killed by a few arrows. But crossbows and longbows can pierce that stuff, right? But longbows—”

Erin eyed the Goblins. They were around four feet tall on average, and only the weird ones like the Chieftain got any taller. And even he would have had trouble stringing the massive longbows that could reach up to seven feet in length.

“Life is tough, huh?”

This time all the Goblins nodded. Life was tough. They were at war—well, Goblins were always at war, but this time they were at war with each other. The tribe was small, food was scarce because winter was coming, and they only had a weird human in an inn to feed them food in between running from the countless adventurers pouring into the region.

“Well, I guess I could return these things.”

Erin sighed and placed the short sword and buckler on a table. She noted how all the Goblin’s eyes were drawn covetously towards the weapon. Drat. She’d thought it was a good idea, but when she really thought about it she understood Rags’ predicament.

Besides, when Erin stood in front of the tiny Goblin girl she felt like she was still speaking to a child. Perhaps—perhaps she was. How long did it take for Goblins to grow up? How could you tell how old they were anyways?

Erin eyed all the Goblins as they seemed to confer with their leader, Rags. They were injured, most of them. They came into her inn every few days and ate as much as they could before waddling out, and they paid. But Erin had the distinct impression the battle that had started at her inn hadn’t ended with Klbkch. The Goblin’s faces were hard to remember, but some changed every few days. And Rags had her own cuts and scars on her body.

They were—well, they were evil, some of them. But the ones in front of Erin struck a chord with her. A sense of shared suffering, perhaps. And Erin had an idea that would help them, and maybe her a tiny bit.

She stood up. The Goblins immediately looked up at her. Erin pointed.

“Stay there. And don’t steal the sword or I’ll flatten you, got it?”

She walked back into her trashed kitchen that she still hadn’t found the time to tidy up. She walked to the back of the kitchen and opened a cupboard and stared at the jars inside. The thief who’d ransacked her inn hadn’t even gone near this cupboard, or tried to drink what was inside. Very wise, given the contents of the jars.

The goblins were all crowded around the short sword when Erin lugged the massive jar of acid fly juice back into the room. They were gingerly touching the blade and cutting their fingers on the edge when they looked up. When they saw what Erin was carrying they immediately fled for the door.

“Hold it!”

Rags paused and tripped up the Goblins behind her. They crashed into a pile and she stared suspiciously at Erin as the human groaned and set the jar on the floor. She rubbed her back and beckoned at the Goblin.

“I’ve got an idea that’ll help both us out. And I’ll give you the sword and buckler, okay? I’ll put it on your tab.”

That did the trick. Rags was over caressing the blade in a second. Erin pointed to the acid jars.

“You know what this is, right?”

Rags nodded. She kept a very respectful distance from the green, glowing acid sloshing in the jar and made the other Goblins stand even further back. That made Erin feel better too. She wouldn’t put it past one of them to trip into the glass jar, and that would not be a pretty sight.

She patted the glass jar.

“Dangerous stuff. And I don’t want it. But what if I gave you some smaller jars? You could sort of throw this stuff at people, right? Not on Shield Spiders, though. It doesn’t really work on them. But other things—yeah. What do you think?”

She pulled out a small, human fist-sized jar and showed it to Rags. The Goblin blinked down at the small jar and they looked at the bigger glass jar in sudden comprehension.

“I’ll sell you these acid jars and you can pay me, okay?”

Erin waited. Rags studied the green acid fly liquid mixed with the occasional fly body. She knew fully well how dangerous the acid was. She was also impressed Erin was brave enough to harvest the acid flies, especially given how big some of them got. And the deal she was offering?

That was a good deal.

The Goblin looked at the jars and saw a thousand different tactical options, not least of which was letting other Goblins drink the deadly acid if she left it out in the open. Erin looked at the Goblins and saw a convenient recycling machine that might pay her.

Both human and Goblin smiled.

----

It was weird making a deal in sign language, but Erin had played chess players from other countries before. Even a deaf chess player and two mute ones. One of them had kicked her ass twice in a row, and she’d had a great time laughing with him over a stupid move she’d made—

The point was that she could communicate more or less with Rags. The small Goblin was extremely smart, and that was before you compared her with the other Goblins following her. They’d contented themselves with picking their noses and wiping their fingers on each other while she and Rags ‘talked’.

Eventually, the deal had been for Rags and her Goblins to pay several bronze coins per jar of acid. It wasn’t much, especially since Erin would have to buy newer, smaller jars for the Goblins to carry. But it was better than her pouring the acid out on the ground like she’d been doing. There was a huge scar in the earth outside of her inn that testified to how smart that idea was.

But it was a good deal. A great deal, even. It brought new revenue into Erin’s inn, especially since Rags bought all the jars Erin had in the inn and filled them up with acid. It helped her get rid of something she didn’t want, and it might help Rags and her band of Goblins survive a bit longer.

It was a good deal. It just wasn’t the deal Erin wanted.

She stared at the jar of acid. She could make her own acid flasks if she wanted. It was a handy weapon, even if some things like the Rock Crabs and the Shield Spiders were mostly immune to the acid. She had her fists and that [Bar Fighting] skill, as well as [Unerring Throw]. It was enough for self-defense against most of the monsters she’d seen, and she could run away from the rest.

But none of that helped protect her inn. Someone could walk in and steal as much as they wanted if Erin was gone, or they could hide and attack her when she got back. She had no defense against mobs of enemies, and she was sure a Rock Crab could level the inn if one got close. Seed cores wouldn’t scare away a swarm of the stupid crabs if something set them off.

She needed protection. Without it, Erin was truly screwed. And—and she needed to clean up her trashed inn, buy replacements for all of her supplies, and hope that she had enough money left over for—something. And that the mysterious thief wouldn’t come back when Erin was out again.

None of it was overwhelming, but for Erin it was too much to deal with at the moment. She rested her head on the table, exhausted.

Knock. Knock.

Erin didn’t raise her head off the table.

“Come in.”

Knock. Knock.

“I said, come in.”

No response. The knocking continued. Erin waited for it to end, but the person at the door was persistent. First one minute, then five, the knocking continued rhythmically, without stopping. At last, Erin stood up, growling.

She stalked over to the door and yanked it open.

“I said—”

A skeleton stood in the doorway, tall as Erin—taller. Just a skeleton. Its yellow-white bones were devoid of any flesh, and yet it stood upright, denying biology and physics. Erin looked into twin burning blue-white flames that flickered in the skeleton’s eye sockets. The skeleton opened its jaw and clattered at her.

Erin shut the door. Then she screamed. Then she turned to run for the kitchen knives.

Only when she had turned did Erin realize she hadn’t locked the door. It opened and she turned to see the skeleton walk silently into her inn.

Erin backed up. The skeleton advanced. It wasn’t attacking. It wasn’t attacking, but Erin was about to have a heart attack. It stepped towards her and Erin nearly tripped over the acid jar still sitting on the floor.

Suddenly, the skeleton raised a hand. Erin flinched and raised her hands but the undead creature wasn’t attacking. It didn’t have…any weapon? And yes, it wasn’t striking at her. Instead, it held something in its hand.

Erin blinked. The skeleton held the scrap of parchment out to her silently. She took a step back and it advanced. Not too close to her, but it wasn’t letting her get away either.

She hesitated. The skeleton was just staring at her, although it had no real eyes, just the burning sockets in its skull. That was worse. It was waiting. She had to do something. So Erin took few deep breaths and then reached out.

She took the piece of paper from the skeleton with a shaking hand. Erin edged away from the skeleton and swiftly glanced down at the paper, reading while keeping an eye on the undead monster. She blinked at the messy script, looked up at the skeleton, and then around. She glanced back at the skeleton, and then got mad.

“Pisces!”

He appeared in the room, wavering into focus as his invisibility spell ended. Perhaps he’d meant it to be a dramatic entrance, but Erin wasn’t impressed. It wasn’t nearly as cool as an invisibility cloak.

Pisces opened his mouth and Erin stepped forwards and punched him in the face. Hard. He fell down, barely missing the acid jar. Quickly, Erin grabbed the jar and towed it into the kitchen before she or he knocked it over.

The mage or rather – necromancer – looked up at Erin reproachfully as she walked back into the room. She didn’t give him a hand up so he reluctantly picked himself off, brushing the dirt on his robes onto the ground.

“That was most unkind to a faithful patron, Good Mistress.”

“Jerk. What the hell is that?”

Erin pointed with a shaking finger to the skeleton. It had watched everything silently.

Sulkily, Pisces pointed to the piece of paper on the ground.

“I assumed my explanation would quell any questions you had.”

Erin seized the mage by the robes and dragged him face to face.

“What. Is. That?”

He looked into her eyes and chose his words carefully.

“It is a skeleton. An undead, animated skeleton to be precise.”

“And why is it here?”

“To protect you, of course. And to pay off my considerable tab.”

Erin let Pisces go. She stared at the skeleton and pulled at her hair.

“Why is—why did—”

Her hands twitched as she tried to stop from strangling Pisces on the spot. He backed up and straightened his robes, looking huffy.

“Is it not what you’ve been seeking?”

“You’re lucky I don’t throw acid on your face.”

“Please, Erin. I am only acting in your best interests—and mine. Consider this undead warrior.”

Pisces indicated the silent skeleton.

“Affordable, competent protection that needs neither sleep nor sustenance. I would say it is you who should be tendering your gratitude to me, Erin.”

He smiled, self-satisfied. Erin didn’t smile. She eyed the skeleton.

“It’s for me? What, does it obey orders?”

Pisces looked mildly insulted.

“Of course. I attuned it to you already. This skeleton will obey all commands and faithfully guard you and your possessions. Give it a command and see.”

Erin really didn’t want to. But the skeleton was standing too close for comfort. So she pointed to a corner.

“Go over there.”

Immediately, the skeleton turned and walked to the corner, navigating around the tables and chairs. There it stopped and swiveled its head, watching for Erin’s next command.

Somehow, having a staring skeleton standing in a dark corner staring at her was even worse than having it right next to her. Erin shuddered.

“I don’t like it.”

She ordered the skeleton to come back. It obediently walked closer and Erin walked around the skeleton. She had to order it to stand still first, and then the skeleton stood like the creepiest statue in place.

“Why did you think this was a good idea, Pisces?”

Pisces glanced at Erin, put out by the continued questioning.

“I had heard your repeated complaints about inadequate protection. And when I noticed the ah, state your inn was in this morning—”

“Oh, yeah! Did you do that?”

He raised his hands and backed away.

“Not I. The culprit had already departed when I arrived.”

The mage’s eyes shifted. Erin wondered if he’d been the one to help himself to her coin – or more food. She growled and the skeleton moved. It jerked into a low, fighting stance and faced Pisces of all people. He looked as alarmed as Erin.

“Call it off.”

“You’re the necromancer, you do it.”

“I made it so it would only obey you. Call it off or I’ll have to dismantle it.”

“Hey, stop!”

Erin smacked the skeleton in the back of the head. She immediately regretted it. The feel of smooth bone on her hand was—

The skeleton swiveled around to stare at Erin as she wiped her hand on her shirt. She pointed at it shakily.

“Don’t attack him. Unless I tell you to. Understand?”

It nodded. That was creepy. Erin shuddered.

“It is a competent warrior that will fight for you. And I do believe that is what you need, unless I am completely in error.”

He was right, but the way he was right was completely wrong. Erin just didn’t know how to explain that to Pisces. He clearly thought he’d done Erin a favor, and he was getting snippy in absence of her unconditional gratitude. But then she noticed something else that was wrong.

“If it’s some kind of warrior, shouldn’t it at least have a sword?”

“Swords are expensive Miss Solstice. And I am—regrettably—short on funding at the moment. Surely you could afford to equip your new bodyguard yourself?”

And she’d just given the short sword and buckler to Rags. Erin ground her teeth.

“Okay, fine. You’ve given me a pet skeleton. What does it do, exactly? Besides fight and scare me to death that is?”

Pisces shrugged.

“Whatever you wish. It will obey any command you give it, but ah, its capacity for thought is quite limited at the moment. That may improve with time. I have made several improvements over the traditional undead animation spells—”

“So it’s a special undead skeleton monster. Wonderful. And what happens if it breaks or goes nuts?”

“The spell will not wear out. The body might in the course of normal combat though, it is true. I would be happy to repair any damage done for a nominal fee—”

Erin shook her head.

“Skeleton repairs. That’s how they get you every time.”

Glumly, she stared at the skeleton. Was it because she’d gone nuts or just gotten used to this world? She wasn’t half as freaked out by the skeleton as she felt she should have been. And what was worse, she was even considering keeping the thing.

“And this is supposed to pay off your tab? All the gold you owe me?”

Pisces cleared his throat awkwardly

“Well, the price of an advanced reanimation spell such as this is traditionally worth—”

He cut off fast as Erin turned her head slightly.

“I suppose a full repayment of my debts and some credit towards the future would not be too much to ask?”

“It might.”

Erin stared glumly at the skeleton. It stared back, waiting patiently for orders.

“Okay, let’s say I accept this. Won’t the Watch get mad?”

No response. Erin sighed.

“And this wouldn’t happen to be a body belonging to anyone in Liscor, would it? But no—it’s a human skeleton. Except—”

She frowned. Now that she looked, the skeleton didn’t look quite right. Sure, it had a human head, but its ribs looked a bit different than the books she’d read in biology class. Come to that, some of the bones around the pelvis looked subtly different.

“Hey, you didn’t rob a bunch of graves for this, did you, Pisces? Because if you did—hello?”

Scowling, Erin looked around. She saw no unhelpful mage, just the skeleton. Just an open door and a very noticeable absence of mage. He was gone.

Erin stared at the open door. Then she wondered if Pisces was still in the inn. Invisibility spells and all that. Quite deliberately, Erin walked around the room with her arms spread, trying to hit anything invisible and listening for sounds.

Nothing. He was probably gone. Probably. But Erin would be changing under a towel from now on.

She sighed, turned, nearly ran into the skeleton and bit back a scream. It stared at her, expectantly.

“Go over there!”

Obediently, the skeleton walked away, but it turned its head, waiting for orders. Erin tried not to freak out. She could not deal with this. Even if it did seem like an answer, it was the most back-handed slap-to-the-face answer she’d ever found.

What to do? What to do? The first thing to do was get the skeleton out of the room, possibly out of her life. Erin stared grimly at the skeleton and realized she was going to lose any staring match.

She had an idea. Erin pointed at the skeleton.

“You. Skele-thing.”

It stared at her expectantly.

“Follow me.”

Erin walked into the kitchen, grabbed a few items, and shoved them at the skeleton who had followed her.

“Carry this. And follow me.”

The skeleton walked behind Erin, silent as a ghost. Its bony feet clicked silently on the floorboards as she made her way upstairs. It was a part of the inn Erin seldom visited for one real reason:

The dirt.

It was everywhere. And while Erin could keep the bottom floor of her inn mostly clean thanks to her [Basic Cleaning] skill, she hadn’t even bothered to take on the upstairs.

If cleaning the common room of the inn had been akin to a short jog in terms of effort, the upper floor would have been like summiting the Himalayas back-to-back. Even the skeleton seemed impressed by the layers of dirt in the room Erin lead it to.

“Give me that.”

Erin pulled the bucket and old rag out of the skeleton’s hands. The days-old water slopped onto the floor, instantly dissolving several years’ worth of accumulations in a moment. She dipped the rag into the water, squeezed it, and then handed it to the skeleton. It took the rag and looked at it blankly. Erin pointed to the room.

“Clean this.”

The skeleton stared at her. Erin waved at the dusty rooms and mildewed boards.

“All of it. Clean it. Understand?”

Slowly, the skeleton looked at the rag. It looked at the floor. It tossed the rag on the floor and began wiping weakly with its foot. Erin shook her head.

“No! You take this—”

She grabbed the cloth and scrubbed energetically at the floorboards, removing a layer of dirt, dust, and black stains which immediately turned the dustrag black.

“—And clean up. See? Just like that.”

The skeleton paused, and then tried to copy Erin. She watched, correcting, pointing out errors.

“Scrub harder there. No—don’t move the rag like that. A smooth, circular motion. Like this. See?”

After a few minutes, Erin was begrudgingly impressed as the skeleton revealed a shiny patch of floorboards underneath the carpeting of detritus.

“Good.”

The skeleton paused and looked up at her. She waved her hand at it.

“Don’t stop! Keep going!”

It stared around the room, confused. Erin shook her head. She walked to the doorway and showed the skeleton the other rooms.

“See this? This entire floor. Clean it. Clean the floor, the walls, and the windows. Don’t stop until you’re finished!”

Erin stomped down the stairs, leaving the skeleton upstairs in the half-light. It stared down at the dustrag. Then the skeleton stared around the room. It was covered in residue left by moisture, open windows, dust, animal excrement, and rot. Even the ceiling was speckled or sometimes splashed with unfortunate stains. And this was one room of many.

Skeletons couldn’t sigh. It was a lung thing, as in they didn’t have it. But the fire in its eyes dimmed ever so slightly. Then the skeleton bent down and got to work.

It didn’t level that night. Skeletons couldn’t become innkeepers. But it did have something in its mind. Something unique to it. Words that had echoed when it was first created. Words that no undead had ever heard before.

[Unnamed, Level 1 Skeleton Warrior]

It wasn’t sure how it felt about that.

1.33

[Innkeeper Level 12!]

Someday, Erin was going to hear that annoying message in her head and jump off a cliff. But at least she’d gotten eight solid hours of sleep afterwards.

Blearily, Erin got up and wondered if she leveled because of the skeleton. Something to do with the skeleton? Did [Innkeepers] level up from getting bodyguards? Or…bouncers?

“Skeletons bounce?”

Erin blinked around at the room for several minutes. It was too early to think about complex things. She wanted a few things in no short order. Bathroom, food, and…that was about it.

The bathroom issue was hard. There were no real toilets in her inn. Erin had no idea why, but some shattered pottery upstairs and a terrible staining around the general area in each room made her think chamber pots had been in style here.

Erin wasn’t about to use a chamber pot. So she had gotten into the practice of digging (and then covering with bits of sawdust and dirt) a latrine around the back of her inn. It was messy, disgusting—and she really wasn’t happy about squatting in the open.

Something had to be done. That was what Erin decided as she finished her mercifully quick business and grabbed the roll of toilet paper. At least this world had something like toilet paper, if not as fluffy and easy on the skin. But the bathroom issue was bad. Someday, someone was going to walk up and then Erin would die of shame or possibly stab them to death.

But once the bathroom issue was finished with, Erin could then wash her hands with what water she still had in one of her buckets and get breakfast. She was running low on water, too. That meant another trip to the stream, possibly combined with dodging flying fish if they were in a bitey mood today.

At this point the thought of ducking a several-hundred pound monster full of teeth barely even bothered Erin. It was just another chore. She mechanically opened the shelves in her kitchen, wishing again she had the preservation runes. But they were expensive and she ‘only’ had just under ten gold pieces. Another thing to worry about later. She’d put it on her list.

Erin turned, jar of milk in one hand and nearly tripped over her sleeping area. She grabbed a counter to steady herself and added moving her sleeping area to the list. She really, really didn’t want to trip someday and splash boiling water all over herself.

But it was such a nice sleeping area. And it would be so much…some work to move it.

She had a lovely little blanket and pillows she’d used to make a semi-permanent bedspread in a corner of the kitchen. True, it would have been nice to have a mattress, but Erin had been counting her coins until recently. Now she could spring for one, Erin dreamed of a queen-sized bed with silk sheets. She’d never tried silk sheets, but maybe Krshia had them…? Probably not.

Still half-asleep, Erin walked around her kitchen, assembling a breakfast of sorts. There was actually a quite acceptable cereal that went well with the rich cow’s milk Erin bought. Sprinkle a little sugar in there and it would be delicious.

Since sugar was too expensive for that, Erin instead sliced up some blue fruit into the bowl. That was nearly as good.

Food, done. Erin walked out into the common room and set her bowl on the table. She pulled a chair out—and then noticed something was standing behind her. Slowly, she looked around.

Two glowing blue flames illuminated a fleshless head. A skeleton grinned at her, inches away from Erin’s face.

“Aaaaaaaaah!”

Erin screamed even as she punched. The skeleton caught a fist to the head and staggered backwards. It fell down. Erin clutched at her fist.

“Ow! Ow, ow—go over there!”

Obediently, the skeleton got up and walked over to the corner. It watched as Erin waved her hand around and cursed for a while. When she was done, Erin marched up and poked the skeleton in the ribs.

“Hey! I thought I told you to stay upstairs!”

It shook its head. Erin blinked and then got mad. She poked at the skeleton again and her finger went straight into the rib cage. Shuddering, Erin pulled her finger back.

“I distinctly remember telling you to clean the rooms upstairs.”

The skeleton nodded. Erin glared.

“Well? Why are you down here?”

It stared at her. Erin supposed it was just as well the skeleton hadn’t responded. She glared at the staircase.

“Okay wise guy. Let’s see just what happened while I was asleep.”

She stomped up the stairs, the skeleton following her close behind. Erin walked into one of the dirty rooms—

And stopped.

“Whoa.”

Something had changed. It was like one of those spot the difference games in newspapers, except that the difference here was everything. Erin blinked around at the spotless room and wondered if she was hallucinating. If she was, she preferred not to wake up.

Slowly, she stared at the walls, the floors, and the windows. All were spotless. All were clean. She could even see the original color of the floorboards. Instead of their dirty grey-brown, they’d transformed into a lustrous golden brown that was actually pleasing to look at.

“Okay. Okay, that’s um—”

Erin turned and blinked at the skeleton.

“Did you do all the rooms like this?”

It nodded. The skeleton walked over to a corner of the room and picked something up. It brought a bucket over to Erin and a scrap. She squinted at it. It looked—it looked like a piece of a dustrag. A tiny piece.

“Where’s the rest of it gone, then?”

The skeleton shrugged. Erin wondered where the rest of the dirt and grime had gone. There was a sludgy substance in the bucket, but it looked like the skeleton had just tossed the grime out the window for the most part. Erin could get behind that cleaning style.

And each room was spotless. Well, there were some spots. Despite the skeleton’s best efforts, it still couldn’t clean away mildew. Some of the rotted boards still needed replacing, but Erin had [Basic Crafting] and a hammer. She was a god of minor repairs.

The entire upper floor was suddenly, miraculously, habitable. Erin wandered around each room in a daze. She returned to the first room and wondered if the floors were softer here than in the kitchen. Well, the skeleton had done a good job after all. Erin wasn’t sure what to make of that. But the rooms were clean.

Then she had a thought. Erin looked up.

“Hey! You missed the ceiling!”

The skeleton stared at her, and then up at the still dirty ceiling. Erin scowled at it.

“I said clean everything. The floor, the walls, windows…and the ceiling. I said that, right?”

The skeleton shook its head. Erin scowled at it.

“Well, I thought it. And you should have done it anyways!”

There was no way to tell if the skeleton was angry, sad or…skeletons didn’t have emotions, right? But the flames in the skeleton’s eyes dimmed for a second as Erin glared at it.

She felt bad. Not because she cared much about the skeleton’s feelings, but because Erin could at least tell when she was being a jerk. She relented.

“Okay. You did a good job.”

The skeleton seemed to brighten at that. It followed Erin downstairs. She sat down with a sigh at her breakfast and then paused. The skeleton was standing right next to her. She pointed.

“Go over there.”

It walked over to one corner. Erin eyed the skeleton and spoke again.

“Turn around.”

It did. At last, Erin was able to enjoy her meal without twin glowing eyes watching her every bite.

Breakfast came and went, fairly quickly too. Erin was hungry. But she wasn’t savoring her meal like she normally did. Instead, she was thinking. When she was done she pushed her bowl back and stared with narrowed eyes at the skeleton. Well. What was the saying about lemons and life? If life gives you lemons…burn down the lemon factory? Something like that.

Anyways, it was time to get to work. Erin cleared her throat.

“Hey, you.”

Instantly the skeleton turned around. She shook her head.

“Get the bucket and follow me, okay?”

She got up as the skeleton immediately ran upstairs and walked into the kitchen. Erin was rich enough now to have more than one bucket, and so both she and the skeleton were equipped as they left the inn and walked to the stream.

It was a quiet walk. Erin told the skeleton to follow her further back and she tried to ignore it mostly as she strolled along. Maybe she could have talked to it, but—no. The day Erin started holding conversations with skeletons was the day she finally snapped.

They got to the stream. Erin told the skeleton to thoroughly wash its bucket out first before they filled both up with water. It was just as well she had a bucket for drinking water and a bucket for washing water anyways. She’d deliberately marked both buckets with some paint to avoid drinking…whatever was still clinging to the bucket the skeleton was lifting.

“Okay, let’s go.”

Erin reached for her bucket, but the skeleton got there first. It seized first the handle of its own bucket and then hers and tried to lift both. It strained, and pulled, but it could barely move either full bucket more than an inch. Erin shook her head.

“See, that’s just sad.”

The skeleton clattered its teeth together. Erin shuddered. She grabbed her bucket and lifted it up. It was heavy, but she was stronger than the skeleton.

“Don’t do that. Take one bucket and follow me.”

Awkwardly, the skeleton hefted one of the full buckets of water and staggered after Erin. She walked quickly, trying to balance speed with avoiding losing too much water over the sides.

She was used to the trek from the stream to the inn, but her arm still vaguely ached by the time she got back. But ever since she’d acquired the [Lesser Strength] skill, the trip had become far less painful. And this time she didn’t even have to make two round trips.

“Okay! Water’s done. Now let’s get some food.”

Erin left the two buckets inside the inn, grabbed a basket, and walked off. The skeleton followed her obediently, as the two walked across the rolling grassy landscape. They walked for about six minutes before Erin threw her arm out and stopped the skeleton in its tracks. It stared at her, confused.

“Watch it. Rock Crab.”

She pointed. The skeleton looked and saw about two hundred meters away, a large boulder slowly moving across the landscape. Underneath the large shell of rock, the skeleton could see massive legs slowly propelling the boulder around.

When the skeleton realized what the Rock Crab really was, it immediately raised its fists and tried to charge the slow-moving monster. Erin had to grab the skeleton by one bony arm.

“Hold it! What are you doing?”

The skeleton fought to run at the crab. Erin ordered it to stay still.

“Don’t try to fight that thing! It’ll eat you. Or—snap you in two like a bunch of twigs.”

Reluctantly, the skeleton subsided. It stared hard at the Rock Crab which ignored both Erin and the skeleton as it wandered off. When it had disappeared over a hill Erin let the skeleton go.

“Don’t be stupid. Come on and follow me.”

The skeleton walked after Erin. Eventually, they came to the blue fruit orchard. Erin showed the skeleton how to gather fruits.

“See the basket? Fill the basket.”

So saying, Erin handed the skeleton her basket and sat down. Instantly, the skeleton began running around the orchard, gathering up fallen fruit and kicking trees to make the fruit fall. Erin sat under a tree and took a quick nap.

----

Having a skeleton was quite useful. In a few minutes the skeleton had filled Erin’s basket to overflowing. It carefully walked back to Erin, trying not to spill the ripe fruits.

Erin didn’t react as the skeleton approached. She was sleeping. The skeleton hesitated, and then placed the basket at her feet. It stood and waited, but she slept on. She was truly asleep.

The skeleton hesitated. It seemed to be thinking. At last, it turned and began scanning the landscape around Erin. Was it checking for threats? Erin couldn’t tell.

One of her eyelids had been cracked open ever so slightly as the skeleton approached. Now that it was looking the other way, Erin sighed inaudibly and sat up. Well, at least the skeleton wasn’t going to try killing her in her sleep. She’d had a terrible night last night worrying the same thing. But Pisces seemed to have done an okay job on the skeleton. Still, she’d keep an eye on it.

It was useful, but she still didn’t quite trust it.

Erin clapped her hands together. The skeleton whirled around, and then relaxed when it saw only Erin.

“Okay, good job. Let’s go back to the inn.”

----

Erin showed the skeleton where to place the basket of blue fruits and then stretched.

“Alright. Chores are mostly done. Now what?”

The skeleton stared at Erin. It certainly wasn’t going to come up with ideas on its own.

“I could go to the city.”

Erin mused, eying the skeleton. She really didn’t want to leave it alone just yet, but there was a lot more to do in Liscor than here. She was wondering if she could give the skeleton a simple task – like gathering acid flies from the traps – when she heard the door open.

She and the skeleton looked around. Erin saw Pawn and two Workers step through the doorway. She smiled and waved at them. The skeleton had a different reaction. It opened its jaw and the twin flames in its skull flared.

“——!”

The skeleton charged Pawn and the two Antinium with a wordless rattling whisper-shout. It was a sound that sounded like someone sighing, only far louder.

Pawn and the two Workers froze, uncertain. They backed into one another but they were too big to slip out the door. The skeleton leapt at them—

“Hey!”

Erin’s fist caught the skeleton in the head and knocked the skull clean off the rest of the body. Pawn and the Workers stopped. The skeleton flailed around wildly. Then it stopped.

Its head had rolled beneath a table. The skeleton’s main body seemed to know where it was. Erin watched as it blundered over to its head, knocking over chairs and running into tables.

The skeleton picked up its head and placed it back on its neck. The lights reappeared in its eyes and it stared at Erin.

“Bad!”

Erin didn’t know why she was talking to the skeleton like it was a dog. She pointed at it.

“You do not attack them. Got it?”

The skeleton hesitated and then nodded. The light in its eyes dimmed. Erin stared at it another second and then turned to Pawn.

“Sorry about that. I’ve got uh, a skeleton problem.”

Pawn inclined his head.

“I bear no offense Erin. And I thank you for protecting us.”

The two Workers bowed their heads as well. Erin waved her hands.

“No, it’s my fault. I just got this skeleton-thing and I—sorry. Um, come on in.”

Awkwardly she stood aside to let Pawn and the other Workers file into the inn. They glanced at the skeleton who was still watching them. Erin stalked over and poked at the skeleton until it moved away.

“Right, how can I help you guys?”

“We have come to play chess if you are willing, Erin Solstice. We would also purchase flies for consumption.”

“Sure. No problem!”

Erin moved towards the kitchen and stopped. She pointed at the skeleton.

“Stay. There. Don’t do anything.”

When she returned with a heaping bowl of dead flies and blue juice, the Antinium had already chosen a table and set up a game of chess. Erin sat with them and began playing Pawn. It was a quick game, as he’d tried a new move which failed spectacularly. But Erin helped show him a better way to attack the enemy with the knight piece and let the other two Workers challenge her one by one.

As she played, she talked with Pawn.

“What’s happening with the Antinium? Are you guys bothered by all the humans in the city as well?”

Pawn shook his head, watching as Erin started collecting the Worker’s pieces one by one.

“We work. We live. We die. All is unchanged among the Workers, Erin Solstice. But we hear of—things. Something happens below.”

“Below? You mean where the Queen lives?”

Pawn hesitated. The two Workers looked up at him and then down at the board.

“Yes. Our Queen moves. She is doing—something. We do not know what it is, but we sense it. And there is another Prognugator.”

Erin’s hand froze over a piece. Then she moved it.

“Really? Another one? This Prog—this guy, he’s taken over Klbkch’s old job?”

“Yes. He guards the Hive and watches. But no Worker has seen him yet. He walks above.”

“Right. Um. Right.”

Distracted, Erin lost a knight before she got back on track. She quickly crushed both Workers and then sighed.

“Okay. Good game, guys. You’re getting better.”

Pawn nodded.

“We level quickly. It is rare for Workers to level. We owe you a debt, Erin Solstice.”

“Really? I didn’t do much.”

“You teach. You help. You care. We know and we learn from you how to be human.”

Erin grinned mirthlessly.

“Being human isn’t that great. But I’m glad I can help a bit.”

She suddenly had a thought. She glanced sideways at Pawn.

“And maybe you could help me? I’d like to hire you and the other Workers—if you’ve got time. I know this is your break day, but—”

Pawn shook his head.

“We would be happy to assist. What do you desire?”

“Bathroom.”

Pawn tilted its head.

“Bathroom?”

“I mean an outhouse.”

Erin tried to explain. She pointed outside.

“Right now I uh—I have to dig a hole. Which isn’t fun. I don’t know if the Antinium have to go to the bathroom, but us humans like a nice toilet seat.”

“Toilet seat?”

“…Never mind. How do Antinium uh, excrete? Do you have anything like a bathroom?”

“We have designated areas where waste is accumulated. We recycle such products within the Hive.”

“Ah. Um. Humans don’t do that. Ever. And I’d really like a bathroom. Nothing fancy.”

Pawn and the two Workers nodded.

“We are familiar with the construction of such facilities. It would be a simple task to construct one for you.”

“Oh. That’s—great. I’ve got some wood around back and nails and stuff. I can get more if you need it. Do you um, need anything special?”

“We are Antinium. Building is in our nature.”

Sometimes it was really hard to keep the conversation flowing with Pawn. Erin cleared her throat awkwardly.

“And how much will I owe you?”

Pawn hesitated.

“We would not wish to charge you for this service.”

Again, Erin wasn’t sure what to say to that. She thought for a moment.

“Tell you what—I’ll feed you and your friends for the rest of the week if you build it for me, no charge.”

Since there were four days left in the week, Erin thought this was a fair offer. Pawn apparently did too, because he nodded.

“It is agreed. We will begin at once.”

As one, the three Antinium stood up. They marched over to the door. Erin got up, and then remembered. She turned her head and saw the skeleton still standing where she had left it.

“As for you—”

Erin glared at the skeleton. It didn’t quite flinch back from her.

“Do not attack my guests, got it? Not unless they’re attacking me or doing something dangerous. Otherwise I’ll have the Workers toss you in the outhouse and bury you. Got it?”

The skeleton meekly nodded. Erin turned away.

“Okay, let’s get to work. Try not to get in the way.”

----

No matter how many times Erin saw it, she was always impressed by how efficient the Antinium were at…well…anything, really. As soon as she’d chosen a good spot for the outhouse – just a little ways away from the inn where untoward smells wouldn’t be blown towards her – they immediately began excavating dirt and laying the groundwork for the outhouse.

Fortunately, Erin still had quite a bit of spare wood left over. And Pawn knew a good place to buy quality wood, so she gave them some money and let them go at it. She might have had a [Basic Crafting] as a skill, but that didn’t mean she was good at constructing things. An outhouse was a bit beyond her capabilities.

And apparently, the Antinium didn’t need Skills, at least not for something like this. They were just good at building things, and their bodies were naturally suited for tasks like digging and machining. Four arms were better than two.

The outhouse was a simple affair, at least by modern toilet standards. A solid wood building stood upright, shielding its sole occupant from weather and prying eyes while a small pit caught whenever fell down through the toilet hole. It was functional, sturdy, and that was all Erin needed at the moment.

It took them all day, but Erin supposed Workers didn’t need to be fast. Then again, was building an outhouse from scratch really hard? Pawn and the Workers kept talking about a foundation whenever she brought them acid flies for a snack.

The skeleton scurried around, pushing dirt out of the way for the Antinium, refilling Erin’s water buckets, and checking her acid fly traps. She had to explain to it how to do everything the first time which was a major pain, but once she had, the skeleton remembered how to do it.

Erin had to admit—grudgingly—that the skeleton was quite useful. It was efficient, in that it didn’t stop to take breaks or complain like a certain human. Thanks to it, her inn was fully ready when the sun started lowering in the sky and the evening rush began.

Today Rags and eight Goblins visited Erin’s inn. Then Pisces came by, full of his self-importance, the Antinium walked in and announced they were done with the outhouse, and Gazi appeared out of nowhere.

It was a record-breaking crowd that sat in The Wandering Inn. They barely occupied more than a fifth of the common room, although you wouldn’t know it, spread apart as they were.

Well, it was only to be expected really. The Goblins might not be too afraid of Erin, but Pisces was just another human to them and Gazi was bad news walking. They stayed away from her and the skeleton. Erin thought they’d all run when the skeleton opened the door for them, but Rags had kept them from fleeing into the hills.

The Goblin’s reaction had been the normal one. Pisces obviously hadn’t batted an eyelid at the walking skeleton, and the Antinium just treated the skeleton with a certain wariness. When Gazi had seen the skeleton she’d just blinked her massive eye and frowned for a bit without comment. Now she kept staring from the skeleton to Pisces as she ate, but she didn’t directly engage the [Necromancer] in conversation.

So all of Erin’s guests sat more or less in their own bubble. The Antinium played more chess, Pisces scarfed down food, Gazi watched, the Goblins ate and chattered amongst themselves, and none of them talked with each other.

But they all spoke to Erin. Or at least—the Goblins grunted at her and Rags nodded or shook her head when Erin talked. But everyone else talked to her.

“I noticed your new building. I take it is meant to act as a bathroom?”

Erin grinned at Gazi. She pointed at Pawn and the other Workers.

“Yeah. They just put it up today. Isn’t it great? Now I don’t have to keep squatting in the grass. Ahem.”

Gazi smiled as Erin coughed and blushed a bit.

“It is useful. Although I would warn you that maintaining such a spot can be difficult. You did well to build it away from water and your inn.”

Erin nodded.

“Pawn told me about all the problems an outhouse causes. They smell. And they attract flies. But I think I can solve that problem with the world’s greatest cleaning fluid.”

Gazi raised her single eyebrow, smiling slightly.

“And what would this be?”

“Acid. I have more than I can use, and it eats through anything that’s not stone or metal or glass really fast. I toss a bit of that in there every morning and voilà! Problem solved!”

Gazi blinked again. From his table, Pisces looked up and shook his head.

“Once again, your fascination with such a dangerous substance is alarming at best, Miss Solstice. I trust you at least have a few healing potions prepared for the day when you drop the acid on your person?”

Erin glared at him.

“I’m not going to be the one carrying jars of acid around. Too dangerous. I’ll make that guy do it instead.”

Erin pointed at the skeleton who had just returned with another basket of blue fruit. She gestured to the kitchen and it speedily walked inside.

Pisces stared at the skeleton incredulously.

“Are you—making it gather fruits? And you want to make it clean your outhouse? You do realize it is here for your protection, do you not?”

“Sure, sure. But it’s more useful helping out around the inn.”

Pisces scowled at Erin as she swept around with a refill of blue juice.

“That is a warrior skeleton, designed for combat.”

She glared back and filled his glass up with water.

“It’s weaker than I am! I punched it this morning and its head came clean off!”

Pisces turned red and gave Erin what she recognized as his prelude-to-sulking expression.

“My creation is a work of art, but it must grow to its full potential first. It is not meant to be used for menial labor.”

Erin rolled her eyes.

“Menial labor is about all it’s good for. If I sent it out to try and kill one of those Rock Crabs it’d get squashed in a heartbeat. You’re a hotshot [Necromancer] aren’t you? Can’t you raise a Level 15 skeleton or something?”

Pisces shook his head.

“I could certainly create a stronger undead—but not a higher level one. Do you—do you not understand the significance of this skeleton?”

“No. Is it that special?”

He blinked at her.

“Ah. Well, it is.”

Gazi spoke up. Her eye strayed towards the skeleton, which paused as it brought bowls of acid flies out for the Antinium. She murmured into her drink.

“A Level 1 [Skeleton Warrior].”

Pisces nodded. Gazi blinked at him and tipped her cup in some sort of acknowledgement. Erin didn’t get it, but Pisces appeared incredibly smug and self-satisfied all of a sudden.

“Fine. It’s great. But I still wish it was stronger.”

She grumbled her way around the room, topping off glasses with her pitcher. Gazi stopped Erin and murmured to her as Erin passed by her table.

“Just who is that [Necromancer], exactly?”

“Pisces?”

Erin glanced at Pisces. He was smiling at his skeleton as it moved about the room.

“Oh, he’s just this weird guy I met a while ago. He’s—well, I guess he’s a good mage. Does necromancy stuff, but the skeleton is the first undead thing I’ve ever seen him do. He also does other spells. Why?”

Gazi stared at Pisces and then her eye moved away as he looked towards her. She nodded imperceptibly at him as she let Erin fill her glass.

“He is—talented.”

“Oh.”

Gazi nodded. After a moment Erin shrugged and walked away. Really, what were you supposed to say to that?

----

About an hour had passed, and Erin was continuing to innkeep while her patrons ate, chatted, and, occasionally, used the new outhouse. Gazi didn’t do much from her seat, but her main eye kept following Pisces, the skeleton, and Erin.

Then, as the sun began to touch the mountains and the light truly began to fade from the sky, Gazi’s main eye swiveled towards one window. She tapped her lips and then smiled again.

Erin noticed the half-Gazer getting up and leaving coins on the table. Gazi nodded to her as Erin bustled over.

“Pardon me Erin, but I must attend to some business. I will return shortly.”

“Oh, sure. Have fun?”

Gazi smiled and left quickly. Erin shrugged and went back to serving. About ten minutes later she heard someone knocking at the door.

“Come in!”

The door opened. Erin turned with a smile.

“Hey, welcome!”

The male, human adventurer who opened the door smiled broadly at her.

“Thank you. Me and my friends were looking for a place to stay and—”

He caught sight of Rags and the Goblins first. The adventurer swore and grabbed at this sword.

“Goblins!”

Erin’s stomach lurched. The adventurer fell back and his two companions – two other burly adventurers in armor – immediately seized their weapons. Rags and her crew looked up, suddenly tense. Pawn and the Workers froze in their game. Pisces was already gone.

“No, no, wait! Don’t do anything!”

Dropping her pitcher of juice on a table, Erin ran forwards, putting herself between the adventurers and the Goblins.

“They’re friendly! Don’t attack!”

The first adventurer stared at her. He was wearing a metal helmet that made his head look vaguely pot-shaped.

“What are you, crazy? They’re Goblins!”

His two friends shifted behind him. One exclaimed as he caught sight of Pawn and the Workers.

“It’s the bugs! And—a skeleton?”

The first adventurer was white in the face, whether with rage or fear it was hard to tell. He glared at Erin, hand tight on his sword hilt.

“What’s going on here?”

“Look, everyone chill! Calm down! These Goblins are peaceful. Didn’t you read the sign—?”

The third adventurer, a huge man who dwarfed the other two, turned red in the face. He growled at Rags and her Goblins, all of whom were standing, weapons raised.

“Shut up! Those creatures aren’t peaceful. They’re monsters! I’ve lost good friends to them!”

He went for his axe. Erin grabbed his hand.

“No, wait—let me—”

“Get off!”

The burly adventurer growled and threw Erin off him. He shoved her back and Erin crashed into a table. She blinked stupidly up at the ceiling as the world spun for a moment. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of movement.

The adventurers were moving towards the Goblins, weapons raised when the skeleton leapt over a table, charged the first adventurer and smashed into him. The undead skeleton was unarmed, but it just raised one bony fist and sunk it straight into the helmeted adventurer’s head.

The metal faceguard caught the skeleton, but it couldn’t protect the man from being bowled over as the skeleton rushed him. The undead kicked and the sword flew out of the man’s hands. He cursed as the two other adventurers spread out. One of his friends pulled out his sword, but suddenly Rags and the other Goblins covered him.

The big adventurer roared and raised his axe, but Erin tackled him. She tried to pull his arm down, but he was like a piece of granite. He punched her in the side, and Erin fell off him. That hurt. Not as much as being stabbed, but she couldn’t breathe. He snarled at her, and then Pawn was in front of him. The Antinium swung two fists on his left side and the adventurer stumbled backwards.

The adventurer on the floor cursed and swung at the skeleton, trying to get to his feet. The skeleton leaned back as the adventurer swung wildly. When it punched the man in the side of the head he didn’t shift much. But the skeleton punched and punched and punched—

The helmeted adventurer caught the skeleton’s foot as it swung at his head. He growled and heaved upwards and the skeleton toppled over. Then he reached for his sword.

His hand had just closed over the hilt when Erin walked over and kicked him in the side of the head. Down he went again, considerably harder than when the skeleton had hit him.

She looked around. The second man was fighting with the Goblins, slashing at them while they danced around the chairs and tables. He didn’t have any room to swing, but they had a lot more freedom. They lunged at him, cutting his legs, battering him with clubs, throwing plates at his face—

A Worker crashed into a table next to Erin. It lay on its back, stunned, before it got up. She looked over. The big adventurer was fighting all three Antinium at once as they surrounded him.

He swung at Pawn, but Pawn caught both fists and then hit back with two more. The big adventurer blinked, and then shoved the Antinium back. Pawn went flying, but two more Workers closed in. He battered at them, but the Antinium were far tougher than they were strong.

It was all a mess. Erin didn’t know what to do, but when one of the adventurers grabbed Rags and threw her to the ground she moved. He stomped on her stomach once as the Goblin cried out in agony. Erin raised her fist, and then the skeleton smashed the adventurer in the back of the head with a chair.

Down he went. Now only the biggest adventurer was left, but he was somehow managing to take on all comers by himself. He hit one of the workers in the chest so hard the Antinium’s carapace cracked, and then punched the skeleton into the ground before kicking the undead in the chest. Two ribs shattered as the Goblins swarmed around the man.

Erin hesitated, and then ran inside the kitchen. She came out with a heavy object in her hands, just in time to see the skeleton crashing into another table, the axe buried in its chest.

The biggest adventurer kicked a Goblin several feet, backhanded Pawn and snarled. He turned, and the flying frying pan cracked him straight in the forehead. Erin felt like she’d wrenched her shoulder with that throw, but her skill had placed the pan right where she wanted it to go.

The fight was over. Erin still had to call the skeleton back and stop Rags and her Goblins from knifing the downed adventurers. The skeleton was trying to stomp on the helmeted man while Pawn and the other two Workers picked each other up and assessed their injuries.

Erin stared around the inn. She looked at her skeleton, with the axe hanging out of its shattered ribcage, the injured Goblins, the downed adventurers trio, Pawn and his injured workers, and then at her common room. Half the tables and chairs were splintered beyond repair, and all of her food and dishes had been strewn about the room.

She felt like crying. But the first adventurer was starting to wake up. Erin stared at the groaning men on the floor and pointed at the skeleton.

“You. Bucket.”

It hesitated, and then marched into the kitchen. Erin looked around. She walked over, and picked up the frying pan.

----

The cold splash of water woke up all three men in one go. They spluttered into wakefulness, gasping, only to realize they weren’t drowning. Instead they were on the floor of an inn.

The three adventurers stared up into the face of justice. In this case, it was the back of a cast iron frying pan. Erin stood over them, flanked by a group of Goblins on her left, and a Skeleton and three of the horrific ant-monsters known as Antinium on her right.

“You wrecked my inn.”

Erin stared down at the three men. She was trembling. Half with nerves, but the other half was sheer rage.

“You—”

The helmeted adventurer hesitated. He struggled to get to his feet, feeling for his sword. He saw it in the skeleton’s hands. He pointed a trembling finger at the skeleton, backing away as his two friends got to their feet.

“What kind of inn is this? It’s full of monsters!”

“They’re not monsters! These Goblins are my guests, and no one hurts them here! Didn’t you read the sign?”

The biggest adventurer lumbered to his feet. His fists were clenched and he was red down to his neck. Rags and the other Goblins retreated from him, but Erin saw Rags pulling out a jar full of green liquid. She shook her head at the Goblin.

“You’re crazy! You—you freak! You’re feedin’ these freaks that kill humans! And you’re feedin’ bugs and an undead monster! We oughta burn this place down and turn you in to the City Watch!”

“Burn down my inn? I don’t think so.”

Erin gripped the handle of the frying pan tighter. The Antinium loomed behind her and the two smaller adventurers stepped back.

“You bitch!”

The big adventurer shouted at Erin. His spit practically covered the skeleton interposing itself between Erin and him.

“This ain’t over! We’re gonna round up all the adventurers in the city and come back here. Then we’ll see if you want to protect these freaks!”

“I don’t believe that will happen.”

Someone tapped the big adventurer on the shoulder. He whirled around, threw a fist, and nearly screamed as a grip like steel crushed his wrist.

Gazi the Omniscient stared at the adventurer she had caught like an entomologist studying an insect caught in his backyard. Without much interest, she flicked the man’s hand away. When she turned to look at Erin she smiled slightly.

“Erin Solstice. You are full of surprises.”

Erin blinked.

“Oh. Gazi.”

The two adventurers behind the big man reacted to the Gazer’s name—and her eye, but the bigger man was still caught up in his rage.

“If yer gonna protect this monster loving b—”

Gazi didn’t move. She didn’t move, but her eye twitched. Its yellow pupil seemed to widen and glow for a moment and Erin felt a flash of unease. Gazi was suddenly terrifying for no real reason. And she wasn’t even looking at Erin. The effect on the adventurers—particularly the big man—was immediate. They shuddered, paled, and backed away from her.

“No one will attack this inn. Or I will find you and you will suffer. And you will all leave now.”

Helmet adventurer shuddered. His eyes flicked to his sword, still in the skeleton’s hand.

“But—”

Gazi’s eye swiveled and her large yellow pupil fixed on the adventurer’s face and the words stopped.

“Begone.”

The adventurer stared for one second into Gazi’s large eye. He didn’t quite wet himself. He turned and ran with his two friends in an instant as the Gazer turned and smiled at Erin.

“I am glad that you are unharmed.”

“What?”

Erin blinked at Gazi stupidly, and then realized she was still holding her frying pan. Lamely, she put it on a table.

“Um, thanks. Really. You saved us there.”

Gazi flicked her hand dismissively.

“I merely prevented them from causing more trouble. But you would have handled them most admirably had I not been here.”

Her smaller eyes moved around the room.

“Still, I see that they have caused much damage. I apologize. I should have forced them to repay you for the damages.”

“Oh it’s nothing—”

Erin broke off. Rags limped over to her, clutching at her stomach and poked her in the side. The Goblin offered Erin a bag of coins.

“Oh. Oops?”

Rags shrugged at Erin and then winced. She clutched at her stomach, where the adventurer had stomped on her. Erin immediately forgot about the money. She bent down, staring anxiously at the Goblin.

“Are you okay? I have some healing potions I could split—”

Rags shook her head. Clutching at her ribs, she pulled something out of her pouch. A healing potion. The Goblin pulled the stopper out and drank a mouthful of the purple, brackish liquid.

Erin was sure the Goblin didn’t own any healing potions. She was also sure that it wasn’t her healing potion, or Gazi’s. She looked at the other Goblins and saw they were doing the same with a few healing potions as well. She knew exactly where they’d come from.

The adventurers had come here with belt pouches, and carry bags along with their armor and weapons. And while they’d left with their armor, it seemed someone had cut away their belts and bags of healing potions while they’d been downed. The Goblins were already fighting over the spoils.

Erin had a feeling that she was going to get the blame for most—all of that. But right now, looking at the injured people in her inn, she didn’t really care.

“Here.”

She righted a table, and made Pawn and the injured Workers sit down. Erin found some bandages in her packs, helped pull the axe out of the skeleton’s rib cage, and let Pisces get to work on the skeleton. She was so busy attending her friends—saying thank you and feeding them a second dinner—that she never noticed that Gazi had left the inn.

----

Gazi the Omniscient traveled back to Liscor, the ground blurring beneath her feet. She had no further business at The Wandering Inn at the moment. Erin Solstice was too busy attending to her wounded patrons for conversation and Gazi had seen all she needed.

More importantly, she had found one. At last, she had found one. And not just one.

“Two.”

She smiled to herself. She’d searched far and wide for individuals worthy of waking up her lord and liege. For years. And she had despaired. But now she had found one. Not just one; two.

“A mysterious child with a unique skill and a mage who can create new undead.”

Erin Solstice. She was unlike any human Gazi had met before, save one. She had met only one other being who could unify so many races outside of her own. And that she had stepped in to protect them against her own kind only made her rarer in Gazi’s opinion.

But there was more to her than even that. Erin’s origins, her ways of thinking, and yes, even the [Immortal Moment] skill Gazi had never seen on an individual before were all unique. She was worthy. The mage was also worthy, but in a different way. He was simply a genius.

“But she is different.”

Gazi frowned, letting her single eyelid droop over her central eye. Yes, Erin Solstice was different. She passed through the city gates, nodding at the guard who stared at her and slowed to walk idly through the streets.

Erin Solstice. She was the one, and if Gazi had to choose it would be her. But it was better not to choose. Better to wait and lay plans. Gazi could act now of course, but if she wanted to do this properly it would take time.

Time and patience were both things Gazi did not have, but she did not want to ruin things now, right when she had found not one, but two worthy beings. She yearned to begin, but patience—patience was a virtue she had learned to practice.

Yes, perhaps it was better to wait. She had come far over the course of thousands of miles and countless years. Her King still slept; he would wait a while longer to be woken. Those she brought must be truly worthy of his attention.

As Gazi walked through the streets, she noticed she was being followed. She kept her main eye straight ahead, but her lesser eyes could detect movement around her. Gnolls. Two shadowed her at a distance, pretending to be late-night shoppers and pedestrians going home.

No doubt they were courtesy of a certain Gnoll shopkeeper. She had doubtless organized them to tail Gazi, unaware perhaps of the Gazer’s ability to see all. Or perhaps she knew and was letting Gazi know she was being watched. Either way, it mattered little. The Gnolls were the least experienced of Gazi’s watchers, but they were hardly the only ones keeping an eye on her.

But it was their presence which decided Gazi. There was more to Erin than even her eyes could uncover. She would wait. Wait, and learn more about this strange human. Perhaps there was another worthy one. Three was better than two.

As Gazi passed by the market street she noticed a flicker of movement. A small human grabbed several items from a stall while the shopkeeper was looking the other way. Gazi pretended not to see, but one of her lesser eyes tracked the human female as she darted away.

The thief ducked out of sight in the alleyway, but Gazi’s eye wasn’t weak enough to be stopped by mere objects like walls at close range. Her large eye moved, and she saw not only the thief’s figure, but her name and nature. Such was the power of Gazi’s eye.

But in this case, Gazi was disappointed. She shook her head.

“Ah. Just a [Princess].”

She turned her eye away. She had no time for human royalty. Petty lords and princesses of small nations could not arouse her ruler’s interest.

Gazi cast her eye upwards. She saw the changing winds and miles overhead, saw the cold front sweeping in at speeds even her eye had trouble tracking. Yes, winter was coming. And quickly too. This land had few seasons save for the rainy one, but the fell chill would still freeze the land for a week at least. Time then, to wait and observe both humans.

“Yes, time.”

The adventurers had been a stroke of good luck. Their foolishness had given Gazi plenty of insight into Erin’s nature. She would ensure no reprisals came—at least in the form of a mob—but she would continue watching Erin Solstice.

She wanted to know everything about her.

----

Erin sat in her inn, staring at the recently cleaned room. Half of the tables and chairs were now fireplace fuel, but at least the spilled food and broken dishes had been cleaned up. She’d buy new ones from Krshia tomorrow.

Everyone was gone. They’d limped off, or walked back to the city, or in Pisces’s case, done his disappearing act. They were gone, and Erin was left alone.

With the skeleton, of course.

It was fully repaired and sweeping up dust. Erin stared at it as it worked. It paused as it glanced up and saw her staring.

“Yeah. You don’t like it either, huh?”

After a moment the skeleton got back to work. It stood up, dustpan in hand and walked outside to dump the dust. Then it came back in and stood to attention, staring at Erin.

She sighed. The skeleton looked at her expectantly.

“Skeletons. You know, I hated biology class in school. The skeleton there creeped me out, and it didn’t move around all the time.”

No response. Well, Erin was getting used to that.

“I don’t like dead things. And I don’t really trust you.”

The light in the skeleton’s eyes dimmed for a second. Erin sighed again.

“But. I guess you’re alright.”

The flickering sparks in the skeleton’s eyes ignited. Erin nodded to herself.

“I’ll keep you after all. You’re useful, and you can fight. Sorta. Just don’t do anything stupid, got it?”

After a beat the skeleton nodded obediently.

“Cool. Now I guess—I guess you’ll need a name?”

No response. But the skeleton seemed expectant. Erin scratched her head. She really needed to sleep, but this was important.

“What would be a good name for skeleton. Papyrus…? Nah. You’re not nearly cool enough for that.”

The skeleton didn’t react. Erin tilted her head, thinking hard. She snapped her fingers.

“I guess I’ll just call you Clatter. No—Claptrap! But even you’re not half as annoying as that…thing.”

Erin scratched at her head as she began pacing around the room. The skeleton’s fiery blue eyes followed her around the room as she began throwing names out at random.

“Mr. Bones? Way too generic. How about Carnage? But that sounds horrible. Silent Steve…? No. Smitty Werbenjagermanjensen? Too long.”

After a while the skeleton turned around and walked upstairs. It began cleaning a decade’s worth of accumulated filth from the ceiling as it heard Erin still talking to herself down below.

“How about Napoleon? But you’re not short. Skeletron? But I’d get confused. Paul Hendrickson the Fifth? Whitey? Wait, is that racist?”

The skeleton quite deliberately tuned Erin’s voice out of its head, at least as far as it could ignore the voice of its master. It scrubbed the ceiling with the fragment of the dustrag hard, wishing—as much as it could wish—that it held a weapon instead. Erin had made it leave the sword and axe in the kitchen while it was cleaning.

It had no will. Skeletons weren’t supposed to have free will. But they weren’t supposed to level either, and the [Skeleton Warrior] was now Level 2. It didn’t know how to feel about that. It had one function: to serve. If leveling helped in that capacity, it would level.

It just wished Erin would stop talking.

“Bojangles. Bonerama. Bonehead. Friedman? Spinal Tap. Harambe. Jack? Jack Sparrow? Jack Skellington? Mr. Skeleton? Smiley Face?”

A pause. The skeleton did not sigh in relief.

“…Mike?”

[Innkeeper Level 13!]

[Skill – Loud Voice obtained!]

1.09 R

“Awaken, human.”

I’ve listened to my share of alarm clocks over the years. When I was a kid, my parents gave me an old-fashioned one[40] that I had to wind up constantly or it wouldn’t go off. First chance I got, I switched it out for a digital alarm, and then my iPhone.

I like to wake up early to run – thus as I got older, my alarm clocks got louder. The one in my room I bought because my iPhone wasn’t powerful enough. It could wake up the house if I left for my morning run and forgot to turn it off. And my folks have a big house.

But no alarm clock or blaring fire alarm has ever gotten me into the waking world so quickly. The instant I heard those two words I woke up. It was like magic[41].

I raise my head and instinctively brace for agonizing pain. I don’t feel any, which is alarming in itself. I should be in incredible pain—or dead. And if I am dead, who woke me up?

Please let it not be an old white guy who calls himself God.

“Sit up.”

Again, the voice of God does exactly what it says on the tin. I get up without even realizing I’m doing it. I was lying on the ground, but now the world tilts the right way up for me. What’s going on?

I remember collapsing onto the floor. On paved marble tiles, to be exact. Paved marble tiles in the middle of a vast cavern, surrounded by a treasury/armory/mage’s laboratory/library of some kind.

I’d like to look around, but my body is frozen. I sit completely still, unable to look around. I can see rows of dark bookshelves ahead of me, and then someone walks into view.

There’s a man—yes, a man standing in front of me. The strangest, most attractive—

Attractive? Him? He’s an old guy with a beard. I hate older men, mainly because they remind me of my dad. But this man—he’s different. Different from anyone I’ve met.

For one thing, he looks amazing in multiple senses of the word. His hair is a pale white, but not gray. Rather—silvery? It has a luster about it that makes me wonder if he uses this world’s equivalent of hair gel. But even the greatest beauty pageant contestants and supermodels of my world don’t have hair like that.

And he looks like a model. An Olympian athlete past his prime but with the same body. He looks like the kind of person Renaissance sculptors would make statues of, but even David wasn’t this in shape.

Plus, he’s wearing robes that look like they’re kin to the ones Ceria bought. Magical robes that look like silk and shine—except that his clothing is even shinier[42].

And then I look up and meet a pair of eyes that are both blue and violet.

No. Blue and violet? What am I, in elementary school? The colors I see are far deeper than that. I look into this man’s eyes—

And I see a tiny bit of magic caught forever.

It should be impossible, but it’s like staring into one of those nebulas in outer space. The amethyst and azure—no, even those words aren’t good enough. When I see the celestial colors in his eyes the world heliotrope and cerulean spring to mind. Fancy words, to describe a wordless sight.

The colors shift together in his corona, exactly like the ever-changing colors of the solar clouds. Nebulae. The pupils shift towards me and I feel like someone’s tagged me with a cattle prod[43]. I still don’t know how I’m uninjured or what this place is, but I can guess by assuming what he is.

A mage. Or maybe the word sorcerer or wizard applies here. Because if this guy is a mage, he’s an archmage or a magus.

The mysterious old mage-guy crooks one finger upwards at me.

“Stand, please.”

I push myself up and onto my feet easily, again sans pain or the gaping holes in my body I know should be there. Why?

Now that I’m on my feet I see I’m also shorter than this man by at least a few inches. And I’m six foot one. He’s tall, handsome, and even if his skin isn’t dark it’s—

I blink for a second. Odd, I could have sworn his skin was white, but it’s darker than that. He looks…middle eastern? Yeah, a moderate olive brown whitened by a long time out of the sun maybe. But I could have sworn he had white skin when I first saw him.

His scales glow in the light. The golden dragon looks at me and—

No—it’s the light. I want to look up, but the light is changing in the room, somehow. It’s as if there’s a massive color filter over the room, making everything appear different. Is there a massive mirror or something…?

But then the mage looks me up and down and I realize something else is wrong. Namely, something is wrong with my clothes.

My flesh is healed, but the fabric is weak. And when a bunch of pterodactyl-type birds start trying to shred you from above and Gargoyles are spitting stone chunks at you, a wardrobe malfunction is sort of inevitable.

One of the stone shards must have cut me on the right shoulder, because my bra strap’s been sliced in two. That wouldn’t be so bad—except that an important part of my shirt is missing too. Right around the chest area.

It’s cold in the cavern. But the old guy gives my breast one dismissive look and sighs. He doesn’t even seem vaguely interested, which annoys me more than I feel relieved he’s not some pervert-sorcerer[44].

“Ah, of course. Clothing.”

He tsks and raises a finger. I’d really love to dodge or ask what he’s doing, but I’m helpless.

“[Repair].”

His finger doesn’t even glow. Unlike when Sostrom repaired my iPhone, I can see no flash of magic. But magic does happen.

In an instant my bra strap slithers back over my shoulder and reconnects itself. I feel without being able to turn my head my clothing growing to cover the missing spots, sealing over in a matter of seconds.

That felt…incredibly creepy. But I’m happier not to be catching a cold and the old mage seems happy too. He nods, once. Then he looks at me again.

“Human, be silent and still. Do not speak or move save that I require a response. I will ask you questions and you will answer to the best of your abilities, promptly and audibly. You will perform no magic, and act in no violent ways while you are in my home.”

He pauses. Wow. Most people just say hello when they meet me, or ask me if I want a pair of shoes.

“Also, do not defecate, befoul, or otherwise sully this place in any way, shape or form. And stand up straight.”

Okay, I’m not sure what humans he’s used to dealing with, but—my spine is already straightening. I can’t even glare at him. Crap. Is this some kind of magical hypnosis spell? But now he’s walking around me, slowly. Eying me like a piece of fish on sale at a supermarket.

“I care not about your name, but you are a Runner, a messenger, yes?”

“Yes.”

I tried to say, ‘yes, asshole’, but apparently no violence means no backchat either. He nods like he expected that reply.

“Very well. But then tell me—why did you risk such a dangerous request? Three of your kind have perished already attempting to reach my home. What drove you to risk death for this delivery?”

Again, the response comes out of me instantly, before I even have time to really think about my reply.

“For the reward. Forty gold pieces.”

Now he looks disappointed.

“Simply for that? No other reason?”

Huh. Was this all some sort of test? Well, motor mouth, do your thing.

“I took the request for the money, but also because I wanted to challenge myself. There are no other requests in the Runner’s Guild I could have taken, either. I am being blocked from other deliveries by fellow Runners, and this is the only request I could take.”

“Hm. I see. How very mundane.”

He shakes his head. In my head I’m sort of annoyed. It’s nice to know even an archmage former athlete can be an arrogant jerk.

“Very well, then tell me: where do you come from? I have not seen features nor skin color such as yours on this continent for…a long time. Where were you born?”

Ah, now the hard questions come. But I’m ready for this. Well, not this obviously but after meeting Lady Magnolia I thought of the best way to deal with someone who can tell whether you’re lying, or compel you to tell the truth. Either way, the only deception is in part of the truth.

“I was born in Oakland, California.”

He pauses. A brief frown creases the mage’s face.

“I am not familiar with either name. What nation does this Oakland California hail from?”

“America.”

“Hm. Another new nation. How troubling.”

The man strokes his silvery beard. Then he shakes his head.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter. Now, I wish for you to answer this question freely, but also honestly.”

He points at me.

“My spells of appraisal and identification told me nothing of your class or level when I cast them. And yet you are neither undead nor construct, and you are entirely human. Why can I not see your class?”

At last, it seems like I can say what’s on my mind. I work my jaw and open my mouth for a few nice obscenities.

“—”

…Well damn. It looks like I still can’t just insult him, and I need to tell the truth. Fine. I look the mage in the eye and talk.

“I stopped myself from leveling. You can’t see my class because I don’t have one.”

For the first time since I’ve laid eyes on his face, the man looks genuinely startled. He tilts his head to peer more closely at me, and I notice that he has pointed ears. Oh. Of course.

“You have no level? And you refuse to accept a class? Why?”

“I don’t like being controlled. And I think—yeah, I think that classes and levels are a way for the world or some system to control people. I want no part of it. And—it feels like cheating.”

Again, I’m treated to an expression of frank incredulity. It’s the first time I’ve ever articulated my feelings as well, and even I’m surprised by my answer. Cheating. I guess that’s really one of the big reasons why I don’t like the entire basis of this world. But people level or die, which is probably why I’m getting the fish-eye from him.

“You refused to level up. Is that possible?”

I shrug. It’s the only thing I can do movement-wise that counts as a response.

“I can cancel the level up if I think hard enough. So it’s clearly possible.”

Alright, that little bit of sass made me feel better. He shoots me a frosty look.

“That was a rhetorical question; you need not answer. Although—you probably don’t even know what I’m talking about, do you? Human education being what it is—”

For a moment the mage’s eyes trail off. I’m pretty damn sure now that he isn’t human, but he seems to refocus on me and suddenly his attitude shifts. From being the imperious mage he becomes something like what I’d expect an old lecture-style college professor to be like. He walks around me, talking half to me, half to the air.

“You see, the rhetorical question was first invented by the Dragons. Only naturally. Of course, Elves and Dwarves adopted the practice, but it was Dragon-kind that first thought of a question that had no need for an answer. Elves were too in tune with nature; they expected answers to pop up, possibly from the rocks and trees they talked to. Dwarves on the other hand are literal creatures. If they ask you a question they demand an answer. Humans on the other cl—hand…”

He broke off, shaking his head and sighing.

“But I forget my audience. You don’t even know what I’m talking about, do you?”

He’s still an arrogant ass. But I get the distinct impression he’s also starved for company. Well, I can still answer back so let’s see if I can’t continue this. Even if swearing is out of the question, I’m great at getting under people’s skin. It’s practically one of my Skills – [Being a Smart-mouthed Jerk].

“I know what a rhetorical question is.”

He waves a hand at me and shakes his head pityingly.

“Yes, yes. I’m sure you do. Ah, I’d forgotten how humans exaggerate and lie.”

Does he forget I can’t lie at the moment? I try to glare, but my facial muscles still aren’t working.

“Would I really be that much of an idiot that I’d lie about knowing what a rhetorical question is?”

“Well of course, I would assume—”

Pause. I enjoy the look on his face for a few seconds before he gives me a flat-lidded stare. Well, if I died at least I died doing what I do best. You can put that on my gravestone[45].

“Ah. I see that you are marginally more intelligent than the others I have met. Very well then, perhaps you will be able to answer my next question as well.”

He gestures, and from out of nowhere a map flies over and unfurls itself in the air. It’s a real map, old and dusty. I really want to sneeze but I can’t. It stays motionless in the air as the mage shows me a map of the continent. Damn. I really wanted to see the world map.

Mr. Mage taps the old parchment with one finger.

“I wish to know of any ongoing major wars between multiple nations, new technologies or spells developed, legendary monsters sighted or slain—import of that nature. Tell me all the news you have heard of in the past several years or so. What has transpired while I have been…secluded here?”

Oh boy, I’m going to love this. I give him the most casual shrug possible and spread my arms out.

“Dunno.”

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t pay attention to world news. You probably know more about what’s going than I do.”

Blink, blink. Oh yes, score one for Ryoka Griffin[46].

Again, the mage harrumphs and glares at me, but his truthiness spell on me is working and both he and I know it. He sighs, tugs at his beard again and tries a different tack.

“Do you at least know if Magnolia Reinhart still lives?”

“…Yes.”

“Indeed, indeed. That is good. Well then, have you heard of a strange child known as Ryoka Griffin? She is a Runner, like you, although presumably high-level in the [Runner] class, unlike you. I am told her leg is currently injured, or she may have been recently healed. Do you know of her?”

Oh gods. Poker face. P-p-p-poker face. Okay, stop. Don’t think of the Lady Gaga song right now. There is so much I want to ask in those last few sentences but – stick to the truth!

“I know of a Ryoka Griffin, yes.”

“Indeed? Do you know her address, a location where she stays at night? I have tried scrying her with magic, but either the name I was given was wrong or she is protected by powerful magic.”

Now why the hell would Magnolia…? No, that’s a stupid question. I know the answer to that. But why wouldn’t he be able to find me? I don’t have any magical protections on me, not any that I’m aware of[47]. And how the hell am I going to answer? Ah, got it. Again, with the truth.

“Ryoka Griffin—Ryoka doesn’t have a permanent place of residence. She moves around a lot and she doesn’t stay in one city or inn for very long if she can help it.”

The old man sighs at me and shakes his head.

“Very well, very well. I shall have to ask again for her true name, if that is the case. Although why Reinhart would have failed to extract her full name astounds me.”

Aha! I’ve got it. I know why he can’t find me with magic. He might be able to cast the highest-level scrying spell or whatever, but it’s no use if he can’t spell my name. Turns out having a dad who gives you a traditional Japanese name comes in handy once in a while. Ryoka. Trying spelling the kanji on that one, sucker[48].

Being stumped at anything seems to be a unique experience for this guy. He looks put out, at any rate, but then he turns his attention back to me and I get the full intensity of his stare again.

“Well, as interesting as this has been I have no further questions of you. Runner, tell me, are you one of the better Runners in your guild, despite your lack of levels?”

“Yes.”

No exaggeration or deceit needed there. The old guy looks unconvinced, but he nods reluctantly.

“Very well. In that case, hear my request. You have come here seeking payment and a delivery. I will offer you your paltry sum, but you will complete my request, sparing no effort to fulfill it, either by your own hands or one more qualified. Is that understood?”

“…Yes.”

I really don’t like the sound of that. And I’ve got a bad feeling that whatever he’s going to ask of me, I’m going to be bound to do. A geas[49]. Damn.

He points at me. I can already hear the silent orchestra in the background playing. Great. Why not add some wind and special effects to make it even more dramatic, old man?

“You will go to the area known as the Blood Fields and locate the individual known as Az’kerash. Or—perhaps he uses his former, human name. Perril. Perril Chandler, I believe.”

Perril Chandler? That’s a far cry from Az’kerash. But since I can still talk, I guess it’s time to ask as much as I can.

“Who is this guy?”

The man eyes me again, as if I should know. I shrug and he sniffs and shakes his head.

“He is a powerful mage. A [Necromancer], to be exact. But I believe he would be most easily identifiable by appearance. His hair is pale white, as is his skin. His eyes are violet. Although—he may use illusion spells to conceal such features when moving about.”

Oh fuck.

Silver-beard strokes said beard again and pauses. He seems to think for a moment and then nods.

“I suppose the easiest way would be to go wherever the undead are most prevalent. He has an army. A kingdom of the dead, to be exact.”

Oh fuck. Oh geez. Oh gods almighty and deceased tap-dancing on my unmarked grave. That does not sound like a survivable request.

The old mage is already turning away, but I can’t just take that and run off. I clear my throat and he turns and reluctantly looks back towards me..

“Speak.”

“Ah. If this guy—Az’kerash is surrounded by the dead, how am I supposed to get to him without being killed?”

He looks annoyed at the question, or perhaps my stupidity.

“Naturally his bodyguards will attempt to slay you. No doubt they regard all living beings as a threat. You must simply make your way to him, regardless of the peril. Besides, most of the animated dead are slow and easy to outrun.”

“Yeah, but they have arrows. How am I supposed to dodge those?”

“You are a Runner, are you not? Can you not simply outrun arrows?”

“…No. I can’t outrun spells either, and I’ve seen undead mages. I won’t survive more than a few seconds if I run into a Lich by myself.”

Silver-beard looks put out. He tugs at his beard again, almost as if he wants to rip it off.

“Confounded hair—I suppose I should have expected as much from a human Runner. Very well. If that is the case…”

He trails off. Looks like he’s deep in thought, but I still have more questions. I clear my throat and his brows snap together as he glares at me.

“Why can’t you just send the package or whatever it is with magic or something? Is it too heavy to transport? Because if it is—”

“Magic is not the solution here. The one I wish to deliver a letter and small item to—he is shielded from location or communication from any form of spell, either malign or beneficial. As am I. I cannot discern his location nor speak with him save through the slowest of methods, which is why I requested a Runner. Thus, I will also require your return to report success.”

Even better. I really should not open my big mouth.

“I barely survived getting here. I probably won’t a second time. And if finding this [Necromancer] is as dangerous as it sounds—”

“I heard you. Be silent.”

Well, there goes speech. I helplessly stand and watch as the old man talks to himself.

“This is why…Humans…it cannot be helped. Hm. A Courier would have been far more preferable. But if the issue is simply a matter of survival and speed, I suppose…”

He looks around. Then he points and beckons. From a corner of the cavern I can’t see a bottle flies into his hand. Mages can use the Force. Who knew?

Silver-beard holds the bottle out to me. I stare at it. It’s an orange—no, a glowing orange-pink mixture contained in a glass bottle. It looks like nothing I’d want to put in my body, but my hand reaches up to take it anyways.

“Here. Take this as your fee for delivery. As to your fee for arriving here, albeit injured—”

Another gesture, and a shower of gold swirls up into the air and down into a bag he holds out in his hand. Despite the amount of money, the bag doesn’t even ripple as the coins flow into it.

The mage hands me the bag and I find myself placing it at my hip.

“The potion is a concoction that will enhance your speed greatly. Do not drink it all at once. A single dose should suffice for any monster, undead or otherwise that you encounter. With it, you should be able to reach Perril Chandler more or less intact. Be sure not to confuse mana potions with health potions either. Your mana poisoning was most inconvenient to deal with.”

Oh. Was that what it was? Damn. It all makes sense now. No wonder I wasn’t healing. But I could have sworn Ceria gave me the right potions.

“Was the mana poisoning bad? If so—thank you, I guess.”

Silver-hair raises his eyebrows as if surprised.

“Mana poisoning? You would certainly not have died from the amount of mana you imbibed. Violent illness, fever, and uncontrollable bodily excretion would have been the worst you would have suffered over the next few days if I had left it alone.”

Wow. Suddenly I’m really glad he took the time to heal that.

“Was it intentional? If you were attempting to augment your body, I must tell you it was done poorly. A minuscule increase to your diet is the only way to properly acclimatize the human body to magic. Not that I would expect modern mages to know how to naturalize magic within themselves.”

Okay, if my ears could move they would definitely perk up at that. And I’d love to ask more questions, but suddenly my employer seems eager to have me gone. He shakes his head and flicks his fingers at me.

“Regardless, do not injure yourself unnecessarily while fulfilling my task. Take this letter and this ring.”

Two more objects fly out of nowhere and the mage hands them to me. The first is a scroll, tightly sealed with wax. The second is a small ring made of what looks like silver and an onyx gem. I say ‘looks like’, because when my hand closes over the metal it feels warm, and both gem and metal seem to be shining from within. Magic. It looks amazing, though.

The old man eyes me sternly and points to both items.

“Do not wear the ring, or you will suffer excruciatingly. The same goes for opening the letter, is that clear?”

“Crystal.”

He eyes me again and shakes his head.

“I trust you will do your best to survive. Retrieving my gift and message would be inconvenient.”

“Nice to know you care. I guess I should just see myself out, then?”

“And waste time? No. I will expedite the first leg of your journey. Regardless of my healing, you will need several days no doubt to fully recover from the magic used and prepare for the journey ahead of you. Do not delay.”

He points at the ground at my feet. I nearly jump out of my skin as an intricate circle of countless interconnected shapes and runes appears at my feet.

Oh, apparently I can move now. But Silver-mane scowls at me and my feet immediately shuffle back into the center of the circle.

“What—what is this?”

“A teleportation spell. Have you not—but of course, I suppose your mages are too weak for that. Now, where do you live?”

“Celum. But hey, I can run back. The potion you gave me—”

“Do not waste its effects. It is worth far more than the gold I gave you. Now, this city Celum – it is not too far from here, yes?”

“Less than a hundred miles. Not too far, yeah.”

He seems immune to sarcasm. The mage strokes at his beard as he talks to himself.

“Celum? Celum…ah. I believe I remember the general vicinity.”

He points again, and the circle glows. I wonder if he needs to chant spells like some of the mages I’ve seen. But then – this guy seems to be head and shoulders above every other mage, so I guess words are optional.

At last, the mage nods. The magic runes at my feet begin to glow brightly.

“The spell will take you to the heart of the city. Go, and carry out my request as soon as you are able.”

“Thanks for the encouragement.”

He waves his hand at me, and then pauses. Reluctantly, he looks at me as the glowing magic circle at my feet begins to shine with multiple gradients of light.

“I suppose it would violate the basic rules of hospitality not to inquire. So tell me Runner—what is your name? I am Teriarch.”

I grin at him. Well, I guess I can go for one parting shot. The runes at my feet glow—and I feel myself being dragged away by something massive. I open my mouth and say two words.

“Ryoka Griffin.”

Then I’m gone.

----

Teriarch stopped and stared at the place where the Human known as Ryoka Griffin had just been. Desperately, he reached out but even with magic she was already out of his grasp. Short of casting multiple undirected spells that would teleport quite a bit of the city back here, she was gone.

Cursing silently in his own language, Teriarch berated himself for not observing basic etiquette. True, it was with a Human but—how was he supposed to know it was that exact Runner who would show up on his doorstep?

Ah, well. He knew her face, and that would make her marginally easier to locate. Teriarch was still unclear what strange power shielded her from his scrying spells, especially since Ryoka had no magical power or even classes of her own. She was a strange human, but now he understood part of Reinhart’s fascination with her.

It would be a truly problematic occurrence if she were to die delivering his message. If he’d known it was her he would have given her another item of far greater ability. If she died, Magnolia would have his hide.

That was one of his concerns. The other was that either the earth had lowered again in the last few years, or he’d miscalculated the exact coordinates of the city of Celum. To be more accurate, he’d been spot on in every geographical specification except one—

Altitude.

Teriarch winced as in his magical view of the city of Celum he saw Ryoka appear. She was more or less in the center of the city as he’d claimed, but she was definitely too high up. He watched her plummet down out of the sky from roof-height.

“Oops. Ah, well. This is why humans use healing potions after all.”

He turned. Ryoka would live, and he was busy. Teriarch made it a few steps, and then tripped again. This time it was over his robes. He growled.

“Flayed scales and hoard blight!”

1.10 R

Ryoka sat in an inn and munched on her potatoes and stewed meat. She felt guilty about it, but the dinner menu hadn’t exactly been diverse with options and she was hungry. Still, she felt guilty.

Her plate was about 80% potato and 20% meat. And it wasn’t great meat at that. The potatoes actually weren’t that bad – the people here spiced it up pretty strong with their unique blend of peppers and herbs so it was palatable, but it was definitely not the kind of meal a healthy runner should eat.

Plus, this was her second plate. The guilt was real, but Ryoka couldn’t do much about it. She took another bite of the steaming potatoes and tried not to think about dieting or proper nutritional intake.

Normally she avoided carbo-loading unless she was actually going to run a race but…she deserved a treat. Besides she was officially resting at the moment after all the healing she’d been doing. And again, the inn wasn’t serving anything else so she had to make do.

Potatoes and meat, with a lot more gristle than she was used to. Still, it tasted good and she was used to rugged fare, especially when she went camping.

Not modern-day camping, either. Ryoka disdained people who slept in their own car or worse, in a huge trailer they towed to campsites. No, she preferred roughing it with a sleeping bag, enough food for a few days and the bare essentials. That was living.

But she had to admit, it would be nice to have a hamburger once in a while. And fresh vegetables like kale. Right now harvest season had passed and it was late fall (although it certainly didn’t feel that cold), and vegetables were in shorter supply.

More meat, more vegetable, a lot less carb. That would be better. But you got what you paid for. Ryoka sighed and ate another chunk of potato. It wasn’t bad. It just wasn’t great either. At least someone else was enjoying her meal.

Garia finished her third plate of potatoes and meat and took a deep draft from her mug before sighing contentedly. She had a good appetite. Well, she would. Ryoka surreptitiously eyed Garia’s arms and body. She might not have a six pack, but Ryoka hadn’t seen arms that thick on another girl outside of an MMA tournament.

Not that she was muscled like those idiots who used steroids. Garia was just a heavier girl, one who clearly was used to heavy lifting.

“Do you always do the heaviest deliveries?”

Garia paused as she raised her mug to her lips.

“Um, yes. Normally. I mean, I’m not too fast but I can still earn quite a lot on an overnight delivery.”

“Those spices you carried here. All the way from Wales. They were heavy. I saw the size of your pack. Must have been thirty, forty kilos of weight. And you jogged the entire way here?”

Garia shifted and blushed a bit.

“Well, if you distribute the weight properly it’s not that bad. And sometimes I walk a bit if I get tired.”

“Hm. Impressive.”

Ryoka bit into another potato and eyed the browned onions as Garia turned red. She clearly wasn’t used to praise, but Ryoka was impressed by anyone who could run with that much weight.

“The Runner’s Guild requests are a mix between fast deliveries, safe deliveries, and heavy deliveries, right?”

“That’s right. Most deliveries people want fast over long distance, like the ones you take. But sometimes they want to make sure no one reads their message so that’s important too. But when they need something delivered quickly—well, faster than by cart or wagon and it’s small enough, we get the heavy requests. I take those, most of the time. It’s safe. No one wants to steal raw ore or a few bags of sugar. The most expensive stuff I carry are weapons and spices.”

“Hm.”

Ryoka wondered just how efficient Runners were compared to a wagon. But then, she’d seen the traffic jams that occurred in cities and how muddy the roads could get. Runners might be expensive, but if you needed something now they were your only real option.

As Ryoka lifted her fork to her mouth she glanced up and saw a man staring at her across the room. He immediately glanced back down at his plate as their eyes met, but he was far from the only one. Several other men and women of various ages glanced away or in a few cases, met Ryoka’s gaze as she looked around the room. Even the barmaids eyed her surreptitiously as they delivered another plate of food for Garia.

Ryoka scowled. Garia noticed the other runner’s expression and realized what was making Ryoka unhappy.

“They’re just interested, Ryoka. There’s no need to look like that.”

“If they’re so interested they can come over and talk or they can bugger off.”

Garia blinked. Sometimes Ryoka used the strangest expressions when she talked, but Garia could usually understand what she meant. The glare Ryoka leveled at her watchers was unmistakable, though. Garia tried to sound reasonable.

“Well, can you blame them? I mean, you are the only Runner to survive the High Passes for years – and without a scratch at that! And when you fell out of the sky—”

“Don’t remind me.”

Ryoka scowled down at her plate and tried not to remember. Her back still ached, even though the healing potions had done their work. At least she hadn’t broken anything again, or landed on her head.

“Damn elfish mage bastard.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Anyways, I didn’t get out unscathed. I got torn up on the way in and I needed serious healing or I would have died.”

“Oh, so you found a healing potion? Ceria was so worried when she realized she’d given you the mana potions.”

“…Something like that. And it’s odd. I could have sworn she gave me healing potions too.”

“She’s really, really sorry, you know.”

“I know. Anyways, it’s both our fault for not double-checking.”

Ryoka scowled at her half-finished plate. Garia fidgeted, clearly wanting to clear Ceria’s name

“She said she tried to contact you several times. Didn’t you um, notice?”

Ryoka glared harder at her innocent plate. She tried not to let her voice get too defensive, but it was hard.

“How was I supposed to know I was supposed to touch those damn fireflies to speak with her? I thought I was being hexed or something.”

“Oh, no. That’s the way students at Wistram Academy communicate, apparently. Ceria doesn’t know other spells so…”

“I get it. I’m not mad at her. Anyways, I survived. It all worked out.”

Except of course that she had more problems than she’d started out with. Ryoka could still feel Teriarch’s words burning in the back of her mind. But she could ignore them, so long as she reminded herself she still needed to prepare. The strange potion he’d given her was locked in Ryoka’s chest upstairs.

“Come to that, where is Ceria? I haven’t seen her. I’d have assumed she’d be right here along with Gerial and Calruz.”

Garia shook her head.

“They’re all out of the city. Calruz came by and gathered all the members. Apparently they’re going to Esthelm to prepare to enter the ruins in Liscor.”

“Oh.”

Ryoka’s expression didn’t alter noticeably, but she swore internally. She raised her mug to her lips, opened her mouth to ask another question, and this time swore externally.

“Damnit.”

Fals walked across the inn, flashing a smile at one of the barmaids and clasping hands with someone he recognized. He stopped at Ryoka’s table and hesitated. There were three chairs, but Ryoka’s foot had magically appeared in the third seat.

“Ryoka, how are you? I was hoping I could talk to you!”

“Were you?”

Ryoka stared as Fals dragged up another chair and sat next to Garia, who blushed and edged away from him. She wasn’t quite glaring – mainly because Garia was kicking her none-too-gently in the shins and trying to get her to play nice. She didn’t feel like playing nice.

“I just wanted to congratulate you on your delivery. Everyone in the city’s talking about it.”

“Good for them.”

Garia glared, and Ryoka toned down the rampant hostility in her voice. Fals cleared his throat, looking abashed.

“Look, I’m ah, sorry about earlier. We didn’t part on the best of terms, did we?”

Ryoka stared. Fals hesitated, and then went on.

“The Guild—and I—would like to apologize. Clearly, you’re a great Runner and we’d hate to lose you. We’ll talk to Magnolia, and if you’d like to take on more requests we’ll be happy to let you take any one you want.”

Mentally, Ryoka translated his statement. Since she’d won and she didn’t need the Guild, they’d decided to take her back. Well, she could live with that. And so would the Guild.

She didn’t respond, though. Instead, Ryoka slowly and deliberately took a big bite of potato and chewed slowly as she stared down Fals. It was awkward as hell, but she enjoyed his discomfort.

Fals cleared his throat and glanced at Garia, but the other girl was trying not to make eye contact with him and wolfing down her food.

“So, um, how were the High Passes? Did you see a lot of monsters or were you able to outrun them?”

“Saw a lot of monsters. Nasty ones.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“…Any interesting ones?”

Ryoka shrugged.

“Gargoyles, birds with teeth, killer goats, and wolf packs. You’d love it there.”

“Ah. Well—well done on avoiding them. What about the client? I take it you got the request from him in person, right? What was he like? Or is it a she?”

Garia looked up, curious. Ryoka glanced around. She felt like several nearby patrons on each table were listening. She nodded to herself and then looked at Fals.

“Confidential.”

“Ah.”

The conversation stalled. Well, it hadn’t really been going that well in the first place and Ryoka bluntly shot down all of Fal’s attempts to ask about the High Passes or her delivery. At last, he leaned forwards and gave Ryoka his most charming smile.

“I know you’re still recuperating, but I’d love to go on a delivery with you sometime. Maybe you, me, and Garia could do a request?”

“Maybe.”

That was Ryoka’s way of saying no, and all three Runners knew it. Fals didn’t falter though.

“Is there um, anything I can do for you? I know you’re probably still mad, but I’d love to make it up to you. Would you say, let me buy you a few drinks?”

Ryoka thought about this while Garia tried to signal her to say ‘yes’ covertly. She nodded at last.

“There is something you can do.”

Fals smiled in relief.

“Really? Well then, what is it?”

Ryoka nodded.

“You can clear out. I’m talking to Garia.”

He blinked at her while Garia groaned audibly. Fals tried to smile it off, but Ryoka’s expression was deadpan. After a few seconds he stood up awkwardly.

“Well, ah, I’ll be going. It was nice talking to you, Ryoka. And I’ll see you around, Garia.”

He walked around the table and paused for only a second by Ryoka. She heard him whisper just loud enough so she could hear it.

“Watch yourself. Persua left the Guild with her group this morning. She’ll probably try something.”

She glanced up. Fals gave her a Gallic shrug and walked off. Ryoka shook her head in disgust, and then received a sharp kick to her shin. She glanced up.

“You didn’t have to be so rude.”

Garia hissed at Ryoka, her normally amicable face clouded over by a frown. She looked at Fals as the Runner left the inn, disappointed. Then she turned back to Ryoka.

“He was trying to say sorry, Ryoka. Why’d you chase him off?”

“I’m not going to ruin my dinner listening to forced apologies and have him try to find out what I’m delivering. You know that’s what he was here to do.”

Garia hesitated.

“Not—necessarily. He uh—why don’t you like him?”

Ryoka blinked at the sudden change in topic.

“He’s annoying. I hate charmers, and he’s not even that charming to begin with. Whose side is he on, anyways?”

“No one’s. He’s trying to keep the Guild together, Ryoka.”

“By stepping on anyone who gets out of line? Good method. He didn’t stop Persua and her cronies from attacking me—and he’s not going to do it again by the sounds of it.”

“He would if you let him stick around. Fals can’t do anything to Persua except talk to her, but he’s trying to help. He likes you.”

Ryoka raised her eyebrows. She hadn’t expected that. Nor did she quite believe it.

“Good for him, but I don’t need help.”

“Not even with Persua?”

Garia saw Ryoka’s hand tighten on her fork, almost crushing the cheap pot metal.

“Not even with her. I’ll deal with Persua, now that I know what she’s like.”

Garia was doubtful.

“She’s like a dog, Ryoka. Even if you hurt her, she’ll keep coming back. And if you do get her mad, she gets vicious.”

“Oh, she’s like a dog. A female one. And you know what? I’m tired of her shit. If she tries anything again I’ll put her down.”

Ryoka was about to go on, but Garia started frantically signaling her to stop. Ryoka didn’t stop, though. She’d already seen the multiple reflections in her mug, but some things needed saying.

“She’s annoying, stupid, craven, and she doesn’t know how to run. I still owe her a broken leg. If she thinks she can try something else—”

“Hi Persua!”

Ryoka looked up. Persua stood in front of the table, smiling in a not-so-friendly way down at the two Runners. She had her usual group of cronies at her back, and Ryoka spotted a bigger guy behind them.

“Ryoka, Garia! I’m so glad you’re okay! I almost didn’t spot you, but then I saw Garia—she’s impossible to miss even in this crowd—and I decided to say hi!”

Garia turned bright red and looked down at her stack of plates while Ryoka looked up and met Persua’s eyes. A spark of hatred wouldn’t be enough to describe the look that flashed between the two.

Mean girls. Ryoka remembered them from school. Persua was a perfect representation of the school social climber who would tear down anyone she didn’t like.

And like the other girls Ryoka had clashed with, Persua didn’t need an invitation to keep talking. Her eyes flicked to Garia and then back to Ryoka.

“So sorry to interrupt your conversation. Were you talking about me by any chance?”

Garia flinched, but Ryoka’s expression didn’t change. She nodded, and raised her mug to Persua and smiled a tiny bit.

“Yeah, sorry, I just called you a bitch.”

Persua’s smile vanished in a heartbeat. Garia’s mouth opened in an ‘o’ of horror as she stared at Ryoka.

“That’s not very nice. I’d hate to think you were talking behind my back, Ryoka.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll do it to your face. I’m busy, Persua. Go somewhere else.”

“What if I want to stay? I’ve a right to sit in this inn, same as you.”

“Find another table. But if I were you, I’d get out.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

Persua hesitated. She probably hadn’t expected Ryoka to confront her this quickly, but Ryoka knew how the conversation would have gone regardless. She nodded at Persua and her group.

“You lot gonna piss off or do I have to make you leave?”

If Garia could have edged any further back from her table she’d be sitting at the one behind her. For a second Persua and her friends hesitated. They might be Runners and outnumber the two by a good margin, but Ryoka had a certain edge about her. But then someone shoved his way through the group and stood next to Persua.

Ryoka looked up past Persua, and into a solid face. Solid, or ugly, if you wanted to be unkind. The adventurer scowled down at Ryoka and leaned forwards over the table.

“I’d watch your mouth if I were you, Runner. You should show more respect to your seniors and betters.”

Of course. Ryoka stared into murky green eyes and cursed herself for not remembering. Another trick mean girls liked to use when they couldn’t solve things with words and nasty tricks. Run to the biggest boy in the room.

“I don’t know who you are, but you’re in my face. Go away, and take Persua and her crew with you.”

The adventurer blinked. He was doing the classic male trick of crowding Ryoka and it wasn’t working. She wasn’t even leaning back and they were nearly nose to nose.

“This is Arnel. He’s a Bronze-ranked adventurer in Celum.”

Persua smiled from behind the adventurer. She patted Arnel on the shoulder and he straightened and smiled back at her. She made a face when he turned back to glare at Ryoka. It was almost sad to see how obvious her contempt for him was, and how much Arnel was being played. Almost. Ryoka had little sympathy for any guy playing the bully part.

Arnel leaned forwards again, this time towards Garia who shrank back. He glared at Ryoka who stared back at him until he blinked.

“I think you should be a little more respectful for Miss Persua. An apology would be a good start, and I’d insist on it.”

“Or what?”

Garia kicked Ryoka again, hard.

“Or what?”

Arnel looked back at Persua, who laughed shrilly. He smiled hostilely at Ryoka.

“I guess then I’d have to teach you a lesson in manners, Runner.”

“Really? That would be amusing to watch.”

The adventurer’s face went blank for a moment. Again, this wasn’t going according to how his brain had plotted the conversation out. But Persua stepped in to help him. She glared down at Ryoka.

“Arnel’s an adventurer. He’s fought monsters, and slain countless Goblins. You don’t have that oaf of a Minotaur and that freak half-Elf to protect you now, Ryoka.”

“Who says I need backup?”

This was too much for the impressionable Arnel. He was aware some of the other inn goers were snickering at him, and even the fat innkeeper was working up the nerve to order him to take the fight outside. He snarled and pushed Ryoka roughly in her seat.

“Look you idiot. I’m giving you only one warning—”

Ryoka stood up. She was actually taller than Arnel, and when she pushed back her chair, the inn went silent. She still had her mug in her hands. Arnel was trying to come up with a good threat, but Persua backed away as Ryoka raised her mug to her lips.

She took a sip of her drink – mainly just for show – and then tossed the rest of her mug’s contents in the adventurer’s face. He blinked as watery ale ran down his face. Garia’s face was a waxwork. Persua smiled evilly.

The adventurer was still shifting from shock to outrage when Ryoka decked him with a spinning backhand. He crashed to the ground and she tossed the mug at Persua. Not hard – well, okay, hard enough that the other girl had to duck before the container broke her nose, but not hard as Ryoka could have tossed it. The cheap pottery shattered to bits and Ryoka waited for Arnel to stand back up.

“You craven whore!”

He shouted as he rushed at her. Ryoka waited patiently as he came at her. She’d already moved far enough away from the table and cleared the chair from behind her.

The adventurer rushed at her, over a hundred—maybe two hundred pounds of angry guy. Ryoka shifted her weight and timed her strike. When the adventurer was only a few feet away she moved.

Ryoka balanced on one leg while her other extended. She didn’t quite kick—it was more like a push. A powerful push that broke the adventurer’s charge and sent him stumbling back.

He came back, of course. They always did. But by that point Ryoka had the room, leverage, and timing to set up her roundhouse. It came up and across his chest, making a dull thudding sound as it struck him.

The adventurer gasped, lost the air in his lungs and stumbled back. But he didn’t fall down.

Ryoka tried not to wince. She’d hit him hard, but he was wearing something hard underneath his clothing. Chain mail? It felt like she’d kicked that.

Quickly, before he could move she snap-kicked him in the chest. It wasn’t a Muay Thai move – but she didn’t have enough room for anything else.

This time Arnel fell down, but he got up at once. Ryoka grimaced and hopped back as he swung at her. She threw a punch, but he caught it and lashed out at her face.

Ryoka caught his fist on an arm and felt the heavy blow. Damn. This wasn’t good. Now Arnel was really mad, and he was swinging wildly at her. She dodged and weaved backwards, but she had little room to maneuver. Plus, Ryoka was on the wrong foot mentally.

She wasn’t used to people getting up after she hit them.

Dodge, dodge—Ryoka threw a counter and hit him squarely on the jaw. But he was tough, and when he struck back he finally landed a blow.

Ryoka felt the impact on her head and twisted her neck, but it still hurt. She backed up, and the adventurer came at her. She tried to keep him back with punches, but he was more than willing to trade hits.

He kept rushing her, and the tables and chairs made it nearly impossible for Ryoka to weave and dodge like she’d been taught. She instead raised her hands up around her head, forming a guard on both sides of her head. It was a traditional Muay Thai guard, but the problem was the adventurer wasn’t trying to hit or kick her that much.

He was a guy, and she had the definite sense he didn’t want to hit her so much as take her down. He kept trying to go for the bear hug. She let him get close, but grabbed his shoulders and swept his feet out as he lunged.

Again he went down. Ryoka wanted to stomp on his face or kick him in the nuts or both—but something flew at her head. She struck the mug down with one hand and glanced up. Persua glared and threw another glass which missed Ryoka by miles.

Her moment of inattention cost Ryoka. Arnel surged upwards and she was too slow to get away. He seized her left and began punching at Ryoka. She hammered at his face, but he wouldn’t let go.

He was strong. She couldn’t break free just by pulling, not that she had any intention to. Arnel hit Ryoka twice in the side of the face—not hard because he couldn’t get a good angle. She’d bloodied his nose and got him twice on the face, but he now pulled back for a big punch.

There was no way to get away. Ryoka got ready. She’d take the punch and then hit him with a knee. Hopefully she wouldn’t kill him or break anything too vital, but enough was enough.

She braced herself for a hit to her ribs. Arnel swung—

And Garia grabbed his hand.

All of the man’s momentum carried him forwards, but Garia was a tree that he crashed into. He fought to get her to let go, but Garia had hold of his hand with her own and her grip was like steel.

It was a three way tug-of-war with Arnel holding Ryoka and Garia holding him. Not for long, though. The instant his attention shifted to Garia, Ryoka acted. She clocked the man with a downwards elbow so fast he’d let go and she was away before he could blink.

“Calm down! Everyone calm down!”

At last Ryoka could hear what Garia was saying over the roaring of blood in her ears. Arnel was still cursing at her, tugging at Garia’s arm and Persua was shouting for her friends to help him. But the other Runners didn’t want to get close, especially once they saw how Garia was effortlessly holding the bigger man back.

“Let go, damn you!”

“Come on, we can work this out—”

Ryoka tried to move to block, but Arnel’s fist caught Garia on the mouth even as she was talking. The bigger girl stumbled and he wrenched his hand free. Triumphantly, Arnel turned on Ryoka and raised his fists.

Garia stumbled, put her hand to her face, and looked up at the other man as Ryoka danced back. Her eyes burned, and she stood up. Garia made a clumsy fist, and then moved forwards.

Ryoka was playing tag with her fist, and Arnel’s face was it. He still wasn’t going down or even slowing, but then a planet interposed itself between her and the adventurer. Garia. Arnel raised his hands for a hammer blow, but too late. Slow as she was, the other Runner was in the way. And then it happened.

Garia threw a punch.

It was slow. Ryoka saw the other girl telegraph the motion, and she had terrible form. But when she hit the adventurer he made a sound. Or rather his body made a sound.

Wumph.

Ryoka had never seen someone’s feet leave the floor from a punch. Arnel levitated for a second, and then touched the ground as Garia’s fist let him down back to earth. He folded up and down like a sack of potatoes.

He was out. Completely out, without even a chance to object. Ryoka blinked down at the adventurer and saw the chain mail had deformed around Garia’s punch. The other girl rubbed at her hand and shook her head as the noise died down.

Once Arnel fell, the other Runners realized it was time to go. Persua had slipped out the door before the fight had even ended. Her minions made to follow suit, but Ryoka caught one of them and threw him into a table. She managed to punch another girl hard enough to bruise her cheek, and then they were gone.

----

The aftermath of a tavern brawl was never fun, especially when you had an innkeeper screaming at you. But Arnel had money – barely enough to cover the costs – and Ryoka wasn’t about to pay for something she hadn’t started. Well, she had started it, but she still wasn’t going to pay.

The upshot of it was that Garia and Ryoka were kicked out of the inn, at least for the rest of dinner. They walked down the street, Garia talking excitedly to Ryoka.

“You were amazing! He barely touched you the entire time!”

“Eh. I should have knocked him out in the first few moments. He was tougher than I thought. Got me a few times.”

Gingerly, Ryoka touched at her cheek and arms. Bruises. Not too deep, but annoying. She deserved them, though, for being so sloppy.

“But the way you moved! He was an adventurer, and you treated him like some kind of Level 1 [Thug]! How’d you do it?”

“Oh, it’s just martial arts. A bit of Muay Thai and other styles.”

Ryoka glanced at Garia’s blank face and elaborated.

“It’s a way to fight unarmed. You learn how to kick, punch, throw, etc. properly.”

“Really? This Muy—muy tai thing is good? Is it a Skill?”

Ryoka wanted to groan or roll her eyes.

“Not a skill. It’s something you learn, not a class or anything. I learned it when I was a kid. You could learn it too.”

“Really? Well, I mean, I’d love to know how to move like that. You were amazing back there! You’re practically good as an adventurer yourself!”

Ryoka laughed shortly.

“He wasn’t that great. And martial arts don’t work on monsters. Believe me, I figured that out the hard way.”

“Still, I couldn’t believe it. When you threw the mug in his face I thought we’d have to run for sure. But you took him down!”

Ryoka stopped. She eyed Garia and shook her head with a frown.

“You took him down. With one punch.”

“Yeah, but…”

Garia blushed and shook her head.

“I was just angry. You hit him way more than I did.”

This time it was Ryoka’s turn to object.

“Don’t sell yourself short. That last punch was serious business. I hit that guy several times and he didn’t fall down, but you went right through his chainmail shirt. You’re far stronger than both of us. That last punch you threw was harder than my kick.”

“Well, you know…I carry a lot of heavy things…”

Ryoka realized Garia was turning red, and not because she was happy. The barefoot girl stopped in the nearly empty street and eyed Garia.

“What’s wrong? It was a great punch. Your form was terrible, but being strong’s not a problem.”

“It’s just—it’s just a bit embarrassing, that’s all. You know?”

“No. Explain it to me.”

Garia clearly didn’t want to, but Ryoka wouldn’t let her off the hook. She sighed.

“I’m a [Runner]. And—I know I’m bigger than most girls. I just don’t like talking about my size.”

“You’re fine.”

“I’m glad you think so but—it’s because of my class. And the way I eat, but my class is part of it. That’s why I’m so strong, too, but it’s embarrassing.”

“Why?”

There was no getting out of it. Garia looked around, but there was no one around to hear her. Even so, she lowered her voice.

“Um, I was a [Farm Worker] before I became a [Runner]. I got to Level 14 before I changed classes. That’s why I’m so…so…”

She blushed deeply red. Ryoka looked blankly at Garia.

“So strong? What’s the problem.”

“I’m big, Ryoka! I don’t want to be, but [Farm Workers] bulk up and it’s impossible to lose weight! I don’t want to be big. I want to be small and light like you and—”

Garia looked like she was about to cry. Her face was red and she was starting to stammer. After a moment Ryoka patted her on the shoulder.

“I’m not light. Well, I am in shape but so are you. What’s wrong with being that strong? Anyways a [Farm Worker] doesn’t sound like that bad a job—class. Why do you care?”

Garia shook her head despairingly. She didn’t know how to explain it.

“It’s not a great class. Or a job, really. Even [Farmers] get more respect since they actually know how to till the land and take care of it properly. I just helped out with the plowing, lifting, and so on. But when I used to tell people what class I was they’d laugh—or they’d figure it out because of how I looked.”

Ryoka didn’t get it. She really didn’t, but it sounded like there was some elitism amongst classes. Class warfare in the literal sense? But she understood the general problem.

“People are bastards no matter what world you’re in. Look, forget about it. That class helped you out if you’re that strong without needing any training, right?”

Garia nodded and sniffed.

“It was helpful. Even if no one likes the class, we get some useful skills. [Lesser Strength] is the first skill most warriors get, but [Farm Workers] get it too. Um, I got that on my second level up. But then there’s [Enhanced Strength] which is what I have, and I’ve heard if you reach really high levels, some people get [Greater Strength].”

“And that’s rare?”

“I’ve never seen anyone with it. But yeah, [Enhanced Strength] only comes to warrior classes around Level 30. The fact that I got it so early on means I’m a lot stronger than normal. I barely feel thirty kilograms of weight.”

“Whoa.”

That was impressive. Ryoka had always guessed Garia was strong, but this afternoon had confirmed it for her. She paused, and thought before asking another question.

“If this skill is so good, why doesn’t everyone become a [Farm Worker] for a while before becoming an adventurer? That seems like the smartest move.”

Garia looked surprised.

“Why would they do that? No one wants to work on a farm. It’s boring and tiring, Ryoka.”

“But for the Skill—”

“You don’t know you’ll get it right away. I just got lucky. Okay, a lot of workers like me get at least [Lesser Strength] quickly, but it depends. Anyways, I worked on my father’s farm until I was eighteen and I only hit Level 14 even though I worked every day from dawn till dusk. It’s not worth it.”

“Ah.”

It sounded—well, it sounded like there was some inefficiency in the way people thought about skills. Ryoka didn’t play many video games, but if she could get this [Enhanced Strength] from working on a farm as a kid, she’d do that. But then again—18 years was a long time it was true.

It was a moot point anyways since Ryoka didn’t intend to level, even if she was jealous of Garia’s strength. But the other girl was clearly embarrassed by her body and her class, so Ryoka let the topic drop.

“At least Persua got taught a lesson, although I missed my chance to break her arm. I’ll have to do it next time I see her.”

Garia winced. She knew Ryoka wasn’t kidding.

“Please don’t. If you do she’ll try something worse.”

“Worse than getting an adventurer to beat the crap out of me? I think I’ll take my chances.”

Ryoka shook her head. She’d have to do something about that girl. Killing her was tempting, but she probably couldn’t get away with it.

“Never mind. I appreciate the help. But I’ve got bigger fish to fry.”

“You’re hungry? I know a good place to eat if you want—”

“I mean, I’ve got stuff to do. Look, you said Ceria’s at Esthelm, right? Where’s that?”

Garia scratched her head as she tried to remember.

“Near the road that goes to Liscor. It’s down south, about sixty miles away?”

Ryoka nodded. She could do that in a single night. She eyed the rooftops surreptitiously and looked around. Casually, she raised her voice as she talked to Garia.

“I’ll sleep here for the night. Then I might go and head on down. If you want to learn how to fight properly, visit me there.”

“Maybe. I’m not sure what I’ll be doing—or if I want to fight. I don’t like violence.”

Ryoka clapped Garia on the shoulder.

“It’s your choice. But with a punch like that, it would be a shame not to learn how to hit the right way. I’ll teach you next time we meet, how about that?”

It was the first time Garia had ever seen Ryoka being pushy about—anything, really. She agreed she might give it a shot and watched as the barefoot girl jogged back to her inn for the night.

“Martial arts?”

Garia stared down at her fist. It was still callused from her days of long work out in the sun. She made a fist experimentally. It felt clumsy. But Ryoka had been impressed. That was rare enough.

“But all the way to Esthelm. That’s a far…”

But she didn’t have anything else she was committed to doing, and there was always work for someone willing to haul heavy goods long distance. More to the point, it might be better for Garia to skip town as well.

The Runner girl thought about what Persua’s reaction to the day’s events would be. Not to mention the local Adventurer’s Guild. They would not be happy to learn one of their own had been beaten by a civilian, let alone a Runner. Garia shuddered, and thought that maybe she would take a few long distance requests this week. Probably towards Esthelm, but at the very least away from Celum.

She began to slowly jog off back to her own inn. From a rooftop, the [Assassin] watched Garia go. She wasn’t important, but any friend of Ryoka needed to be reported to Magnolia. It was just as well the girl had ended the fight before he’d needed to step in.

Silently, the nondescript man followed Ryoka stealthily back to her inn. It would ordinarily have been a chore protecting the girl from the inevitable reprisal from both Runner and Adventurer’s Guild, but tonight was an exception. All he had to do was wait. Someone else had an appointment with Ryoka Griffin, whether the girl liked it or not.

----

Ryoka retired to her room early, and slept for about one hour. Well, slept was a strong word. She napped lightly, waking up when her iPhone quietly set off its alarm.

Having an iPhone was incredibly convenient. She just wished she could cast the [Repair] spell rather than needing a mage to do it. Just another reason to visit Ceria.

It was fully night as Ryoka got dressed. She moved around her room quietly, gathering items while her ears strained for the faintest noise.

Nothing. Well, she hadn’t expected to hear anything. She just hoped her closed curtains were enough to conceal her movements.

Ryoka’s eyes flicked to the window. In Celum – in every city in this world really, the night truly was dark. There were no neon lights or passing cars to provide illumination. And while some lamps and torches provided light on the street, the rooftops and many streets had only the faint moonlight to light the way.

Perfect.

Ryoka didn’t have much. Just some clothes, some money, her iPhone and books. And she’d sold the books she’d already read, so all of her possessions fit neatly into her Runner’s pack. She left a few coins on the table, and opened the window silently.

----

The [Assassin] who was reluctantly known as Theofore stood on the inn’s rooftop and tried to keep his senses alert. It was hard, though. He was dressed in nondescript dark clothing, but it wasn’t quite enough to keep the night’s breeze from chilling him. Winter would soon be upon the land, and when that happened stakeouts such as these would become direly painful without heating crystals or expensive magics.

But this was the job and he was a professional. Not a high-level one, but he was still competent enough to be assigned to Lady Magnolia on request. That was also because the Guild really didn’t want to waste a higher-level member on a trivial assignment, but this Ryoka Griffin had proven to be quite a challenge to keep track of. The High Passes incident had been disastrous. But at least she was asleep—

A movement below made Theofore jerk up. He heard a window slide open, and then a lithe figure swung herself up onto the roof. There was nowhere to run, and so Ryoka saw Theofore crouched silently in place over her room.

For a moment both figures stared at each other across the short distance. Then Ryoka got to her feet.

Theofore leapt up, hands going to his knives but of course he couldn’t attack. He had to keep her in the inn, though, which meant hand-to-hand combat. Again, he was trained in this area as well, but Ryoka Griffin was far stronger than the average Bronze-rank adventurer.

Ryoka stepped forwards on the roof and Theofore leaned back just in time to avoid the quick jab she aimed at his face. He struck out at her with his one unarmed combat skill – [Nerve Strike: Paralysis], but she swatted his hand down.

Damnation. This was bad. The inn’s roof was on a slant which made dodging and fighting twice as hard, even for an [Assassin]. If Theofore had the [Sure Footing] skill things might have been different but—

Ryoka lashed out with an overhead chop. It was completely easy to block, but that was the point. As the [Assassin]’s arm went up, Ryoka stepped forward and kicked.

He’d seen her fight, but he still wasn’t prepared for the low kick that smashed into his right leg, just above his knee. Theofore staggered. It felt as if an axe had struck his leg, numbing it with pain. He danced backwards, trying not to show any trace of agony on his face.

But Ryoka didn’t advance instead, she hefted her backpack and turned. Theofore cursed and dashed forwards, but she was already running. Ryoka’s bare feet kicked off as she ran along the slanted rooftop. She reached the edge and leapt.

In the darkness of the night, a lone figure hurtled over the rooftop and landed with a heavy thump on another rooftop. She ran, vaulted over a chimney with both hands and started leaping across buildings in a style known in her world as Parkour.

To Theofore, it looked hauntingly similar to the movements of higher level [Assassins]. He gave chase, cursing as his injured leg slowed him down. Ryoka was already gaining speed. He could not lose her.

She knew he was following her. Her head turned back for a moment as she saw him dashing across the roofs after her. Theofore couldn’t see in the darkness, but he thought she smiled for a moment.

Ryoka turned her head forwards and increased her speed. One hand came up and a finger rose in an unmistakable gesture.

Theofore growled and ran faster, ignoring his damaged limb. He wouldn’t lose her. He was a professional, and he’d been trained to outrun even [Runners] if necessary.

The two raced from rooftop to rooftop, vaulting, rolling, and jumping, probably giving the inhabitants within a start as they pounded across the uneven terrain. Ryoka was ahead of Theofore by a few houses, but he would catch her soon enough. He was an [Assassin], and she was just a [Runner].

He would catch her. [Assassins] were known for their ability to follow their targets on high-speed chases. They were known for their mastery of climbing and swift movement on rooftops. They were known for—

Ryoka leapt onto another roof and slid down the roof tiles, knocking them out of place. She kicked off the rooftop, flipped over and rolled as she struck the street cobblestones below. Theofore gaped as Ryoka rolled back onto her feet and kept running without even pausing. In seconds, she was out of sight.

He paused on the rooftop. Even if he’d known what she would do, he would have wasted valuable seconds finding a handhold and swinging down. He definitely would not have tried jumping all the way down like she did. Was it a Skill? Or—

It didn’t matter. She was on the ground, and Theofore knew he wouldn’t catch her now. He knew where she was going, which was a small mercy.

But Theofore knew Lady Magnolia would not be happy with his failure. Slowly, reluctantly he began moving back to the inn where Ryoka had been staying. He would have to report. There would be repercussions, and they would fall on his head. He would most likely be reassigned or a senior member of the Guild would be sent. But that was only the Guild. More importantly, Lady Magnolia would not be happy.

She wouldn’t be happy at all.

----

Lady Magnolia was a happy woman almost all of the time. She was deliberately happy, and good natured because people liked a happy person. It lowered their guards, and besides, she found happiness more preferable to suspicion or pessimism anyways.

And in this case, Magnolia was happy because she was finally able to reach a confrontation. True, it wasn’t on her terms, but you couldn’t win every battle. Ryoka had managed to avoid coming to her for quite some time, so Magnolia would go to her.

It was a poor bargaining position, to be the seeking party rather than the one holding all the cards, but sometimes it was necessary to be proactive. And in this case, Magnolia had decided to up the ante.

Happiness was good, as was being kind and generous. Generosity opened many doors that threats would not. And generosity and the implicit but unstated threat opened even more doors, in Magnolia’s experience.

Case in point. Magnolia was visiting an inn, a lowly establishment not suited to a woman of her rank and station. Personally, she would have enjoyed visiting an inn if it weren’t unseemly, but in this case her visit was purely business. And here generosity had done its work well. A kind suggestion or two and a few gold coins and the innkeeper had cleared out the inn for her.

It was late, and no doubt the occupants were unhappy to be roused and sent out. But some money and a meal courtesy of Lady Magnolia and most ills would be soothed.

A manservant opened the carriage door as Magnolia let Ressa help her out. A light rain had begun to fall over the city, so a cloth umbrella enchanted with the best [Water Resistance] spells was immediately placed over Magnolia’s head.

Her maids and a few other men and women she’d discreetly hired had spread out around the inn, and ‘discouraged’ several Runners and a few adventurers who’d been lurking around the back door.

Ressa accompanied Lady Magnolia to the second floor. The other [Assassins] and [Maids] remained below, awaiting Magnolia’s orders. She had no fear. Her Head Maid was enough of an escort even if Ryoka should prove belligerent, and of course a [Lady] had her own means of defense.

But Magnolia did not anticipate much trouble. Or rather, she expected she could handle whatever trouble emerged with her own Skills. She stopped in front of Ryoka’s door and knocked.

No response. Magnolia exchanged a glance with Ressa and she tried again, more loudly.

Again, there was no response. Magnolia frowned. She would have expected Ryoka to notice the inn’s occupants being roused, but ah, perhaps the girl was being stubborn. Very well.

Lady Magnolia raised her voice.

“Good evening Miss Griffin. May I come in?”

There was no response.

Strange. Lady Magnolia knew that should have worked. She raised her voice.

“Ryoka, my dear? Hello? Is anyone there?”

Dead silence. Lady Magnolia frowned.

“…Hello?”

1.34

Erin sat with Rags and stared at a mage in her inn. Scattered around the trio was a mess of empty dishes, remnants of a large breakfast.

Ryoka sat in a small room in the Adventurer’s Guild in Esthelm and waited as the half-Elven mage got ready in front of her.

They were separated by many miles in distance, but the two young women had both asked the same question. One had woken up and bribed her mage with food and invited a Goblin to learn. The other had run through the night and arrived tired and sweaty to knock on the other mage’s door and ask to be taught.

The mages were different as well. One was a partly-human girl who appeared only slightly older than Ryoka, but whose appearance hinted at something timeless, and whose beauty attracted the eye. But these were only hints, and her beauty was as much due to her heritage as her physical appearance. Yet for all that, she was a rare sight in any nation; a half-Elven mage named Ceria.

The other mage was Pisces. His gray and dirty robes were as always stained by grass, weather, and the dark places where he roamed. He still had spilled egg on one sleeve of his robes.

Different mages, different seekers, and different locations. But the questions asked and answered were mostly the same. Because the nature of the questions revolved around magic, and both mages had studied together, once.

----

At last, Pisces finished the bit of toasted bread and cheese and flicked the last crumbs onto the floor. Erin glared, but he was as always unimpressed by her ire. He sighed, and then looked at Erin and the Goblin sitting next to her.

“If we are to do this, must we include the Goblin?”

Erin’s glare transitioned into a scowl.

“Her name is Rags.”

Pisces raised his eyebrows.

“That is the name you gave her, certainly. Her Goblin name may be unpronounceable to you and I, but I suspect she objects to your pet name as much as I do.”

“It’s better than calling her ‘Goblin’. Besides, she doesn’t mind it. Right, Rags?”

Erin glanced sideways quickly. Rags didn’t exactly avoid her gaze as she stared pointedly at Pisces.

“Ahem. Names aside, why is she here? You asked me to teach you magic.”

“Right, and I thought she’d like to learn too.”

Rags nodded. Pisces sighed and rubbed at his face.

“It is just—may I state my objections now? Magic is not a game or a ‘trick’. I took your request seriously in no small way because I believed you had a genuine desire to learn. Well, the Goblin might wish for the same but this is no trivial matter. Will you promise to take this seriously?”

“As serious as pie.”

Erin smiled as Pisces glared at her. Then she yelped as Rags jabbed Erin in the side with one cracked fingernail. The girl glared at the small Goblin. The Goblin glared back.

“Fine, fine. I am taking this seriously, Pisces. And I do want to know. So teach me? Please?”

Pisces hesitated.

----

“Of course I could teach you, Ryoka. And I’d be happy to help – but I have to ask, what brought this on?”

Ceria bustled around the small room she’d rented in the Adventurer’s Guild, hunting for her wand among her strewn-about possessions.

“You ran through the night to get here? And dodged an…[Assassin]? I really can’t believe that one, but you described him perfectly.”

Ryoka perched on the rickety chair and watched as Ceria’s light hazelnut hair caught the sunlight. For all she’d hung out with Ceria before, the half-Elf truly was different in the unearthly feeling she gave off. Ryoka tried not to stare too openly most of the time, but Ceria was too distracted lifting up her mattress and checking under her pillow to notice Ryoka’s scrutiny.

The barefoot girl tried not to yawn as she thought of a response. At least she wasn’t still sweaty. The Adventurer’s Guild might not have showers, but they did have washbasins and a handy well.

“It’s just something that really interests me. And defending myself is part of it, but I just want to learn about magic. It was not…widely practiced where I come from.”

“Fair enough. Just please don’t be disappointed if you don’t start casting [Fireballs] left and right, okay? Most Humans I’ve tried to teach, well, they’re quite impatient. And it’s not as if having a half-Elf teacher makes learning magic any easier.”

“Perish the thought.”

At last Ceria found what she was looking for. She pulled a wand from where it had rolled behind her travel bags. She placed it on the side table next to Ryoka and pulled up a chair so they were facing each other.

“Very well, how should I start? I suppose it would be important to learn how much you know of magic.”

Ryoka spread her hands out wordlessly. Ceria shook her head and smiled.

“That simplifies things. Well then, I guess I’ll tell you what magic is.”

----

Pisces stood up from his chair. Once he’d actually agreed to teach Erin, his demeanor changed. He cleared the floor around him and began pacing back and forth. He spoke like one of Erin’s old high school teachers – the fussy, pedantic ones.

“Magic is an art. It is something only the most gifted and dedicated may aspire to. Those who have true mastery of spellcraft create works of beauty and wonder with each incantation.”

----

Ceria shrugged and touched the tip of her wand gently. It gave off a few violet sparks which faded as they drifted to the floor.

“I don’t know what magic is, exactly. It is a mystery, but I can tell you it is in the air we breathe, in each step we take and the beating of our hearts. It’s an amazing thing, but it is dangerous. Terribly so, and Humans have long overestimated their control of it.”

----

Pisces pointed at Erin and Rags. He met their gazes seriously.

“Never underestimate magic. Never take it lightly. Even in practice, even when you believe you have mastered a spell to its utmost. Unlike wielding a hammer or a sewing needle, magic is quite capable of slaying an incautious practitioner outright.”

----

Ceria sighed. Her eyes unfocused for a moment and she stared through Ryoka.

“Once, everyone used to know magic – or so my grandfather told me. It was as simple as breathing even for children, and all half-Elves learned Tier 2 magic before they’d reached their teenage years. But in Human cities and other nations, students study under older mages or travel to schools like Wistram Academy.”

“True [Mages] are rare. Those accredited by Wistram Academy or similar institutions of magic are even rarer.”

----

Pisces smiled smugly to let both members of his audience know he was rarest of them all. He waved his hand dismissively as he went on.

“[Mages] in general? Pah. Anyone can obtain the class, or variations thereof, but they often stagnate and seldom reach Level 20. Indeed, the lack of centralized education between nations has given rise to lesser variations upon the basic [Mage] class. [Hedge Wizards], [Witch Doctors], [Witches] in general, the dubiously qualified [Spellswords], [Druids]…well I suppose [Druids] are an exception to the rule, and of course let us reserve most of our disdain for the so-called [Sorcerer]…”

At some point Pisces realized he was losing his audience and stopped. Erin was furiously writing down class names while Rags cleared one ear with her pinkie finger. He paused reluctantly.

“Well, even those types of spell casters are unique. Chosen. They are still capable of casting spells, which is more than can be said for a majority of humanity.”

----

Ceria sighed and shook her head sadly.

“Not all Humans have the potential to become [Mages]. It’s a matter of talent as well as your body’s innate magical potential.”

Ryoka’s ears metaphorically perked up at that last statement. She frowned at Ceria.

“‘Not all humans?’ Does that mean that other races have greater or lesser potential to become mages? How about your kind?”

----

Pisces looked disgruntled at Erin’s question. He folded his arms and scowled.

“I assume you mean half-Elves. Yes, their affinity towards spellcasting is far greater than our own. However, a speciesist advantage does not translate into individual ability. Nor does that mean the greatest mages are always nonhuman. In fact, some of the most famous archmages of this era are human. And exceptions are born in races not normally thought to be magically proficient. Minotaurs, for example have barely any potential, but some have achieved 2nd Tier magics.”

Erin tried to imagine Minotaurs, but just came up with those ancient Greek pictures of bull-headed monsters with human bodies. She had a hard time imagining one of those things muttering spells or reading a book.

Pisces scowled and Erin stopped grinning.

“Okay, sure. Not all humans are mages. Some of us are Muggles. Got it?”

“Muggles?”

“Uh—how about Goblins?”

Pisces sniffed.

“I have never heard of any Goblin whose abilities matched that of a proper mage. Their innate capabilities are likely too low to support the strain of spellcasting. Their race as a whole can barely snuff out a candle, let alone magically.”

Both Rags and Erin sat upright in indignation. Erin opened her mouth, but Rags stuck her finger up first.

Since it wasn’t her middle finger, but rather her index both Pisces and Erin stared at it curiously. Rags muttered a few words in her own language and then glared at her fingertip.

Nothing happened. Erin exchanged a glance with Pisces and then a spark of light made her blink. She looked at Rags’ finger and gasped. A tiny flame danced on her fingertip. Erin stared at it, and then at Rags.

“You can do magic?”

Pisces shook his head. He blew and the flame on Rags’ finger went out. She narrowed her eyes but he wasn’t impressed by her magic or her stare.

“Tribal magic. Feh.”

“Wait a second.”

Erin was extremely confused and said so.

“Isn’t that magic? Why’d you call it tribal magic?”

Pisces rubbed at his temple.

“I should really ban questions. Well, to summarize a complex issue, the magic your little friend used is not true magic. Or at least, not the magic practiced by [Mages]. It is an amalgamate of mana drawn from her tribe, such as it is.”

Erin stared blankly at Pisces.

“What?”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Allow me to explain another way. Magic surrounds us. It is in everything, but an individual’s capacity for magic varies. And the same goes for our surroundings. Thus, in a highly magically charged environment spells are naturally easy to cast. In a null zone, a [Mage] must rely solely on his or her own internal magical energy to cast spells.”

“Right. I got that.”

Pisces nodded. He pointed at Rags who leaned out of the way of his finger.

“Goblins on the other hand practice a different form of magic. They draw their mana not only from the environment, but from each other. Thus a single Goblin may use the mana of the entire tribe it is affiliated with to cast spells.”

Erin snapped her fingers and Rags jumped. The Goblin stared suspiciously at Erin’s hand and immediately tried to duplicate the gesture.

“Oh, I get it. You’re crowd-sourcing magic.”

Pisces blinked at Erin, and then decided to ignore her strange comments and Rags’ attempts to learn to snap her own fingers.

“Yes, well, it is a crude thing. But I suppose it is powerful enough in its own way, as it allows even Goblin tribes one or two spellcasters of their own. These ah, ‘shamans’ draw power from the collective. The larger their group is, the more power they wield. Thus, while the Goblins in the area most likely cannot collectively create more than a few sparks, a larger tribe of a thousand souls would create a decently powerful [Shaman]. But it is inefficient.”

Pisces shook his head.

“A thousand people and only one caster? A ridiculous waste.”

“Hey, if it works…”

He sniffed.

“It isn’t proper magic, that’s all. True, these [Shamans] may copy many magic spells, but they are born out of a collective will and lack structure and form. Such spells belong more to the ancient breed of Miracles than to proper Magecraft.”

Erin’s head was beginning to hurt. She raised a hand as if she were in class.

“Wait a minute. Miracles?”

Another sigh. Rags stopped snapping her fingers and sat up to listen.

“An older, extinct form of magic. Well, I say magic but it was ever unclear whether Miracles were magic or…something else. You may think of them as a form of prayer brought into existence. Such as—well, wishing for a friend to be healed. A miracle would close his wounds and restore his essence through such faith.”

Erin blinked. That sounded…that sounded like an actual miracle, straight out of the bible passages she vaguely remembered from her time at church as a kid.

“Hold on, you mean there’s a way to do stuff like walk on water and part the seas? Why doesn’t everyone do that?”

Pisces blinked at Erin and gave her a look she was starting recognize. It was the ‘you really don’t get it?’ look Selys used every so often on her.

“Perhaps because miracles were a function of faith and belief in gods. And the gods no longer exist. Ergo, miracles have likewise ended.”

Erin opened her mouth and then silently closed it to digest what she’d just heard. Pisces went on, oblivious.

“But you are correct. Once upon a time, miracles matched magic in its capacity to warp the world. It was said a [Cleric] in their earliest levels could do what an [Archmage] could not.”

He paused, and closed his eyes. Pisces seemed to recite something from memory.

“‘By faith and faith alone do they warp the bounds of reality. Their desire and belief creates Gods and bridges the gap between impossibility and truth. Though blade and spell may take their lives, their inviolate will shall move this world.’”

He shook his head.

“So much for that. The gods are dead. So too are the ancient ways of faith and miracle.”

Erin didn’t know why, but she felt a bit of a pang in her heart as she heard that. As if something had been lost before she’d even discovered it. She raised her hand again.

“So there aren’t any miracles anymore? I thought there were a few [Healers] in Liscor. What about them?”

“Ah, well. [Healers] are now simply general practitioners of restorative arts, some of whom are able to cast spells. Many rely on potions or even simple bandages rather than miracles. The definition of the class has changed, and accordingly, so have the skills and spells learnt. It was quite a fascinating phenomenon, actually. I studied it in a course back in Wistram—”

Pisces shook his head.

“But I haven’t time to get into the variation in classes over centuries. Where was I? Oh, of course. Magic. Let us not forget what we are here to learn. Very well, I assume you understand a bit of what magic is. Now to test you.”

Pisces raised his hands and suddenly advanced on Rags and Erin. Their chairs scooted back and he stopped, looking peeved.

“It is not a dangerous process. I simply wish to ascertain whether or not either of you can become mages. I will test you in the traditional style. Do not move and I will saturate the area around you with raw mana and allow you to demonstrate your magical ability—or lack thereof.”

----

Ryoka eyed Ceria.

“Will it hurt?”

The half-Elf looked up as she fiddled with her wand.

“Oh, of course not. It’s just a test, that’s all. This is how I was taught as a child. I know Humans do it differently, but it should work for you.”

She raised her wand and the tip of it glowed silvery-white. Ceria smiled to soothe Ryoka’s apprehension.

“Just watch. I’m going to draw a symbol in the air. I want you to look at it and tell me what you see. Don’t worry; there’s no time limit. And if your eyes start to hurt you can look away.”

Slowly, Ceria began to move her wand through the air, leaving a glowing afterimage that hovered and shimmered in Ryoka’s vision. Ceria’s wand moved and flicked, tracing a pattern that looked like a bunch of squiggles and straight lines put together randomly.

But—it wasn’t just a two dimensional pattern. Ryoka blinked and rubbed at her eyes. Somehow, Ceria’s wand had begun tracing the image in three dimensions. And then the image shifted again and the rune—or was it a word?—in the air took on more dimensions than could be captured by a camera.

Ryoka thought she heard the magical word being drawn in the air. Or she felt it. And when Ceria put down her wand, the glowing white symbol burned Ryoka’s vision.

“Just relax. Look at it only as long as you’re comfortable. If you can’t understand it, that’s fine.”

Ceria’s voice came from behind the cloud of shimmering lines. Ryoka opened her eyes and forced herself to focus on the lines.

It was so hard to understand.

----

“I don’t get it.”

Erin complained to Pisces as she held her hands out. The mage grunted. He was holding his hands out, palms towards Erin and Rags. Sweat beaded on his forehead, but nothing seemed to be happening.

“I—am infusing the air around you with my mana. It will allow you to cast spells if you have the potential.”

“But how? You never said?”

A vein stood out on Pisces’ sweaty brow. He grunted.

“Just think of something.”

“Like what?”

“Anything! Whatever you wish! Fire, water, a shiny new pot. Will the magic to obey your command!”

----

“Relax. Don’t stare at it so hard. Let it be.”

Ryoka tried to obey. She really did. But the magical word was like an unsolved problem burning in her mind. She wanted to stare at it, to figure out what it meant, and the harder she stared the more confused her brain became.

It was like a math problem. A hard one, way harder than the AP Calculus class Ryoka had taken back in high school.

Yes—exactly like a math problem. Ryoka blinked. Suddenly, part of the symbol made sense. There were…facets to it that resembled a mathematical equation. Things to be balanced. You couldn’t take magic and use it without repercussions. Cost and exchange.

The Law of Conservation of Energy. Only energy could be destroyed with magic. Yet it was from magic that the cost was taken, and so the law remained more or less intact. But magic was not based in science. What was destroyed could be more or less than what was gained. Magic was. But it obeyed certain rules, like osmosis. It flowed. And it flowed around the world.

Ryoka put her head in her hands and tried to stop thinking. But the word was burning her from the inside out. She was on the cusp of it, and it spoke to her. It was a word. But was there even a name for it in her limited language?

Ceria folded her hands on her lap and smiled slightly as she watched Ryoka.

----

Pisces hissed and his face scrunched up with concentration. He was already reddening, but neither Goblin nor Human was doing anything.

Erin focused. She really did. She tried thinking of a flame like the one Rags had conjured, but she just ended up thinking of lighters and matches. She tried muttering words.

“Expelliarmus. Alohamora. Wingardium Leviosa. Wingardium leviosa.”

“What are you muttering?”

“Nothing.”

It wasn’t working. Erin couldn’t feel anything, except a mild ache in her arms from holding them up for so long. She gritted her teeth. She could do this. She closed her eyes and pushed—

A flame burst upwards and evaporated into a cloud of smoke. Erin gasped and grinned in relief and triumph—

Rags blinked at her finger and then pointed again. Pisces yelped as a flare of fire burst from her fingertip and twisted towards him. It evaporated into smoke before it reached his robes and set him off into a coughing fit.

“Oh. More tribal magic?”

The mage shook his head and coughed, waving away the smoke. But he didn’t seem angry. Instead, he stared at Rags for a few seconds before replying very slowly.

“That was no tribal magic. That was the very beginning of the [Firefly] spell.”

“Really?”

Encouraged, Erin stretched her fingers out and tried as hard as she could to do the same thing. But Pisces wasn’t staring at her. His attention was fixed on the proud Goblin. He put one hand on his chin and started muttering to himself.

“Goblins cannot learn magic in the traditional sense. It is impossible. Surely if they had the potential it would have been discovered, analyzed in centuries hence. The potential ramifications—or is it simple freak divergence? Ancestry?”

He whirled and pointed at Rags, who leaned back.

“You. Goblin child. Was your mother non-Goblin? Or…your father?”

It shook its head.

“What would that matter?”

Erin snapped at Pisces. He jumped and she glared at his hands. He put them back over hers and talked while he focused again.

“It would explain things. The offspring of Goblins are always Goblins regardless of the partner, male or female. But sometimes Goblins may inherit traits from their…parents. The ah, victim might play a part in explaining unusual talents. But if this young Goblin—Rags has no immediate non-Goblin ancestors it would mean—”

“She can be a mage. I get it.”

Erin scowled at her hands. She willed them to catch fire.

“Don’t stop. It’s my turn now. The test isn’t over yet, right? I can still continue?”

Pisces hesitated. Something in his face softened as he looked at Erin.

“…By all means. Keep on trying.”

She ignored the look in his eyes and the way Rags looked at him. Erin stared at her hands. She would cast magic. She could. She would cast magic. She would—

----

Ryoka tried not to scream as she stared at the word and the magic stared back. It was inescapable, even when she closed her eyes. The word was the beginning, and the word was magic and magic was with her and the magic was made into reality—

It seared Ryoka’s mind like wildfire. The knowledge burned through her assumptions and all she’d been taught all her life, breaking down walls in her head she’d never known were there. The agony of it was unbearable.

Ceria was shaking her, trying to get Ryoka to move. She was telling Ryoka this shouldn’t be happening, trying to erase the magic word. But it was ingrained in Ryoka’s soul. It was a bit of truth, and it was something to cling to even as the rest of the world fell to pieces.

Ryoka opened her eyes. The magic surged through her, a feeling unlike any other. It wasn’t being more alive. Life was life, but magic—it was opening another door and stepping into a different world.

Suddenly the pain was gone. Ryoka sat up and brushed Ceria’s hands off her.

“I’m okay. I am. I saw it.”

Ceria peered anxiously into Ryoka’s face. The running girl had bitten her lips so hard she’d drawn blood, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“I saw it.”

Ryoka repeated and stared at the fading shape in the air. She didn’t need to see it, though. She could remember. She would always remember.

The knowledge was in her eyes, in the way Ryoka moved, in everything she was. Ceria looked at Ryoka, and whatever she saw reassured her. She smiled, relieved.

“Well? Did you see what I wrote? Can you tell me what it says?”

Ryoka took a deep breath. It had no real name. None that the English language was capable of expressing, even with a thousand words. But there was still a way to say it.

She opened her mouth.

“[Light].”

In the stillness of the early morning, light shimmered through the window. All was still, and then the light of the sun was joined by something else.

A soft light came up through Ryoka’s chest. It came down her arms, and up through her palms, which began to glow. A bauble of shimmering colors drifted up from between Ryoka’s palms, hovering in front of her face as she stared.

It was the most magical thing Ryoka had ever seen. It was hers. A glowing, sharply defined orb of what she could only call light made manifest. It was brighter than a light bulb because it was pure light, and yet it was not blinding either. If she stared hard enough she could see straight out the other side.

And it wasn’t white light either. Even as Ryoka stared at it, delicate shades of purple coalesced and then slowly transitioned into a deep blue and then brightened to green and then yellow. The light was living and it shifted even as she held it.

It…it looked sort of like a three dimensional loading wheel on a Mac computer if Ryoka was honest. Even as she thought that, the colors changed and the colors began to rotate in an annoyingly-familiar way.

Ceria blinked down at Ryoka’s light ball in surprise. She placed one hand on her hip and poked at the orb with the other. Her finger passed straight through the orb, making the light shimmer around her pale skin.

“I’ve never seen colors like that before. They’re so…bright.”

She picked up her wand and tapped it on her palm. Instantly—far quicker than Ryoka’s own spell had taken, another shimmering orb of light rose from Ceria’s palm. But her light was different. When she held the orb next to Ryoka’s the colors changed and deepened in ways Ryoka’s did not.

They were the same colors as the ones flashing through Ryoka’s orb of light, but somehow they were more real. The blue that illuminated the small room wasn’t more vivid or in any way brighter, but it felt deeper, subtler, to Ryoka’s eyes. It was a more complete understanding of what ‘blue’ was, and it made her digital colors pale by comparison.

“Wow.”

As Ryoka stared, the lights in her orb began to shift, matching those of Ceria’s. She stared at the orb and then concentrated.

The ball of light shifted from white light suddenly, and then shifted to a dark ultraviolet that made Ceria jump in surprise. Black light. Ryoka blinked. Suddenly the orb was a rainbow spectrum of colors, a dancing discoball of shifting colors—

All at once the magic ran out. The light vanished, and Ryoka sat back in her chair. She felt light-headed all of a sudden, as if the blood had suddenly rushed to her head. Weakly she tried to sit back up but Ceria pushed her down gently.

“Hold on, hold on Ryoka! That was incredible! I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone do that with a basic [Light] spell before—let alone figure out how to change a spell so quickly! You just used up all the mana in your body. You’ll be tired until you recover. Here—sit there and I’ll get you something to eat and drink. That helps.”

Ceria dashed out of the room. Ryoka stared at her hands. She smiled.

----

The last bead of sweat dropped from Pisces’s chin. He gasped, and raised his hands.

“I’m almost drained. I’m sorry. I can’t keep going.”

Erin still stared at her fingertips. If she could just force something to happen. It would only take a second, she knew. One second of realization and she’d be able to figure it out again. She tried and tried but—

Pisces raised the glass of water Rags brought him and tossed it down, heedless of hygiene. He hesitated, and then gently patted Erin on the shoulder.

“There’s no more magic left in the air. It’s all dissipated, Erin.”

“Oh.”

Erin stared at her hands. They were still the same hands, but they were somehow smaller, less important. They were good hands, callused from working but unscarred. But they were just hands. Normal.

Pisces cleared his throat. He avoided Erin’s gaze.

“I’m ah, sorry, Miss Solstice.”

“No, it’s okay. I knew magic wasn’t for everyone. And Rags could do it, right?”

Erin smiled at Rags. The Goblin looked up. Somehow, she had found the time to grab some sausage and cheese from Erin’s kitchen. She guiltily hid both behind her back.

“Eat up. I bet you’re hungry. And you—”

Pisces blinked, but Erin was already out of her seat. She bustled out of the kitchen with blue juice and food in hand and spread it out before him.

“Here. Lunch and dinner’s on the house.”

“You are—most kind. Thank you.”

He began tearing into the food as if he were famished. And he probably was. Erin looked out the window and saw the sun was now beginning to set rather than rise in the sky. It had taken that long?

Pisces gulped and slurped down his food while Rags did the same. They both seemed starved – probably from the magic. Erin stared blankly at them and then sat down.

“So, what next?”

The human stopped and eyed Erin warily. Rags kept on shoveling.

“What ah, do you mean—”

“I mean about her. Not me.”

Erin pointed at Rags. The Goblin looked up.

“She can cast magic, right? Not just her tribal magic, but your kind of magic. She can learn. Will you teach her?”

Pisces’s face went blank. He stared at Rags.

“Me? Teach?”

“You were going to teach me a few spells, weren’t you? Well, I can’t cast magic, but Rags can. Will you teach her something?”

Pisces opened his mouth to object, closed it, chewed, and swallowed. His eyes flicked towards the Goblin, towards Erin, and up into the air as he thought rapidly.

“I’ve—well I’ve never considered having an apprentice. You do know I specialize in necromancy, don’t you? But on the other hand—I am quite proficient in general areas of magic. And of course anyone with a basic grasp of the fundamentals could learn. But a Goblin for a student…?”

“Tell you what. If you come in every other day and teach her for lessons, I’ll feed you for free. Deal?”

It took a few minutes of haggling, but eventually Pisces agreed. Rags had no money to pay him, but he was happy enough to accept free food. And it wasn’t as if Erin ever saw money from him anyways.

She left the inn and Pisces beginning to explain the history of magic and the fundamental theories of Magecraft to a bewildered Goblin and walked briskly down the small hill. Her destination was Liscor.

After a few minutes, Erin noticed something following her. She was walking fast enough that the skeleton had to jog to keep up. Erin stopped and it ran up a few feet behind her and waited patiently. She scowled.

“It’s you. Go away, you.”

The still-unnamed skeleton hesitated. Then it clattered its jaw. Erin glared. She couldn’t understand it, and its understanding of her seemed to be limited.

“I’m going to visit some friends. Don’t follow me into the city. Wait around the inn while I’m gone. Do something useful. I’ll be back before nightfall.”

It hesitated.

“Go. Shoo!”

Erin pointed and then waved her hands at it as if she were chasing chickens. The skeleton reluctantly turned around and marched back towards the inn.

Erin sighed. Then she continued walking.

----

She didn’t have any particular destination in mind, she just didn’t want to be in her inn at the moment. So Erin decided to explore parts of the city she’d never been in before. That wasn’t hard. Most of the city was unexplored. She really only knew the shopping district, part of the residential area where Selys lived, and the main street up to the Adventurer’s Guild.

It was high time to explore the rest of the city. Erin decided to walk down to the Adventurer’s Guild and work her way out from there. She got about twelve steps before a furry hand yanked her out of the crowd.

“Ah, Erin Solstice. I have been waiting for you to return, yes?”

Without knowing quite what was happening, Erin felt herself being speedily towed along by a large female Gnoll.

“You are not busy? We will have drinks in my home.”

“What? Oh, sure. I’m not busy.”

“Good! My house is only a few minutes away. Follow me.”

Krshia let go of Erin and the human walked rather than let herself be pulled along. She didn’t hear the quiet sigh of relief from the other Gnolls who’d been watching the gates for her arrival.

----

Krshia set a large, glistening bowl of chopped meat in front of Erin. It contrasted nicely with the cup of rootish tea in the girl’s hands.

Erin eyed the meat dish, but she’d grown used to Gnolls enough to realize she wasn’t being deliberately insulted.

With a sigh, Erin gingerly picked up a strip of meat. It looked…raw to say the least. But if Gnolls could eat it, she probably could. Krshia wouldn’t knowingly serve her poison was Erin’s feeling.

Still, all of the articles she’d ever read about e.coli and raw meat came back to Erin as she popped the bit of meat into her mouth and chewed.

“Hm? Hm~. Mm!”

It was actually quite good. Erin was surprised. She’d expected the meat to taste like bacon, but it was a fuller, richer experience. Nice and fatty without the actual fat. Immediately she picked up another cube of meat and chewed it down. She also resolved never to ask what kind of meat it was.

“Ah, you like the scurry-food? It is good.”

Krshia sat with a sigh on the chair opposite Erin. It was a nice chair, too, wonderfully padded if a little worn and far too big for Erin.

The apartments of a Gnoll were different from that of a Drake like Selys. Open space was clearly important in both homes – or maybe it was just the architecture, but Krshia’s home had far more rugs, padded furniture, and pillows in general. It was also in a state of slightly less-than-stellar cleaning.

Really, it wasn’t bad. But Erin had a definite sense that the standards of cleanliness differed between Drakes and Gnolls. Then again, Krshia’s actual shop was clean of any stray hair, dirt or stains so maybe it was just the difference between work and home.

“How are you doing, Krshia?”

Erin delicately sipped at her tea and stuffed her face. Krshia tossed down the meat in her bowl and chewed quickly.

“Mm. I am well, thank you for asking. And I am relieved to speak with you at last. Many people and many things have gotten in the way of our speaking, yes? But it is important we should speak. So I have decided.”

Erin blinked. Somehow, Krshia seemed a bit more intense than usual. She sighed. Another thing to be worried about.

“Sure. What’s up?”

Krshia blinked her great, brown eyes at Erin. She peered at the small human and frowned.

“You seem dispirited. Is something wrong?”

“Oh, it’s nothing.”

“Mm. This is another polite Human lie, yes?”

“Yeah, but really, it’s nothing.”

Krshia stared at Erin. It was odd. She really had no whites in her eyes. It was just pupil, and then brown cornea. It should have been disturbing, but Erin had grown used to it.

She sighed. Krshia waited patiently as Erin picked at another piece of meat and then put it back in her bowl.

“I found out I’m not a mage, that’s all. I can’t cast magic and I won’t ever be able to.”

She sighed again. Krshia took long drink of her scalding tea.

“Ah. And who is doing the telling of this?”

“Pisces.”

“Bah.”

“He wasn’t mean about it. He did a test—it looks like I’m just one of the humans who can’t cast magic, that’s all. It’s not his fault or anything.”

Krshia shook her head. Bits of hair drifted onto her carpet.

“That is not what I meant. He tells you that you are no mage. It is not for him to decide, yes?”

Erin blinked.

“But there was a test. I can’t cast magic, Krshia.”

The female Gnoll shrugged.

“If you were born a Gnoll, this would not be an issue, yes? Human magic is different from ours. We give magic to those who are chosen. A shaman for each tribe is chosen, and they wield the magic of the pack. We choose who can cast magic, not a single person.”

“Oh, tribal magic. Yeah, Pisces told me about it. But I wasn’t born a Gnoll.”

Krshia raised one eyebrow.

“Yes, and so you are told you can never become a mage because one tells you so. It is regrettable, yes?”

Erin didn’t have anything to say to that. She stared down into her tea.

Krshia clicked her tongue.

“Enough sadness. This is not why I have called you here. Leave magic for [Mages], Erin. It is not important as they think. People are important. The pack is important. Friendships and ties are important.”

She reached out and tapped Erin gently on the chest. It was still a heavy tap, but it made Erin feel better.

“Okay, sure. What did you want to talk to me about so much, Krshia?”

The Gnoll paused and seemed to choose her words.

“I have been thinking much since I watched you play your game of chess. Against the Antinium named Pawn. Many things you said I heard and wondered at.”

Erin looked blank.

“Like what? You mean the chess? Don’t worry, no one gets that.”

For a second she could have sworn Krshia was eying her to see if Erin was laughing. But then the Gnoll briskly shook her head again.

“No. It is what you said. You come from another world. I heard you speak of it and wondered at the miracle.”

Erin’s face was completely blank. Then her eyes widened.

“I said that?”

Krshia nodded gravely. Her eyes were fixated on Erin’s face.

The human didn’t seem to know to react. A brief moment of chagrin was replaced by some head scratching. After a few seconds Erin looked up and shrugged.

“Oh, um, yeah. I’m from another world. Sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.”

Krshia stared. Possibly it was the blasé way Erin said it, without regard to the way it made the Gnoll’s heart skip and jump. Oblivious, Erin continued.

“I come from a place called Michigan. It’s pretty nice there. Lots of big lakes, wonderful weather—except when it snows or rains really hard, of course. I lived in a nice house, with my folks—”

She paused. For a second Erin stared down into her cup and then continued as if nothing had happened.

“Um, one day I found myself here. I just turned a corner and blam.”

“Blam?”

“I found myself staring at this big lizard. With wings. A dragon.”

“A Dragon?”

“Yeah. It breathed fire at me, and I ran. Then there were some goblins…and then I found the inn. After that, it was all survival until I met Klbkch and Relc and then—you know the rest.”

Again, there was something off-putting about the way Erin said everything so easily. Krshia had to shake her head several times and take a few more gulps of tea to steady her nerves.

“You survived much.”

“I guess.”

Erin shrugged. It didn’t feel like a lot. It felt like a lifetime, actually, but through it all she’d just kept moving, kept trying to survive. And really, what had she done? Repaired a few doors, swept some dust out, leveled up as an [Innkeeper] a bit…and gotten a friend killed.

Not much at all.

“I ask this in confidence, yes? I promise by my tribe and by the open sky and earth that I would never betray your trust or secrets given. But I must ask, and my kin must know. This land you come from—it is not like this one, no?”

Erin paused and blinked at Krshia. It sounded like a serious oath, but what did Krshia say about her kin?

“Your mean you’re going to tell…other Gnolls?”

“Mm. Yes. This is true. And these Gnolls shall tell others if need be. But it is a promise, yes? Your secret shall not be spoken to any not of Gnollkind. That is what I meant. By our gravest oath we will keep your secrets.”

A promise by an entire species to keep silent. Erin would have laughed, but she felt that might actually result in violence. Krshia looked serious, and Erin thought the Gnoll was serious.

And—what did Erin have to lose? Besides her life? So she shrugged.

“My world? It’s not like this one. Not at all. It’s so different I can’t even explain how strange it is to be here.”

“Mm. How so? Eat, drink. But tell me. I am very curious.”

How did you describe a world without magic and levels to someone who didn’t even exist in your world? For that matter, how would you describe a world a thousand years more advanced? Erin scratched at her head and did her best.

“Well—we’ve got a lot more technology. And less magic. No magic, actually. And we don’t have Levels or Classes or Skills, but we do have a lot more humans. Actually we have only humans. There aren’t any Gnolls or Drakes or any monsters where I come from. And—are you okay, Krshia?”

The Gnoll’s eyes were bugging out in her head. It was such an alarming change from the Gnoll’s usually half-lidded stare that Erin was worried.

“Take no mind of me.”

Krshia drained her cup, and dragged a large and dented tea pot. She refilled her cup with furry hands that shook and offered Erin a refill. The human politely waved the tea away.

“You say this is a world full of humans? That is strange, yes? Are there no other creatures?”

Erin nodded and hastily amended her sentence.

“Oh tons of creatures. Lots of animals. Dogs, cats, penguins, cows…but just no people like—like you. People who think and speak is what I mean.”

“I…see…”

Krshia’s head was throbbing. The Gnoll would have loved nothing better than to sit in a corner and bang her head against a wall just imagining what Erin was saying. Better yet, she would have loved to overturn the table and call Erin a tail-biting liar. But [Spot Deception] was a [Merchant] and a [Shopkeeper]’s skill, and if it wasn’t as good as [Detect Guilt] or [Sense Intentions], it was still more than a match for a large falsehood. What Erin was saying was true.

“These Humans. You Humans.”

Krshia stumbled over her tongue and tried to speak casually.

“How many of them are there? How many nations? Is it a small world?”

“Sorta? It feels small sometimes. I know overpopulation is an issue.”

Erin rolled her eyes upwards as she thought.

“Um, is it six or seven? Or eight? I think we’re supposed to have around eight about now.”

“Eight what? Eight countries?”

“No, eight billion humans.”

Krshia looked blank.

“I do not know this word. Erin, what is a ‘billion’? It is a counting number, yes?”

“Yeah. Do you know um, million?”

The Gnoll’s brows scrunched together.

“It is a word I heard with Goblins. A million is a large number. Larger than mountains. A thousand thousands, yes?”

“…Yes? I think so. Wait…let me do the math.”

Erin tried to imagine how many zeros were in a million.

“Yeah. That’s about right.”

“Mm. Then is a billion two millions?”

“Oh, no.”

Erin laughed at Krshia’s confusion. She didn’t notice the Gnoll’s hand trembling on her cup.

“A billion is a thousand millions. So that’d be a thousand thousand thousands. What a tongue twister. It’d be…a hundred thousand ten thousand times. Does that make sense?”

Erin looked at Krshia. The Gnoll was sitting very still in her chair.

“Krshia?”

Gnolls didn’t have any visible skin, just fur. But her ears were standing straight up on her head. Between the slats in her chair, Erin could see the Gnoll’s tail was fully erect as well.

Without a word, and without a single hint of warning, the Gnoll suddenly tipped forwards in her chair in a dead faint. Erin yelped and dove just in time as Krshia crashed into her table, shattering porcelain and upending the kettle of tea.

“Krshia, what’s wrong?”

Erin bent over the unconscious Gnoll and with great effort tilted her upright. The shards of broken pottery hadn’t even cut the Gnoll through her fur, but Krshia was still unconscious. Only the—well, the blacks of Krshia’s eyes were showing.

“Are you okay? What happened? Speak to me, Krshia.”

But no matter how hard Erin shook the Gnoll she didn’t come round. Desperately, Erin propped Krshia up against her chair and wavered between going for help and waiting for Krshia to wake up. It didn’t seem like she’d been hurt.

Erin sat among the spilled meat and cooling tea. Her heart still hurt, but mercifully, she had something to panic about. She put her head in her hands.

“Why does this keep happening to me?”

Why had Krshia wanted to talk to her, anyways? It probably wasn’t best to tell her about her world—at least the parts about hyenas being hunted—or all the other bad parts, really. She’d been so interested. And Erin had remembered—

She cut her brain off as it thought of home. No. Focus. Krshia was important. If she didn’t wake up in ten minutes Erin would go get someone. Another Gnoll, probably. She’d been seeing more of them around than normal.

But why had Krshia fainted? If that was what had happened.

“Why?”

Erin shook her head. She had no idea. But—

“Was it something I said?”

1.35

When Krshia came round she did it dramatically. Gnolls weren’t as—as civilized as other races. But of course that was the wrong thing for Erin to think. It was more that Gnolls still lived in close proximity to monsters, even more so than Drakes did. They had to be ready to defend themselves in case one attacked their villages. That was probably why when Krshia sat up gasping, her claws popped out of her paws and she nearly took Erin’s head off.

It was an accident. Erin was nearly 100% sure of that. And Krshia had apologized several times.

After they’d patched up Erin’s cheek and poured a tiny bit of healing potion on the cut to make it heal faster, the Gnoll and Human cleaned up the broken table and spilled tea. Then they began the tea party again, only with less party and very cold tea.

Krshia had some lovely cheese that Erin didn’t mind snacking on. It was wonderfully sharp and the tea wasn’t half bad cold, probably because it wasn’t that good even when it was hot.

“Apologies again, Erin.”

The large Gnoll sighed as she lowered herself back into her chair and kicked the remnants of her coffee table aside. The replacement she’d brought was a footstool which she balanced the platter of cheese on.

“It was nothing. Really. But why did you faint?”

“Mm. I was merely surprised. Forgive me.”

Krshia took a drink from her tea and shuddered for a second.

“The humans on your planet—I was not prepared for such a number.”

“What? Oh, you mean seven billion? I guess that’s a lot.”

“It is.”

“Ah. Um. Was it that surprising?”

Erin’s complete incomprehension gave Krshia a gentle urge to smack her. But Humans were fragile so though her paw twitched, she kept her voice pleasant.

“It may have been shock or perhaps it was something I ate, yes?”

The young woman glanced at the bowl of meats she still hadn’t finished.

“I sure hope not.”

“That was a joke.”

Krshia shook her head. Humans really had no sense of humor. They could never tell when she was being ironic, sardonic, sarcastic, or just teasing them. Their faces were easy to read on the other paw.

“Let us put the interruption behind us. You were telling me about your world. It has many people—this I now realize. But what else is different?”

Erin frowned, scratched at her ear with one finger and shrugged helplessly.

“Uh, everything? I mean, most things. We’ve got mountains and water and stuff like you guys, but in terms of technology or buildings or…everything’s different.”

Krshia leaned forwards.

“I would like to know details of these differences. Can you give me a few important changes between our worlds? Besides the lack of Levels and Classes.”

“Well—there’s a lot to say. I mean, we’ve got such different cultures. Ours is more adv—more different in many ways. Like—we have weapons and you have weapons, but ours are more shooty.”

“Shooty?”

“Yeah. Like ‘blam’.”

Erin made a gun with her fingers and pointed while making the sound. Krshia blinked at her, uncomprehending.

“What I mean is, we don’t use swords. Or axes. We have guns. They’re uh, sort of like crossbows but better? Do you know what crossbows are?”

“I…see. Yes, I have heard of crossbows. And you have many of these weapons? They are powerful yes?”

“Yeah. But we don’t use them on monsters. We just kill each other with them. And we don’t use horses—well we do use horses, but we also have other ways to travel. Like cars.”

In some ways, Krshia fainting had been more relaxing than talking to Erin. Her head was beginning to hurt.

“Cars? What are these creatures?”

“They’re not animals. They’re uh, moving metal boxes. On wheels.”

“You—push them around, yes?”

“No…it’s more like they move because we burn stuff inside them. Combustion. They drive themselves. Well I mean, they don’t drive themselves. You need a human in one to drive it. But some of the newer cars can drive themselves. But most can’t. And they need fuel. Gasoline. That’s a type of oil, I think.”

Erin looked helplessly at Krshia. The Gnoll was massaging her temples.

“Um. Did any of that make sense?”

----

They tried for another half hour before they gave up. Erin did her best, but she really didn’t know how half of the things in her world worked. Her best explanation of cars was that they had some kind of engine-creature in its stomach that ate oil and made the car move faster than a horse. And she had no idea how planes actually flew, especially when Krshia kept asking her how something that was made of metal could ever fly without magic.

It wasn’t as if Erin had failed science class or didn’t know how things worked. But she hadn’t exactly taken Engineering 101 either. In fact, she hadn’t gone into college, preferring to work as a chess tutor and tournament contender to save up money before she enrolled.

All of that meant—well, it just meant that while Erin could tell Krshia a lot of fantastical things, it sounded like she was making everything up. And Krshia was clearly distracted. She kept rubbing at her head for one thing. Erin guessed she’d hit it pretty hard when she fell over.

“Enough, enough. I am weary and you are thirsty. Drink, and let us talk of other things for the moment.”

Erin nodded and accepted a refill of the new batch of tea Krshia had brewed while they spoke. She eyed the Gnoll.

“Well, I guess I can’t really explain my world that well. But your world is equally strange to me. Stuff like magic—that’s just fairy tales in my world.”

“Ah, you have fairies?”

“No, I…you know what? Forget it. I’m just saying we don’t have magic. So when I came here I had no idea how anything worked.”

“Hmm. I remember. You were lost and very afraid, then. But you have done well since, yes?”

“I guess.”

“There is no guessing. I have seen how you have improved and made this land your home. We have witnessed your triumphs. We have seen your victories. They are to be proud of, Erin Solstice.”

Erin sighed and shook her head in denial. Then, suddenly, she looked up at Krshia. A flicker of suspicion crossed her face.

“Krshia? Why did you want to talk with me about my world?”

Krshia thought fast while keeping her face straight. She answered carefully.

“I was simply curious. It is natural to question such statements is it not?”

“I guess. But you just said you’d been watching me. And you said ‘we’. Is that why I keep seeing a bunch of Gnolls wherever I go?”

For a human, Erin was surprisingly perceptive at times. Krshia cursed her slip of the tongue and kept a straight face. But Erin had played too many games of chess. She could see when someone had on a poker face. Her eyes narrowed.

“Right. I guess it’s time for my questions. Krshia, what do the Gnolls want with me?”

Krshia tapped her claw against her teacup. Again, she chose her next sentence with extreme care, as if she were negotiating a sale worth hundreds of gold pieces.

“The Gnolls who live in Liscor have many desires. We hoped—that there might be some things that one such as you could help us with. But that is only part of the reason I asked you here. The other part was to ask a question. What does Erin Solstice want?”

Erin blinked as the question came straight back at her.

“What do I want?”

“Everything is give and take, yes? We would give much for knowledge. Items of worth. Things that could help our people. But all things have a price. We would help you grant your desires if you had something to offer in exchange.”

“I don’t have anything to give you. Besides food. But I buy that from you.”

“It may be you do not realize your own worth. A stranger from a far-off land has many secrets, many skills of worth she does not know she possesses, yes?”

“Maybe. I doubt it, though.”

“Regardless. I asked you a question. What is it you wish? If possible, we would help you. Or if my tribe disagrees I would help you not as one seeking a bargain but as a friend.”

Erin smiled at Krshia.

“Well, when you put it like that—I still don’t know.”

Krshia frowned.

“There are many things humans want. Surely you have the same wishes, yes? Do you want money?”

“What would I use it on? Repairing the inn? I guess money’d be nice, but I’m okay.”

“Hrm. Then do you wish for more levels? Better weapons? These things many humans desire. Or—an attractive mate? A fertile one?”

“No, no, no, and definitely no. I’m not interested in any of that. Really. I already have a lot of those adventurers chatting me up in the street.”

“Hrrm.”

This was tricky. Krshia had already run through all the things she would have wanted. Erin didn’t exactly seem like she was too interested in mating at the moment and she was no warrior—at least she didn’t like fighting. But neither was she happy.

“Then what is it you wish?”

Erin shrugged. She stared at her half-empty tea cup, at the ceiling, around Krshia’s room—and then she seemed to realize what she was missing. She looked at Krshia.

“I want to go home.”

It was a simple sentence, delivered casually. But the wave of emotion Krshia smelled coming off of Erin told an entirely different story. The Gnoll shopkeeper had a strong desire to wrinkle her nose or rub at it, but that would have given her away.

“I see. But if you have not returned already, you do not know the way back, yes?”

“Yes—I mean, no. I don’t.”

Erin shook her head, distracted. Now that she’d said what was in her heart her entire demeanor had changed. Her body language was shifting, and the turmoil of emotions within her was making Krshia’s nose twitch.

“This desire of yours. You wish for it strongly, yes?”

“No.”

Erin lied, and then corrected her lie as Krshia raised one eyebrow.

“Maybe. Yes. I don’t want to insult this place. It’s a beautiful world you have here, Krshia. It really is more amazing than anything from my world. And I’ve made friends. Selys, Pawn, you…even Pisces. All that’s good but—”

She paused, and then looked down into her cup. Erin’s voice was quiet.

“I have family back home. My mom and my dad. And I had friends. It’s not like I miss them most of the time—I try not to think about it. But…I didn’t even get to say goodbye, y’know?”

For two seconds it looked as if she would break. Erin blinked rapidly and brushed at her eyes. But the tears never fell. She sighed and the moment was past.

“Sorry. It’s just—I’d really like to go home. If I could. I know it might be impossible. I don’t even know if it was some kind of spell or a…a cosmic accident that brought me here. But if I could I want to go home.”

Krshia stared at Erin, her dark eyes unblinking. She said nothing out loud, but she was thinking. For a second, the bright cheerful nature of Erin had broken. It was a mask, a layer of protection around her heart. She was strong, but fragile, like the Antinium were underneath their shells. Her hide was tough. But it would all break down if Krshia pushed just a tiny bit—

The Gnoll pretended nothing had happened and went on talking until Erin’s emotions were fully back under her control. Now was not the time for such things.

“It may have been magic. Perhaps. I do not know such things. I am merely a [Shopkeeper]. But I have never heard of one crossing from other worlds through a spell. Only the darkest of creatures and daemons do such things. But there are many magics that teleport. Perhaps a truly great [Mage] may have used such a spell by accident or mistake.”

Erin frowned speculatively.

“Maybe. It didn’t feel like magic back then. But I’ve never been teleported so maybe it was magic and I just didn’t notice. It really felt like an accident.”

“Accident or not, you are here. And perhaps the cause is irrelevant, yes? You are here. The question is not what brought you here, but how you may return.”

“And is magic the answer?”

“Most likely. I would not know of any other way. But as I have said, it would take a [Mage], no—an [Archmage] to cast such a spell if it can be done.”

“Right. You wouldn’t happen to have one of those lying around, would you?”

Krshia shook her head.

“They are the rarest of spellcasters. I know of only a few, and none live on this continent.”

“Great.”

Erin shook her head. Krshia smiled.

“Do not despair before even hearing of them, yes? Listen. There are several archmages. One on the Human continent to the north. Two more on other continents. But at least three have homes in Wistram, the Isle of Mages.”

Erin perked up at that.

“Really? Three?”

“They come and go. But Wistram is their home. If you waited there for a month you would surely see at least one, yes? And perhaps it is not an archmage you need but the right spell.”

“So what you’re saying is that Wistram is the place I would want to go if I wanted to find out about getting home, right?”

“Mm. Perhaps.”

Erin frowned because Krshia was frowning.

“What’s wrong?”

“It is nothing. I am sure if you travelled to Wistram they would allow you entry. But it is not such a good place that I would tell you to travel alone, yes?”

“Really? But I thought it was like Hogw—a uh, school for mages. Wouldn’t it be safe and full of cool spells and stuff?”

Krshia flicked her fingers dismissively.

“Perhaps some may call it so. But your Pisces, he graduated from Wistram did he not? And he is a [Necromancer] and a thief and gravedigger.”

“Well, when you put it that way…”

“And Wistram is made up of many humans, yes? They are petty and squabble as many of your kind does. Nonhumans live among them of course, but it is no haven. Wistram is no friend to the magicless.”

A dark frown crossed Krshia’s face. Erin sat still, remembering to breathe. She’d forgotten how scary Gnolls could be. On one hand they were like giant teddy bears, but on the other hand they greatly resembled giant teddy bears, complete with razor-sharp claws.

“Did something happen to you, Krshia? Did you—did you ever go to Wistram?”

“I?”

Krshia sniffed dismissively and shook her head.

“I would not visit such a place. Nor would any of my kind, even to trade and earn money. We do not deal with those fools.”

“Fools?”

Krshia shook her head.

“It is an old story. I would not trouble you with it, Erin.”

“No, tell me. Please. I’m interested.”

The Gnoll hesitated, but Erin was openly earnest. And because it was clearly upsetting her, Krshia told the story.

“Wistram is a place of magic. It is the place for mages to go and learn, yes? Other cities have their own guilds and even schools and some nations pay for mages to learn and serve. But Wistram is nationless and a nation unto itself. They have never bowed to any ruler and never shall. So they are thought of well by all who practice magic. But they are fools.”

Her fingers clenched on her tea cup and relaxed before they could shatter the delicate porcelain.

“Nearly forty years ago, the Gnoll tribes gathered to talk and forge alliances and plans for the future. It is done every ten years, and it is an important time. At that time we had heard much of Wistram and many among us wished for Gnolls to learn such secrets as the Academy teaches.”

Erin sat in her chair, listening to Krshia’s rumbling voice and thinking. She already thought she knew how the story ended, but she wondered other things. Had Krshia been there? How old was she? And—what did the Gnolls want? But Krshia went on, and Erin was sucked into her story.

“It was decided that the tribes would send one of our finest [Shamans] to Wistram to ask admission. We chose one who was young but was talented beyond his years and gave him magical artifacts from each tribe and much coin to make the journey. Our warriors took him to a port city and he took a ship to Wistram, braving storms and pirates on his long journey.”

If it was possible, Krshia’s expression turned even angrier. Her hackles raised. Erin watched as the hair on the back of Krshia’s neck stood upright, fascinated.

“The mages at Wistram gave the Gnoll a test when he asked to be entered into the Academy. They did not believe him when he claimed to be a spellcaster as they were. They asked him to cast spells, but he was alone, yes? Alone, and without any to draw on. Without any others, there is no magic to cast for [Shamans]. That is why he asked to be taught as a normal student. But the mages, they did not listen. They cast him out and declared all Gnolls to be magic-deficient. Talentless.”

Krshia growled and spat. Erin stared at the glob of spit dripping from one of the Gnoll’s dressers and wondered if she was going to clean that up later.

“That is why to this day [Mages] from Wistram are not welcome among the tribes and why we do not trade with their island. And that is why even if you go, you must not trust them, Erin Solstice. The mages of Wistram do not trust any who do not have magic they recognize.”

Erin nodded. Krshia’s story sounded like a case of good old-fashioned racism, or maybe just ignorance. Either way, she understood the Gnoll’s ire. But it didn’t change things.

“I’d still like to talk to a mage. Or—a mage besides Pisces, at least.”

Krshia shrugged, tired from telling her story.

“There are several in the city. But Drake mages, the strong ones fight with their army, yes? And magic is not as widely practiced in these lands. Perhaps you would find one wise enough to help you, but you would search long.”

“So Wistram’s my only option? I mean, I’m not saying I’d just get up and head over there but—”

“If you wish to return home, that may be your best choice.”

Erin sat still for a while, staring into her tea cup. She raised it to her lips and took a long drink of the bitter and now cold tea.

“Okay. Okay. That’s—that’s something to aim for, at least.”

“It is good to have a goal. And perhaps that is something we may assist you with.”

“Really? I mean, why? And how? Is it that hard to get to Wistram?”

Krshia shrugged.

“Perhaps not hard for one with much coin, but it is a long ways away and dangerous for a lone human female who is not a warrior, and even one who is, yes? Anyone may attempt the journey to Wistram, but it is another thing to make the journey and survive.”

That didn’t sound good. At all. Erin frowned.

“What’s so hard about it? You hire a carriage, get to a port city, jump on a boat and you’re nearly there, right?”

Krshia laughed quietly and tapped Erin on the shoulder. Again, Gnolls had a heavy tap that was more like a shove.

“It is good to be young and eager. But it is not good to stop thinking, yes? Wistram is protected by more than mages. The seas around the college are calm at times, but at other times they devour ships and sink fleets. Especially in the winter.”

She shook her head at Erin.

“Even if you left now, winter would freeze you at sea as you travelled north and the storms would crack the hull of any ship foolish enough to brave the oceans. And there is the cost to consider as well.”

“Oh, right. Hiring a ship would be really expensive, right?”

“You would seek passage on a ship to Wistram. That would not be as expensive, but I talk of the cost of the journey. To travel north to the port cities safely would require joining a caravan that hires adventurers. That costs coin. A good place on a good ship with an able captain requires coin. A bodyguard or one who would protect you costs coin. And seeking lodging in Wistram—”

“I get it. It costs a lot of coin, right?”

Krshia sniffed at Erin and flicked her forehead lightly like one would a child. Only in this case it really hurt.

“Ow! Stop that! Your claws are sharp!”

“Apologies. But you are still not thinking. Say you reach to Wistram after so travelling far. Tell me, Erin Solstice, how do you plan on finding a mage to bring you home?”

“Well…”

Erin paused and blinked.

“I uh, hadn’t thought of that. I guess I’d just go to their headmaster and ask for help?”

Krshia laughed hard and long.

“That would be a sight to see. Yes, and talking to such a leader among mages would be an achievement in itself! You are just a child speaking of other worlds. Even if you could prove your truth which is simple enough, how would you convince them to help you?”

“Well—I’m from another world. Isn’t that enough?”

“Perhaps to some. But to mages? Many would not care. And those who would care—how would you find them?”

Erin’s heart sank.

“So you’re saying I’d need to pay a mage to help me?”

Krshia nodded.

“Either to pay a mage to assist you or to find a mage worthy and willing to help you. That is the real cost I speak of.”

Things were never so simple as they were in books. It was Erin’s turn to rub at her head with her hands. If this were Harry Potter she’d be able to walk up to Diagon Alley and—well, she was a muggle and she’d forgotten the password so they wouldn’t let her in, and even if she did walk around asking people if they were wizards—

“This sucks. You’re telling me I have to pay to go home?”

“Is it not always so?”

Erin scowled at Krshia, but the Gnoll just smiled back. Erin reluctantly began to think, counting off on her fingers.

“Okay. Say that is my goal. How much money would I need, do you think? A hundred gold pieces for the journey? And then maybe another hundred pieces to find a place to stay? And—um, let’s call it six hundred for finding a mage willing to help me? That’s…a lot.”

“Too much, I think.”

Krshia shook her head at Erin.

“You have no idea of pricing, yes? For sixty pieces perhaps I could bring you to Wistram. It would be a longer journey and you would need to find one to guard you. But it could be done. And a hundred gold pieces would last you several years even in Wistram. But the real price is in the mage.”

Erin’s heart sunk even lower.

“Six hundred gold pieces not enough?”

“It is not about money. Mages have much money, and offering to pay them may work or it may not. Your money would be of little interest to all but the greedy ones. They are not what you want, I am thinking.”

“No, definitely not.”

“We spoke of archmages, yes? They are the ones you seek. Finding an audience with them through wit or bribery—that is your challenge. For that I would take as much money as I could bring, and something to attract their attention.”

Erin sat back in her chair, overwhelmed at the idea—not to mention the cost. Krshia laughed again.

“Do not despair. These things seem large, but they are not overwhelming, yes? Sit. Drink. And let me talk to you of what the Gnolls might do. And what you may do for us.”

Erin sat back in her chair as Krshia stood up. She let the Gnoll bustle around her home, refilling Erin’s cup with more tea, offering her more food and thought. She thought about the journey, what Krshia was proposing, and the danger and difficulty involved at every step. But she also thought of something else.

She remembered a quiet home, two people she knew she could go to with every worry. She thought of her bed, her friends. She thought of home and realized that was where she really wanted to go.

----

When Erin walked out of Krshia’s home, it was nearly nightfall. The Gnoll insisted she walk Erin back to the gates and it was only with some convincing that Erin told her she’d be fine on the way back. She’d spotted a shiny bald…head with no hair or even skin attached hiding on a nearby hillside and she didn’t want the Gnoll to freak out.

It would have taken a lot for Krshia to freak out at this stage anyways, even if she’d known how to freak out properly. It had been a long conversation Erin and Krshia had had, ranging from the logistics of how one might travel from Liscor all the way to Wistram Academy, hundreds—perhaps thousands of miles away. Erin had forgotten to ask the exact distances, probably because she was too afraid to.

But between talk of money and the journey, Krshia had talked with Erin about her world, and extracted a promise for the human girl to tell her more at another time. That had been what had set the Gnoll’s stomach jumping, and was the main reason she didn’t pick up on the dead smell of bones, magic, and marrow blowing her way.

She watched Erin disappear into the night, ignoring the gate guard until the human had crested a hill. She could hear Erin shouting something, but she was too far away at that point even for the Gnoll’s ears to pick up what she was saying.

Only then did Krshia turn to the guard at the gates who was deliberately ignoring her and nudge him.

“There is no one watching. You can drop the act, Tkrn. You are a terrible pretender of things in any case.”

Tkrn, the Gnoll guardsman who had been assigned to the gates for the last few days in a row grinned toothily at Krshia.

“At last you have come. I wondered whether you had taken the other option when I did not hear you coming. But then, I would have smelled the blood.”

Krshia scowled at the other Gnoll and jabbed him in the ribs. Hard. Even though the other Gnoll was wearing chainmail he still winced.

“I told you it would not come to that. And you and the others are fools for suggesting it and dreaming her disappearance would not be noticed.”

Tkrn scowled and rubbed at his side sulkily. But he didn’t dare talk back. Instead, he cast his eyes to where Erin had disappeared.

“She is no threat?”

“As I have said, so it is. She is no threat; merely a lost one seeking to return home.”

Tkrn shook his head.

“So it is true? She is from another world?”

“I sense the truth of it. Yes, she is one who came here by mistake.”

Again, the other Gnoll shook his head in disbelief.

“When I first smelled her, she stank of a place full of oil and metal and burning. Is her world like that?”

Krshia paused, thinking.

“From what she said—and did not say—it is a world of Humans. They alone live in it. Whether that is a better one than this I do not know.”

“But it is different.”

“Yes. Very. In ways that are disturbing and grand. But she did not speak much of these differences and I understood less. But she is—useful. She is important.”

“Ah, but she wants to go home. I heard you two speaking. Thus, we will have her do what we need, isn’t that right?”

Krshia gave Tkrn a baleful look and he wilted.

“You were supposed to be looking out for other listeners, not eavesdropping, fool. What point is there hearing what I will tell the clan anyways?”

“But it doesn’t matter, does it? No one was listening that I saw.”

Tkrn whined at Krshia, but the other Gnoll didn’t relent. She shook her head.

“We need Erin Solstice more than she needs us, yes? And we do not want her speaking with others who would know her value.”

Krshia prodded Tkrn none-too-gently in the chest.

“So be more alert! When she comes back I wish to know. And tonight, ask one of the Runners. Lv or Tshana. They must send a message to the tribes.”

Tkrn looked up. That was serious. He listened carefully as Krshia spoke.

“They must send more of our people here. Wise ones. I ask for counsel as well, of all I have learned. I will speak with all those in the city as soon as all can be gathered and send a second Runner. But this first one must go at once.”

“Will you ask anything else of them?”

“Ask them if they have found others such as Erin. And if they have not found, tell them to search! Tell them to look among humans for ones who stand out and speak and act differently. We have found some.”

“So far they have all been long dead.”

“Yes. That is why this one must not die.”

Tkrn straightened. He had a sword at his waist and a shield buckled to one arm. But he would have been dangerous without either weapon. His eyes glinted in the moonlight.

“Do you wish for me to gather some others to watch over her inn? We could set up camp a few miles away in secret.”

Again, for his trouble Tkrn earned another elbow that made him wince. Krshia flattened her ears and glared at him.

“Hst. You are foolish, Tkrn. Just like a pup on his first hunt. If we place others around her inn, she will notice, yes? But before she does, others will notice and ask questions. And we have few warriors in the city as it is.”

Tkrn whined. He didn’t like speaking to Krshia, especially because the punishment for making mistakes was so painful.

“How can we protect her if we cannot be seen near her?”

Krshia didn’t turn as she strode away. She spoke briskly over her shoulder as she went to talk with other Gnolls.

“We give her fangs to protect herself.”

----

Toren was being chastised. Or rather, Toren was being yelled at. It was pretty much the same thing, but volume was the key difference here.

Erin walked through the grass back towards her inn, snapping at the skeleton as it meekly followed her, fish in hand.

“Why did you come all the way out here? Do you know what would have happened if the guard had seen you? He would have smashed you to bits and I would have probably gotten in trouble. Somehow.”

Toren the skeleton didn’t say anything. It couldn’t, but it wouldn’t even if it could. It felt bad, but also good, which was a confusing feeling. Bad because Erin was mad at it, but good because it had a name.

Toren. Or Tor for short. Although why the skeleton would want a shorter name was beyond it. But Erin had told it that was its name. Toren. It meant rook in another language, but what a rook was Toren had no idea. It was just a piece of carved stone on the board Erin liked to stare at so much.

Erin stormed through the grass, Toren meekly following in her wake. Her anger at the skeleton was rapidly dissipating, mainly because it was just taking all of her abuse. But her temper flared every time she looked back and saw the skeleton carrying the massive, and very dead flat fish.

“And what were you thinking? Were you even thinking? Can you even think? Why would you think grabbing one of those stupid fish was a good idea?”

Toren bowed its head meekly and made no reply. The dead fish he carried in both his arms flopped around as he followed her.

Really, the skeleton hadn’t intended to kill the fish. It had leapt out at him while he’d been filling the buckets with water. But by dragging it away from its watery home, Toren had learned an important lesson: fish couldn’t breathe without water.

It hadn’t been sure if the flat-fish were truly dangerous, but the skeleton was aware of their crushing strength and lethally sharp teeth. Moreover the skeleton now known as Toren or ‘Tor’ had felt there was something valuable to be gained. It was—yes, it was Level 2 already from battling the adventurers. Perhaps it could gain another level by killing fish?

After all, a level wasn’t much, especially at lower-levels. But the skeleton had felt the slight shift in its overall coordination, strength, endurance and overall fighting ability. The connection was simple in its mind. Levels were strength. So too was the [Sword Fighting – Basic] skill it had acquired.

It had orders. Do something productive. That could mean kill fish. So the skeleton had stuck its arm into the water and moved it around enticingly. Killing things was easy. Not like cleaning.

Thus, it had killed several of the large fish and taken them back to the inn. And it had brought one for Erin as something ‘useful’. Clearly, it had failed.

“Look, it’s not that I don’t like fish. I like fish. Dead fish that have a bit of lemon juice squeezed over the top after they’ve been roasted nicely. And maybe a bit of salt and pepper. I like those kind of fish. But this fish is bad news. I tried cutting its scales off once and nearly sliced my hand off.”

That sounded like a problem but Toren wasn’t sure what it was expected to do about it.

Erin kicked the door to her inn open, stopped as her nose registered the fishy smell, and turned to glare at Toren. The skeleton flinched back from her. Erin stormed into the kitchen and her exclamation nearly rattled the floorboards.

“What is this?”

Fish were easy to catch, especially since Toren didn’t mind if they latched onto its arm. But they were hard to get off, so it had had to hack at them with its sword. Thus, the fish in Erin’s kitchen weren’t so much dead as…

Disassembled.

The fish Toren was holding was the only one that was even close to intact. The other…bits Toren had carefully collected, washed to remove dirt and blood, and then deposited in a neat heaping pile on one of the cutting boards in the kitchen.

The fish guts dripped onto the floor. Toren automatically put down its fish on the counter and went to clean up the puddle of bloody water.

“Stop that.”

The skeleton paused with the rag in its hand as Erin rubbed at her face and tried not to scream. It could sense Erin was angry, but it clearly had no idea why. Erin sighed and pointed at the dead fish.

“You did this.”

The skeleton nodded.

“I think I get it. You wanted to be helpful. This is food. Which is…helpful, right?”

Another nod. Erin sighed.

“But look—I can’t eat this. No one can. Not even the G—well, maybe the Goblins. But we don’t eat food like…”

She waved at the mess of fish. Toren appeared confused.

“It’s the scales. See these?”

Erin pointed to the sharp, glittering scales lying all over the counter.

“They’re not tasty. And these ones are sharp. If we want to eat the fish, you have to get rid of the scales. And I—I can’t do it. Seriously. Like I said, last time…”

Erin broke off. The skeleton—she kept forgetting she’d named him Tor – was nodding. It dropped the rag, walked over and grabbed a knife. Then it grabbed the fish it had taken and raised the knife.

It had no cooking skills and probably no idea what cooking even was. It hacked energetically and completely ineffectually at the fish with the knife. Scales and guts went flying everywhere. Erin covered her face and yelped as the skeleton cut, pried, and generally ripped the scales and much of the flesh right off the fish.

“Stop, stop!”

Tor paused and looked over at her. Erin pointed.

“Outside. Do that outside, on a table or something. And after that, clean up—no, nevermind. I’ll clean up this mess, you start getting rid of those scales, okay?”

The skeleton nodded. It carefully stuck the kitchen knife between its ribs to hold it in place, lifted the huge fish with both hands and walked out of the kitchen with it. Erin stared until she heard the screech of wood on wood as the skeleton began dragging a table towards the door.

“I—don’t even know. I just don’t know.”

She stared down at the mess of scales and blood on the kitchen floor, and then at the pile of eviscerated fish parts. It was a mess.

But—was it because they were disassembled? Somehow, Erin could tell what she could do with the fish guts now that they were in manageable pieces. Without the scales, she could fry them, use them in soups, bake them after breading them…

“I guess [Basic Cooking] doesn’t include scale removal. Or—scale removal on killer fish.”

That reminded Erin. She walked back to the entrance of the kitchen and called outside.

“Get rid of the teeth, bones and fins too!”

She heard no response, but she was beginning not to expect one. With a sigh, Erin walked back into her kitchen and stared at the mess.

It really wasn’t that hard to clean up. And the skeleton had found a new food source. Or rather, it had transformed an old food source into an actual source of food. For her. It had done it for her.

That was nice. And Erin had finally thought of a name for it thanks to all the online chess games and conversations she’d had with foreign players. The Dutch had some pretty cool names.

It was all fine. Even her conversation with Krshia—

“Wasn’t that weird?”

Erin murmured to herself as she began separating the obviously unusable parts of the fish on the cutting board. The guts squelched horribly but her mind was elsewhere.

Home. She really had tried not to think of it. But now that she had, it called to her. And it was still so far away. A mage? An archmage? Where the hell was she going to find one of those? But it was also something to focus on. A goal.

And that was good. It was all good. Except that now Erin was back in the inn, she’d remembered something. Or someones. Rags and Pisces were gone. Well, obviously they’d both left once they realized she wasn’t getting back in time for dinner. And that was good too. Erin didn’t think she could face them right now.

The fish guts were all separated and Erin had the teeth, bones and miscellaneous bits ready for Tor to take out and dispose of. Far away. She’d have to tell him that. He could toss them back in the stream.

She stared down at the mostly descaled bits of fish. The blood and guts stared up at her. She could cook them, though. She could turn them into something useful. It was a valuable Skill, and one she’d gotten without even having to practice. It was practically like magic.

Erin’s fist hit the pile of fish guts.

“Damnit.”

She hit the fish again. Bits of blood splattered her face, but Erin punched harder.

“Dammit. Dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit.”

She punched the flayed fish, ignoring the squishing and the splatters of blood. She kicked the counter, hit the fish until her hands were raw and tingling, and then stopped.

“Fuck. Stupid, stupid—”

There were no right words. And all the ones she knew sounded so hollow and pitiful. Erin put her hands over her face and took them away instantly. Bits of fish clung to her skin. She looked around.

The counter and floor were even more of a mess than they’d been before. So were Erin’s clothes and her hair. She reeked of the smell of dead fish now. It would take a long time to clean up, even with Tor’s help

If she were a mage she’d be able to clean it all up with a spell, or a wave of her wand. If she were a mage, she’d be able to cook everything and relax without having to worry about a thing. If she were a mage, she might even learn how to bring herself back home.

If she could use magic…

But she couldn’t.

A few tears ran down Erin’s face. She would have wiped at her eyes, but her hands were dirty. She was dirty. And she had no magic to make it all go away. She couldn’t even dream of magic. Because she had none. And knowing that made it all so much worse.

Her tears fell onto the cutting board and mixed with the blood and death below her. Erin didn’t care. She let her tears fall, and heard the sound of an owl’s wings flapping and heard the high pitched tones of a celeste and far off in the distance, horns and violins.

For a moment she wore robes and held a wand that sparked and glowed. In that instant she could fly, albeit with a broom and there was nothing that she couldn’t solve with a few latin words and a spell. For a moment.

But the magic was gone. And only Erin was left, covered in dead fish and lost.

Alone, and dreaming of home.

“…Damn it.”

1.11 R

The five people sat around a table and studied each other carefully. They were all warriors, and all but one of them was human. And while some of them were friends with each other, they weren’t here to socialize. This was business, and right now they were all arguing about one thing.

The first to speak was the Minotaur. Calruz, captain of the Horns of Hammerad wasn’t one for waiting at the best of times, and his patience was already stretched thin. He hit the large table in the Adventurer’s Guild lightly—at least in the sense that his fist didn’t crack the wood. Two of the other adventurer captains jumped from the impact as everyone stared at him.

“Have you no spines? Here is the opportunity of a life time and you all hesitate to step forwards! Grab your axes and let’s enter these ruins already!”

The woman sitting next to him shook her head. She was a fair-skinned woman with blonde hair and polished silver armor, completely contrasting against Calruz’s bare chest and impatient nature. But he and she were in agreement.

“Most of us don’t use axes, Calruz. And while you have a point, recklessness is the exact reason everyone else is hesitating. We need to move carefully and I’m saying it can be done.”

The Minotaur glared sideways at the woman, but he was wise enough not to attack his only ally in the room. He subsided back into his chair, grumbling.

“If we don’t get in there first, some Gold-rank team is going to organize an expedition and grab everything before we do!”

One of the captains sitting across the table shook his head. He was an archer, at least from the large longbow resting against the table next to him.

“That’s what Charlez said. He took his entire group in right off and they came back as zombies. Not a scratch on their weapons, but their armor was nearly ripped off. We all know what that means.”

“I don’t. Stop talking in riddles and spell it out for me.”

One of the adventurer captains leaned forwards. He was a burly man with an axe nearly as large as Calruz’s strapped to his back. He glowered at the archer-captain.

This time it was the man in robes sitting next to him that answered the captain.

“What it means, Gregor, is that whatever Charlez and his group ran into, they didn’t even get a chance to fight back before it ripped them to pieces. And then something—it might have been another monster or the same one—reanimated them and sent them back out. That’s a serious threat.”

“And above our ability.”

That came from a scarred man who only wore a longsword at his side. He wasn’t armored like the other adventurer captains, but then, they’d all travelled through the night to make this meeting on time. He folded his arms and shook his head at Calruz and the female captain.

“We’ve all heard of how many Bronze-rank teams and individuals have been lost in those damned Ruins so far. True, most of them rushed in but Charlez was different. He was experienced and he went in prepared to retreat. Whatever got him was deadly. And you’re proposing we go in without knowing what the hell is down there?”

The woman in silver armor shook her head.

“I’m proposing we join together and launch a six-team raid on those ruins. We stock up on supplies, pool our best warriors and fortify along the way as we go as far as we can. We’ll have a far better chance if we work together and the Ruins are practically untouched beyond the first level. I hear Liscor doesn’t want to investigate themselves and is leaving everything up to the adventurers. If we want to get to whatever treasures are buried in there, now’s our chance.”

Calruz nodded emphatically, but the others didn’t appear convinced. The archer-captain leaned forwards and addressed the table at large.

“Why not let the other adventurers go in first and wait for at least one or two to come back for more insight? This isn’t like you, Yvlon. I could see Calruz wanting to go in, but how’d he manage to talk you into it?”

Yvlon, the woman in silver armor, smiled at the other captain.

“Impatience and daring, Cervial. I was excited as the rest of you when I heard about the ruins. But you’re right. I am moving fast, but not because Calruz managed to talk me into it. I heard there’s a team of Gold-rank adventurers who’ve heard of the ruins. They’re travelling down south and they’ll be here in a week or less.”

That caused a stir at the table. The other captains muttered, and not happily too.

“Well that changes things.”

“Does it? Not in my opinion. The Ruins are still too dangerous.”

“But letting a bunch of golds take all the treasure? That’s different.”

“You think so? That’s not all I’ve heard. And my news is more disturbing.”

This time it was the mage-captain who spoke up. He glanced around the table.

“There’s a Named adventurer in the city right now. You might have heard of her. Gazi the Omniscient.”

All the captains fell silent. They might not have heard of Gazi, but a Named adventurer was different.

Gold-rank was as high as most ranking systems allowed for in any continent. As a general rule of thumb, a Bronze-rank adventuring team wasn’t much better than a group of rookies, while a Silver-rank team was more than a match for a small city’s standing militia. The equipment and magic available to a group of adventurers like the Horns of Hammerad meant that they could take on challenges even a large garrison might not manage.

Beyond that, Gold-rank adventurers were experienced, highly-trained groups that could handle most monster threats with ease. At the top of that grouping, teams of adventurers were equivalent to small armies and could affect disputes between nations.

Some countries had weird ranking systems that extended beyond the gold rank into platinum, adamantium, and so on. But functionally speaking, if an adventuring party or individual reached that level of renown they were no longer ranked.

Instead, they were known as Named adventurers because their names were known throughout the part of the world where they travelled. They were living legends to adventurers with short careers like the Silver-rank captains in the room.

The scarred man with the longsword broke the silence first.

“Well, that’s different. Very different. If a Named adventurer is in the city, there’s probably only one real reason why she’s there. The Ruins. But the real question is: why hasn’t she gone in yet?”

“I’ll tell you why. It’s because she’s being cautious. And if a Named adventurer doesn’t want to go in just yet—”

“She might not have any idea what’s down there. It could be fine.”

“Or there could be monsters that would make the High Passes look like a small bear cave by comparison! No! My group won’t take part.”

“You coward. Where’s your sense of pride as a warrior?”

Calruz raised his voice and aimed it at the captain with the axe. The man flushed red and pushed his chair back angrily, but the mage at his side put a hand on his shoulder.

“None of us are cowards, and you’d do well to remember that before tossing around insults, Calruz. But this changes things.”

“Only if you’re taking the worst view of it.”

This came from the archer-captain. He was thinking, stroking the handle of his bow thoughtfully as he spoke.

“I might, might be willing to give this a try. The Horns of Hammerad and the Silver Spears together represents a large fighting force. If I throw in my team, we’d have a party big enough to challenge even the deeper parts of the Ruins of Albez.”

“Don’t be stupid, Cervial. You can’t expect these ruins to be the same.”

Cervial shook his head at the speaker.

“I’m not suggesting they are. But between our three teams we’re at least equal to one or two Gold-rank teams, and if the rest of you joined in it might work. Might.”

Calruz leaned forwards and addressed Cervial.

“If you’re with us, I’ll want your full commitment, not uncertain promises. My team has heard my decision and they are with us. If you lack their spirit, we do not need you.”

Yvlon winced and Lir the mage shook his head. Calruz was no negotiator. But Cervial didn’t seem to have taken much offense. He studied Calruz and then asked a question.

“What does Ceria Springwalker think about the Ruins?”

That caused another pause in the room. All eyes turned to Calruz. The Minotaur’s nostrils flared and he snorted angrily.

“Ceria does not lead the Horns of Hammerad. I do.”

“Yes, but she’s got more experience adventuring than this entire room does put together. If she thinks it’s worth the risk I’ll throw in with this plan.”

Gregor the axe-captain stared incredulously from Calruz to Cervial. He stood up.

“You’re all crazy and whatever’s down there is going to eat you alive. I’m out, and so is my party.”

The woman in silver armor sighed and shook her head. She glanced at the mage captain hopefully.

“Lir? You with us?”

The man in robes hesitated, and then shook his head reluctantly.

“I’m sorry, but Gregor’s right. It’s too risky, and my group needs more space to cast our spells. If we knew for certain what was below I’d join you. Cervial, you should think this through as well.”

The archer-captain paused, and then shrugged.

“I understand, but I’ll trust our resident Half-Elf on this one. If she thinks it’s worth the risk I’ll take my team in, cramped corridors or not. How often do you think we’ll get a chance like this?”

His words went unanswered. Gregor and Lir left the room, shaking their heads and talking to each other quietly. After a moment, the scarred captain stood up and followed after them, leaving the three captains behind.

“Well, that could have gone better.”

The female captain leaned over the table despondently as Calruz glared at the closed door.

“We don’t need cowards. If they lack the courage to risk their lives we were better off without them to begin with. Such weakness would only drag us down.”

“Yes, but now we have to fill their holes with Bronze-rank teams, and that is weakness. I guess it’ll come down to how many freelancers are hanging around the ruins. We’ll need more mages and more front-line fighters. At least we’ve got one team who can detect and disarm traps.”

The archer raised one hand warningly.

“If—”

“Yes, if Ceria thinks it’s worthwhile. But I believe these Ruins might even be bigger than Albez, don’t you?”

“Then why didn’t Ceria join us and lend her support while we were all arguing? If she had—”

Calruz snorted.

“Bah. She wanted to stay in Celum.”

“Why?”

“She was waiting for a Runner to come back. She made a mistake and gave her mana potions instead of healing potions right before she ran into the High Passes.”

The two other captains blanched. Cervial shook his head sadly, but Calruz was unaffected.

“I told her it would not matter. This Runner is no coward like the others. Mistake or not, she will survive the journey. And meanwhile we have an expedition to prepare.”

“You seem awfully confident about that, Calruz. The High Passes are no joke. If it were there we were going to explore, I wouldn’t feel comfortable even with all three of our teams working together.”

“She will survive. She is a Human worthy of my admiration and respect. She will survive.”

Yvlon raised her eyebrows at Cervial. It was rare that anyone heard Calruz talking about any Human positively, let alone like this.

“This wouldn’t happen to be that barefoot Runner I’ve heard so much about, would it? Was that the one who bailed your group out when you were fighting that Lich?”

“The very same. Her name is Ryoka Griffin and she is fearless.”

Cervial’s fingers snapped together lightly. The other two captains looked at him in surprise.

“I wondered where’d I’d seen her face. That girl—I believe I saw her last night. She ran straight into the city just before dawn. She’s here now, in fact. I saw her entering the guild.”

Calruz’s eyes widened. His mouth fell slightly open. The Minotaur’s long tufted ears went very still. He blinked at Cervial and then turned his eyes upwards to the ceiling.

“Ryoka Griffin is here?”

----

It was odd. Ryoka was sure she hadn’t burned that many calories with her little light trick, but before she knew it she’d downed a hunk of cheese, half a loaf of bread and quite a bit of meat and an entire stick of butter.

Not separately of course; these came in the form of sandwiches, but it was still disgusting to think that she’d somehow eaten that much food in one sitting.

Ceria downplayed Ryoka’s disgust. She explained being ravenous was normal for someone casting magic for the first time, and mages in general.

“It’s why you don’t see many fat mages—well, at least among mages who actually use their spells in combat. After a really exhausting battle I’ve eaten an entire ham by myself.”

Ryoka blinked at Ceria as the mage blushed. It didn’t even seem possible a ham would fit inside the Half-Elf’s smaller body.

“Aren’t your…people vegetarian?”

Instantly Ceria’s face turned wary.

“Not all of us. I don’t know what you’ve heard, but we eat all the food Humans eat.”

“Oh, of course. Sorry.”

Mentally Ryoka kicked herself. She was really tired, to be making mistakes like that. But at least she hadn’t started talking about Tolkien elves or any of the other stereotypes. Come to that, she didn’t know much about Half-Elves either. She wasn’t a big fantasy fan.

Changing the subject, Ceria fiddled with her wand and pointed to Ryoka.

“You should probably get your first level in the [Mage] class as soon as you take a nap. Hopefully it’ll come with a Skill or a spell, but don’t worry if it doesn’t. After that you can start thinking about what field of magic you’d want to specialize in.”

“Oh. Levels.”

Another problem. Ryoka sighed.

“Is—is leveling necessary to learn magic? Couldn’t I learn magic without gaining a…a class?”

Ceria looked surprised and had to think about that question for a moment.

“Of course you don’t need levels to learn spells. But it makes everything so much faster. For instance – when I reached Level 18 in my [Elementalist] class I learned the spell [Fireball]. It would have taken me a month of study and the right scrolls to even begin casting that spell otherwise.”

She eyed Ryoka somewhat suspiciously.

“Why? You aren’t one of those types who believes in the Limit, do you?”

“Limit?”

“A limit to our levels. Some people—they claim that we all have a set amount of levels in us. If we gain too many levels in a bunch of different classes we’ll eventually run out. Never heard of them?”

“No. And I don’t believe in that either. I just wanted to know if I could study by myself or if I had to—to wait until I leveled to learn more spells.”

“Oh. Well, that’s a common misconception. Mages level from casting spells, but we gain a lot of experience from studying magic. You can’t just go around throwing fireballs and expect to level up quickly.”

And there was another thing. As Ryoka kept talking with Ceria, lightly speculating about what magic she might like to learn, her mind was racing.

Level limits? That sounded like a game to her. But people were treating it like some kind of superstition. How much did they really know about levels anyways?

In Ryoka’s sleep-deprived state, parts of her mind were firing off with questions, but she deliberately did not ask Ceria any of them. She liked and even trusted the Half-Elf, but some things were better left unasked. At least, for the moment.

“You look beat. I’d offer you my bed, but all the other adventurers are waking up. They’ll be thumping around soon enough.”

Ryoka was pretty sure she could sleep underneath a railroad at the moment, but she still declined Ceria’s offer.

“I’d like to talk some more about magic, and look around the Adventurer’s Guild if that’s okay.”

“Of course. I’m free until Calruz finishes meeting with the other Silver-rank leaders. And besides, it’s breakfast and everyone should be downstairs. We can meet them and eat at the same time.”

Ceria didn’t notice the brief look of distaste that flicked across Ryoka’s face. The other girl didn’t want to go down and socialize, but she had no choice. Reluctantly, she followed Ceria down the stairs.

----

Damn. I hate talking to people. No—that’s not exactly right. I hate talking to people in groups. Individuals are fine. Ceria’s fine, Garia’s fine…Sostrom is fine…

…That’s about it. I’d be absolutely happy to talk to any one of them, but everyone else can go to hell rather than bother me. But instead I get to follow Ceria down and socialize.

I hate that. But I do owe Ceria, not least because she’s helped me learn magic. Me. Learn magic.[50][51]

I follow Ceria down into the main section of the Adventurer’s Guild. The ground floor has an open lobby for people to either submit requests for assistance to the guild or adventurers to turn in bounties and collect rewards like the Runner’s Guild, but it also has more sections designed to cater to the adventuring lifestyle.

A small shop staffed by employees of the city’s guild is the last stop in the small corridor before we reached what I can only describe as a cafeteria. It’s a mess hall, but the way it’s set up immediately screams school cafeteria at me. And this is not a pleasant association.

The cafeteria is essentially one far wall with a noisy kitchen partially exposed to the room and a long counter where adventurers can pay for food without having to make their way to an inn. The Adventurer’s Guild in Esthelm is even big enough to have quite a few rooms for rent like the one Ceria was staying in. I suppose it all makes sense—you can earn even more money feeding the people who kill monsters for you.

As soon as Ceria and I step into the room people turn and look. I guess it’s an adventurer thing—and a Runner thing come to think of it—not to want to be caught off-guard.

But the truth of it is that Ceria and I would probably attract attention anywhere we go. Ceria is Ceria—half immortal and beautiful. And I’m…me. I’ve got bare feet and I’m taller than a lot of the guys here. Plus, I look Asian and this is a very Anglo-Saxon type of place.[52][53]

“Ryoka Griffin!”

I’m cut off from my incoherent musings when I hear someone talking to me. It’s a familiar voice, but that doesn’t mean I’m too happy to hear it. Still, I’ve got to play nice. And I do owe these people, even if it seems like half of them are a bit too interested in me as a member of the opposite sex.

So I smile, turn, and clasp hands with Gerial, Sostrom and the other Horns of Hammerad as they get up from their seats. There are several people I don’t recognize, and they nod to me as Ceria and Gerial introduce them.

‘Hey, Ryoka, this is blah blah or someone someone who’s here to hit things or shoot people with arrows.’ I really don’t care, especially since I’m still hungry, tired, and grumpy at having to meet people. But I do owe the Horns so I shake hands and smile and pretend I like them, which is not my strong suit.

I’m just tired. It was a mistake to say I wanted to check out the Adventurer’s Guild to Ceria. What I really should have said is that I want to look around really quickly, talk with her for three more hours, and then go to sleep for the rest of the day before doing anything else.

Instead I’m stuck. And guess what? I forgot that people still hadn’t heard about me going through the High Passes, which means suddenly a bunch of annoying people want me to tell them exactly what happened.

“I ran into a bunch of Goblins, some wolves, some goats, and then some gargoyles. I just kept running and then I got to my destination.”

Gerial made a polite sound of disbelief while Ceria eyes me as she brings us some more food. Cafeteria food for adventurers. Lovely.

To be fair, it’s sausage, barley bread, and some vegetable soup steaming in a bowl. And some weak, minty drink people around here love. And that’s great cooking by medieval standards. A far higher standard of living than what poor people would have eaten all the time.[54]

I eat it while they pester me with questions. The Horns of Hammerad have their own table, but it seems like a bunch of adventurers just happen to be standing around listening too.

“There’s got to be more than that. What kind of wolves were they? Normal kinds or were they actual monsters?”

I glance up at Gerial. He’s still smiling and trying to be Mr. Nice Guy. Okay, maybe he genuinely is nice, but I still don’t like him as easily as I do Ceria. Probably because he’s a guy and even he can’t resist staring at my breasts once or twice.[55]

Okay, I realize what the problem is. I uncross my arms and stop leaning back in my chair. If you’ve got it, don’t flaunt it unless you want people to think about touching it. Or something.

“I don’t know. They were a lot bigger than normal wolves. And they had red fur.”

And bodies like iron. Gerial looks around. One of the mages sitting next to Sostrom nods.

“Carn Wolves.”

“Got to be.”

Several of the nearby adventurers whistle and Ceria looks pained. Oh yeah, she was really guilty about giving me those mana potions by accident. I told her it all worked out but—

“They were pretty bad. They ate up the Goblins that ambushed me and then got torn to shreds by the Gargoyles and goats.”

The adventurers murmur again and look at each other. Gerial shakes his head and leans forwards, this time meeting my eyes.

“See, Gargoyles I understand. They’re terrifying monsters when you find one holed up in a cave or terrorizing a village. But goats? What do you mean, ‘goats’?”

“Probably the flesh-eating goats, the kind with sharp teeth that can tear even Carn Wolves apart.”

This comes from a guy standing among the other adventurers. He’s got a scar over one side of his face and he’s wearing a longsword at his belt. Which means he’s pretty sparsely equipped compared to the rest of the adventurers who’re walking around in chainmail or wearing leather armor even while they eat.

He nods at me as Gerial and the other Horns turn in their seats.

“Hendric, Silver-rank adventurer. You must be the famous barefoot Runner. Were those the kind of goats you saw?”

I eye him. Despite the crowd now forming around our table, this guy is getting a bit of space and he’s not being shoved. Clearly he’s important.

“Yeah. I guess. They had sharp teeth. And they scream.”

The scarred guy nods grimly.

“That’s them alright. Those goats hunt in packs and can climb anything. They’re village killing monsters. Whenever they leave the High Passes they eat everything edible in their wake for miles around. If you outran them, Miss Runner, consider yourself lucky.”

All of the adventurers seem impressed at this. The scarred man seems to have fought the damned goats more than once, and Gerial and the others start asking him questions about them.

I lean over to Ceria.

“Who’s he?”

She pauses, swallows, and glances at the scarred guy who’s busy talking about how to behead the goats properly.

“He’s Hendric, captain of the Swordlock Dogs. A Silver-rank team, more known up north. He was supposed to be talking to Calruz and the others but—”

“Okay, okay. You got through the monsters, but what was waiting for you at the other end?”

Ceria breaks off as one of the newer members of the Horns of Hammerad interrupts our conversation. Rude asshole. He’s also the youngest guy with scruffy brownish hair. He stares at me and demands to know who I met.

“Who was he? Some rich hermit? A mage living in retirement? A shadowy figure?”

Like hell I’m going to tell him, or anyone for that matter. The mystery possibly-elf archmage Teriarch might annoy me, but he’s my mystery.

“No one special.”

While I may not like people, I am good at keeping a straight face while I tell lies.[56] And at least here I can play the Runner’s confidentiality card so I don’t have to answer any more questions about him at least.

“But Gargoyles? I’ve never seen one up close. What were they like?”

“Big. Stone. They spit rocks and try to eat you.”

What the hell do they want from me, a hand-drawn portrait with anatomical references? …Hell, I’d buy a monster bestiary if they had one around here. But all these adventurers want to know is how to kill one, and I’m definitely not the person to ask for that.

“I barely got out alive. It was sheer luck that I got away.”

“I happen to disagree with that. Anyone who can outrun a horde of Gargoyles is clearly not merely lucky.”

This time the clear voice comes from behind the other adventurers. People turn, and stand aside as they do as three adventurers walk forwards. That probably also has to do with one of them being Calruz. No one gets in his way.

Calruz, a guy holding a huge longbow as tall as he is, and a woman in silvery armor walk to the table I’m sitting at. Great. More people, and these ones also look like captains. The woman with long flowing blonde hair smiles down at me and offers a gauntleted hand.

“Yvlon Byres, Silver-rank adventurer. I’m Captain of the Silver Spears, and I wanted to make your acquaintance.”

My god does she look like something out of a movie. I stare up at her with crumbs on my face and then take her hand. One firm handshake later and somehow she and the other captains are sitting at the table.

Great. As if my trials weren’t enough. Now I’ve got Calruz sitting next to me, and a giant, hairy Minotaur is not my preferred seatmate. And now there are four Silver-rank adventuring captains sitting around me, nicely blocking me off from Ceria while a bunch of people stare at me like I’m some kind of amazingly interesting piece of crap.[57]

“Getting through the High Passes alive is something that hasn’t been done in years. Not that many Runners have tried it, but it takes a special kind of someone to do that.”

Calruz snorted and the other adventurers nodded as Yvlon, the fabulously armored and beautiful captain continues lavishing praise on me. It’s actually getting to be more annoying than the questions.

“It was a request. I got it done—half-done. I just need to finish my delivery and it’ll be over.”

“Really?”

This time everyone is interested. One of the adventurers tries to look casual.

“Where to? Whom to?”

“Confidential.”

Their faces fall. But I don’t think any of them were really expecting to get the truth out of me anyways. But at the mention of the delivery, the ring and letter I’ve been given burn in my mind. I left them in the pack in Ceria’s room. Damn. I should have been more careful with them. I’ve got to deliver—

I blink, unfocused for a second. The spell. For a moment I was about to get up and start running. That stupid mage—

“Ryoka?”

I look up. Everyone’s staring at me. I must have not been paying attention. I try not to turn red, fail, and look at Yvlon.

“Sorry, what?”

This is why I hate talking to people. But she smiles as if nothing happened and asks me again.

“I was just wondering if you had any levels in a fighting class, or whether you only had levels as a Runner. Did you enter into any other classes before this?”

Now that is a loaded question that I’m not prepared to answer. I scramble—give up.

“Why do you want to know?”

Yeah, that’s right. I’m about as blunt as a hammer to the face. But Yvlon only smiles.

“Simple curiosity. I’d like to see how well you’d do in a fight. I’m told you’re quite the pugilist despite being a Runner.”

Pugilist? Who the hell uses that term? Oh, right. ‘Boxer’ probably hasn’t been invented yet.

Gerial looks blank. He and the other adventurers at the table exchange a glance.

“What’s a ‘pugilist’?”

Ceria sighed and supplied the answer.

“Boxer.”

All the adventurers nod in sudden understanding. Okay, maybe boxing does exist in this world and Yvlon’s just a prat. Or someone who appreciates literature. I could respect that.[58]

“Who’d you hear that from?”

Word can’t have spread about me laying the beat down on that stupid adventurer in Celum. No way. I literally outran rumor. So how does this woman know who I am and that I can fight?

“I heard it from my aunt twice-removed. She lets me know about interesting people and she told me it would be worth seeking you out.”

All the adventurers seem to understand this, and look at me curiously. But I’m still out of the loop.

“Who’s the aunt? Do I know her?”

Ceria coughed gently, as if I’m making a stupid mistake.

“Yvlon Byres is leader of the Silver Spears, but she’s also part of a noble family, Ryoka.”

I look blank. Ceria sighs.

“The Byres family? Aristocracy?”

“Minor aristocracy.”

Yvlon corrects Ceria with a smile.

“We trade in silver and have several large mines in the area. And we’re distantly related to the Reinharts.”

She says that as if it means something. The who…?

Oh. Ah shit. Magnolia’s last name is Reinhart, isn’t it? That means—

That fucking woman. Even when I think I’ve outrun her she manages to find someone to bother me.

For a moment my scowl flashes across my face and Gerial closes his mouth and sits back. Yvlon eyes me, the smile still fixed on her face.

“I’m sorry if my aunt has bothered you, Ryoka, but she’s quite insistent. And she’s told all of my family—everyone, really, to keep an eye out for her.”

Gerial blinks at Yvlon. Not the quickest on the uptake, and nor are the other adventurers. But the archer-guy—Cervial I think his name was—and Ceria both stare intently at Yvlon. And so does Calruz. I guess he’s pretty quick too.

But if Ceria and Cervial say nothing, Calruz doesn’t have their subtlety. Or any, for that matter. He rests his arm on the table and leans forwards—which is only a little bit since he’s so massive already—to stare down at Yvlon.

“Her business is her own. If Magnolia Reinhart seeks Ryoka Griffin, she should either respect her privacy or seek her outright.”

Yvlon makes a pretty face and shrugs ruefully at Calruz.

“Sorry, Calruz, but no one in my family defies Lady Magnolia. And I wasn’t intending on doing anything to Ryoka. I just wanted to know if she really was good at fighting barehanded.”

“And I suppose you are?”

Again, maybe she’s well known, but everyone gives me a look like I’m a massive idiot. Yvlon smiles.

“I’ve got a bit of a reputation. The Silver Spears are known for fighting with any weapon that comes to hand, and barehanded if need be.”

Sostrom nudges me on my right side and mutters loud enough for me to hear.

“She once defeated five bandits with only her bare hands after losing her sword.”

Wow. Wooooow. And am I supposed to be impressed by that? Beating five guys down with your bare hands isn’t exactly amazing by my book. And it’s less amazing because Yvlon Byres is wearing full-plate armor made out of expensive metal. If she was fighting ‘barehanded’ with those metal gauntlets on against five guys with bad weapons, I’d put money on her too.

Perhaps my lack of any amazement showed[59], because Yvlon raised one perfect eyebrow and the other adventurers looked—discontented. Why? Because I’m not impressed by a chump in armor smacking around a few idiots?

“I heard that you managed to defeat a low-level [Assassin] with your bare hands and fought a Carn Wolf without any weapons as well.”

This time everyone goes silent. Okay, that’s it. Magnolia has been upgraded from a person I really don’t want to talk to into someone I can’t ignore. The assassin is one thing since I bet she hired him but—how did she know about the wolf?

“I’d love to see your abilities myself. I know you’re tired, but if you have time for a quick match I could give you a handicap.”

There’s no malice in Yvlon’s tone. In fact, she’s been pretty above-board with me about telling me she knows Magnolia and all. And it’s probably a fair offer, considering adventurer levels and all that. Certainly none of the other adventurers – Gerial, Sostrom, etc. are frowning. Only Calruz looks displeased.

But—a handicap. A handicap for me from this woman who looks like a supermodel who got sent back in time? Or one of those Hollywood female knights?

Right, that’s it. I’m tired, cranky, and I’d just ran over sixty miles last night to get here after fighting a mysterious assassin, getting in a bar fight, and managing to cast magic for the first time in my life.

First things first. I’m going to kick Yvlon’s face in, challenge Calruz to a fight, and then go to sleep.

Exactly in that order.

The potion bottle at my waist sloshes gently as I grin with all my teeth at Ms. Perfect Knight-Adventurer.

“Why, I’d love to have a sparring match. Tell me, have you ever heard the word MMA?”

She looks confused.

“MMA?”

1.12 R

When Garia arrived in Esthelm just before midday, she saw the commotion outside the Adventurer’s Guild before she’d even dropped off her delivery.

Sugar. Several bags of it – enough for a huge rush order in one of the bakeries in town. The heavy, sticky delivery had messed up the inside Garia’s pack. She’d have to spend quite some time cleaning it out with water and a ball of soap.

The thought was depressing to the girl, but she put that out of her mind the instant she saw Ryoka. As always, the other girl was at the center of some kind of attention. In this case, she was surrounded by a crowd of adventurers in the open courtyard used for training and sparring in the Adventurer’s Guild.

She wasn’t sparring or using a weapon. Yet. But Garia could see as plain as her own level that Ryoka was about to fight. The other girl had a—certain expression that crossed her face in times like these.

Externally, she did seem like normal Ryoka. That was to say, her impassive face which gave nothing away and her distant, reserved eyes which had fascinated Garia the first day she’d met the other girl.

But in times like these, though the mask would not break, Garia could see another Ryoka peering out from behind. And her eyes – yes, you had to look there. Ryoka’s eyes held a faint, fierce light.

It made Garia hesitate, but she was even kinder than she was curious. That instinct prompted her to gently push her way through the crowd of adventurers to stop Ryoka from picking a fight with someone dangerous.

----

Ryoka was stretching her legs out, touching her toes when she saw someone lift up a guy in leather armor and shift him out of the way. Garia, red-faced and blushing, apologized and edged into the open space and towards Ryoka.

Huh. But Ryoka had suggested Garia come to the city, hadn’t she? It was just…odd. Her conversation with Garia felt like it had happened a long time ago. But she’d been awake then and hadn’t slept since.

Tired. Which wasn’t good. Ryoka had to be at the top of her game for what was coming next.

Ryoka nodded as Garia cautiously walked closer. She would have smiled—or at least thought about smiling—but she didn’t feel like it. She needed to concentrate.

“Hey.”

“Um, hi, Ryoka. What’s up?”

“Nothing much. See that person? The one in the silver armor? She challenged me to a fight.”

Ryoka nodded across the courtyard, to where Yvlon was talking to Ceria, Calruz, and several other members of the Horns of Hammerad. Garia eyed her once, gulped, and then bent down to whisper to Ryoka.

“Ryoka? Did you do something to make her—um, mad?”

Ryoka bared her teeth. It might have been a smile.

“I don’t think so. Not yet, anyways. She challenged me to a ‘friendly’ match. I accepted. Why?”

“Oh. Nothing. It’s just—that’s Yvlon Byres, Captain of the Silver Spears. She’s famous around here.”

“So I’m told.”

“And she challenged you. To a fight?”

“Well, a sparring match. I was the one who wanted to turn it into a fight.”

“Why?”

Ryoka hesitated. She eyed Yvlon across the open space between them. The other young woman—she was closer to Ryoka’s age, possibly a year or two older—was smiling and addressing a worried-looking Ceria. She turned, met Ryoka’s eyes, and nodded politely.

The barefoot girl looked away. She began stretching her other leg and muttered to Garia.

“I—just want to push her face in a bit, don’t you? She’s a bit too beautiful and perfect.”

Garia waited, but Ryoka just stood back up and began touching her toes, breathing slowly and steadily.

“That’s it?”

“Yup.”

“Ryoka, that’s—I know Yvlon. Her group, the Silver Spears helped chase off a group of bandits that was attacking me once. And I’ve heard of her. She’s a really good person! She’s nice, she gives to the poor, her team takes on requests to help people even if the reward isn’t high—”

“I get it. She’s a great person. A popular girl. A someone everyone likes.”

The expression on Ryoka’s face said that she didn’t share the same opinion. Her eyes were flinty as they flicked towards Yvlon.

“You don’t think she’s like that?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. She just—reminds me of people I don’t like. And she looks too nice for an adventurer. I don’t like nice people.”

“That doesn’t make any sense, Ryoka.”

“I guess. Shame.”

Ryoka finished stretching out her hamstrings and stood straight, sighing. Her conversation with Garia was—distracting. She didn’t really have a good explanation for Garia, not one she could articulate. It was just how she felt. More than anything, Ryoka had been happy to fight Yvlon.

The other adventurer noticed she was staring and smiled again. Ryoka scowled. That smile. That polite little smile. She wanted to wipe it off Yvlon’s face.

“She looks way too attractive, that’s all.”

Garia shook her head. She seemed to wrestle with herself and then burst out.

“You both look like—like princesses!”

Ryoka blinked at the other Runner. Garia stared back, embarrassed.

“You do. You both look—way better than I do. Or Persua. Or anyone, really. I don’t see why you want to fight her.”

“She wants to test me, too. She’s working for Magnolia.”

“She’s related to Lady Magnolia, Ryoka.”

“Hrm.”

“You know she once took on five men and won, right? She did it barehanded.”

“With armor, though, right? Not exactly barehanded.”

Garia was close to tearing out her hair. She clutched at her head and regretted it as her sugar-encrusted palms mixed with her sweat.

“It was still five people, Ryoka! Most adventurers couldn’t do that with a weapon!”

Ryoka knew that was true. She knew it was…probably…impressive, but even in her own head she didn’t want to give the thought too much credence. Garia was still talking. Ryoka debated tuning her out and reluctantly listened.

“I know she won’t hurt you—not if you don’t try to hurt her. But Silver-rank adventurers aren’t like that guy you fought in the tavern, Ryoka. If you make her get serious she’ll—what are you doing?”

“Warming up.”

The barefoot girl wasn’t done with her pre-fight stretching. From stretching her legs, she’d moved onto her arms. And while the adventurers had watched her touch her toes and stretch her legs with interest, the next phase of her warm up was…different.

Ryoka shook her arms out in a fanning motion. It looked ridiculous, she knew. Sort of like a kid pretending to be a chicken. But it was a necessary stretch if she wanted to throw hooks when she was fighting. She began to circle her arms around, first in one direction, and then the other.

Adventurers were laughing. Ryoka ignored them. She raised her arm and grabbed the elbow, gently pushing it down her back. Then she repeated it with her other arm.

All in all the stretches took five minutes. Ryoka did everything from touching her toes to stretching out her legs to rotating her hips as if she was using a hula-hoop in slow motion.

When it was done, Ryoka could feel every part of her body was ready to go. She also had an audience. Besides the adventurers already watching her and Yvlon, a group of enterprising street vendors had joined the crowd along with a sizable group of pedestrians. They were already betting as they stood in the circle, chatting, eating food, and laughing at Ryoka’s antics.

Yvlon smiled as Ryoka walked into the center of the ring. She nodded to Ceria and took a few steps towards Ryoka.

“Interesting. You’re quite limber. Was that supposed to help you fight?”

“You don’t stretch before a fight?”

The other adventurers laughed or chuckled. Yvlon shook her head and replied drily.

“Not like that. I don’t think any warriors I know would do that – especially not in front of an audience.”

“Shame. One more advantage for me, then.”

It was amazing, Garia reflected as she watched Ryoka, that the other girl was completely—and always, come to think of it—confident. Even when she was facing down an adventurer in armor.

“Pardon me. I was just reassuring your friends that this friendly exhibition would not be harmful to you. If you’ll allow me a minute, I’ll remove my armor.”

So saying Yvlon began removing her gauntlets, but Ryoka shook her head.

“You can leave your armor on. The gauntlets too.”

The crowd had been talking and joking as they waited for the sparring match to begin, but Ryoka’s words created a hush as if someone had cast a [Silence] spell. Yvlon raised her eyebrows and behind her, Ceria slapped her forehead.

“I wouldn’t want to hurt you.”

“It won’t be me that gets hurt.”

“Ryoka, don’t be an idiot!”

Ceria walked forwards and snapped at the barefoot runner. She lowered her voice so not everyone could hear her, but in the silence her words were perfectly audible to those around her.

“Are you insane? You can’t fight someone in armor! Yvlon is a Silver-rank captain. Even if she pulls her punches she’ll hurt you. This is just a sparring match—neither of you are supposed to get hurt.”

“Really? Then let’s make it a serious fight.”

Ceria groaned as Calruz grinned in approval. The Minotaur watched Ryoka approvingly, liking her bravado. Ceria did not. She hissed at Ryoka so only the Runner could hear.

“Yvlon is not someone to take lightly, Ryoka. She’s honorable, proud—even if she is being patient. Stop being so rude.”

“I’m taking her seriously, believe me. But I want to see what fighting someone in armor is like. And besides…you’ve never seen me fight, have you?”

Ceria blinked at Ryoka. She eyed her from top to toe.

“No—but—”

“Trust me.”

“If Miss Ryoka Griffin says she’s confident, I will trust her word, Ceria.”

Yvlon smiled at the Half-elf, meeting Ceria’s worried stare. An unspoken message passed between the two and Ceria’s pointed ears lowed slightly before she stepped back.

Now Ryoka and Yvlon were alone in the center of the ring. Ryoka bounced on the balls of her feet, eying Yvlon as the other woman divested herself of her belt pouches and sword.

“I am afraid Ceria is right though, Ryoka. I would hate for you to break your hands on my armor or for me to cut your face with my gauntlets. I am sure I would be able to give you a fair fight even without my armor.”

“It’s fine. You’re not wearing a helmet anyways.”

Again, Ryoka’s words caused a stir in the crowd, and not an entirely positive one. From her position, Garia could see some of the other adventurers – especially the armored women who were part of the Silver Spears – looking annoyed or outright angry at Ryoka’s words.

But Yvlon only smiled politely. It was a smile quite similar to Lady Magnolia’s, actually. A [Lady]’s smile that gave nothing away.

“Very well. I am told you practice some sort of unarmed fighting? You said it was…MMA? I confess that I have only a bit of formal training myself. Much of what I know is self-taught.”

“Yeah. I practice Mixed Martial Arts. Muay Thai.”

“And you are a skilled practitioner of this…Muay Thai?”

“Where I come from, yeah.”

“Interesting. Then shall we begin? I believe it would be only courteous to allow you the first strike.”

Yvlon walked forwards a few steps, and then raised her gauntleted arms in something close to a boxer’s guard. The murmuring of the crowd increased as Ryoka began circling the other woman, hands up.

Her posture was different than it would be in a Muay Thai sparring match. Ryoka was treating this like an MMA fight, although she’d never been in one herself. But she’d practiced on the off-chance her parents would allow her to fight in the ring.

Her posture and center of balance were lowered, her stance was wider and her hands were loosely clasped into fists. She rested more weight on her front leg as she eyed Yvlon.

Now that she was finally in front of the other woman Ryoka found time for a shred of regret that she was fighting the other woman in armor. It was complete idiocy to fight anyone in armor barehanded. She knew that.

But part of Ryoka wanted this. She wanted the challenge; she wanted to see how far she could push herself against unfair odds like this. And most of all, she wanted to win even with Yvlon in full plate armor. She wanted it quite badly, in fact.

The other woman slowly rotated to follow Ryoka as the barefoot girl circled her. She was waiting for Ryoka’s first move, as she’d said.

Well, that was fine with her. Ryoka feinted with her hands. Yvlon’s instinctively moved to block. Ryoka put all her weight onto her front leg and spun, throwing her back leg up and back towards the side of Yvlon’s head in what was known as a spinning wheel kick.

Ryoka’s leg flashed upwards and Yvlon barely raised her arms in time to protect her head. Despite the armor she wore, she still staggered back from the impact.

That was the moment Ryoka had really been waiting for. Even before she was fully back upright she moved sideways and threw a punch at Yvlon’s head.

Her hands were impossibly quick. Garia couldn’t even see Ryoka as the girl threw a lightning-fast jab at the adventurer’s face.

Ryoka’s right hand flew forwards in a strike that would have caught Yvlon straight on the tip of her chin. But before it landed one silver-plated hand came up and seized Ryoka’s hand.

From her position Garia saw the barefoot girl’s eyes widen, and then she twisted both body and head to avoid Yvlon’s fist. She couldn’t get away perfectly, held as she was by the other adventurer. The gauntlet caught Ryoka on the side of the jaw and drew blood.

The adventurers in the crowd cheered as Yvlon released Ryoka’s hand. That was probably a wise move regardless, because the look in the other girl’s eyes was pure fury. Ryoka muttered an expletive around her bleeding mouth and spat.

Yvlon gave Ryoka a polite smile as she raised her fists again. The light glinted off the polished metal and specks of blood on her right gauntlet.

“I understand your pride Ryoka Griffin, but we adventurers have our own dignity. You underestimate us at your peril. Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to remove my armor?”

That was the wrong thing to say. Ceria shouted something at Ryoka, but Garia saw the look in the Runner’s eyes. Slowly, she straightened, wiping the rest of the blood away from her cut lips.

“I’m going to get serious now.”

Yvlon seemed to sigh, but in an instant her guard was back up and she was watching Ryoka warily. She didn’t underestimate the other girl despite having scored a point first.

Ryoka paused for a moment, staring hard at Yvlon. Then she advanced slowly, raising her hands above her head.

The adventurers in Esthelm were nothing if not admiring of someone with spirit. Half of them egged Ryoka on, laughing and cheering as she advanced on Yvlon while the other half bet whether she’d even manage to strike the other woman’s face.

Yvlon’s eyes narrowed as Ryoka got closer and closer. Before the other girl could move, she stepped forwards and threw a lightning-quick punch at Ryoka’s head.

Ryoka didn’t dodge so much as lean on one leg and move her head down. The metal fist missed her head by inches, prompting a gasp from her audience. But neither woman was finished.

Even as Ryoka dodged her first punch, Yvlon’s second hand flew up in an uppercut towards Ryoka’s face. But again, Ryoka took a step back and avoided the blow with mere inches to spare. Then she threw a backhand at Yvlon’s face.

Again, the adventurer blocked but this time Ryoka wasn’t interested in kicking. She darted behind Yvlon as the adventurer turned in her heavier armor. Ryoka hooked her leg behind Yvlon’s and kicked straight through, sending the armored adventurer tumbling to the ground.

The crash of metal was the only sound in the silence. Yvlon rolled and got to her feet in an instant, ready for an attack but Ryoka just stood with her guard up, waiting.

“Well.”

Was it a rueful smile? It flicked across Yvlon’s face in an instant before she went all-out on the attack. She rushed at Ryoka, throwing swift punches that made the other girl dodge back.

It still wasn’t an equal fight. Even Garia could see that Ryoka was mostly on the defensive, unable to hit Yvlon while the other adventurer guarded her face. It wasn’t an equal fight.

But it was silent. Now all the adventurers were watching Ryoka like hawks. She dodged back, letting Yvlon come at her, always moving, darting in for strikes against Yvlon’s head before escaping.

Ryoka missed the timing for one of her strikes and Yvlon caught her in a flurry of blows. Ryoka took a punch to the midsection and a glancing blow off one shoulder—and then kicked Yvlon in the stomach hard enough to send the adventurer staggering back.

Again, Ryoka charged Yvlon. She avoided a wild punch, and then had the other woman’s back. She stepped behind Yvlon with one leg, and using her elbow threw the woman back over her knee. Again, the crash of metal was the only sound in the silence.

This time Ryoka didn’t let Yvlon get up. She advanced on the adventurer as she struggled to get off the ground. Yvlon turned and lashed out with her fist, almost too fast for Garia to follow. But Ryoka had been expecting that. She leaned back and then seized the other woman’s arm.

Garia saw Yvlon strike upwards at Ryoka, a flash of movement as the other girl twisted around her—for a second all was confusion, and then Ryoka was twisting Yvlon’s arm up while she planted her knee on her back.

It was over. Ryoka was holding the arm as high as the armor would allow. She was about to transition into a choke hold when she saw Yvlon’s hand push against the ground—

Ryoka was thrown off by the explosive force as Yvlon threw herself back, knocking the other girl off her. She turned and kicked, and Ryoka tumbled with the force of the blow.

Yvlon was trying to rotate her arm and work out the pain when she saw Ryoka roll and tumble upright in a flash of motion. She blinked—and caught a fist to her face for the first time. Ryoka’s hand knocked her head back slightly. As Yvlon was stunned, two more lightning-fast jabs hit her on the cheek and jaw.

The third punch Yvlon caught in a grip like steel. Ryoka braced herself, but no metal fist came swinging her way.

The Captain of the Silver Spears was shaking her head, and her mouth was moving. Over the roar of blood in Ryoka’s ears she realized people were shouting, and the adventurer released her hand and relaxed her stance as she massaged her mouth.

The fight was over.

----

“What was that?”

That was the first question Garia asked Ryoka once she had a chance. This was mainly because everyone else was queuing up for food in the Guild’s mess hall.

Ryoka shrugged and pushed at her food with a sour face. It wasn’t that she wasn’t hungry—she was ravenous—but she was already tired of answering questions.

Reluctantly, she bit into a bit of juicy sausage and replied to the awestruck girl sitting across from her.

“Those were throws. Special moves to take down an opponent. Haven’t you ever seen someone tossing an opponent to the ground before?”

“Well, yeah, of course, but…”

Garia floundered as she searched for words.

“You made it look so easy. Yvlon was in armor and you just threw her to the ground—twice!”

“It would have been better if I’d kept her down.”

Ryoka grunted as she chomped hard on her food. At least she was able to savor it. A healing potion had taken care of all her injuries—and Yvlon’s.

Garia stared at her incredulously.

“You knocked down a Silver-rank Captain. Anyone would be proud of that.”

Ryoka smiled.

“Yeah. And I got to hit her.”

“Those last two punches were unnecessary.”

Ceria’s voice made the two Runners look up. The Half-elf slid onto the long table and frowned at Ryoka.

“You didn’t need to hit her that many times. This was supposed to be a gentle spar, not you trying to break her jaw.”

Ryoka looked completely unapologetic.

“Oops.”

Ceria made a noise that sounded like a sigh crossed with a hiss and muttered a word neither Garia nor Ryoka knew. They understood the meaning perfectly, though.

Taking a seat across from Ryoka, Ceria stabbed at her food. Thus far she and Garia were the only two people to have joined Ryoka in the mess hall, despite the numerous adventurers sitting around them.

Predictably, Ryoka had chosen the far corner of the furthest table from the door, which meant that there would be far fewer people able to talk to her. But it seemed as though quite a few adventurers would have liked to come up and chat; only a few did.

These were the members of the Horns of Hammerad and the various Silver-rank captains Ryoka had met. Two of them, the man with the longbow named Cervial and Yvlon took seats next to Ryoka.

Maybe it wasn’t intentional, but Cervial took the seat directly next to Ryoka, putting himself between the two women. It wasn’t as if either woman was overtly hostile to the other—and indeed, they were quite polite.

But if Yvlon was polite and genuinely admiring of Ryoka after the fight, there was a certain edge in Ryoka’s replies and comments that didn’t pass unnoticed at the table.

Yvlon politely munched on a boiled piece of asparagus or asparagus-like vegetable and commented to the table at large but Ryoka and Garia in general.

“You see, it’s not as if we’re hurting for money or jobs at the moment. There’s always work and we can brave the Ruins of Albez for quite a profit most of the time. But it’s not sustainable in the long run.”

Cervial nodded. He stabbed at his food and made a face.

“Adventuring isn’t easy at our level. We’re just good enough that it’s not worth our time to take requests clearing out Goblin tribes unless they’re really big – but we don’t have the strength to take on the stronger types of monsters. Sooner or later our luck runs out and we take an injury we can’t heal up from – or die. That’s why these new ruins might be our break. If we can get in there and find some serious magical artifacts or equipment we could easily reach Gold-rank.”

“The only question is whether the risks in this case are worth the reward. So far Cervial’s team – the Flawless Flights, mine, and Calruz’s are the only ones who are willing to go in first.”

“It took some doing, but Ceria convinced me that the ruins could be loaded with ancient artifacts. They’re quite similar to ancient crypts, apparently.”

Cervial drained his mug and nodded politely at the Half-elf across the table.

“Still, we’re going in carefully. Both Yvlon and I are only doing this for the treasure.”

Ryoka shifted. She looked across the room at where adventurers were still being served. Perhaps it was because of his size, but Calruz had been stuck at the back of the line and he was grumpy about waiting. He kept casting glances at the now-full table Ryoka was sitting at, irritated.

“What about Calruz, then?”

Yvlon chuckled politely and Cervial shook his head.

“He just wants the challenge. That stupid Minotaur doesn’t care what enemies he’s fighting so long as he can gain experience from it. He’s a Levelist; one of the old-fashioned kind. Not like the rest of us.”

Ryoka nodded. She thought she understood from context alone. If Yvlon and Cervial were adventurers who relied upon magical equipment along with their levels to get stronger, Calruz was the kind of person who thought gaining more levels was all that he needed. She looked at Cervial.

“What’s the level difference between a Silver-ranked adventurer and a Gold-rank?”

“The difference? Well—it could be just a few levels depending on their equipment. Remember, in most cases it’s the entire party who gets the Gold-rank. I guess Silver-rank is mostly in the low twenties at best while Gold-rank is anywhere from Level 24 onwards.”

“Of course, individual skill still plays a pretty big role.”

Yvlon nodded at Calruz as the Minotaur impatiently waited for his food, clearly unhappy at missing the conversation and having to wait behind lesser adventurers.

“Calruz is only around Level 20, but he’s also a Minotaur. He could have found his way onto a Gold-rank team, but he wanted to be in command.”

At last the talked-of Minotaur was served a double portion onto his plate. He stomped towards the table, pausing when he saw there was nowhere to sit.

He took two steps towards Ryoka and pointed to Garia. The girl flinched as Calruz growled at her.

“You. Runner. Move.”

“O-oh. Sure.”

Garia was about to slip out of her seat, but Ryoka – and surprisingly – Cervial, grabbed her by the clothing.

“Hold it, Calruz. You can’t just order someone to leave. Pull up a chair or sit at the other end of the table.”

Calruz scowled down at Cervial.

“She is no warrior. This place is reserved for adventurers, not mere Runners.”

Ryoka raised her eyebrows. Apparently, she didn’t count. Garia squeaked and trembled by her side.

“I—I can go. It’s no problem. I didn’t want to get in the way—”

“You stubborn idiot. Take my seat if you’re so desperate!”

Ceria snapped and stood up. She grabbed her plate and shoved it onto the table behind her.

“For a Captain who preaches so much about honor, you certainly don’t show much of it!”

This comment caused a hush among the nearby adventurers and especially the rest of the Horns of Hammerad, but Calruz looked unmoved. He sat at the table, ignoring Garia like a footstool.

“Honor is for those who earn it. Those who do not risk their lives in battle are not the same as true warriors.”

Ryoka frowned, but made no comment as Garia instantly went back to her food, avoiding looking at Calruz. There was a lot she wanted to say, but flipping the Minotaur’s food into his face was more appealing.

But since she had the feeling Garia might carry at least some of the Minotaur’s ire if she did it, Ryoka – reluctantly – held back. But the Minotaur’s attitude annoyed her.

Still—now that Ryoka thought about it she’d never heard Calruz say anything to the other girl. He’d talked and she’d talked when they were in the inn, but the two had never directly spoken to each other once.

As Ryoka’s eyes flicked towards Calruz and her expressionless face darkened slightly, Yvlon nudged Cervial. The taller man looked at Ryoka and spoke lightly.

“Your skill at unarmed fighting is quite incredible. I can see how it would be useful keeping away bandits and Goblins.”

“Mm?”

Ryoka looked up, realized she’d been addressed, and shrugged.

“It helps.”

“You wouldn’t happen to be able to use any other weapons besides your fists, would you? A bow, for example?”

Across the table, Gerial objected.

“Wait a second, Cervial, if you’re going to recruit Ryoka the Horns of Hammerad have the right to make the first offer.”

Sostrom and the other adventurers agreed while the adventurers that were part of the Flawless Flight shouted from their table across the hall. Cervial laughed and raised his hands and then looked at Ryoka.

“I don’t use weapons. And I’m not interested.”

“A shame. But I hope if you see a request from us you’ll consider taking it. In fact, if you’d like we could arrange to request deliveries from you alone if you’re ever in the same area as we are.”

That got Ryoka’s attention. What Cervial was suggesting was a form of personalized contract in the Runner’s Guild. That way, he could offer her exclusive deliveries.

“Why? Any Runner can deliver healing potions.”

“But no one has the guts to do it when there’s a Lich raining spells down on our heads.”

That remark came from Sostrom, and it was met with agreement from the other adventurers. Cervial nodded.

“Being an adventurer is all about finding trustworthy contacts. Good Runners like you for instance—having someone to rely on when we’re out exploring dungeons is far better than requesting an emergency delivery and hoping the Runner we get is competent.”

He shrugged.

“Not that we ever plan to get in trouble of course, but when we’re in a pinch…at our level we need to forge friendships and build up our group. It’s not something people think about, but there’s really no other way to survive. We trust each other with our backs or we’ll fall together.”

Something about that line tickled Ryoka’s memory. She grunted and then looked at Cervial. The words came out before she could stop them. The same anger and contempt leaping from her thoughts out her mouth.

“You sound like a bunch of Runners when you say it like that.”

The mood at the table froze over for a second. Garia stared wide-eyed at Ryoka and then tried to edge back in her seat. Cervial’s smile flickered, and then came back.

“Really? That’s not a good thing, usually. The Runner’s Guild and the Adventurer’s Guild don’t get along. They think we’re all muscle-bound idiots and we think they’re—”

“Cowards.”

Calruz grunted and ate half a sausage in one huge bite.

“I wouldn’t say cowards.”

Yvlon objected, but most of the other adventurers seemed to agree with Calruz. Yvlon sighed and smiled at Garia reassuringly.

“Not all of you. It’s just that it’s an unfortunate comparison to make, Ryoka.”

“Seems accurate to me.”

Ryoka deliberately popped the last bit of sausage into her mouth and took a drink, conscious of all the eyes on her. Cervial was still smiling, but it was a brittle smile.

“Really? And which Runners do we sound like?”

“Guy named Fals. He says the same things as you do. Runners have to band together in order to survive. Sacrifice the good of the individual for the group. ‘Work together or die.’”

Thoughtfully, Cervial propped his head on his hand. He was still smiling, but there was a tiny bit of anger in his eyes. Ryoka recognized it as something similar to her own. She felt…prickly. More so even than usual.

“I can agree with that. And I know Fals. He’s no coward, although he does represent most of the things I dislike about the Runner’s Guild. But he’s not wrong. It’s a tough world. Yet you seem to disagree?”

Ryoka let the question dangle. She drained her mug, replenishing lost sweat. She wiped her mouth and shrugged.

“I’m not a team player.”

Her comment ended the conversation. There wasn’t really much that you could say to that. Garia slurped at her soup nervously and tried not to meet anyone’s eyes.

“Well, in any case, if you’d like to work for any of our teams, we’d be happy to set up an arrangement. With your skills we wouldn’t have to worry about you being chased off by monsters. In fact, if you’d like to join our expedition to the ruins around Liscor to deliver supplies we could work out a deal.”

Yvlon leaned across the table and smiled at Ryoka. Calruz shook his head at her.

“Even Ryoka Griffin would do well to run from any monsters she encounters. Her fists would not be enough to allow her survival in the Liscor ruins.”

Ryoka raised her eyebrows at Calruz.

“You don’t think I can defend myself? You saw me fight.”

The Minotaur had a piece of sausage stuck in his teeth. He picked at it with one long fingernail.

“I am merely stating the truth. Your fists would do little against most monsters my team faces. Less, since you are female and thus weaker.”

He looked around in the hush. Possibly Calruz didn’t see the way Ceria’s back tensed up and the Half-elf’s head came around, or the way even Yvlon’s hand tightened on her fork. He certainly couldn’t ignore the look in Ryoka’s eyes though, and it was to her he spoke.

“Is it not the truth? Humans are weaker than Minotaurs by birth. So too are you women weaker than men.”

“Really. That’s what you think?”

“Ryoka.”

Was it Ceria or Yvlon who spoke warningly? Ryoka ignored it. She reached out and tugged Calruz’s plate away as the Minotaur reached for a sausage. He looked up at her.

“Right. Your turn. Bring it on.”

For a moment the Minotaur looked confused. Then he looked amused.

“You. You, Ryoka Griffin, wish to fight me?”

He laughed, but Ryoka didn’t. And neither did the other adventurers. Gerial raised his voice, speaking low and urgently to Ryoka across the table.

“Ryoka. This isn’t a good idea.”

She ignored him.

“I’m dead serious. Fight me. Unless you’re afraid you’ll lose?”

----

“You idiot.”

This time Ceria didn’t bother with just words. She punched Ryoka hard in the shoulder.

“You don’t challenge a Minotaur to a fight. What are you thinking? Are you even thinking?”

Ryoka shrugged as she warmed up in the practice arena again. Her nerves were thrumming, but a pit of dark emotions roiled in her chest.

“You heard what he said about females.”

“I did. And he’s got a point even if he did make it in the most bull-headed way possible. But that’s Calruz. And even if he’s being an idiot, there’s a big difference between calling him on it and challenging him to a fight. You know you’re going to lose, right?”

“Not necessarily.”

Ceria stared dumbfounded at Ryoka as the girl stretched on the ground. She looked helplessly at Yvlon.

“Help me talk sense to her?”

Yvlon nodded.

“Ceria is right, Ryoka. There’s bravado, and then there’s—this. Fighting me in armor is one thing, but Calruz is a Minotaur. He could rip my head off in unarmed combat without trying.”

“And he will if he makes a mistake.”

“I guess I’ve just got to dodge, then.”

Ryoka ignored the muted scream of fury coming from Ceria. She eyed Calruz. The Minotaur was actually finishing his meal, holding a plate as he waited for her to finish stretching. His casual indifference just lit a fire in her stomach.

“Besides, I wanted to challenge him from the start. See how far I can go.”

“How about into the ground when he puts you there? Ryoka! He’s got to weigh at least two hundred pounds more than you do!”

“Size isn’t everything.”

“It’s pretty cursed important in a fight!”

Ceria was right, of course. Ryoka eyed Calruz for the first time as a potential threat. When you looked at Calruz as a person he was just huge, inconveniently so sometimes. But as an enemy? He was way scarier than any human Ryoka had even seen.

He was about six foot seven? Maybe a few inches higher, without even counting the horns. And his body was pure muscle. Not like human muscle, but Minotaur muscle, which was to say that he looked like a wall of tendons and sinews.

It was the stupidest thing in the world to challenge him. But Ryoka really, really wanted to try. She just wanted to hit the Minotaur, almost as much as she’d wanted to hit Yvlon.

Yvlon. The adventurer was studying Ryoka thoughtfully. It made Ryoka want to punch her again, too. She was so tired and—and frustrated that hitting anything sounded good.

Like Ceria, if it would get the Half-elf to shut up.

“Potions don’t fix shattered bones! You know that. And you get him mad—”

“Look, I’m going to do it. You want to let me focus or go away and shut up?”

Silence. Ryoka glanced up and saw Ceria giving her a hurt look full of reproach. The barefoot girl’s heart hurt, but she put the pain and guilt away. She had to focus.

Ryoka was angry. She felt it bubbling in her gut, a seething, roiling ball of pure fury. Where had it come from?

From the High Passes, that’s where. From nearly dying and being helpless even with all the years she’d studied martial arts. From Teriarch and his overpowering magic and arrogance. From the Runner’s Guild and stupid people. From dealing with the ridiculous system of leveling in this world and not least—dealing with some kind of perfect lady knight and a misogynistic Minotaur. It was all bubbling out of Ryoka and she couldn’t stop it. She wanted to hit something, and Calruz was a big target.

Yvlon sighed.

“If you’re going to do this—give it all you’ve got on the first shot.”

Ceria spoke bitterly.

“He’s going to take every hit just to show he can. It’s a Minotaur thing—a sign of disrespect. And…courtship.”

“Great.”

Ryoka eyed Calruz. The Minotaur was finished eating. He carelessly tossed the plate over his shoulder. Ignoring the crash of breaking pottery, he walked into the center of the ring and folded his arms, waiting for her to finish.

At last the girl stood up. She was burning with a desire to fight, almost shaking with it. Ryoka couldn’t keep still as she bounced on her feet with nervous energy.

Ceria eyed the girl as she walked past her. Ryoka stopped.

“What is it?”

“You—you’re smiling.”

Was she? Ryoka couldn’t tell. She only knew that she was ready, more ready than she’d ever been to hurt someone else. She was shaking with the desire to throw a punch. She walked towards Calruz, and the Minotaur impassively looked down at her.

“What you are attempting is folly, Ryoka Griffin. There are some things that cannot be surpassed.”

He really, really knew how to push her buttons. Ryoka gritted her teeth and grinned up at him.

“Oh really? Let’s see what you say in a few minutes.”

“As you wish.”

Calruz carelessly raised one massive hand and beckoned Ryoka with a finger. The other adventurers murmured and cheered for Ryoka to hit him with her best shot. The Minotaur didn’t even bother raising his other hand.

He was going to try to block her one-handed? But his fur and muscle could probably take any punch Ryoka could throw. She knew that. So instead, Ryoka stomped her foot down in front of Calruz and twisted.

One of the core principles of a lot of powerhouse moves was spinning. Ryoka put all her weight on her front leg, twisted, and hit the Minotaur with the back of her heel and all the momentum she’d built up.

Spinning back kick. Ryoka aimed high. Her leg still caught the Minotaur in his stomach rather than his chest. She felt the contact and heard the Minotaur gasp as the wind left him. She’d put her entire weight into that attack.

It was the kind of move you used to K.O. other people and it was seldom used because of how hard it was to land. But Calruz was arrogant. He’d let his guard down and Ryoka had held nothing back.

The Minotaur’s expression changed. He was obviously trying not to show any pain, but his hand reflexively went down to protect his stomach and he bent just a tiny bit. Ryoka didn’t wait. Even as her foot came down she used it as an anchor and swung her other leg up.

Her leg came up and she smashed into Calruz’s face with a roundhouse kick. She didn’t break his nose, but that was probably because the Minotaur didn’t have a nice fleshy bit of cartilage like humans.

This time he bellowed, but Ryoka wasn’t done. She landed and started laying into the Minotaur, punching hard.

He swiped at her with one hand. Ryoka ducked under it and belted him twice in the stomach. Calruz shouted as she hit the same spot she’d kicked and shoved her with one arm.

Ryoka was thrown sideways, but she landed, jumped, and kicked the Minotaur in the chest. He staggered back, looking outraged. She pounded his chest.

Now he was really starting to get angry. Calruz punched at her far faster than she would have guessed he’d be able to move, but Ryoka did the same thing she had to Yvlon. Her head and body were in constant motion as she ducked and weaved, letting the Minotaur swing wide.

Low kick. Ryoka hammered Calruz’s legs with powerful kicks, wincing internally at the impact. The Minotaur had goat-like legs with cloven hooves, and it felt like she was kicking a baseball bat when she hit him.

He nearly got her with an uppercut. Ryoka grinned, turned, and kicked him straight on with a kick to the stomach again. She raised her hands; hit him twice in the stomach—

And then he punched her.

----

Ryoka jerked upright and felt multiple sets of hands pushing her down. Someone was on top of her. Someone light?

A pair of pointed ears and hazel hair. Ceria covered Ryoka protectively as she shouted at something. Something?

A loud roar of fury made Ryoka sit up. She looked up and saw Calruz being held back by ten men as he tried to rush at her. The Minotaur’s eyes were actually red with rage and a trickle of blood was running from both nostrils.

What had happened? Ryoka tried to move, felt the agony coming out of her chest and realized she’d been hit. Hit.

She couldn’t breathe. Hell, she could barely move. Calruz was shouting something, her ears were ringing, and Ceria was telling her to stay still. But Ryoka’s blood was still on fire. She still wanted to fight.

She stood up.

“Hold it!”

Ceria pushed Ryoka down, but the girl knocked her off and stood up. She raised her firsts, but now Garia, Yvlon, and Ceria were all pulling her back.

A few feet away Gerial was swearing and pulling at Calruz with all his might as the Minotaur roared a challenge at Ryoka.

“Calm down, Calruz! Hold still, gods damn it!”

Ceria was talking desperately to Ryoka, as the girl strained towards the Minotaur.

“You’ve made your point, Ryoka. No one’s underestimating you. Let’s stop before someone gets seriously hurt.”

Her brain wasn’t synching up with her mouth. Ryoka tried a few times.

“No. Let’s keep going.”

“Are you crazy?”

“I’m not done. Let Calruz go. I’ll take him on.”

The men holding the Minotaur gaped at Ryoka and then redoubled their efforts to hold the raging Minotaur.

“Enough!”

Another man strode forwards and stood between Ryoka and Calruz. He had a huge axe on his back and he was nearly as burly as the Minotaur, if not quite so tall. He glared at Ryoka.

“Gerial, get your Captain under control. And you, girl, back down!”

Gregor, one of the Silver-rank Captains, scowled as the men eventually managed to push Calruz back. The Minotaur was still breathing heavily, but his eyes were no longer red with fury.

“This was a ridiculous display. What are you both doing? The Adventurer’s Guild is not a place for anything but training spars, much less unarmed foolishness.”

He pointed at Ryoka.

“You’re a hothead Runner, and challenging a Minotaur just proves how idiotic you are. No matter how good you are with your fists, it won’t help you against monsters. You’ve seen the ones in the High Passes. Swords and even battleaxes don’t work on their hides.”

Ryoka glared at him. His words were true, and they hurt.

“I survived.”

“Must’ve been a miracle, then. The way you act, I’m surprised you haven’t offed yourself already. You’re either suicidal or an idiot. Even adventurers don’t pull idiotic stunts like this.”

“I don’t need an axe to do my job. And I don’t need you to tell me what to do. Back off. I’ll take on Calruz without you lot getting in the way.”

Gregor opened and closed his mouth with wordless fury.

“You blind, arrogant—if Ceria hadn’t jumped in the way he would have crushed your head like a fruit. You can’t take him. Back down.”

Ryoka eyed Calruz. He was restraining himself—with difficulty—but she knew if the men stopped holding him he’d rush right at her. And she felt like doing the same. Her blood was boiling.

“I can still fight.”

“Even if you were Level 20 he’d still be able to crush you like a bug! And you’re no warrior. You don’t have any fighting skills that I saw—”

“I don’t need Skills to fight.”

“But you don’t even have any levels.”

Everyone stopped talking. Gregor paused, red-faced, ready to shout and stared at the person who had spoken. Yvlon smiled at Ryoka and nodded once politely.

“I don’t understand. And truthfully, I didn’t believe my aunt when she told me that. But it is true, isn’t it? I couldn’t believe it until just now, but it must be true. You don’t have any levels or any classes at all, do you?”

Ryoka stared at her wordlessly. Anger surged in her belly. How dare she? How did she know?

“Not one.”

Cervial spoke from behind Ryoka. He was studying her. As she turned to stare at him he tapped one eye.

“[Appraisal]. It’s a Skill that [Marksmen] get sometimes. I can’t see your Level or your Class.”

Even Calruz was dumbfounded by this revelation. The adventurers exchanged glances, and Ryoka heard the whispering.

“No levels?”

“Why?”

“Is she some kind of demi-human—no, a monster?”

“Who wouldn’t Level? Is she a fool?”

“Cursed?”

Ryoka gritted her teeth.

“I don’t need levels to fight.”

Gregor shook his head at her, disbelieving.

“What are you, an idiot? How would you survive a second against a monster without levels?”

The fury that was boiling in Ryoka seized hold of her tongue.

“It’s not about levels. Your stupid little system doesn’t interest me. I don’t believe in needing levels or classes. It’s all stupid and it makes you cowards. Silver-rank? Gold-rank? You just use those words because you don’t have the guts to fight.”

The words came out of Ryoka before she could stop herself. She pointed at Gregor as the man’s face turned red. But all of the adventurers were listening and Ryoka couldn’t stop.

“I survived the High Passes without a single level. I did it, because I wasn’t afraid and needed half a dozen people in armor to hold my hand. And if you lot had any guts, you wouldn’t sit around whining about how a bunch of unexplored ruins are too dangerous.”

“You truly believe you can surpass the rest of us without needing to level don’t you?”

Yvlon stared hard at Ryoka, for once not smiling. Even Garia was staring at Ryoka as if seeing her for the first time.

Ryoka didn’t answer. She just wiped at the blood coming from her mouth. But that was an answer in itself.

“What arrogance.”

It came from out of the crowd. Ryoka turned, and this time the blood in her veins was roaring. She was beyond caring about anything.

“Really? Arrogance? All I see are people too afraid to do anything until they level up. People who have to hide in a group to cover how pitiful they are.”

A murmur of hot anger went through the adventurers. Ryoka raised her fists.

“I’ll take you on one by one or all at once. Come on. Fight me.”

“Enough!”

This time it was Ceria who shoved at Ryoka. The Half-elf was angry.

“You’re talking nonsense. But I won’t let you stand here and get yourself hurt. Stop this or I’ll have to use magic—”

It was just an impulse. But once it was started, Ryoka couldn’t stop. Her hand shot out and brushed Ceria’s chin. The Half-elf blinked, staggered, and sat down.

Ryoka stared at the Half-elf, rage eclipsed by sudden regret. She hadn’t meant to. She just wanted to get the mage to shut up for a second. But like before, like so many times before her body had started moving before her brain.

A roar of anger came from Calruz. Suddenly he was throwing off the other adventurers as they tried desperately to slow him down. Her approached Ryoka, and she tensed.

But he didn’t strike at her. Instead, Calruz scooped up Ceria gently. He stared down at her, practically steaming with rage.

“You tread on Ceria’s honor. For that I should challenge you to a duel with real weapons.”

“I’ll take you on.”

Something inside of Ryoka was snapping. She was full of fury and beyond caring what would happen next. Calruz seemed to vibrate at her challenge, but with incredible effort he turned away.

“You are not worth the time it would take.”

Ryoka’s temper flared. She spoke to the Minotaur’s back, hearing each word leave her lips as some part of her screamed at her not to say them.

“I didn’t think you were a coward, Calruz.”

Gerial lunged. Not towards Ryoka, but with the rest of the Horns of Hammerad as they seized the Minotaur. Calruz’s head turned and his eyes darkened with blood and rage. But he didn’t move with Ceria’s limp form in his hands. His voice quivered with fury.

“I was mistaken about you. You are no warrior. You just want something to hit.”

He began to walk away. Ryoka shouted after him.

“Calruz! Fight me! Come back here, you coward! Are you afraid?”

The Minotaur’s back tensed, but he kept walking. Gregor stared at Ryoka in fury, hand twitching towards his axe hilt.

“Enough! I won’t stand here and listen to this. If you want a fight, try your fists against my axe, girl.”

“Bring it.”

Ryoka raised her hands. But Yvlon stepped forwards.

“Enough. Restrain yourself, Ryoka Griffin.”

Something was snapping inside of Ryoka. It was the same feeling, the exact same. Part of her was shouting for her to put down her fists, to apologize. To get down on her hands and knees and bow before Ceria and Calruz. But like before, like so many times when she’d been kicked out of school, she’d crossed over the event horizon of fury.

She just wanted to punch. To hit something. And now that she’d let out all the bile in her stomach, Ryoka only knew how to lash out. So she did.

Her fist blurred and disappeared as it shot towards Yvlon’s face. But it was intercepted and crossed by a flash of silver.

Ryoka felt the punch lift her off her feet. She tried to step forwards, but her body suddenly forgot how to stand up. She sat down, as her arms and legs simply shut down.

The world spun, and Ryoka saw Yvlon’s face full of regret and frustration. Her head fell back—

----

And when Ryoka awoke, she was alone. Not physically alone, but alone nevertheless.

Dusk had engulfed the sky. The sparring area of the Adventurer’s Guild was empty, save for Ryoka and the Half-elf sitting on the ground next to her.

Ceria looked up as Ryoka sat up. The barefoot girl looked around dizzy, and as Ryoka opened her mouth Ceria tapped her wand on Ryoka’s head.

“[Silence].”

Ryoka was mute. The girl’s mouth opened but no words came out. Ceria looked at her, and shook her head. She reached behind her and picked up Ryoka’s pack and carefully put it next to the girl. Then Ceria sighed and stared up at the sky.

“I’ve seen a lot of arrogance in my time. Mostly from Humans, but from every people, including my own. But someone who rejects the way the world works just because she doesn’t like it—that’s new. It’s been a while since I was hit by someone I call a friend as well.”

She looked at Ryoka. The girl couldn’t meet her eyes.

“If you want to keep fighting everyone who reaches out to help you, I’ll put a flower on your grave. But until then, get your stupid Human head back in order. You’re lucky—very lucky that Calruz is honorable, and that the other adventurers listened to Yvlon and Cervial or you might have suffered quite a bit.”

Ryoka was silent. She stared at the ground, face flushed. Memory only now returning.

“I don’t understand you. I truly don’t. I thought you were sensible, but you’re even more hotheaded than Calruz. And you have less sense.”

Ceria shook her head as Ryoka opened her mouth and tried to say something.

“No. Be silent. I am angry at you. And I am leaving until that anger is gone. The Horns of Hammerad and the other adventurers are heading to the ruins in Liscor. All of us. At least your words stirred some courage in this crowd. But I am still furious. After we are finished with the ruins, we will speak again.”

The Half-elven mage stood up and brushed at her robes. She waved her wand, and Ryoka felt the spell on her dissipate.

“May we meet in new forests, Ryoka Griffin.”

Silently, Ryoka watched Ceria go. A thousand words spun through her mind, and she opened her mouth to call something. But when the doors to the Adventurer’s Guild closed behind Ceria, it was in silence.

The girl sat in the center of the sparring arena and felt the bruises and pain begin to flare up in her body. She was still exhausted, still hurt. But somehow, all of that was a backdrop to the incredible, terrible emptiness in her heart.

She’d done it. As before, now again. See—a girl who destroys everything she touches. Who wanders from school to school, never fitting in, picking fights with friends and anyone who crosses her way.

A child with nothing to hit who decides to fight the world. A barefoot runner who speaks with her fists. A heart full of black fury and hurtful words who spreads her foulness wherever she goes.

Angry girl. Rabid dog. Berserker. Suicidally competitive. Friendless loner. Lost soul.

Ryoka Griffin.

She’d lost friends before. She’d made enemies, burned bridges. Wherever she’d gone, from each school she’d transferred to, she’d left behind only bitter memories. Each time she’d lost control she’d only left tears and regrets behind. She was used to erasing smiles.

But it had never hurt quite like this before.

Ryoka stood up and felt the silence closing in. The silence, and the empty despair that came with it. She looked at the ground and saw the blood of an honorable person. She looked behind her and knew there was no one at her back. A familiar, painful sight.

She could barely feel her hands. She was exhausted, upset, guilty, and angry. She didn’t know what to do.

Slowly, Ryoka’s feet moved. She took one step, and then another. Ryoka picked her pack up off the ground and began to walk.

She left the Adventurer’s Guild. She ignored the voices, the chances to turn back. She saw the decorated carriage, ignored the [Maids] and [Assassins] that blocked her way. She just ran on.

Away, away, always away. Until the dawn breaks and the end of day. Running from fear and friends alike, striving to always run, always be in flight. And though her heart bled and ached, she runs on again.

Towards Liscor and the Blood Plains without a plan. Towards death and the unknown. Running. Always running without pausing. Leaving bloody footprints made of her unshed tears and broken ties.

Running.

Running away.

1.36

When Erin woke up the next day, her eyes were tired and she was full of bleh.

Bleh being her word for her mood.

“Bleh.”

Tor paused and stared at her. Erin blinked at the walking skeleton with blue flames in its eyes and made weak shooing motions until it went away.

She didn’t feel like dealing with it. And by it she meant anything. And that included existing.

Erin stared down into a bowl of chewy oat-equivalents and wondered why the grains had an orange-gold rind. Maybe it was the dirt?

It tasted bleh. And while Erin had money, she couldn’t afford to put much sugar in her meals. She had to save for the future.

And that was bleh. The idea of how much money she needed, the logistics of her inn and the day-to-day work of maintaining it—it was all bleh, and it could go to bleh.

At least now she was able to automate most of the work – or rather, make Toren do all of it. The skeleton bustled around the inn, scrubbing at obstinate stains, hauling buckets of water in, and it had even managed to figure out how to put food on plates and carry them out.

It just didn’t have any idea of how carpentry or cooking worked. Erin had tried—but the skeleton didn’t quite get the idea of not stirring food with its bony arm or how beds were supposed to look.

It didn’t matter. With a little work, Erin had actually managed to transform the upstairs into a livable place. All of the mattresses had been rotted horribly and had to be disposed of, but some of the bed frames only needed a backboard replaced or a few boards changed.

Erin’s inn could now house quite a number of guests. It was just that Erin didn’t have anyone to put up there. And that included her. For the moment Erin was still sleeping in the little nest she’d made in the corner of her kitchen. She had blankets, pillows, and it was a pain to haul all that upstairs and get situated again.

There was always Pisces of course, but Erin really didn’t need a permanent squatter in her inn. Especially because his only payment came in the form of an occasional rambling lecture to Rags.

“Bleh.”

This time Toren offered her a cup of juice. Erin took it and drank. It helped, but even a full belly wasn’t improving her mood.

Rags. Goblins and magic. Magic. Erin’s stomach gurbled at her, although that was probably just a reaction to the blue juice and the oatmeal.

She spent ten or twenty unhappy minutes in the newly made outhouse, testing the equipment as it were. Afterwards, Erin staggered outside giving thanks that an equivalent to toilet paper existed in this world. But it was just more proof that this day was going to be a bad one, in her opinion.

If there was a bright ray of light on the horizon, it was tonight. Tonight was chess night.

That was to say, every night was chess night usually. Pawn had been bringing groups of Workers over with surprising regularity, and Erin enjoyed playing the Antinium.

They never won of course. And even the best players – Pawn and one of the Workers – never even came close. But Erin loved chess in her bones, and more than that, she enjoyed seeing the Workers improve.

But that was later. For now, Erin had to go into the city. She needed pillows for her newly refurbished beds.

“Take care of the inn, okay?”

Tor nodded his head mechanically as Erin stomped out of the inn, her precious bag of coins tucked deep into her pockets. He raised the wet dustrag in his hands like a sword and attacked the dust.

If the skeleton had any thoughts on the day, it was simply that it was a shame he wasn’t killing anything. He understood in a vague way that he would not acquire the [Innkeeper] class because he did not in fact own an inn, but the [Barmaid] class was, he felt, something of a misnomer.

At least he was Level 2.

----

As Erin walked through the main gates, the Gnoll guard smiled toothily at her.

“Good day to you, Erin Solstice.”

“Hey…you.”

She had no idea what his name was. But the Gnoll seemed friendly enough. He looked bored, possibly because the only visitor he’d had was Erin.

Not many people used the road south. North was where the action was – where the main road took you to the northern cities and where all the adventurers, merchants, and general influx of humanity was coming from. By contrast, Erin’s side of the plains was a wasteland.

And that was a curious thing. Erin knew there was a road that passed by her inn down south, and she’d seen it. But it seemed a lot newer and ill-kept compared to the well-established northern route. It snaked around the city of Liscor, rather than starting at the gates.

Why? And why had there been an inn so close and yet so far from the city? Was there once a road there?

“Yeah, but it got destroyed ten years back. Ever since then no one’s lived south of the city. Besides you.”

For a few seconds Erin thought the voice had come out of some strange part of her mind. Then she whirled around.

“Relc!”

The Drake leaned on his spear, grinning at her. Sort of grinning. Like the Gnoll, there were a lot of teeth.

“Yo.”

“Um, hi. I haven’t seen you around. What’s up?”

“I was looking for you. You busy? Because you are now.”

“I was going to buy pillows—”

“Really? You might have trouble with that. Did you hear what happened last night?”

“Last night?”

Curious, Erin followed Relc as the Drake walked speedily towards Market Street. It was disconcerting how quickly he could move despite giving the appearance of ambling along. It was definitely some sort of Skill.

Erin stopped as she turned the corner to Market Street.

“Oh man.”

“Yeah.”

Relc twirled his spear idly as Erin stared at the wreckage. And that was all it was.

Wreckage.

Nearly half of Market Street had been destroyed. Burnt, in point of fact. To a crisp. A fire had swept through the close, confined wooden stalls. They were meant to be just temporary structures, easily deconstructed for the next shopkeeper to display his or her wares. But the problem was that wood burned easily, and so when a fire did break out…

Even the stones in the street had cracked from the heat. Erin didn’t know rocks could break from heating up, but the street had been shattered quite impressively.

“Normally someone would have raised the alarm and we’d have put out the fire quick. But it happened late last night, and by the time we got one of the mages out here it was too hot.”

Erin glanced at Relc, and the Drake shrugged.

“Low-level mages. And there’s not much call for water magic specialization around here. We had to let the fire burn out and clear the rest of the street before it spread.”

It was destruction. To starve the fire of flames, the Watch and firefighting teams had smashed and cleared the rest of the stalls, shoving the wood splinters out of the way.

It hurt Erin’s heart to see. And it hurt even more because the street wasn’t empty. She could see Drakes and Gnolls, shopkeepers staring forlornly at their abandoned goods. It hurt her heart, because she could see some of them were crying.

Scaly or furry they might be, but their tears looked the same.

Relc stared grimly at the burnt-out street. He spoke quietly to Erin.

“Everyone’s saying it’s a human that did it.”

“Really?”

Probably everyone was saying that, or at least everyone Relc talked to. Humans might have other opinions. But it probably was a human, at least in Erin’s mind. She couldn’t see Drakes being dumb enough to burn down part of their city by accident, and Gnolls were highly flammable. And the Antinium—

No. There were already Workers picking through the rubble, slowly and methodically clearing away the destroyed part of the street. They wouldn’t have set a fire.

“Why would a human do it, though?”

Relc glanced at Erin.

“Oh, it was the mystery thief. Someone caught them last night and they started a fire to get away.”

“How? With a match or…?”

“A what? They used fire magic. A spell.”

Oh. Obviously. Erin’s eyes were caught by an older Drake trying to salvage something from her shop. She spoke distantly.

“Isn’t there a way to track this thief down? Magic? Or…some kind of skill?”

Relc shook his head.

“This thief has some good magic—and not just the fire magic. A magical item, maybe. And high-level [Guardsmen] do get tracking skills, but almost all of the Watch here are former soldiers. We’ve got more levels in combat classes than our current class. We did have one [Guardsman] with high levels, but that was Klbkch. And he’s dead.”

The comment hit Erin in the gut, and for a second Relc looked guilty. But he didn’t apologize.

“We’re working on it. No one’s happy. Normally we’d have caught the thief, but there are so many of you damn Humans in the city—no offense.”

Erin took offense, but she let it drop. Relc wasn’t happy. He was staring at his damaged city with narrowed eyes and she didn’t have anything to say. Certainly nothing to defend the thief. So instead she changed the subject.

“I…haven’t seen you around the inn lately.”

Relc shrugged again, indifferently.

“Too many damn Goblins around. I’d clean them up, but apparently that’s not allowed.”

Erin glanced sideways at Relc. The Drake met her eyes and then went back to studying the street.

“They’re not all bad, you know.”

He snorted.

“You think the little freaks you’ve been feeding are good? I hear they’ve been fighting a war with the rest of their tribe—when they’re not scaring travelers and stealing their goods.”

For a moment Erin felt a lurch of panic and fear in her chest.

“You’re not—not going to have to hunt them down are you?”

“I don’t really care. So long as we don’t get orders, we’ll leave them alone if they stay clear of the city. Goblins are part of the wild. If you get rid of too many, the bigger monsters don’t have anything to snack on.”

“Oh. Um, t—”

“Don’t thank me. I just don’t feel like doing more than I have to for my job, that’s all.”

Silence. Erin stared at the ground. Relc’s eyes narrowed as he watched the Workers slowly sweeping down the street.

“They don’t even care Klb died.”

“Yeah. They um, don’t seem to care about death. It’s not their fault.”

“I know. They’re bugs. But Klbkch was special.”

“He was.”

“Not just because he was a guard, y’know? He was different. He had a name. I couldn’t believe it when he introduced himself. And he’s the only Antinium I’ve ever heard of with a level higher than 10. He was special.”

Erin was silent. She stared at the large Drake and saw his chest heaving with emotion. The Drake’s fist tightened on the shaft of his spear.

“But they don’t care. They talk about Klb as if he’s just gone off somewhere. As if his death never happened. Even the Queen didn’t put up much of a fuss.”

Erin thought about the massive Antinium soldiers marching into the barracks and taking her to meet the Queen.

“You think so?”

Relc eyed Erin darkly.

“You’re not dead, so I’d say she took it well. She kept talking about ‘time lost’ and ‘needless valuable resources expended’ when she talked with the Captain. But never about Klbkch.”

The Drake’s head bowed. He stabbed his spear into the paving stones and the stones cracked and shifted around the tip of his spear. He leaned on it, staring darkly down at the ground.

“No one cares.”

“I care.”

“I know. But you’re different.”

For a while the two stood still, awkwardly, alone rather than together. Erin’s heart hurt. But though the human thing to do would be to pat Relc on the back or say something meaningless, she knew he didn’t want anything from her.

He still hated her. Or if he didn’t hate her, he blamed her.

And she would say nothing against that.

At last Relc shifted his weight and pulled his spear out of the street. He looked down at Erin.

“By the way—and not that I care too much, but you should know—there’s a new Prognugator in the city.”

The word sounded familiar. Erin frowned.

“A what?”

“It was what Klbkch was. Don’t ask me what it means. It’s some important role in the Antinium hive. Sort of their version of a guardsman, I think.”

The idea of the Antinium needing any kind of policing sounded ridiculous to Erin. She couldn’t imagine them doing anything criminal, but then she remembered Klbkch herding the Workers like cattle. Maybe a Prognugator was like some sort of sheepdog, only with people.

“Okay. Is he going to be part of the Watch.”

Unexpectedly, Relc frowned.

“I hope not. Not if I have anything to say about it. I think this one will stay in the Hive.”

“Okay. Why are you telling me, then?”

Relc hesitated.

“He looks—familiar. Just don’t freak out, okay?”

“Sure.”

The Drake scratched at the spines on his head.

“Right. Well, I’ve got to go back to work. Oh—that’s right. I’m supposed to give you a warning.”

“A warning?”

“Yeah. Apparently you got into a fight with a bunch of adventurers, right? Beat them up and stole their stuff?”

Oh. Erin felt like slapping herself. Of course.

“Um, yes. I did. But they were attacking—”

“The damn Goblins. Whatever. Don’t worry; I’m not going to arrest you. I’m just giving you a warning. I also hear you’ve got a pet skeleton.”

“Yes. His name’s Toren. Uh—”

“I don’t care. It sounds creepy, but whatever you Humans like is fine by me. Just keep him out of the city. I just needed to give you a warning.”

“Not to do it again?”

Relc looked surprised. Then he grinned.

“Oh, no. When we heard about three Human adventurers getting their tails kicked by an Innkeeper, some Workers and a few Goblins, we laughed our scales off. We don’t care about what happens to those Humans. Just keep the skeleton away and if that crazy necromancer tries raising any more bodies, stop him.”

“You’re not going to do anything? Really?”

“Maybe if we had time – but we don’t. The Watch is overwhelmed right now. Those damn adventurers keep disappearing into the ruins and we’ve had to patrol the area to catch all the things that come crawling out of there.”

Relc made a face and twirled his spear in one hand.

“Things? Like…what kind of things?”

“Squiggly things. Lots of white tentacles and flesh. Disgusting. We think there’s some kind of brood monster in there, but no one who goes in that far has come out to tell us what it is. And the rest of the cowards are just clearing the rooms one at a time.”

Relc sighed, muttered a bit about humans and adventurers in general, and glanced at the sky.

“I’ve got to get back there.”

“Oh. Okay. I’ll see you around.”

“Maybe.”

The Drake raised one hand in farewell as he trotted off. Erin watched him go. Her eyes turned back to the ruined street.

Misery and devastation. It wasn’t hers, but she still felt for the people affected by the fire. A thief and the ruins.

None of these things were her problem. But they were her problem because she lived here. Not by choice, but Erin felt like the city was suffering. Suffering, and she wondered what it would take to heal.

At the very least, Erin wouldn’t get her pillows today. Not unless a certain Gnoll had any in stock.

----

“I am sorry Erin Solstice, but everything is chaos, no? I was lucky not to lose my goods, but many have lost all. Pillows must wait. Come back another day, please.”

Krshia barely had the time to spare as she talked seriously with a bunch of angry Gnoll and Drake shopkeepers. The merchants of Market Street were gathered together in some sort of conclave, and Krshia was one of the more influential – and vocal – shopkeepers in the crowd.

Erin left them to it, especially because she was getting a lot of casually hostile glances. It was completely understandable that the shopkeepers were angry, and there were other things she could do. Like talk with friends.

----

“What?”

Selys had to shout above the clamor in the packed Adventurer’s Guild. She and the other three receptionist Drakes were trying to deal with multiple adventurers at once while the room was full of arguments, minor scuffles, spirited dialogue and not least, the clank of countless weapons and armor rubbing together.

The female Drake shook her head as Erin repeated her question.

“I can’t, Erin. We’re all working overtime as it is. All the adventurers coming through—excuse me, the Human with the red hair and face-thing?”

Several adventurers looked up, and the mustached adventurer stepped forwards, holding a bag of dripping somethings.

“Give that to Warsh, please. The Drake over there? The one with yellow scales? Thank you.”

Selys turned back to Erin and shook her head. The other girl nodded, tried not to touch the shouting adventurer covered in blood and…guts and made her way out of the building.

It was completely fine. Selys had a lot to do, after all, and the Adventurer’s Guild in Liscor was never meant to deal with the huge influx of treasure seekers. It was too bad. But it was just—it was just—

----

“It’s just that I don’t know what I should be doing, you know?”

Erin complained as she moved a knight on the chess board and stole one of Pawn’s rooks. The Antinium made a sound of dismay but kept staring at the board as Erin chattered away.

“I get that Krshia and Selys are busy. And so is Relc although we barely talk and he hates my guts. But what should I do? I mean, obviously I’m running the inn, but I feel like there’s something else I should do. Something…useful besides cooking, eating, and paying for pillows.”

Carefully, Pawn moved one of his knights forward. Instantly Erin took it with a bishop, trading the pieces. It wasn’t a good exchange as bishops were technically worth about the same strategically as knights, but it did open up Pawn’s king for a lovely attack by Erin’s queen.

“I mean, what should I do? I need money, but it’s not as if this inn is hopping at the best of times. And I need several hundred gold pieces. That’d take years. The only way I might get that much money in one go is to become an adventurer, but I don’t really want to stab stuff or have my insides yanked out through my nose.”

Pawn desperately tried to search for a winning strategy in his invaded side of the chess board. He found one – the same strategy that would end up in a checkmate eight moves down. Erin had noticed that three moves ago.

Delicately, the Antinium moved a pawn forwards and spoke.

“I am not sure I have any advice to give you, Erin Solstice. I am not experienced in the ways of this world.”

“You probably know more than I do.”

“It may be so, but my knowledge extends mainly to my Hive. I was not I until very recently. Thus, my awareness is only now expanding.”

“I get it.”

Erin sighed, took one of Pawn’s pieces and waited for him to take her rook.

“I just wish I didn’t feel this way.”

“Which way is this?”

Pawn took her rook. Erin took his queen.

“So useless.”

A faint groan escaped the Antinium Worker. He studied the board and then shook his head.

“I have lost.”

The other Workers nodded in agreement as they stared at the board. The pairs that were playing glanced up and stared silently at Pawn’s board before returning to their games.

“Good game. You want to play another round?”

Pawn nodded and the two players began rearranging the board. It was their fourth game, and they’d been playing long enough that the sun was already fading behind the mountaintops.

It was fun to play. But Erin had the same feeling she was trying to express to Pawn. It was fun to play, but she never lost. And thus, she had the definite sense she wasn’t growing as a player, or growing too slowly.

“I just wish I could do something important, that’s all. Something useful.”

“Was Erin important back in her world?”

“What? No. Not at all. I was just a girl who played chess. Heck, I wasn’t even in college yet. I was trying to save up money for that.”

“Then the Erin of now is surely an improvement as she is both an [Innkeeper] and one who teaches chess. I fail to understand the problem.”

“Well, yeah but—”

A few tables down, Rags snorted loudly. Erin looked over. The Goblin stared silently at her, and then reached over and poked the Worker’s king with one finger. It toppled over.

“Hey! That’s really rude!”

Rags made a face as Erin glared at her. But the Worker she’d been playing bowed its head towards Erin.

“This one had lost the game. This one apologizes for time wasted.”

“It’s not your fault. Even if the game’s nearly over, you’re the one who decides that. Knocking over someone else’s king is rude. Got it?”

The Worker bowed his head, but Rags just scowled. Erin amped up her death-glare and Rags reluctantly muttered something.

It was pretty much the only problem that reared its head when Erin had everyone playing chess. In the hierarchy of skill within the inn, Erin was the undisputed champion. After her came Pawn and Rags, with Pawn being the better player, but only just. Below them were various Workers who could play decent games, but Rags was never quite happy unless the little Goblin was playing Erin.

It was an issue of arrogance, and Erin remembered what it was like – being impatient at having to play mediocre players. But Rags was still a rank novice by Erin’s standards, and rudeness in chess was something she wouldn’t tolerate.

But still, Rags hadn’t played Erin yet. Reluctantly, Erin looked at Pawn.

“Sorry, but do you think—?”

The Antinium was already shifting from her table. His courteous nature never failed to surprise Erin. She sighed as Rags jumped off of her chair and marched over to her table.

“Okay, let’s play. But if you touch my king I’m going to chop you up, got it?”

The Goblin didn’t answer. She was already rearranging her pieces.

Sighing exasperatedly, Erin waved a hand.

“Tor! I’ll have some water.”

The skeleton who had been moving around the room with a huge bowl of acid flies turned and nodded. He disappeared into the kitchen and reemerged with a tall glass of water in his bony hand.

There were some benefits to having a skeleton waiter. Not least of which was that Erin could devote all of her time to playing chess. She sat back as Rags studied the board and waited for the first move.

The Goblin played unusual strategies all the time, which made her a delight to duel. By contrast, Pawn had the fundamental moves memorized and played solid games. It won him more games, but Erin had to admit she admired the Goblin’s daring in her aggressive tactics.

Rags’ fingers closed around a pawn and then the Goblin froze. Her pointed ears twitched and she stared at the door.

Erin looked up. A few seconds of silence passed and then she heard someone knocking politely on the door.

“Come in!”

The door slowly swung open. Erin caught a glimpse of a familiar black body and four arms and smiled. Another Worker to play with. But then her thoughts hit a snag. Workers couldn’t leave the city without Pawn. They were—

The Antinium stepped fully into the inn and Erin froze. She was dreaming. Rags had stabbed her in the chest and Erin was dying on the table. She’d had a heart attack—or a stroke and this was the last thing she saw before she died. It had to be that. She had to be dreaming.

Because the Antinium who walked into the inn could not be who she thought he was.

On first glance he looked like any other Antinium. He had four arms, antennae, large multifaceted eyes, and the two curiously segmented legs all lined with brown-black exoskeleton. That was normal.

But this Antinium was different. He was built slimmer than the Workers, and his carapace might have been a shade darker. But more than that, he resembled someone Erin knew. In every small detail, in every part of his body from the way he stood to the two swords and two daggers at his side he looked exactly like—

“Klbkch?”

The Antinium turned his head and Erin felt her heart stop for a moment. He bowed his head to her and approached.

“Good evening. Am I speaking to the [Innkeeper] known as Erin Solstice?”

His voice was exactly the same as Klbkch’s. Erin wrestled with words around a tongue that had stopped working.

“Yes—yes I—are you—?”

The Antinium nodded.

“Allow me to introduce myself. I am not Klbkch. My name is Ksmvr of the Antinium of Liscor. I serve my Queen as Prognugator. I have come on business of the Hive.”

It wasn’t Klbkch. But it was. Erin was struck dumb for words. She was trying to come up with a response and not start crying at the same time while she digested his words.

Ksmvr paused, and then nodded.

“I understand my resemblance to my predecessor has caused issue. I apologize for any confusion.”

“Oh, no—”

Erin wanted to say ‘it’s nothing’, but it would be a lie. She sat still, rigid in her seat as Rags stared hard at Ksmvr. All the other Workers were frozen in their seats. But Pawn—

Ksmvr looked around the room. His silent, studying gaze found each Worker as the other Antinium stared at the floor. Then he spotted Pawn. The Worker hesitated and half-rose from his seat.

Instantly, the air rang as Ksmvr’s blades shot out of their sheathes. The Antinium held all four arms on guard and pointed one of his daggers at Pawn.

“Remain still, Worker.”

Erin gaped. Pawn began trembling and the other Workers instantly began moving out of the way. Ksmvr advanced swords at the ready.

“Wait. What are you doing?”

Ksmvr’s head moved sideways a fraction as he spoke. But his blades never shifted an inch.

“I have come to ascertain the state of the Worker which refers to itself as ‘Pawn’. I will bring this Worker back into the city with me. I apologize for any inconvenience.”

He stood over Pawn and raised one sword just under the tip of the other Antinium’s chin.

“Stand. Make no sudden movements. You will be questioned.”

Meekly, Pawn did as he was instructed. Erin was staring, horrified. It seemed like—

“Wait, I don’t understand. Why are you taking him? Has he done something wrong?”

Ksmvr paused. He seemed reluctant to explain.

“…It is common knowledge that those Antinium who refer to themselves as individuals or have names are subject to fits of violence and unpredictability. More I cannot say, but my role is to judge such errant individuals and terminate them if necessary.”

The casual way he said it made Erin’s blood run cold. And now that she was thinking again, she saw Pawn was trembling as Ksmvr held his sword under his chin.

“Wait a second. Wait a second. I know Pawn. He hasn’t done anything wrong, and I’ve been playing chess with him every day for the last few weeks. Why are you taking him now?”

Again, Ksmvr paused before replying.

“The Hive within Liscor has been in—disarray. My appointment to this position was out of necessity. All shall be restored to order shortly. Until then, I carry out my roles.”

He looked at Pawn.

“We will return to the Hive. Any actions will be met with appropriate punishment. Is that clear?”

Pawn nodded. He slowly moved with Ksmvr’s blade poking into his back. The Prognugator would have pushed him out the door, but Erin was suddenly in the way.

“Hold it.”

“Please move aside, Erin Solstice.”

“You haven’t explained anything. Pawn did nothing wrong. He has a name, but I was the one who gave it to him. What do you mean you’ll terminate him? And—and why do you look like Klbkch? What’s a Prognugator?”

“I am on business of my Hive. I cannot answer your questions. Please move aside.”

“No.”

Pawn spoke. His voice trembled with nerves as he spoke to Erin.

“Please, Miss Solstice. This is a matter of the Antinium. I knew it would come. Do not interfere—”

Ksmvr moved. His sword flashed and Pawn screeched, clutching a severed antennae.

“The Worker will remain silent.”

Quaking, Pawn clutched at his bleeding stump and shut up. Ksmvr prodded him forwards, blade tips sinking into the Worker’s exoskeleton, but now Erin was right in front of him.

“That’s enough. Pawn is my guest. I won’t let you take him.”

Ksmvr stared at Erin expressionlessly.

“Interfering with my duties is a crime.”

“You cut him for speaking. I’m not letting you anywhere near him unless you explain things. No—better yet I want to go with him.”

“That is unacceptable. Move aside.”

“No.”

“I will not request twice. Be warned—”

“I said no. Didn’t you hear me?”

“I did. Very well.”

Erin didn’t see the Antinium’s hand move. But she felt something solid strike her so hard she saw stars and tasted blood. Erin stumbled away, and heard a furious clatter.

Toren rushed at Ksmvr, barehanded except for a spoon it had picked up from a table. Ksmvr turned his head calmly and two of his arms moved.

The hilt of his sword and dagger smashed into the skeleton, so hard that the undead construct paused. Ksmvr’s arm blurred again and suddenly Tor was headless.

With one leg, the Antinium kicked the skeleton across the room, scattering Toren’s bones. He turned calmly back to Pawn.

“Move. Walk slowly without deviation.”

“W-wait.”

Erin could only see stars. And her jaw was already swelling, but she still staggered towards Ksmvr. She stopped as two daggers pointed her way.

“Your interference has been noted. Your complaints will be heard by my Queen once she had completed her business. Regrettably, she is indisposed at the moment but you may request an audience at a later date.”

“I won’t—let you take Pawn. You don’t have to do this.”

Ksmvr paused, and then shook his head. He spoke without inflection.

“My position is temporary. But any possibility of a Worker becoming Aberration must be dealt with swiftly. Interfere, and I will be forced to consider you an enemy.”

He opened the door. Pawn meekly walked through it. Ksmvr paused, one hand on the door. He nodded at Erin as the girl stared at him, horrified.

“Good day to you. My apologies for the interruption.”

The door closed behind him softly.

----

Erin stared at the door for a full minute, thoughts whirling, before she moved. She paused only long enough to make sure Toren was reassembling himself. Rags was squatting next to the skeleton, offering it bones and watching with interest as the skeleton pieced itself together one part at a time.

She had no time to wait for the skeleton. Erin ran into the kitchen and reemerged with a frying pan, the biggest one she had. She flung the door open, and made it two steps outside before the Workers grabbed her.

“Let—go of me!”

“Innkeeper Solstice must not interfere. Innkeeper Solstice must not.”

“Get off! I’m going to save Pawn! Let go!”

Erin struggled, but three Workers had her in grips like steel and the others were surrounding them. They spoke—a group speaking as one.

“The Prognugator must not be disturbed. The Prognugator will slay all who interfere. Innkeeper Solstice must not die. Innkeeper Solstice must not die.”

Erin struggled. The Workers didn’t want to hurt her. At last, she managed to wriggle out of their grips. She broke free of the mob and ran down the hill towards Liscor.

She made it several miles before the Workers caught up. They weren’t fast, but they didn’t tire. They held her.

“Innkeeper Solstice must not.”

“Why?”

She shouted it at the Worker who’d caught her. He flinched, but she was beyond caring.

“What is that Ksmvr guy doing? Why does he look exactly like Klbkch!”

The Worker hesitated, and then shook his head.

“It is forbidden to speak of Hive matters to outsiders. This one may not speak.”

Erin snapped. She took a deep breath, and shouted in the Worker’s face.

“I am your chess teacher! I am Innkeeper Solstice, and I order you to tell me!”

He hesitated. Erin grabbed him by his cool, smooth exoskeleton.

“Tell me!”

The Worker hesitated. He looked at the other Workers surrounding him and she saw them agree almost as one. It looked hesitantly back at Erin.

“This one—these ones believe the individual known as Pawn will be interrogated.”

“Interrogated? Why?”

“To determine if the individual known as Pawn is Aberration.”

“And if he is?”

“He will be executed.”

Erin’s blood went cold. She struggled, but the Worker held her.

“That’s crazy! Why? What did he do wrong?”

“Those who are Aberration kill. They are individual and reject the Hive. They destroy.”

“But Pawn isn’t violent!”

Erin stopped and stared at the Worker.

“He isn’t. You know it. I know it. He hasn’t done anything. So he’s not an Aberration, right?”

The Worker hesitated again and stared at his comrades.

“It may be so.”

“It is so!”

“No Worker who has become individual has ever not been Aberration.”

“None?”

Erin stared at the Worker. He and the others shook their heads.

“Pawn is different, though. He is. So—that Ksmvr guy will let him go, right?”

They hesitated.

“Right?”

“If the individual known as Pawn is not Aberration he may be allowed freedom within the Hive.”

Erin was no good at reading Worker’s expressions. But even she could tell that the Workers didn’t think this was very likely. She stared at them.

“I’m going to stop it.”

“It is too late. The Hive will be sealed while the individual known as Pawn is questioned. Innkeeper Solstice will not be able to enter.”

“I must.”

“It is impossible. Innkeeper Solstice must go back to her inn.”

“I’ve got to go. I must.”

“It is impossible.”

“I must go.”

“It is impossible.”

“I—”

----

In the end, the Workers left. And they left Erin behind. She stood, holding the heavy frying pan in the middle of the plains and watched the Workers slowly trudge across the dark plains towards Liscor.

She wanted to run after them. But they’d convinced her—finally convinced her—that even if she followed them there would be nothing she could do. They would enter the hive, but apparently it would be sealed by the fearsome Antinium soldiers. And Ksmvr would be deep within the Hive, interrogating Pawn for signs of Aberration, whatever that meant.

Erin would never reach him. So she stayed, and felt like she was betraying Pawn. But she would never reach him. All Erin could do was pray.

Slowly, Erin walked back towards her inn. Her mind was full of confusion, fear, panic, a whirlwind of emotions. But those thoughts vanished from her head when she heard the shouting.

It came from her inn. Erin stared up the hill, and saw a group of dark shapes standing outside the inn. They were yelling something.

“Goblin!”

“More of them over there! Kill them!”

“Watch it! One of them knows magic!”

“Get it off! There’s a skeleton too! Toss me my sword!”

Erin ran. She charged up the hill as fast as she could. Her inn was lit from the inside, the lamps Tor had lit the only light besides the stars. In the glow from the windows she could see seven—maybe more people, striking out at Rags and her group of Goblins.

They’d been caught unawares, but the adventurers were already pulling out weapons. One of them—a massive Minotaur—pulled a humongous battle axe from his back and swung it with a roar of fury. Rags dodged the massive blade as it bit into the soil with a shrill cry of alarm. She swung her short sword, but a mage in robes pointed and the Goblin had to dive or be consumed by the flames that shot from the mage’s staff.

“Hey!”

Erin didn’t even bother with words. As the adventurers charged she raised the frying pan and hurled it as hard as she could at the Minotaur. The pan flew straight at the massive bull-man’s head, courtesy of Erin’s [Unerring Throw] Skill.

The Minotaur blinked as the pan flew at him. His hand shot up, grabbed the cast-iron skillet by the handle and halted it in midair.

Erin froze. The Goblins took one look at the Minotaur holding the frying pan and ran. One of the adventurers raised a bow, but Erin ran forwards and kicked him in the stomach. He doubled over.

Suddenly, Erin was alone and surrounded by adventurers. They stared at her, confused. One of them – a girl with pointy ears – held up her hand and stopped the other adventurers from attacking. The Minotaur stared at Erin, curious.

He’d stopped the flying frying pan of justice with one hand. Erin gulped and thought fast. Her attack had failed although Rags and her friends were clear. So that left words.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?”

The adventurers stared incredulously at her.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I own this place! What are you doing attacking my guests?”

“Guests?”

A guy with a long mustache gaped at Erin. He stared at the fleeing Goblins.

“They’re Goblins! And there’s a skeleton in there!”

He pointed at Toren, who was lying disassembled inside of Erin’s inn.

“They’re my guests. And that’s my skeleton you just beat up! This is my inn, and no one kills Goblins around here! Didn’t you read the sign? Does anyone read the damn sign?”

The adventurers, or rather, the Silver-rank adventuring group known as the Horns of Hammerad stared at each other in confusion. The night sky made everything nearly impossible to see by. Gerial stared at Erin, and then looked around.

“There’s a sign?”

----

Erin sat in her inn, staring at the group of men, women, and one Elf and Minotaur as they sat awkwardly across from her. All of them stared alternatively at her, and at Toren as the skeleton walked around the inn, cleaning up the Worker’s dishes and the chess sets.

They weren’t about to say anything else. So Erin spoke.

“Let me get this straight. You guys are an adventuring group, and you just happened to drop by.”

“That’s right. We knew there was an inn in the area, and we wondered if it was still open.”

That came from the Elf-girl, sitting closest to Erin. She was distractingly beautiful, with features that were literally nothing like anything Erin had seen in her world. She smiled politely at Erin and the girl had to prevent herself from gaping.

Erin looked at the Minotaur instead. He was also something she’d never seen, but she wasn’t as distracted by him. Rather, his bullish head and rippling muscles made her feel like she was talking to a cow that had decided to start working out and was walking around on two legs.

Which, when you got down to it, was pretty much a Minotaur.

“So you lot came here, saw the inn was full of Goblins, and decided to kill them all, right?”

The adventurers shifted in their seats. One of them shrugged.

“Well—yes.”

“Why?”

The adventurers exchanged glances. One of them—a guy in armor with a flowing mustache shook his head.

“They’re Goblins. They’re monsters. We’re adventurers. I’m sorry Miss, but we were just doing our jobs.”

Erin knew that, but she didn’t have to like it. But they hadn’t killed any Goblins and she’d made them explain three times already. And they were staring at her, so she decided to change topics.

“Okay. So you’re adventurers from up north. You said you had a name…?”

“The Horns of Hammerad.”

That came from the Minotaur. He was still staring at Erin curiously, but without any threatening to rip her head off, which is what she sort of assumed was Minotaur behavior.

“And how did you know the inn was here?”

The man with the mustache cleared his throat awkwardly.

“We were ah, here before.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“I believe you were out at the time.”

Ceria smiled at Erin. She nodded to the skeleton.

“But I can prove we weren’t doing anything wrong. We were here to meet a certain necromancer at the time. It’s just a guess, but I’m betting you know him.”

Erin looked at Tor, and the skeleton looked inquiringly back at her. He was still wearing his sword belted to his bony waist, and the skeleton was eying the Horns of Hammerad as if it considered them to be a threat.

“I might know him. This uh, necromancer. Can you describe him?”

“He’s quite annoying.”

“Right, that’s Pisces. Okay, so you know him. And you’re here. And I guess you didn’t see the sign about not killing Goblins. Mistakes were made.”

Erin sighed and tried to relax. She looked at the group of adventurers again.

“So, what do the Horns of Hammerbad want with me?”

The Minotaur’s eye twitched, but the Elf spoke again. She might be their leader, or maybe it was mustache-guy.

“We’re looking for a place to stay.”

Erin looked blank. She pointed out the window.

“The city’s that way.”

“Yes, but every tavern, inn, and home is full to the rafters with adventurers. There’s nowhere to sleep—not even in a shed. So we came here.”

Erin still looked blank.

“Why?”

“This…is an inn, correct? Don’t you have rooms to rent?”

“What? Oh. Oh. Yeah, I’ve got them. Tons of them. All empty.”

Silence. The Horns of Hammerad exchanged a glance. Ceria coughed politely and smiled at Erin.

“Could we perhaps stay here? I promise you we won’t cause any trouble and we have plenty of coin.”

That had a hollow ring to it after the earlier incident. Erin thought it over, chewing at her lip.

“I don’t like people who attack Goblins. They’re my guests and you chased them off.”

This comment seemed to seriously annoy the Minotaur. He leaned forwards, snorting, but mustache-guy pushed him back in his chair. From his seat the Minotaur snapped at Erin.

“Those creatures are scum. They should be exterminated.”

Erin’s brows snapped together. The other Horns of Hammerad groaned and the Elf kicked backwards, hitting the Minotaur’s shin. All that happened was that she winced.

Mustache-guy smoothed his mustaches and looked concerned. He spoke to Erin, attempting a charming smile.

“I assure you, Mistress, um, Erin. This was all a mistake. If we’d seen the sign we wouldn’t have attacked.”

“Hm.”

Erin eyed the adventurers. She still wasn’t happy, not least because they were in her way while she was still thinking about Pawn. She made up her mind rapidly.

“Look, you didn’t kill the Goblins. So I guess I’ll forget that. But if you stay here, you will either obey my rules or you can sleep outside. Got it?”

All of the Horns of Hammerad nodded at once. Only the Minotaur did not. Erin stared at him.

“How about you bull-guy?”

His eyebrow twitched and everyone else in the inn winced. The Minotaur stared at Erin hard, but she didn’t look away.

“Everyone else seems like they’ll be okay, but are you going to obey my rules or do I have to kick you out?”

The thought of her kicking the Minotaur out was ridiculous, but Erin was too angry to care. The Minotaur stared hard at her, blew out air exasperatedly, and finally nudged the Elf-girl aside as she silently kicked him under the table.

“Upon my honor, I promise. I will not attack any of your guests unless provoked.”

That seemed like it was all Erin was going to get. She nodded.

“Okay, then. In that case I have a few rooms upstairs. Enough for all of you. But I don’t have any pillows.”

The Horns of Hammerad smiled in relief. The Elf spoke to Erin.

“That’s fine. We can make do.”

Erin nodded and stood up. Her mind was blank. What were you supposed to say at times like this? Guests. She had guests. She picked a direction and put her mouth on autopilot.

“Your rooms are upstairs. Go ahead and pick whatever one you want. We might have to get two beds for cow-guy, but it should be fine.”

She pointed at the kitchen.

“Breakfast is in the morning. There’s no alcohol, but I’ve got plenty of food. There’s an outhouse outside—just be careful that you don’t walk into a monster. If you see a huge moving rock, shut the door and stay quiet. Don’t go into the kitchen if you want something to eat—there are jars of acid lying around. Don’t drink anything green in general. No killing Goblins, the skeleton works for me, and if you see an ant-guy with two swords and two daggers, hit him and make sure he doesn’t go anywhere. Got it?”

The Horns of Hammerad hesitated, and then nodded. Erin waited, and then shrugged.

“That’s about it. I’ll make some food if you want anything.”

She stomped out of the common room and into the kitchen. Bemused, the adventurers watched her go. For a few seconds they heard her talking to the skeleton, and then Erin walked back out. She pointed at the adventurers.

“One more thing. Do any of you play chess?”

Again, all of the adventurers had to exchange glances of confusion. At last, the mustached man looked back at Erin and raised one eyebrow.

“What’s ‘chess’?”

Erin sighed.

1.37

Erin dreamt of swords flashing, of cannonballs exploding around her, and of blood. Rivers of blood.

Klbkch stood in front of Erin and asked if she was ready. She looked at him as he bled in her arms. His mandibles opened and he rasped into her ear.

“I obey my Queen.”

She shook her head. Dream Erin pointed and showed Klbkch a massive chess piece sitting on a hill.

“The King. It’s about the King. The king is smart. He—”

She was no longer holding Klbkch. Instead, Erin sat and watched as a body fell to the ground and oil burned around her. A dead Goblin’s face stared at her and she woke in a cold sweat to see Toren standing in one corner of her room.

It was better. Infinitely better than seeing the dead. Erin still threw her pillow at him. It struck him in the face — not hard, but loud enough to startle someone.

“Whu?”

It came from outside the kitchen. Erin was immediately seized by panic. She looked around for her frying pan and then remembered.

She had guests.

Blearily, Erin kicked her bedding into one corner of the kitchen and walked out. It was still close to dawn, but surprisingly, someone was awake.

Ceria blinked several times at Erin and nodded her head. It seemed the Elf mage was an early riser, but even she was half-asleep.

“Whu?”

She repeated the word. Erin swayed on her feet.

“Hrgh.”

“Mm.”

Conversation done, Erin stumbled back into the kitchen to make food. Toren stood by, handing her pan, spatulas, and various food items as she pointed and grunted. Breakfast was scrambled eggs, toasted bread, bacon from some animal, and sliced cheese.

It was unnatural how she could make a proper breakfast, but Erin wasn’t thinking about that at the moment. Her hands moved automatically as she thought about her dream.

It had meant something. And for some reason, even though Erin had been dreaming about death and battle she’d been thinking about chess. She always thought about chess, even when she was asleep.

Still caught in the last fragments of her dream, Erin muttered the words.

“The king…the king is smart. He uses something. His head?”

Erin scratched at her own head, wondering where that line had come from. Well, obviously it was about chess. But had she heard it somewhere? She felt like it was important.

The bacon was finished and sizzling. Erin picked the fried strips of meat out of the pan, wincing at the spot of oil that landed on her arm.

“Ow. Ow. Ow!”

Too much oil. Erin had forgotten. It really got hot when you heated it up—

The smell of burning flesh. Erin paused and looked around. A dead Goblin Chieftain lay on the floor.

The slice of bacon slipped from her tongs. Nimbly, Toren dove and caught the bit of meat and delicately put it back on the plate. Erin blinked, and came back to life.

“Oh—thanks.”

She put a hand to her head and quickly finished frying and stacking the rest of the meat. She’d made a lot. Enough for a small army, which was what she assumed ten adventurers and a Minotaur qualified as.

But since they weren’t awake, after Erin finished with the eggs she only made one plate for Ceria. She absentmindedly dumped bacon, eggs, and bread together, ignoring the aesthetics of eating for the substance of eating itself.

Why was she thinking of the Goblin Chieftain? Why had she had that dream? Sometimes yes, Erin woke up sweating and crying in the middle of the night. But never had her dreams followed her out of her sleep like this.

It was a sign. A sign that Erin needed to find a better place to sleep, perhaps.

Her stomach rumbled. Another sign, indicating she was hungry. Erin stared down at the two plates that were as close to an American breakfast as she knew and smiled. Ceria probably would like this, especially with blue juice. Too late, Erin remembered she had an Elf in the other room.

“Oh no.”

Erin stared down at her meal of bacon and scrambled eggs. She couldn’t go out with this. Desperately, she scrambled around, looking for anything that remotely resembled produce. It was so hard to keep vegetables in the inn because she didn’t have a refrigerator!

She found a head of lettuce and some tomatoes. Feverishly, Erin fried more eggs and added it to some toasted bread. That would have to do. Hopefully Ceria ate eggs. Were Elves vegetarian or vegan?

----

Ceria stared blearily at the table, trying not to fall asleep. She wasn’t a morning person. People expected Half-elves to rise with the dawn and frolic in the dewdrops and flowers or some such nonsense. But Ceria had lived too long among Humans and other species to like getting up early, and she didn’t frolic.

An enticing smell was coming from the kitchens, along with much banging about. Ceria tried not to listen. She was concentrating on a spell.

“[Illumination]. No—perhaps I’m doing it wrong?”

She should have the spell mastered, but it was giving her trouble. [Illumination] was an advanced version of the [Light] spell Ryoka had learned, and technically it was only Tier-2 magic. But in truth, its complexity was around Tier-3. Normally Ceria wouldn’t have bothered learning it, but the spell could illuminate over a hundred meters around the caster by shedding orbs of light. It was perfect for dungeons.

“And of course, it’s up to the Wistram mage to do it. Is it a hard spell? Yes! Then let the Half-elf do it! Don’t get any of the other mages. Ceria’s got it covered!”

Ceria growled and slapped the spellbook in front of her shut. She was hungry, and now that she smelled breakfast she really couldn’t concentrate.

Right on time, someone exited the kitchen holding two big plates full of food. Ceria brightened—

And nearly blew the skeleton’s head off when she saw it. The undead creature paused and stared at Ceria’s wand as the mage caught herself. It had one arm cocked to throw the plate at her head.

“Tor! Stop that!”

Someone smacked the skeleton in the back of the head, making it stumble and nearly drop its burden. Ceria saw the strange innkeeper glare at the skeleton and point at the table where she sat.

Quickly, Ceria lowered the glowing wand as Erin approached.

“Ooh, is that a wand?”

The Half-elf blinked at Erin. She paused, and then held out the wand.

“Yes it is. Would you like to see?”

Erin peered excitedly at the long, slender piece of wood. It didn’t look carved like the ones she’d seen in certain movies. Rather, it looked like it had been plucked off a tree and stripped of all branches. The wood was a pale white tinged with the faintest hint of green. All in all, it was ordinary except for the pale blue-white wisps of light flickering around the tip.

“That is so cool!”

Ceria was mildly taken aback by Erin’s enthusiasm. She held out the wand to Erin, much to the other girl’s surprise.

Erin hesitated, her hands itching to hold the wand. She glanced at Ceria.

“Is it really okay if I touch it?”

Ceria had to smile.

“It’s not that fragile. Go ahead.”

Reverently, Erin ran her fingers along the wand. It didn’t feel that different, to slight disappointment. The wood was smooth and polished but it didn’t feel special. Her fingertips touched the wand’s tip!

“Ah! Cold!”

Ceria snatched the wand back and Erin stared at her hands. The fingers that had brushed the wand tip were white and frost had coated the very tips. The Half-elf tossed the wand on the table and grabbed Erin’s hand.

“Are you alright?”

Behind Erin, Toren’s glowing eyes flashed menacingly. The skeleton took a step forwards and met an elbow to the ribcage from Erin. She glared at him until he retreated, and then looked back at Ceria. The touch of the Half-elf’s skin on hers felt very light and ethereal, just like how the rest of the Elf looked. Gingerly, she pulled her hand away.

“I’m fine. Go away Tor! Go get us something to drink.”

“I’m really sorry about that. I didn’t expect you to touch the wand tip. Have you never seen one before?”

Erin blew on her fingers and rubbed them frantically to warm them up. They were tingling horribly, but aside from the first bite of extreme cold they seemed to be okay.

“No—sorry.  I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to touch them.”

“It was my fault. I forget how much non-mages don’t know.”

Ceria looked abashed. She held up the wand and tapped her finger close to the tip.

“All the magic of the wand is channeled through the tip. That’s why it glows or reacts depending on the spell stored. It’s also why you should never break a wand because it will trigger the spell.”

She picked up her wand and began tucking it up her sleeve. Erin saw there was an armband so that Ceria could hold the wand along her arm. She shuddered.

“Won’t that freeze your arm?”

“Oh, no. I can deactivate the magic. I only activated it because, well—your skeleton surprised me.”

Erin turned and glared at Toren who’d reemerged from the kitchen with a jug in one hand and cups in the other.

“Sorry about that. He keeps doing that no matter how much I tell him not to.”

Silently, Ceria watched the skeleton place a cup before her and Erin and fill both up to the brim. Quite literally to the brim.

“Toren! How are we supposed to drink it like that? Don’t fill the cups all the way to the top just almost!”

The skeleton looked abashed. Erin glared at it and then turned to Ceria. The Half-elf cautiously managed to take a drink of the sweet, pulpy liquid without spilling any. Her eyebrows lifted.

“This is good!”

“I know, right? It’s from this fruit I found around here. Anyways, here. Breakfast is served!”

So saying, Erin pushed a plate towards Ceria. The Half-elf looked down and found herself staring at scrambled eggs, toasted bread and a spreadable cheese on the side—and for some reason a big bowl of what looked entirely like lettuce and tomatoes. And no bacon.

She looked over and saw Erin had a plate full of eggs and bacon. Ceria’s stomach rumbled and she wondered how she was going to correct this mistake.

“Well. This looks…lovely. Thank you for making breakfast so early Miss Solstice. And I’m late in saying it, but good morning.”

“Oh. Thank you!”

Erin paused and then snapped her fingers.

“Oh. Wait! I know this one!”

Bemused, Ceria stared as the other girl scratched at her head. She muttered to herself and then looked at Ceria. Then she spoke a line in Sindarin Elvish and smiled sheepishly.

“Um…is that right?”

The Half-elf froze, mouth open with one spoonful of eggs hovering just over her plate. Erin blinked innocently at her.

“What—what was that?”

Erin blushed.

“I was trying to say good morning in your language. Or maybe it’s just hello. Did I get it right…?”

“My language?”

“Elvish, right?”

The bit of egg slipped from Ceria’s spoon back onto her plate. Erin was getting more embarrassed by the staring so she tried to explain.

“I once went to a Lord of the Rings chess tournament because I heard a national champion played there. People wouldn’t play me unless I could at least say ‘hello’.”

Ceria understood exactly none of what Erin had said. Her mind spinning, she put down her spoon quite calmly.

“Erin, I’m not sure what you might be thinking but—I’m not an Elf.”

This time it was Erin turn’s to stare.

“You’re not. Oh man. I just thought—”

Ceria touched the pointed tips ears that Erin was staring at.

“I’m not an Elf. I’m a Half-elf. And besides which, you wouldn’t see—an Elf anywhere.”

“Really? Why not?”

Erin was full of round-eyed curiosity. Mindful of her sleeping friends upstairs and because Erin seemed genuinely confused, Ceria did her best to keep her voice level and not shout.

“No one has seen an Elf for thousands of years. They all died long ago.”

“Oh.”

Ceria watched as Erin sat back in her chair, disappointment clearly written all over her face. The conversation stalled as both young women tried to wrestle with what had been heard. Ceria felt—amazed at Erin’s ignorance, but the nature of their conversation was familiar. She’d had the same sort of odd explaining to do, but when—?

“Well, I’m uh, really sorry about the mix up. I just thought you looked so amazing and um—are Half-elves like Elves? Or—or is there anything I should know?”

Awkwardly, Erin pointed at Ceria’s plate.

“I didn’t know what you people—I mean, what you could eat. If you need something special I can get it. Anyways, we’ve got salad. Um…there are some tomato-like things I bought from the market, carrots…lots of soup. And uh, I’ve got bread and cheese if you want to eat that.”

Ceria raised both her eyebrows in amusement.

“I can eat meat, you know.”

Again, the Human girl paused and seemed to struggle with something. Then, silently, she switched her plate with Ceria’s. The mage brightened as the aroma of fried meat drifted upwards.

“So you eat meat?”

Ceria nodded happily.

“I’m not sure what you’ve heard, but my people aren’t averse to eating meat. I quite enjoy pork, for instance, especially when it’s been properly cooked.”

Erin stared at Ceria, round-eyed.

“Really? That’s so weird.”

----

When the rest of the Horns of Hammerad finally woke up, it was because they smelled the food. Adventurers, being the sort of people who were used to waking in a moment’s notice to avoid dying, generally slept in if they could help it. But they were also big fans of eating, and so when the smells of cooked food finally wafted upstairs their stomachs dragged them out of bed.

Gerial stumbled down into the common room of the inn and brightened the instant he saw what Ceria was eating. He sat down at a table, wondering if he should call for a barmaid when he saw the skeleton march out of the kitchen.

Ceria caught the vice-captain of the Horns of Hammerad as he went for his belt dagger.

“Easy.  Don’t threaten it and it won’t attack.”

Gerial paused and nodded. He let his heartbeat slow from the sudden jolt he’d received and warily let the skeleton put a heaping plate of food in front of him. The skeleton set down a cup, pointed to a jug of blue liquid on Ceria’s table and walked back into the kitchen. Sheepishly, Gerial met Ceria’s gaze.

“Good thing you caught me. I’d forgotten—”

“Don’t worry about it. I made the same mistake earlier.”

“Good morning!”

Gerial looked up and gave Erin a smile as she bustled towards him, silverware in hand. The skeletal waiter had forgotten it and Erin also filled up Gerial’s glass with the strange blue liquid after giving him a choice between it and water.

“Thank you for the meal ah, Miss…”

Ceria supplied the name.

“Solstice.”

“Oh, just call me Erin. Anyways, I’ve got more food so just shout if you need some.”

“You’re most kind. And this looks delicious.”

Erin smiled and walked off, already chatting to Sostrom and the other female mage in the Horns of Hammerad. Gerial eyed his plate, delighted at the glistening oil on his fat strips of bacon and the mounds of eggs and pieces of bread buried next to them.

He took his first bite and grinned at Ceria.

“Good food.”

She was already eating again.

“Isn’t it? Try the blue stuff.”

Cautiously, mindful of Ceria’s sense of humor, Gerial did. His eyes widened.

“It’s sweet!”

Ceria and the other Horns of Hammerad grinned at Gerial’s reaction. He’d already drained his cup by the time Erin came back around.

“Good service, food, and we’re not getting dirty looks every two seconds. We struck it lucky coming here.”

“Good thing we didn’t get into it with those Goblins.”

Ceria nodded as Gerial removed some grease from his chin with a handkerchief.

“Still—”

Gerial craned his neck and saw only the skeleton walking around offering drinks to adventurers reluctant to accept. Reassured, he continued speaking to Ceria. Neither adventurer noticed how often Toren kept passing by their table despite their full glasses.

“What an odd innkeeper.”

“She’s definitely strange. Goblins and a skeleton. But Pisces is probably to blame for the skeleton. Still—Goblins.”

“Did you see what one of them was armed with? A…a jar of something?”

Ceria smiled with dark humor.

“It set off my [Dangersense] when it pulled it out. Guess what was in it? Acid. I had a look in the kitchen. She’s got jars of acid flies—a local creature around here. Looks like she’s been harvesting them as a food source.”

Gerial paused as he munched down on his bread, appetite suddenly lost. Ceria shook her head at him.

“Oh stop being squeamish. Drakes eat them, and so do the Antinium. Not that we’d see the ant-men here, but I can see how it would be useful.”

“But the bugs—”

Gerial eyed his plate uneasily, imagining how an insect might crawl into a cooked meal. Ceria glared at him.

“Do you think she’d leave any of them alive? They were all dead. Honestly, you Humans—”

She trailed off and shook her head.

“Well, I get it. Bugs aren’t my favorite thing to eat either.”

That comment nearly made Gerial choke on his drink. But Ceria continued, thinking aloud.

“I’m not sure if she’s just absentminded or if she doesn’t realize how dangerous arming Goblins is. That acid can melt skin in seconds. But besides that, it’s odd to see her living so far out from the city.”

“Not too far. It was barely an hour’s walk even with us getting lost.”

“True. But monsters don’t care about distance. And that skeleton doesn’t look that powerful.”

Gerial nodded. The skeleton didn’t set off any internal alarm bells when he thought of it as a potential foe. It was dangerous and no mistake—but it was no Lich or even a stronger variety of the undead.

“Maybe that’s all the protection she could afford.”

“In that case she’s reckless or insane. Or—poor. Actually, She reminds me a bit of Ryoka.”

Gerial stared incredulously at Erin as she began haranguing Toren.

“In what way, exactly?”

Ceria shrugged, unable to explain.

“They’re not too similar personality-wise, but…it’s just a hunch.”

“Well. So long as we’re here monsters aren’t an issue. And this is a good inn.”

“Right. If we want to keep using it we’d better spread the word to the others. If they come in and start something—”

“Got it. I’ll tell the others when I see them. You still working on the spell…?”

Ceria made a face.

“Working on it. It’s complex. Give me two days and I’ll have it done. We probably have enough time for that, right?”

“Probably. Calruz and the others will meet to discuss tonight, but we’ll need to interview other adventurers and see what’s been found. You’ve got at least four days by my count.”

“Okay then—”

Every adventurer looked up at the heavy clomping sound of massive footsteps coming down the stairs. Calruz blinked a few times, and scowled at the skeleton as he entered the common room.

“Hey there!”

Erin was already setting the table next to Ceria and Gerial with a huge plate of food. Calruz grunted in appreciation and sat down.

This meal was mainly eggs and bread…and a bowl of lettuce and tomatoes for some reason. Gerial frowned as he saw there was absolutely no meat whatsoever on the plate as Ceria slapped her forehead gently.

“Hey Mr. Bull Guy.”

Across the room, Gerial saw Sostrom choke on his drink as Erin addressed Calruz. The Minotaur frowned up at her as the human girl smiled at him. Even sitting down, the Minotaur was nearly as tall as she was.

“I wasn’t sure if you ate meat. I’ve got some bacon. Made from pork—I think, so there’s no beef.”

“I can eat beef.”

Calruz grunted at Erin. She smiled in relief and waved at Toren. The skeleton approached with another huge plate of sizzling bacon. The Minotaur accepted it from Erin’s hand and grunted with satisfaction. Then he eyed her again.

“Also, Innkeeper. My name is Calruz and I lead the Horns of Hammerad. Any title is fine but—‘Bull Guy’—I would prefer you not call me that.”

Erin slapped a hand to her forehead.

“Oh no. Is it a racial thing? I’m sorry! I didn’t want to use your people’s word. What should I say instead?”

Calruz’s left eyelid twitched involuntarily. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Ceria and Gerial held their breaths.

“We’re not bulls. Or cattle.”

“What are you, then?”

This time Calruz eyed Erin long and hard to see if she was joking. But she seemed completely earnest.

“A Minotaur.”

“Wow. I thought you were, but you look a lot different than the pictures.”

“What did you think I looked like, then?”

Erin waved her hands and gestured helplessly.

“Oh, I don’t know. Less—hairy. Sort of like a human with a Minotaur’s head. And your horns are really cool.”

She pointed to Calruz’s long horns and this time Gerial thought the Minotaur would erupt. But he seemed mollified by Erin’s amazement.

“I don’t know what kind of Minotaurs you’ve heard of. But I accept your mistake.”

He began eating, considerably faster than Gerial and Ceria but with his utensils and without creating a mess. Erin paused, clearly thinking of something else. Reluctantly, Calruz looked up.

“What?”

“Um. Do you like mazes?”

----

Erin learned a lot about Minotaurs on that day. They were pretty polite, good eaters, could actually eat beef if they wanted to – but they weren’t fans of lots of questions.

She watched the Horns of Hammerad leave the inn and troop towards the city and stared at what they’d left behind. Money of course – they’d paid in advance and handsomely too, and that was only for the first night. And they were coming back for dinner, but it was the other thing that they’d left which was bothering her.

Dishes. Lots of dishes.

Erin stared at the stacks of dirty silverware and porcelain and pointed at Toren.

“You wash that.”

The skeleton nodded—almost glumly, Erin thought. It hauled the bucket of water up and poured it into a pot to heat up over the fire while Erin opened her pantries, dreading what she might find.

Two minutes later Erin rushed out of the inn.

“I’m out of food!”

She paused, ran back inside to grab her money pouch and then ran out again. Tor rushed out behind her.

“Stay there! Wash the dishes!”

He halted, clattering his jaw as Erin raced down the hill.

----

“Okay, make that ten sausages and I need a bag of salt, too. Oh, and some cooking oil.”

Krshia nodded and shouted something in her growling language to another Gnoll across the street. Both shopkeepers disappeared and began pulling out the various foodstuffs Erin had requested.

It was easier to go to Krshia for everything she wanted, Erin had found. The other Gnoll could direct her to the right shopkeepers and that way Erin knew she was never being ripped off.

“Is there anything else, Erin Solstice?”

“Um…”

Erin looked around. Market Street was still half-destroyed, but the part that hadn’t been burnt down had already resumed business as usual. And indeed, a large part of the burnt street had already been replaced by the industrious Workers. Shopkeepers had already set up their stalls, and if you ignored the black soot on some buildings and the ground it looked like everything was normal.

The only difference was the Guardsman walking down the street every few minutes and the unfriendly looks that were being directed at every Human who entered. Erin got her fair share of glares, but it seemed like the shopkeepers knew her face, so at least they didn’t mutter insults when she walked by. At least, none that she could hear at any rate.

“I don’t know. What would you recommend, Krshia?”

The Gnoll propped her hands on her hips and thought.

“Hm. These are adventurers staying at your inn, yes? Then buy ale, or something to drink, yes?”

“Ale? Oh, right! Sure! Give me a uh, barrel of that.”

Krshia smiled but shook her head.

“It should be a keg for now. Transporting a barrel is hard, yes? And my Runner—he is overworked. He will not be able to transport your goods until tomorrow, even without a barrel to drive, yes?”

“What? Tomorrow?”

Erin’s face fell. She’s gotten used to the unfriendly, silent Gnoll who drove a cart to her inn every time she needed a delivery. True, it wasn’t ‘running’ but Krshia told her Street Runners often used carts to carry heavy deliveries, unlike City Runners. Whatever that meant.

“Can’t you get it to me sooner? I’m out of food at the inn!”

Another shake and Erin had to step back to avoid the flying brown fur.

“My apologies. But it is a busy time, yes? So many customers which is good. But not for you, yes? I can lend you a cart, but that is all.”

Disconsolately, Erin stared at the small mountain of goods she’d bought. Krshia had marked it and set it aside for the Runner to pick up. It was—well, it was a lot. She’d bought it thinking she wouldn’t have to carry it. But since she did, suddenly Erin regretted her spending.

Briefly, she wondered if she could get away with only taking a little bit. But the adventurers ate so much and they were her first real guests. She didn’t want to disappoint them, but the sun was already high in the sky and she needed to make lunch soon.

There was no helping it. Taking Toren into the city was more trouble than it was worth. If she wanted to get it back she’d have to make several trips with a handcart between feeding her guests. Erin sighed.

But then she brightened. Moving through the crowd she spotted a group of people who were out of place. At least, out of place for what she considered to be Liscor’s unusual crowd. She spotted a woman in silver armor, a huge guy with an axe and several other humans walking with a tall Minotaur she recognized.

Erin raised her hand and waved.

“Hey! Hey! Hammer captain!”

----

“Why are we doing this again?”

Gerald, Captain of the Silver-rank team of adventurers known as Kyrial’s Pride complained as he finally reached the top of the small hill where The Wandering Inn stood. He was wearing his armor of course, and his iconic battleaxe as well, but the big man had another burden.

A sack of onions and five freshly baked loaves of bread, to be precise. And a narked expression, but that didn’t weigh anything.

“We’re here because we want to use this inn for planning, and the innkeeper needs food. And because helping out is the polite thing to do.”

Yvlon smiled at Gerald and winked silently at Erin as she carried along two hams.

“Exactly. And it’s not that heavy.”

Gerial had to wheeze that last comment. He’d been carrying a bag of flour by himself and was regretting it, especially with the weight of the rest of his armor.

Calruz grunted irritably. He dropped the bags of flour he’d carried pointedly into Toren’s arms as the skeleton emerged from the inn. The skeleton staggered under the weight as it carried it into the kitchen.

“This was not warrior’s work.”

“No, but it was necessary, and I appreciate it.”

Erin grinned at Calruz as she hauled a smaller bag into the kitchen. She poked her head out.

“Besides, if you didn’t help out I wouldn’t be able to make lunch! This way you can eat and complain at the same time, Mr. Grumpy!”

Ceria smiled and dropped the links of sausage on the table.

“Touché. She’s got you there, Calruz.”

Yvlon and the other adventuring captains dropped their burdens on tables and looked around the inn. Cervial whistled appreciatively.

“And you lot have this entire inn to yourself? We’ve barely standing room in our inn and we’re sleeping three people to a room. Mind sharing?”

Gerial laughed as he massaged his shoulder.

“Talk with the innkeeper, but we’ve occupied most of the second floor.”

“And we’re not giving up our rooms!”

That came from Ceria. The Half-elf sighed as she sat back in a chair and accepted a glass of water from the skeleton. She’d gotten used to the undead creature, but the eyes of the other captains followed Toren as he walked back into the kitchen.

“You told us but I didn’t believe—”

“It’s not that uncommon. Other nations use the undead, although I’ve never heard of one serving drinks.”

Yvlon tossed her hair behind her and smiled in thanks as Erin handed her a cup. She looked at the other captains as they too were given refreshments and a promise of lunch for their hard work.

“Well, we’re here a bit sooner than I thought, but shall we begin planning?”

----

Time didn’t seem to be on Erin’s side. Well, it was passing by, but far too quickly for her liking.

It seemed like she’d just woken up, made breakfast, and bought some food before it was lunchtime. And then she’d made lunch, cleaned up, and suddenly it was dinnertime.

But that was the thing about catering to a crowd; it took a long time and Erin had to keep making food in preparation of people eating food. So although the night came quickly, she was quite, quite conscious that she’d worked through the day to get to it.

Erin stopped to wipe a layer of sweat from her forehead and wince because she’d smeared tomato sauce all over her brow. Oh well, it wasn’t as if her face had been that pristine to begin with. And she was too busy to wash it away.

She glanced out at the clouded night sky and wondered if it was time to shut the window in the kitchen. She’d undone the shutters here to cool down the stiflingly hot kitchen, but it looked like rain and the last thing she needed as a wet kitchen floor.

The nights were getting colder. Already Erin had taken to closing all the windows by the evening, and tonight was especially chilly. Dark storm clouds had swallowed the sun hours ago and promised to drop their cargo sometime tonight.

“Winter is coming.”

Toren paused and cocked his head at her. He probably hadn’t heard what Erin had said. She waved her hand at him and he exited the kitchen.

She was done with her plate of spaghetti. Well—plates. Erin lifted one in each hand carefully—she could do more, but it was heavy porcelain and she didn’t feel that rushed—and walked out into the common room.

A wave of noise greeted her. Adventurers sat around her room, talking, laughing, arguing. It was such a bizarre sight in her inn that Erin had to pause. But she was on a mission and the food was heavy, so she made her way to the two tables that had been pushed together in the center of the room.

“What do you mean, wait?”

Calruz slammed one fist down on the table, making Erin nearly jump. He was shouting at a bunch of men and one woman – all adventurers, allegedly. They’d come into the inn around lunchtime with a few of their friends and had stayed around, talking.

Well, mainly arguing. Ceria and Gerial sat next to Calruz, wincing as the Minotaur expressed his discontent. Each of the other adventuring captains also had a vice-captain with them.

“We’re not ready to go in, Calruz. We need supplies. We thought we could get them here, but prices are high and supply is low. Besides that, we need to send some scouting teams in. And there are other adventurers to consider letting join—”

“We know what’s in there. And the Ruins are less than an hour’s journey from the city! We don’t need supplies or scouts!”

“We agreed to come Calruz, but that doesn’t mean we put ourselves under your command. We’re all equals here and we go in properly or we don’t go in at all.”

That came from Lir, the only other mage at the table besides Ceria. He smiled and thanked Erin as she put his food in front of him. Then he returned his attention to Calruz.

“There are some Silver-rank adventurers in the city. Some good ones that I know. It wouldn’t hurt to have them with us, and as Cervial said, we need time. A day or two of delay won’t lose us any time. Myself, I’m more concerned about our formations. Ceria has said she can learn the [Illumination] spell in time, but even if we get that cast, how will we approach the actual exploration phase? I’m not too keen on splitting up our vanguard—”

Gerald shifted. He’d been busy chomping down on slices of ham but he stopped to glare at Lir.

“You can’t be suggesting we keep our forces together. The time it would take—”

Erin stopped listening. She was busy, and the adventurers had been arguing all day.  That was preferable to them having, say, a bar fight but she was busy.

She spun past her inn, taking requests for food, filling empty mugs, and generally, wishing she was less busy. The door opened and Erin turned to smile at the newcomer and explain that skeletons and Goblins in general were friendly.

She didn’t have to. Pisces stood in the doorway, blinking in surprise at the crowded inn. He paused, looking around as if he thought he were in the wrong place. Erin waved at him.

“Sit over there!”

She pointed to a lonely table. Pisces hesitated; still eying the adventurers but eventually went and sat down. He paused as he passed by the table where adventuring captains were sitting. They looked up, and Ceria spoke.

“Pisces.”

The [Necromancer] nodded to her.

“Ceria.”

“Stop bothering my customers!”

Erin booted the mage in the back, much to the amusement of several of the adventurers. Pisces glared at her, and glared harder when Toren came by to hand him a menu.

“I must protest! My creation is not meant for menial tasks. Moreover, I am an accredited [Mage] and deserved to be treated—”

“Food!”

Erin dropped a plate in front of Pisces and left. She was so busy! If this was what having an inn was like, she seriously needed another skeleton. Or two. Toren was practically dashing about, serving the wary adventurers with mechanical precision.

This was why an inn had a cook and bar-people. Come to that, a bartender would also have been helpful, as well as another keg of ale. Erin had long ago run out and the adventurers had been disappointed to learn she didn’t have any more. She probably could have made a fortune on that alone.

The door opened. Erin turned, prepared a smile, and then smiled for real.

“Olesm?”

The blue Drake staggered into her inn, looking around wildly. He spotted her and rushed towards Erin, heedless of the other adventurers who’d gone temporarily silent at the sight of a Drake.

“Erin! I did it! I did it!”

“Did what?”

“I finally solved it!”

The Drake crowed and danced about, waving the slip of parchment at Erin. She blinked at him, confused.

“It was the work of days—no, nearly a week! In the end I had to lock myself away, but I did it! And I leveled! Twice!”

“Wait, twice? What?”

She had to get him to stand still to show her, which was no mean feat. Erin saw a very inky piece of paper and the notation for four chess moves. A solution to a chess puzzle. Her puzzle.

“Oh, you did it! Congratulations!”

She smiled at Olesm and he gave her a toothy grin in reply. He looked delirious with delight, but his eyes were also slightly unfocused, hinting that he was delirious in more ways than one.

Lizards didn’t have whites in their eyes. Like the Gnolls, their eyes were a single color with a dark, snake-like pupil in the center. Olesm’s eyes were a marvelous shade of blue patterned wildly like raindrops falling.

They were also bloodshot and wild. Erin noticed Olesm seemed gaunt, and thinner than she’d seen him last. He also had an unwashed smell and…was that dead skin on the side of his neck? No—dead scales. They were flaking off, and it looked like a terrible fungus infection the more Erin stared at it.

She was trying not to, really. But it was extremely distracting.

Olesm noticed where Erin was looking and blushed. He immediately covered the spot with one hand.

“Um—I’m so sorry. I haven’t bathed or cleaned myself in a while. I was just so happy to have solved it I rushed over. But I did it at last! It was the greatest challenge I’d had, and the rewards were—rewarding!”

He smiled in a state approaching bliss. Erin had to smile with him as she lead him to an empty table and waved at Toren for a drink.

“It took a week, huh?”

“Just a bit less than that, I believe.”

Gratefully, Olesm accepted the mug and then stared in horror at the creature that had served it to him. Meanwhile, Erin was trying to remember. She’d given him a chess problem? Oh! Oh yes, it was the one she’d sent to the mystery chess game enthusiast. Olesm had said he was going to make a copy.

And it had taken him a week? Erin was…impressed.

She was impressed. It had taken her nearly a week to solve the problem as well. Admittedly, she’d been going to class and only spent a few hours here and there trying to solve it. And she’d been in middle school. But still.

It made a difference that Olesm had never learned any of the basic strategies that Erin had built her knowledge of chess on. That was part of the reason she could still wipe the floor with him and anyone else although Olesm was probably the best. And it explained why she hadn’t seen him. She’d actually forgotten about him—

“Erin. Erin!”

Olesm was pulling at Erin’s hand. She snapped out of her thoughts and saw the Drake’s blue scales had turned pale.

“What is it?”

“There’s a sk-skeleton!”

He pointed and his claw shook at Toren as the skeleton brought another plate of food out for Calruz. Erin stared blankly at Toren.

“Yeah. That’s Toren.”

“Toren? It has a—what’s a skeleton doing here? Did that [Necromancer] summon it?”

Erin realized that Olesm hadn’t seen Toren before. She tried to explain. Olesm tried to listen. It was quite noisy in the common room.

“What? And you accepted it? But the undead—they’re so—dangerous! Besides, one skeleton isn’t worth all the food you’ve been feeding Pisces!”

Erin’s eyes narrowed and she tossed a glare over the room at Pisces. He was already trying to avoid Ceria’s gaze as the Half-elf occasionally stared at him, but he flinched away from Erin as well, although he couldn’t possibly have known what she and Olesm were talking about.

“Oh really?”

Olesm nodded. He tore into the food Toren brought for him, clearly famished.

“Their binding spells don’t last that long. Your average skeleton falls to pieces within a day or two of being animated, and even if the necromancer uses an indefinite binding, their spell fails the instant they take too much damage. And they’re surprisingly fragile!”

“Well, this one hasn’t fallen apart and it’s been knocked to pieces once already.”

Olesm frowned.

“Really? That’s not usual. Most mages don’t spend nearly that much mana on a lowly skeleton.”

“I think this one’s different. It’s smart enough to take orders and serve drinks, for one thing.”

The Drake followed Toren’s circuit around the room and nodded slowly.

“True. And that’s odd too. It’s very intelligent—can it play chess, by any chance?”

“What?”

Erin grinned at Olesm and laughed.

“Is that all you think about? You’re like me when I was a kid!”

The Drake blushed and ducked his head. Then he paused and looked around the room.

“I didn’t think you would be so busy—I was hoping to play a game, but I wouldn’t want to take you away from your work. Where is that small Goblin or the Worker called Pawn?”

Erin’s smiled faded. She’d nearly forgotten the events of yesterday as well.

“I haven’t seen Rags and her crowd today. They must be doing Goblin-y things. But—the Workers probably won’t be coming for a while. There was an—incident with Pawn.”

Olesm looked alarmed.

“What happened?”

Someone was calling Erin’s name. She glanced around, distracted, and made a face.

“Tell you later! Wait until everything slows down and then we can play a game of chess, okay?”

Reluctantly, Olesm nodded. He brightened as Erin brought him more food though, and began attacking that. Erin walked over to the waving adventurer, and her endless quest for customer satisfaction continued.

----

Late. Later in the night. Erin was bone-tired, but she was still smiling, and still, surprisingly, having fun. The adventurers weren’t jerks and they liked her cooking. And they had money! It wasn’t bad to be working for once, and Erin wondered just how much money she’d make from tonight.

Not a bad haul. But she was tired. She paused, wiping at her forehead and accepted a drink from Toren.

“Hey, good job. You’re not doing so bad.”

The skeleton paused and nodded at her. She blinked in bemusement as it bustled out of the kitchen.

“Skeletons. They think they’re good as people.”

She laughed, and walked back out. At last the food requests had stopped coming in, and it was just filling glasses and doing the stacks of dirty dishes in the kitchen. Toren could do that. Erin would just fill up a bucket with water from the stream and boil it before she could sit down and play a game of chess with Olesm, and maybe Pisces.

She had bucket in hand and was heading to the door when it opened. Two Workers immediately stepped inside. Erin raised a hand to greet them—

And half of the adventurers in the room drew their weapons.

“Whoa! Hey! Swords down!”

Erin shouted as the adventurers began pushing their chairs back and the Workers wavered. She put herself between the adventurers and the doorway.

“These are my guests! Guests!”

“Antinium!”

“The Bugs!”

Some of the adventurers were shouting, but the adventuring captains were the first to get over their surprise. Gerald grabbed the shoulder of an adventurer that was rising and shoved him down in his seat.

“Don’t fight!”

This came from Cervial. He raised his voice and shouted at the adventurers.

“They’re part of Liscor! You hurt them, you make an enemy out of the city! They’re not here for a fight! These are the Worker-types.”

Erin ignored the shouting as the Captains began restoring order in the inn. She looked at the Workers, confused.

“Why are you here? I thought you couldn’t leave the city.”

Not without Pawn. But then Erin’s mind caught up with what she was saying.

“Pawn?”

“Yes Innkeeper Solstice. But there is an issue—”

The Worker opened the doorway. Erin saw two other Workers helping another of their kind through the doorway. He was like them, exactly like them but different.

Pawn.

He was okay. He was alive. Erin smiled as he stumbled into the inn. But then her smile froze.

The adventurers, who had been swearing and reacting to the presence of the Workers took one look at Pawn and fell silent. Several sheathed weapons were unsheathed again. In the dead silence someone swore loudly.

Pawn had to be helped by the two Workers into the inn. He swayed, unsteady. A trail of green blood followed him. Erin’s eyes were caught by the color. So green. So vibrant. A color she’d seen once on her hands before.

The Antinium named Pawn stared up at Erin. She stared back. Her thoughts had—stopped. She stared at him.

He was still Pawn. But he was missing one of his antennae, the one Ksmvr had severed. And he was missing arms as well. Three of them. And part of one leg.

The door closed and the cold rain began to fall.

1.38

“I am individual. I am Antinium.”

That was the first whisper Erin heard out of Pawn. He sat, no longer bleeding in the inn as she wrapped a bandage around his severed stumps.

The healing potions the adventurers had used had stopped the bleeding, but there was no way to restore lost limbs. And his severed wounds were still exposed to the air. The Antinium didn’t have skin but exoskeleton. Lacking that, the healed areas were still vulnerable.

He whispered to Erin as she sat next to him. The half-Elf named Ceria and the other adventurers hovered around her or watched from their tables, silent spectators. But all of Erin’s attention was on the Antinium in front of her.

“What happened?”

He trembled.

“I was asked questions. I was tested. I passed.”

Erin looked at his broken body. Three arms had been cut away. And part of his foot—his carapace was cracked in multiple places and cut in others.

Torture.

“Is he coming after you? Ksmvr?”

The name made Pawn freeze like a—a cockroach caught in the light. He began shaking so uncontrollably the two Workers had to hold him so Erin could finish wrapping the bandage.

“He—the Prognugator let me go. He let me go. I am individual. Not Aberration. He let me go.”

Pawn repeated the words several times, rocking back and forth. Erin stared at him. She didn’t know what to do.

“Erin—”

She looked around. Ceria was staring at the Antinium.

“Who is this?”

“Pawn. This is Pawn. He’s a Worker.”

“No.”

All four Workers said the word as one. Erin looked at them. They spoke in unison.

“The individual known as Pawn is no longer a Worker.”

“Then what is he?”

“Individual. Antinium. Not Aberration.”

Ceria looked at Erin.

“This has something to do with the Antinium in the city, right? Did they have a—a fight? I’ve heard of Prognugators. If this Ksmvr is after your friend—”

“No. No!”

Pawn waved his one good arm wildly. Again, the other Workers had to retrain him.

“I am not Aberration. I am not. I am—”

He was incoherent, or as close to it as Erin had ever seen one of the Antinium. She stared at him. He was still shaking. And if he had the means, Erin was sure he would have wept. Instead all he could do was tremble.

It was curious. Erin felt as though in this moment, she should be full of—something. Rage perhaps, or grief. But instead there was nothing. Just a few thoughts.

Pawn was still babbling. He kept repeating his innocence as the other adventurers watched helplessly. Some of them looked disgusted, others actually sympathetic. And some were simply silent because it wasn’t the time to speak.

Erin had no time for them. Instead, she walked slowly over to a table. Olesm was paralyzed in his seat. He stared up at her, eyes wide. But Erin didn’t speak to him. Instead, she picked up what was in front of the Drake.

A chessboard.

Ceria blinked as Erin carried it back. But Pawn’s eyes latched onto the simple wooden board as Erin put it on the table in front of him. Pawn looked up into her eyes and she felt the nothingness in her deepen.

Slowly, the two Workers propped Pawn up and he moved so he could access the board with his remaining arm. The former Worker hesitated and then moved.

He shook like a leaf in the breeze. Pawn fumbled at the chess pieces with his single arm, clumsily trying to set them up and knocking them over. Trembling.

Erin stared at the Antinium and felt not a trace of fury in her. Not black fury, not burning rage nor wrath enough to power a thousand suns. Nothing.

Her hands were calm as she took Pawn’s pieces and set them up on the board. Carefully, she arranged his pieces and hers. He was white – she was black. He clumsily moved a pawn forwards and she replied.

Queen’s Gambit. Dutch Defense. Erin crushed Pawn in only a few moves. Ruthlessly. Without guilt or hesitation.

The Antinium wavered. She felt and saw him hesitate, and saw the other Workers around him staring. But then she reset the board and he moved again.

King’s Pawn Game. French Defense. Erin played exactly the opposite game Pawn expected to, staying defensive and picking off his pieces slowly. She won again, overwhelmingly.

Nothing. No feeling. Erin played in a void of calm, playing her best against a broken Pawn who could barely move his pieces. She reset the board and they played.

Again, and again. Glacial silence, forest silence. The silence of endless days on the open desert where the winds devoured all and the sand was the only thing that ever changed. The silence of the open ocean on a sunny day—vast and loud, engulfing all things and making the world a green-blue landscape.

The silence of eternity, played out in the soft clicking of chess pieces on the board.

Again, Pawn played and Erin won. She rotated the board and made the first move. She won again.

He was alone. Alone, and not half the player she was. But with every game something that had been cut away came back. Slowly, the Antinium’s trembling stopped.

He played. He lost. And Erin felt nothing. But each game was a small slice of eternity cut and drifting between the two, a moment of healing, a moment of concentration and silence. An immortal moment.

And when it was done, when the games had finished and the sun had fallen, and then night had turned back into day Erin stopped. She let Pawn gently push over his king. The Antinium no longer trembled, and she sat in a silent ring of Workers, Goblins, and even adventurers who sat watching the game. A single skeleton hovered with a platter of food in hand, watching with eyes that had seen forever in death and saw forever caught in a single game of chess.

And still, Erin felt nothing. Not a flicker of pain, anger, or sadness crossed her heart. The emotions were too big for her. But whatever was in her prompted her. Erin felt it move, like the way the tide changed. A vast, deep feeling.

She spoke as Pawn hung his head low, drowsy with sleep.

“Ksmvr.”

The single word brought the Antinium out of his half-sleep, shuddering. But he was strong enough to hear the name now, strong enough to listen and not weep. Erin met Pawn’s eyes and saw a person staring through insect’s multifaceted gaze.

She made no promises, spoke no untrue words. Erin reached out and held the cold insect Worker, hugging him gently. Then she stood up and said two words.

“I’m sorry.”

The door closed softly behind Erin. For a moment all the adventurers stared, still caught in a fragment of forever. Then the silence was broken by shock and cursing as half the adventurers in the inn rushed out after her.

----

“Erin!”

Ceria was the first out of the inn. She was no warrior, but her heritage gave her grace and speed. And she wasn’t weighed down by armor.

The Half-elf ran into the rainy night, and found the other girl was already gone. The door opened and Yvlon and Cervial were outside right behind Ceria.

“Where did she go?”

“Towards the city, obviously. But she must be moving fast. I can’t even see her from here.”

“Well let’s get after her! If she’s trying to pick a fight—”

“Humans.”

Ceria snapped the word, more as a general curse on the situation than an attack on Erin. She looked at Yvlon.

“I can go but that Antinium needs watching. And I’ve got no movement Skills. Can you—?”

“Of course. You stop Calruz.”

“Right. And if she gets there first, don’t fight the one called Ksmvr. Attacking him is the same as attacking the hive.”

Cervial nodded. He looked around, seeing through the dark night better than even Ceria could.

“Let’s go. I can’t see her. The girl must have some kind of running Skill.”

Without a word the two captains ran towards the city, moving like a blur. Ceria watched them go and then turned. She saw other adventurers standing just outside, caught in indecision.

“If you want to go, go. But only drag that innkeeper back. Fighting here would be a mistake. But it would be better if less people were out in the darkness. We don’t know what kind of monsters live here.”

At her words, most of the adventurers went back into the inn. Or tried to. They had to retreat as a large shape pushed his way through the crowd.

Calruz emerged from the inn, face dark with anger. None of the humans wanted to get in his way, but Ceria stood in front of the Minotaur’s path.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“After the innkeeper. Where else?”

“Yvlon and Cervial are already after her. You wouldn’t be able to catch her anyways.”

Calruz grunted.

“Who says I’m going to catch her? The child needs a second for a proper death duel.”

“You will not go. If we cause a disturbance—”

“Honor is at stake. You will not stop me.”

Ceria felt a massive hand move her aside. She thought about the few spells she could use, and then abandoned the idea when she saw the look on Calruz’s face. She stared helplessly as the Minotaur strode off in the direction of the city.

“The other two might be able to stop him. If they get to the innkeeper in time.”

Gerial said it loudly behind Ceria. She had to raise her voice above the pounding rain. She was already soaked, but at least her enchanted robes weren’t getting soggy with water.

“I just hope she doesn’t actually try to fight that Antinium – or whoever he is. She’s no warrior.”

“No.”

The two leading members of the Horns of Hammerad stared at each other. They both felt it. The hint of déjà-vu.

“If you want to go—”

“No. Calruz won’t listen to me anymore than you. And if he does pick a fight, better it’s only him. Besides—”

“Besides what?”

Gerial stared out into the rain, hand clenched.

“If I went out there I don’t think I could stop myself.”

Ceria followed his gaze. The night was dark and stormy. She spoke distantly.

“That’s not what I’m worried about.”

“What?”

“It’s night. And—the timing of it.”

Ceria paused. Gerial stared at her. They trusted each other, and adventurers learned to listen to their feelings. Ceria hit on what her instincts were telling her and spoke.

“It feels like a trap.”

----

Ksmvr stood on a hilltop, waiting. He was not within the boundaries of Liscor. It was important that he was not.

Boundaries. Rules. Ksmvr understood them. They were important. Rules and order made up the Hive, and by such things could everything be understood.

Pacts had been made. The soldiers of the Hive were not permitted above-ground save for times of emergency—or war. And while the definition of emergency could allow for numerous occasions, bringing the soldiers above ground would bring about questions regardless. And the Queen was not to be disturbed.

But no such pacts had been established outside of the city. Therefore, four of the Soldier Antinium stood silently next to Ksmvr, silent giants waiting for his order. They were elite—perhaps not as strong individually as he was, but close. Together, they were more than enough to subdue a single [Innkeeper].

It might have been overkill to a human, but the Antinium took no chances. And Erin Solstice had established her worth. Initially Ksmvr had only known what his Queen had told him, and from that he had thought of her as insignificant. Worthless.

But—and here was the difficult part—Erin Solstice was important. She was valuable. Perhaps unique. His Queen had been wrong in her appraisal of Erin and that bothered Ksmvr greatly.

But the duty of a Prognugator was to protect and serve the hive. And Ksmvr would do just that. He waited for Erin Solstice in the certainty that she would come.

Her actions were a matter of record. More than that, the established thought processes of humans were well known to Ksmvr. She would come in fury and vengeance to be caught and the individual known as Pawn would be easily retrieved. Minor obstacles like the Goblins, adventurers and skeleton were of no object.

Ksmvr shifted in his position on the hilltop that afforded him a view of the area surrounding the city. He was not bored. He was incapable of being bored. But the time he had spent waiting bothered him.

The Soldiers behind Ksmvr did not move. They waited, alert for any threat. They did not get bored either.

But Relc was quite bored. The Drake yawned and all five Antinium turned. Ksmvr’s swords and daggers sprang from their sheaths and the Soldiers immediately raised their club-like hands.

“Hold it.”

Relc sat up in the grass, appearing out of the dark landscape as if by magic. It wasn’t magic of course. But mud and the Drake’s dark scales had made him practically invisible in the grass.

Ksmvr held up a hand and sent a mental order to the Soldiers. But neither he nor the other Antinium relaxed. He kept his swords pointed at the ground.

“Senior Guardsman Relc. Do you have business with me at this time? If so, I request it wait until tomorrow.”

Relc scratched at the back of his head. He looked at Ksmvr and glanced away.

“What? Oh, no, no. I don’t have business with you.”

Ksmvr waited, but Relc didn’t say anything else. More questioning was in order.

“May I inquire as to your purpose here?”

“Sure, inquire away.”

More silence. Ksmvr was aware that Relc was being deliberately obstinate and confrontational. A troubling complication.

“Why have you followed my group?”

Relc raised what would have been an eyebrow.

“I’m not following—”

“Please refrain from lying. There is no other reason for you to be out here at this time of night. Moreover, you are not currently on duty. Why are you here?”

The Soldier Antinium shifted slightly. Relc eyed them, unimpressed. He flicked his tongue out and shrugged.

“I’m just taking a walk. And uh, a nap. In the rain. Which I do quite often.”

Talking to people—or rather, interacting with those not of the Hive was difficult. And Ksmvr was unused to conversations with outsiders in the first place. Still, he persisted, keeping one eye on the dark landscape the entire time.

“Will you return to the city, then?”

“Maybe. In time. I’m just enjoying myself.”

“I see. And will you continue to remain here so long as we are here?”

“Oh, no. I’ll leave pretty soon. Just as soon as a certain stupid human girl gets back to her inn all safe and sound.”

Ksmvr interpreted that information and the Soldiers around him raised their hands. Relc waved at them with his tail.

“Stop that. I’m not here for a fight. And neither are you, since I’d win.”

It was an accurate statement, at least in that the chances of Relc’s victory were higher than Ksmvr’s. And a deeply complicating factor. Therefore Ksmvr attempted a higher degree of diplomacy than before.

“Your presence is unneeded. If Erin Solstice cooperates she will be unharmed.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think she will. Do you? And frankly, even if you plan to feed her with a golden spoon I don’t think I should let you take her.”

“Erin Solstice is not a citizen of Liscor. Your duty does not extend to—”

“Would you shut up?”

Relc said it pleasantly, but with an edge that made Ksmvr consider silence the most appropriate response. The Drake shook his head.

“You sound just like Klb back—well, back when I first met him. I don’t like that. So shut up and listen since I have to spell it out. Here’s what’s going to happen tonight. Erin Solstice is going to run into the city, probably with that stupid frying pan and not find you and a bunch of your big Antinium friends. She’s going to go back to her inn all safe and nice.”

“You are protecting her.”

“I guess.”

“Why?”

Relc paused.

“I like her. Well—I used to. Now I think she’s a bloody idiot Human like the others. But at least she makes good pasta. And—well, let’s call it a favor. Klbkch died protecting her. I just figured it would be a shame if all his effort went to waste.”

There was an inconsistency in Relc’s statements and Ksmvr leapt on it, sure of his success.

“Klbkch was a member of the Hive. By obstructing my work you obstruct the Hive.”

Strangely, Relc did not respond to this logical inconsistency like Ksmvr had predicted. He just shrugged.

“Yeah. But I don’t like you.”

Dealing with non-Antinium was so—so frustrating. Ksmvr felt an unexplored emotion within him. Troubling. But he persisted.

“I am Prognugator of the Free Antinium of Liscor. My authority—”

“Shut up.”

Another tact.

“I have four Soldiers with me.”

Relc yawned. He eyed the silent Antinium, whose hands were literal weapons. Their carapaces were equivalent to unenchanted plate armor, and they possessed numerous abilities inherent to the Antinium that other species did not have. Even so, Relc did not appear intimidated.

“I’ve heard that a newly grown soldier is the equivalent of a Level 15 [Warrior] for most species. Interesting. But if you think those guys frighten me, I’ll rip a few of their heads off for you. The Antinium never attacked Liscor in the second war, so you have no idea how strong I am.”

Ksmvr paused and tilted his head as he accessed the required memory.

“Relc Grasstongue, former sergeant of the 1st Wing of the Liscorian army. Currently Level 33 in the [Spearmaster] class, and Level 12 in the [Guardsman] class. Negligible levels in the [Archer] class as well as the [Carpenter] class. Possesses mainly combat skills as well as the rare skill [Triple Thrust].”

“…Damn bugs. Did Klbkch tell you that?”

At last. Dialogue. Ksmvr did not have the facial muscles—or face—to smile, but a part of him felt relieved. He attempted to continue the conversation.

“Klbkch estimated that if necessary, he would be able to hold you off for five minutes and inflict serious wounds before death. If given the order to terminate, he predicted a sneak attack had an even chance of killing you.”

The look Relc gave Ksmvr did not indicate a positive reaction to the conversation.

“I really don’t like you, you know.”

“Your regard for me matters little. My position is temporary.”

“Good for you, I guess. Why are you talking so much, anyways?”

“I am attempting to build the same level of camaraderie shared between you and former Prognugator Klbkch.”

Another pause, and this time Relc’s expression darkened.

“Well. I—no. I’m going to stand over here until Erin comes by.”

He began to walk off. Ksmvr called out after him.

“Sixteen more Soldiers are currently moving towards this location. You will not be able to stop them alone.”

Relc paused. Ksmvr couldn’t see—but the Drake looked like he was grinning.

“That’s sort of funny. I guess not all of you Antinium are alike, huh?”

“What leads you to that conclusion?”

“You don’t have [Dangersense]. You’d better pray you get it, or another skill like it soon.”

Relc nodded towards a distant hill. Ksmvr looked and mentally ordered the Soldiers leaving the Hive to hold position. Perhaps if he were Human he might never have seen the silent figure crouching and smiling down at the two warriors. But he was Antinium and he recognized Gazi on sight.

The Drake sat down on the hill casually, ignoring the other Antinium still watching him. He nodded towards Gazi’s distant figure.

“Now she could eat you and your cute little soldiers for breakfast. Me, she’d probably choke on the way down.”

Ksmvr was capable of free-thought, a mark of his position and importance to the Hive. He was a leader, meant to direct soldiers and deal with unexpected situations as they arose. Never mind that he had become Prognugator before his training period was over—he was trusted by the Queen. But—but—

But no matter how hard he thought, he couldn’t decide what to do. Erin Solstice was important. But with the presence of Gazi the Omniscient as well as Relc, suddenly the costs of capturing Erin Solstice became too high.

But she was important. But it was too costly. But she was important. But it was too costly. What should he do? His Queen had ordered him not to disturb her. But he knew the importance of individuals. His entire duty—the entire duty of the Antinium within Liscor revolved around the importance of this. But it was too dangerous.

What should he do? For the first time in his short life, Ksmvr had no idea what he should do.

----

It was a silent—well, stalemate wasn’t the word. From their position within a deep section of the grass the other watchers could see that the Antinium were in trouble. Even as they watched, their leader came to a decision. He spoke a few words to Relc and the Antinium surrounding him began marching back to the city.

That was good.

“There. It is well that we did not have to intervene, yes?”

Krshia spoke her comment quietly, but even with the pouring rain the other Gnolls lying in the grass heard her perfectly. Tkrn and six of the other Gnolls relaxed their hold on their bows. Tkrn nodded at Ksmvr as the Antinium swiftly descended the hill, flanked by his Soldiers.

“It might be best to slay the bug before he returns to the city, yes? It would not be too difficult to do, especially if he intends to hurt this Erin Solstice.”

“Fool.”

Tkrn barely saw the paw that cuffed him on the head. Krshia glared at him between the long stalks of grass.

“He was not trying to kill her. Use your brain, you fool, you.”

The other Gnolls chuckled in amusement as Tkrn flattened his ears in embarrassment. As the most junior member of the Gnolls—and the most inexperienced, it was even more humiliating to make a mistake in front of their leader.

“But he had Soldiers.”

Krshia snorted.

“Yes, to capture her. But he was waiting for Erin Solstice to arrive, yes? That is suspicious. Who waits for a challenge? Only Humans in their pride and Drakes do that, yes? We fight without needing large open spaces and people to watch. But the Antinium—they are even more different than we.”

She nodded at Ksmvr as the Antinium marched back across the flatlands. The Antinium was alert—constantly scanning the landscape. But despite the Antinium’s impressive dark vision, they were no hunters of the plains. Krshia and the other Gnolls were perfectly hidden in their cover.

“If he – Ksm – wanted Erin Solstice dead then dead she would be already. He would stab her before she saw him, yes? But he wanted her here, and had many soldiers with him.”

She shook her head.

“Someone else wants Erin Solstice. And excluding the foolish Drake, three different sides came for her tonight.”

“It seems you are right. This Erin Solstice, she is important.”

Another Gnoll made that comment and the others nodded. If they had doubted Krshia before—and if they had they were wise enough to never have said it in her presence—tonight changed that. She glared at them.

“I said it, did I not? But it is poor fortune that it is known. We must hurry.”

The other Gnolls nodded. One spoke.

“The other warriors will arrive soon. Within the week.”

“Good.”

Tkrn shifted. He eyed the hill where the silent figure of Gazi was still crouching and engaged in a staring contest with Relc.

“Should we leave, then? Or will Gazi do something?”

The other Gnolls muttered. They knew the odds of taking on a Named Adventurer. Krshia shook her head.

“I do not think so. She is crafty, and she is waiting. I do not think she would have intervened unless all others failed, including we.”

“But she is still here, yes.”

“Yes.”

Krshia scowled up at Gazi. It was impossible—they were perfectly hidden, but the Gazer’s eye flicked away from Relc and towards them for the merest fraction of a second. Krshia muttered something as the other Gnolls growled.

“She likes to watch.”

“Well, she can’t do anything to us even if she knows we’re here.”

This time Tkrn received several admonitory paws to the back of the head. Krshia shook herself and sent water drops flying now that their cover had been broken.

“Maybe not. But it is an ill thing to be spotted. We will wait to make sure she does nothing. Just in case.”

The Gnolls sat up in the grass, relaxing. Relc still hadn’t spotted them but then, the Drake only relied on his Skills. And the problem with [Dangersense] is that it only told him when there was potential threat.

Still, they meant him no harm. They were on the same side, at least for the night. So the Gnolls waited. The Gazer sat patiently, and the Drake ripped up pieces of grass. The night was silent.

They waited.

And waited.

And…

From their position in the grass, the Gnolls saw Relc shift and scratch irritably at his scales. He looked around and then voiced the question on everyone’s mind.

“Where is she?”

----

“We couldn’t find her.”

Ceria stared in disbelief at Yvlon and Cervial as the two adventurers returned, panting. They’d run all the way to Liscor and back in less than thirty minutes.

“What?”

“We got to the gates, but the guard there said no one had come by.”

Both of the adventurers shrugged helplessly. Ceria chewed at her lip.

“Maybe she got lost?”

“I doubt it.”

“Then a monster—”

“We would have noticed that.”

“Then where is she?”

“I don’t know. Did you spot Calruz by any chance?”

Cervial smiled crookedly.

“Yeah. He tried to get into the city, but the guard told him the gates were closed. He’s stomping his way back now.”

Well, that was one problem solved. But the bigger problem remained. Where was Erin Solstice? Ceria stared around, but the night was still full of rain and seeing was impossible.

“Well, we’ll just have to wait. Come on inside—the skeleton is mad as hell but it’s staying put for some reason. I guess we should as well.”

Yvlong and Cervial trooped back into the inn. Ceria looked around one last time. It was so strange. She’d assumed—

Something dropped from the roof of the inn and landed right next to Ceria. The half-Elf yelped, grabbed for her wand, and stopped.

Erin got up from the ground, wincing at the bad fall. She brushed mud off her shirt and paused as she saw Ceria.

“Oh. Hi.”

Ceria clutched at her heart. It felt as if it had stopped.

“What are you—where were you?”

Erin blinked at her. She pointed up.

“I was on the roof.”

Ceria stared up. The roof.

“…Doing what?”

Erin shrugged. She wiped at her face. It didn’t do much in the rain.

“I was crying. What did you think I was doing?”

Her eyes were red. Ceria could see that perfectly. She replied, lamely.

“We—we thought you were going after Ksmvr.”

“Why would I do that?”

Again, Ceria had to stop. She grappled with words.

“Well, after what he did to your friend—I’d say everyone in the inn would have joined you. Calruz especially.”

“Really. Really?”

Erin snuffled again and wiped at her nose.

“That’s nice of you. I guess. You could all hold him down while I bashed his brains out with a frying pan, right?”

“We wouldn’t do that. Calruz—thought you were going to duel him.”

“And kill him?”

Erin looked at Ceria. It was an odd stare. Accusatory. Hurt. Ceria shifted, suddenly awkward.

“But what he did—”

“Evil.”

Erin said it flatly.

“Pawn was innocent. He didn’t deserve that. When I saw what that bastard did—”

“Yeah. So we thought—”

Ceria trailed off lamely. Erin was still staring at her. As if it was the most obvious thing in the world, she shook her head.

“He hurt Pawn. But does that mean I should go out there and beat him to death? How? He’s a warrior and I’m—I’m an innkeeper. And I don’t murder people. I kill monsters and I’ve killed in self-defense. But I don’t murder people. Ever.”

It was too hard to meet the girl’s eyes. Ceria looked away. It felt like she was speaking to someone strange. Something—

She had no word for alien in her language. The closest words Ceria knew were outsider, strange, unnatural. Erin was staring at her, a hint of accusation in her stare. And it was hard to bear. There was something innocent in her gaze, something that Ceria had lost long ago when she first stared into a dead man’s eyes.

“I’m sorry. I just assumed—”

Erin shrugged. She paused, and stared around at the dark landscape. Ceria saw her lips move.

“Can I tell you something? Something sort of offensive?”

“Sure.”

Erin stared at the ground and the wet grass. Her breath appeared in the cold air.

“You guys have a really shitty world. A really bad one.”

“We do…?”

“I don’t like it. It’s so wonderful at times—so beautiful and full of magic. But then this happens. Every time. Well. Almost every time. I hate it.”

Ceria had nothing to say to that.

“For a moment I wanted to kill Ksmvr, too. But I would die if I tried that, right? He’s fast. Strong. A warrior. Maybe I could kill him. But then what?”

“He’d be dead.”

“And so would Pawn. Probably. That Queen would send her soldiers to rip off his head and mine.”

“I understand. You made the right choice.”

Erin shivered.

“Did I? It seems like all I can do at times like this is just accept what happened and move on.”

She shivered. Ceria was conscious of how cold it was. The enchantments on her robes made her feel warm even in the freezing rain but the human girl had sat up on the rooftop for—it had to be an hour at least.

“You should come inside. I’m sure Pawn will want to see you.”

She reached out for Erin. The girl’s skin was deathly cold. She muttered something.

“—know.”

“What?”

Erin shook her head.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what to do to stop it. But I do know what to do.”

She walked past Ceria, into the inn. The half-Elf followed, watching. There was something in the human girl’s eyes.

Pawn half-rose in his seat when he saw her. Anxiety was written all over his face, although only Erin could see it. She smiled at him and sneezed.

The other adventurers stared at Erin. She ignored them. They were not important. Instead, she sat down as Toren rushed towards her with a towel. She patted the cold water off her and felt a bit more alive when he gave her a steaming mug of boiled water.

Olesm had been playing Pawn. But the Drake instantly stood to give her his seat. Erin shook her head.

“Go on. Keep playing.”

The Drake blinked at her, and then awkwardly sat down. Erin sat next to Pawn. At first the Antinium looked at her, but she smiled. It was very quiet in the room. After a while, Olesm coughed and awkwardly moved a piece forward.

Pawn played. The two played. Erin looked at the Workers and got them a chess set. It was strange. The Workers sat and began playing. The adventurers sat awkwardly. After a while Erin had Toren bring out some leftovers.

And it was still silent. So when the feeling in Erin couldn’t be contained she opened her mouth.

And began to sing.

It caught Pawn off-guard. He froze as he held a knight in his hand and stared at Erin. So did everyone else. But the awkwardness—the fear she might have felt was nothing. So Erin sang.

She had never been good at singing. Or rather, she’d never been as good at singing as she had at playing chess. But when she was a kid, before she’d quit going to church, she’d been part of the choir. She’d sung in the school choir and once, just once, her teacher had encouraged her to study singing.

But she hadn’t. Erin had played chess and forgotten how to breathe properly, stopped singing every week. But the music had lingered, and she’d never really forgotten how. Erin opened her mouth and began to sing.

Pawn looked up and froze for a second. Olesm did too. The Antinium returned to the game after a moment, but the tense, pained way in which he had been playing slowed. And Erin sang on, singing a song no one in the inn but she had ever heard. A song from her world.

A song from home.

She didn’t know why she started with a Lady Gaga song. But that one she’d always loved because it made her feel better. And Greatest was probably her greatest song.

Erin had no piano. No voice synthesizer, no backup choir; she didn’t even have a microphone. But she didn’t need those things.

Her voice filled up the room, and it seemed to her audience that even though only one person was singing, they could hear something else. The same song Erin had heard first while sitting in her room playing chess.

Was it one person singing or two? They heard another voice. Strange drums—the sound of a piano—a voice singing with electronic sound in ways they could never have imagined.

Ceria listened, and heard another voice, and a kind of music she’d never heard of wherever she’d gone. She closed her eyes, and thought of a girl who knew colors that Ceria had never seen in her life.

Olesm was playing. Pawn kept moving pieces, but that was a backdrop to the music. Erin finished her song and silence beat down again. It was oppressive so she chose another song.

The adventurers had never heard a ukulele played before. But even though Erin wasn’t playing one, they heard it now. And in her voice—a man’s voice. Singing.

This time it was Somewhere Over the Rainbow, only it wasn’t Erin singing, but someone else. A man’s voice replaced hers, summoned by a memory, a Skill. Erin smiled as she sung. She’d always loved Israel Kamakawiwoʻole’s version of that song more than the Judy Garland one.  And she’d loved both with all her heart.

The song was lighter, happier in a way but in another way—not. Someone was crying. Erin kept singing, conjuring a piece of something the people in her inn had never heard before. A piece of immortal music.

Another immortal moment.

And then of course, she kept singing. Somewhere, Erin started singing Hallelujah and smiled as she remembered watching Shrek for the first time. The music poured out of her as Pawn played a game of chess, pausing to stare at her.

The other adventurers were silent. Ceria listened in silence. She was half Elf. Half of her had grown up knowing the fragments of forever—but the other half was still in awe.

But the humans listened to something that was not part of their world. They listened as Erin sang to their hearts.

Gerial wept into his mustache. The adventurers sat in silence. Yvlon closed her eyes and Cervial kept rubbing at his.

A moment of eternity. A song. A fragment of the past. A memory.

Immortality brought to life with every verse.

----

She taught them one song. Here I Am Lord, a song from church. It mattered. It was important. And when she sang it, Pawn looked up.

First Erin sang. She sang alone, singing a religious song, a song of belonging and searching, a song about a God in a world where they had all gone. She sang alone, and Pawn stared at her in wonder.

Then Erin sang with Ceria, two soft voices singing as the half-Elf joined in.

More voices rose, joining the song. It might have been the Skill—or simply that her audience memorized each lyric after she’d sung it once. Erin didn’t care. She and the others sang on, men and women, singing a song for a god this world had never known. By the end of the third verse all the humans were singing. Calruz leaned against the doorway, frowning, closing his eyes and listening, silent. Pawn listened as Erin sang, leaning against him, warming him.

She sang about a God who would protect his people, a God who cared. Someone who watched over the weak and innocent. Ideas the Antinium had never thought of, never dreamed until this moment.

He shuddered then. And then when she looked at him he did not cry. The Antinium do not weep. But she still saw the tears in his soul.

And the night passed to day and Erin sang on. Small songs, grand songs. And the magic was with her, fading with every note. Until she simply sang and the moment was no longer forever. But it was enough. When Erin finally closed her eyes the inn was silent.

And though the Antinium didn’t smile she did. For him. For the both of them.

Erin closed her eyes and slept.

[Innkeeper Level 15!]

1.39

Ceria woke up first. It was an unconscious act on the part of her body that her mind wanted no part of. As the first rays of dawn hit her she opened her eyes and sat up in her bed.

It was too early. And despite her early rising, Ceria was not a morning person.

But some things were too hard to forget. It had been years—decades, really—since Ceria had needed to wake up this early. She was safe in this inn, among her friends and companions. Safe.

Yet it was impossible to forget some things.

Rubbing her face with her hands, Ceria decided that she was up. Remembering the past would only lead to nightmares, and she wasn’t about to wake the inn screaming.

So despite the early hour and lack of sleep, Ceria stumbled downstairs. She blinked around at the room.

“Dd.”

She’d meant to said ‘odd’, but her mouth wasn’t working. What was odd wasn’t that the common room of the inn was a mess—what was odd was that it was not.

Last night. Ceria rubbed at her eyes again and remembered. Music. A night that had lasted forever. Songs and—something else. Some instruments she’d never heard before, and beautiful words.

It felt like a dream. But it had been real, so it felt even more dreamlike. She remembered stumbling up to bed as the other adventurers left, still caught in that magical moment.

Yes—they’d left, but adventurers always create messes wherever they go. Mostly in the form of dead monster corpses and blood, but in this case in the form of empty dishes, dirt, spilled food and drink and coins scattered on the tables.

None of that was here now. The room was clean. In fact, in the morning light the polished wood practically sparkled at Ceria.

She found that mildly offensive. But hunger was distracting her in no small way. She stumbled towards the kitchen—

And froze as a skeleton blocked the doorway.

“Wood rot.”

That was twice now that Ceria felt her heart was literally about to stop. She staggered backwards and pointed shakily at the skeleton.

“Don’t—do that!”

The skeleton was silent. Ceria blinked at it, still not quite thinking properly. It had a name, didn’t it? Erin called it—

“Toren, right?”

The skeleton made no reply. Well, it had probably been the one to clean up the room. Last Ceria had seen, the girl Erin Solstice had been sleeping next to the Antinium named Pawn.

Who also wasn’t here.

Something about that made an alarm bell go off in Ceria’s head, but she was distracted by pressing needs and the undead monster in front of her.

“Is your mistress up? I’d like some breakfast, but I can get it myself.”

Ceria went to move past the skeleton but its arm shot out and blocked her way. She stopped and stared at it.

“What are you—”

It put a finger to its yellowed teeth even as Ceria saw Erin rolled up in a blanket in the corner of the kitchen. She blinked at the girl.

“That’s where she sleeps?”

The skeleton made no sound, but it seemed irked that Ceria was still making sound. The half-Elf shook her head. It was too early for this.

“I’m hungry.”

No response. The skeleton stared at her.

“I need food.”

Again, the pitiless cold flames of death were her only answer. Ceria tried to push the skeleton aside but it grabbed her hand warningly. She eyed it. It looked—well, it was Pisces’s creation. Carefully, she withdrew her hand.

“Fine. No waking her. But can you get me something to eat? Or—cook something?”

The skeleton seemed to consider this. After a moment it reluctantly nodded and walked into the kitchen. Unlike the many skeletons Ceria had seen or killed, this one walked with something approaching grace. It was a superior version of an inferior undead creature, and there was only one mage stupid enough to create something like that.

Pisces. Ceria narrowed her eyes at the skeleton as it trotted into the kitchen. It was certainly an improvement on his older work. For one thing, this skeleton was quite intelligent. But that in itself wasn’t a good thing. It meant he was closer to his goal. If he ever made an undead that was capable of leveling—

She blinked as Toren appeared in front of her. He was holding something.

“Is that…a loaf of bread?”

It was. An entire loaf, unmarred by imperfections such as slicing or condiments. Toren thrust it at her.

Ceria took it and stared at him.

“Am I supposed to eat this? I need something else, you know.”

The skeleton couldn’t sigh. But Ceria distinctly got that it would if it could. It stared at her, and then walked silently back into the kitchen.

Bemused, Ceria sat at a table and stared at the loaf. After a moment she fished out her belt knife.

She’d just managed to cut a few slices away when the skeleton reappeared. It put a bowl down in front of Ceria. She stared at that, too. It was also holding eggs.

Tor dropped the eggs in front of Ceria next to the loaf of bread. Then it added a bag of sugar. It went away and brought a cup and a pitcher of water out and then walked back into the kitchen.

Ceria stared at the food on her table. She eyed the eggs, bread, sugar, and the water. She caught one of the eggs before it rolled off the table and stared at it.

She shrugged.

----

When Gerial stumbled downstairs, yawning and rubbing at his eyes he found Ceria dipping slices of bread into a bowl of egg yolks. Some sugar had also been added to a slice of bread and turned into a sandwich that made him forget entirely about breakfast.

The half-Elf looked up as she munched on her dipped slice of bread. She was reading from her spell book.

“Oh. Hey. The innkeeper’s asleep so there’s no breakfast. But the skeleton got me some food. Want some?”

Gerial stared at the raw egg dripping from the slice of bread. He shuddered.

“That’s disgusting.”

Ceria rolled her eyes.

“You humans. You eat eggs all the time. What’s the difference between frying them and grabbing them from a nest?”

“A very big difference, thank you.”

Gerial sat at the table and tried not to watch Ceria chomping down her meal. He stared at her cup.

“Is that sugar?”

“Goes well with the water if you add enough. Want some?”

He hesitated.

“I think I’d prefer normal food, thanks. Where’s the innkeeper?”

“Still asleep, I think. She’s in there.”

Ceria nodded to the kitchen.

“That damn skeleton’s guarding her though, so don’t go in. This is all it gave me to eat.”

“I see.”

“Yup. So this is the only food you’re getting for a while. Want some?”

“Pass.”

The two adventurers sat in silence for a while. It wasn’t the first time they’d done this. Gerial was a morning person, and he’d often found Ceria awake. His stomach rumbled and he tried to ignore it.

After a while, the silence was too much. Gerial had to talk. He rubbed at his mustache and awkwardly cleared his throat. Ceria looked up and raised an eyebrow.

“So. Last night.”

“It was quite something, wasn’t it?”

“Something? It was—”

Gerial didn’t have words to describe it. He was no mage, and the memory of last night stuck in his head as something he could only describe as magical.

“What was that? Was it a spell?”

“A Skill, I think. Not one I’ve ever heard of. Must be a rare one.”

“But that wasn’t it either. Those songs—”

“Beautiful.”

Ceria smiled and Gerial nodded fervently. But she didn’t seem as awed as he was by the memory. She frowned slightly.

“It was amazing. But odd as well.”

“Odd?”

“I’ve never heard any of the songs she sang. Not one. And the music that came with it—did it sound like anything you’d ever heard before?”

“Not even in my dreams.”

But Gerial had dreamed of those songs last night. He felt his eyes sting a bit as he remembered and turned his head to wipe at them. Ceria shook her head.

“They were moving, but that’s not the point Gerial. It’s another mystery. Where did that music come from? How did that girl—”

She glanced up and stopped talking abruptly. That was another thing Gerial was used to, so when Erin stumbled out of the kitchen he was already turning to greet her.

“Good morning, Miss Erin.”

She stopped and stared at him. She was still wearing the same food-spattered clothing she’d had on yesterday. She also looked miserable.

“Morning.”

Ceria nodded at Erin. The girl shook her head.

“Is everything alright?”

Another shake. Erin paused, made a face and reluctantly opened her mouth.

“I hab a thore throat. And a cold.”

“Oh.”

“I see. My condolences.”

Erin staggered over to their table and flopped onto it. Gerial saw the skeleton walk out of the kitchen and stand behind her. Erin didn’t seem to notice—or care.

Ceria put down her book and pushed aside her bowl of egg yolk to peer at Erin. She shook her head.

“It must have been sitting out in the rain last night that did it.”

“I bnow.”

The half-Elf was already focusing on Erin, her fingers glowing with pale green light.

“I can do something about the sore throat, but healing potions don’t cure colds.”

“Really? You can—”

Erin yelped as Ceria poked her throat. Instantly, the skeleton behind her raised a threatening fist but Erin sat back in her chair.

“Ow, that—hey! My throat is better!”

She still had a stuffed nose, though. Silently, Gerial offered her his handkerchief. Erin blew her nose and looked him gratefully.

“Sorry.”

“Think nothing of it.”

Erin sniffed and handed him the handkerchief back.

“I hate colds.”

She looked at Ceria and Gerial pleadingly.

“Magic?”

Ceria shook her head at Erin.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t cure that so easily. I only know basic healing spells and colds are tricky. Only the [Restoration] spell cures colds, as far as I know.”

“What? But it’s a cold.”

Erin whined at Ceria. The half-Elf sighed, but remained patient.

“It’s a cold. The most common of illnesses. People have been using magic to cure it for so many years that magic no longer works.”

Gerial was surprised.

“That can happen? I thought—well, it’s just being sick, isn’t it?”

Erin groaned.

“Magic-resistant super-viruses. Just what I need.”

More words that the adventurers didn’t quite understand, but both got the meaning. Ceria shrugged regretfully at Erin. Then she glanced at Gerial with a slight smile.

“Looks like breakfast is cancelled, Gerial. Unless you all want to risk getting sick before the ruins.”

He sighed.

“No helping it, I suppose.”

“I can make food.”

Erin tried to sit up, but Ceria gently shook her head.

“Some rest will do you more good than anything else. And you coughing into your food won’t do anyone any good.”

She was right, and Erin sagged back into her seat.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Gerial was already standing and stretching. He was hungry, but it wouldn’t be the first time he’d missed or deferred breakfast until a later date. He nodded at Erin.

“We’re going into the city. I think Calruz is already gone, but the others are still asleep. Don’t worry about feeding us—they can always go into the city.”

Ceria looked surprised. She glanced upstairs.

“Calruz is gone? I didn’t hear him moving.”

“I don’t think he slept. He went after the bug—ah, I mean, the one called Pawn.”

Erin sat up in her chair, suddenly wide awake. She stared around the empty room.

“Pawn?”

----

Pawn of the Antinium had not slept since the night. It wasn’t as if he’d missed much sleep, though. Erin Solstice had sung well into the morning and so it was only an hour or two later that he sat outside the Wandering Inn, thinking.

And suffering. He could still feel his missing appendages, or rather, the places where they should be. It felt…horrible. Horrible in a way he couldn’t describe, not to be able to move properly. But there was nothing he could do, and at least the pain had stopped.

Small mercies. But the memory of how he had lost his limbs still haunted him. And yet the memory of what had happened last night was with him as well. He still heard the music, still felt his soul shifting, hurting, rejoicing as he heard Erin sing.

Pain and wonder. They fought for dominion, but the pain was nothing compared to the wonder that still filled him.

So he sat and thought. He thought of many things, from his role in the Hive as it had been to what it was now. He thought about what he had suffered, and what was happening. He thought about many things and had no answers. But when he thought about Erin Solstice he felt something else.

And he had no words for that emotion. And it was troubling. In a good way, and a bad way, but enough so that when the Minotaur stomped towards him Pawn was almost glad of the interruption.

“You.”

Pawn inclined his head respectfully. He didn’t know if he should, but all he knew was his role as a Worker. But he wasn’t one anymore. Should he be respectful? It seemed appropriate.

“Adventurer-Captain Calruz. How may I help you?”

The large Minotaur scowled down at Pawn. His eyes were shadowed and he looked tired. And angry. He’d been walking outside by the looks of it, but now he stopped and stared down at Pawn.

“Answer me something, insect. Why did you not fight?”

Pawn stared up at Calruz.

“I’m sorry?”

The Minotaur glared at Pawn. He jabbed a finger at Pawn’s chest.

“You. Why did you not fight? When you were being tortured by your own kind—why did you not resist? Are all of your kind cowards or do you not have any pride?”

The question was so surprising to Pawn that he took a few moments to respond.

“I had no right to resist. The one who took me—he was the Prognugator. He judges other Antinium. Our lives are his to use.”

Calruz looked disbelievingly at Pawn.

“So. You would allow death and dishonor to befall you because of mere rank?”

“The Antinium have no honor. And I am—was a Worker. My life is for the Hive. If my death is required, I will die.”

For a long moment Calruz stared at Pawn. Pawn held his gaze, wondering if the Minotaur would lash out at him. It had happened to several Workers before. But the Minotaur just snorted angrily and turned away.

“All that I should have expected from a slave.”

He stomped towards the door and flung it open. Erin crashed into his chest and the Minotaur blinked at him.

“Pawn!”

She spotted the Antinium and froze. Pawn got to his feet and nodded at her.

“Erin. Is something wrong?”

Erin sagged and some of the color returned to her pale face.

“You scared me! I thought you went back into the city—!”

“I was about to. I would not wish to trouble you—”

“No!”

Pawn was surprised by the vehemence in Erin’s statement. She grabbed him.

“You can’t go back! Not to that—that evil guy!”

“Ksmvr?”

“Yes!”

Erin nodded. She gestured towards her inn.

“That guy—I’m going to—well, I’d like to—what’s more important is that you stay here. Not in that stupid Hive. I’ll make a bed for you and you can stay as long as you like. Free of charge.”

Pawn stared at the inn, and then at the two adventurers who’d followed Erin outside. He shook his head.

“Your offer is most kind. But I belong in my Hive.”

“What?”

His words seemed to shock the others. But Pawn was used to that. He tried to explain.

“I am missed. I must complete my duties.”

“But Ksmvr—”

The name made Pawn shudder, but only slightly.

“He will not harm me.”

“Bullshit.”

Pawn met Erin’s eyes steadily. He remembered her holding him. Remembered her strange warmth. The music was still in him.

“He will not harm me, Erin. He has determined that I am individual. He will not question me further. And I will be protected there. Now that it is known I am individual I am—important.”

“Important?”

That seemed to surprise Erin. And her surprise surprised Pawn. How could she not realize? But he had learned how little others knew of the Antinium. But surely she understood this—

“I still don’t trust that Ksmvr guy. He’s dangerous.”

“He was merely fulfilling his duties. But once the Queen is told, she will summon me. I am sure of it.”

This didn’t seem to reassure Erin at all. She stared at Pawn anxiously, not seeming to understand the great honor this would be.

“The Queen? And where was she while he was stabbing you?”

“She is occupied at the moment. It is the Process of Anastases.”

“The what the what?”

Pawn shrugged. It was a convenient gesture he had learned, shrugging. He noticed that the half-Elf was staring at him intently behind Erin as the human and Minotaur talked.

“I do not know. I only heard what was spoken in passing. But it is an important ritual which cannot be interrupted. I…sense that.”

Erin stared at him. She did not understand, and Pawn worried that she would try to keep him. That would lead to conflict, and he could not allow her to be hurt. But the half-Elf spoke to him.

“You—ah, Pawn. Can you tell me something? What do the Antinium want?”

“To thrive.”

It was an automatic response, and not the one she wanted. Ceria shook her head.

“I’ve heard that from every Antinium—I mean, what do they want here? The Antinium have never established a Hive so close to another species, let alone in their city. Why did this Ksmvr take you and—and question you?”

More hard questions. Pawn tried to answer as best he could.

“We came ten years back. To make…make something. I do not know. I do not know what. But it was Decided. The Queens sent a single Hive to the city. Paid in gold for a place with those not of the Hive. To make something. A new kind of Antinium.”

“And this Process of…does that relate to it?”

“No. Yes. It is important. I cannot tell you what it is. I was not told. I can only sense that it requires all of my Queen’s attention.”

“But when she’s done with it, she’ll want to see you, is that right?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re important.”

“Yes.”

Easier answers. Pawn saw the light of comprehension in the half-Elf’s eyes. But Erin still did not understand. Pawn saw that, too. But the half-Elf did. She tugged at Erin’s arm.

“I think I get it. Erin, Pawn needs to go back to his Hive. You can’t take an Antinium away from the Hive. If you do—they spare no effort to reclaim their lost. Or if it’s impossible to reclaim them, those Antinium die.”

“They do?”

Only in times of war. Pawn knew with absolute certainty his Queen would never order him to die. He was too important. But the lie—

“That is correct. I would be in jeopardy or place you in danger by remaining.”

It hurt him to lie to Erin. But it was partially true. Once his Queen learned of his nature she would spare no effort to reclaim him. And if Ksmvr tried to reclaim him and brought soldiers—

The thought of it was too much to bear. So Pawn lied. He lied to protect the one called Erin Solstice, the innkeeper who played chess and who sang. The one who had given him his individuality and more things than he could think. The one who was important. The one who the other Workers…

Admired. Perhaps that was the word for it. But Pawn thought it wasn’t the right word. What Erin was to the Workers was different. She had brought something into their stale lives, and taught them that they had been living in boredom and monotony. She had elevated one of them, and so what the Workers felt for her was not admiration. It was something else. Another word.

But Pawn had no idea what that word was.

----

Pawn left. Ceria and Gerial left with him, and Calruz stomped off when he learned Erin was sick. They left her alone.

She felt bad about it. Upset that Pawn was leaving. Emotional. She threw a cup of water at Toren.

She hated being sick. And she was so tired—she’d barely gotten what, a few hours of sleep? So Erin put her head down on her pillow in the kitchen. Just for a short nap. It was just a bit too much.

Before she knew it, she’d fallen asleep. All things considered, it was good for her. Erin was so tired, emotionally as well as physically that nothing could rouse her. Not even Selys screaming when she saw Toren.

----

Pisces heard the scream and debated running. But the odds were quite good that there were adventurers still in the inn, and therefore quite good that the screaming didn’t mean anything too dangerous was happening.

Still, he cast [Invisibility] before he entered. It was a wonderful spell. A Tier-4 magic like this afforded him far more safety than any armor, and allowed him a number of useful opportunities as well. It had been worth the year of study it had taken to master it.

Nevertheless, Pisces poked his head cautiously through the inn’s door. Safety was paramount. He would run at the slightest hint of trouble—

But curse it, Erin Solstice might be in trouble. And after last night he couldn’t just abandon her. Not just because he’d heard what those arrogant Gnolls had said. They might be stealthy, but they relied on their noses too much. Pisces smelled exactly like the outdoors because he never bothered to wash. Another advantage.

And the music. He couldn’t forget the music. An [Immortal Moment] indeed. All of it meant—well, it meant—

It meant he was doing something stupid, which Pisces regretted. He readied several spells as he looked around the inn. If it was a monster he’d attack and retreat. That was all he could do. More than he should do, really.

There was no monster in the inn. Not unless you counted the skeleton and Pisces wasn’t afraid of his own creation. The cowering female Drake didn’t seem to share his opinion, however.

Pisces relaxed and let the invisibility spell end. His heart was beating far, far too fast. Curses. He recognized the Drake. She was a female receptionist at the Adventurer’s Guild, the one who often talked to Erin. Selys Shivertail.

She was still whimpering and trying to shield herself from Toren as the skeleton stood watching her. Pisces shook his head. Non-mages. They were so…

He looked around for Erin Solstice. She was nowhere to be seen, which was inconvenient. He had hoped for some food—

Pisces was used to wandering into the kitchen of the Wandering Inn for food. He’d done it quite often, and so it was quite a shock to him when Toren shot out a bony arm to block his way. He yelped and stumbled backwards.

“What are you doing?”

His creation studied Pisces. Toren didn’t reply—not that Pisces had given him the ability to speak. The mage paused, and gestured with his fingers.

“Move aside. I require sustenance.”

A flicker of hesitation—and then the skeleton shook his head. Pisces frowned.

“I am your creator. Move aside.”

Another shake of the head. Pisces frowned darkly. This was wrong. But of course, he had expected complications when he’d created this skeleton. He just hadn’t expected the spell-weaving to interfere with the obedience of the skeleton—

“Move.”

The skeleton clattered its jaw at Pisces and raised a finger to shush him. He blinked at it.

“What are you—I, Pisces, order you to move aside and let me pass.”

Another shake of the head. Pisces ground his teeth. He was about to try something more drastic when something slapped the back of his head hard. He staggered and looked around.

“You!”

Something was attacking him. Pisces yelped as Selys advanced on him, hitting him with her fists.

“You’re the one who made this—this thing, aren’t you? You evil, wretched—!”

Selys yelped as Toren caught her hand. She nearly screamed, but the other bony hand covered her mouth. Pisces froze. Was his creation going to—?

Toren held Selys in a grip of death. Very, very slowly he removed his hand from her mouth and raised it to his own. One finger went up and he shushed her.

Selys quivered as she nodded. Toren gently let go of her hand. Then the skeleton pointed inside the kitchen.

Both Pisces and Selys stared inside the kitchen and saw Erin curled up into a ball, still sleeping somehow. They exchanged a look.

Toren moved back in front of the kitchen entrance and stood there, a sentinel. He stared pointedly at both mage and Drake. Slowly, the skeleton reached for a sword belted to its bony waist. It unsheathed the blade an inch. They backed away.

----

“What was that?”

“It was my creation. A skeleton. It was merely guarding its master, Erin Solstice.”

“You created that thing?”

Selys stared at Pisces, horrified. He raised his nose at her.

“Of course. It is a bodyguard for Erin and an able servant.”

“It’s an undead monster. And you—I thought you were just an [Illusionist] scaring poor people. But you’re that [Necromancer] Relc was talking about, aren’t you? Well, you leave Erin alone! She doesn’t need you bothering her!”

“I am a favored customer at her inn. I have every right to be there.”

“You had a bounty on your head until a week ago! You stay away from her or I’ll—I’ll—”

He sneered at her.

“You’ll do what? Hit me? I’m a mage.”

“And I’m a receptionist at the Adventurer’s Guild. I’ll put a twenty-gold bounty on your head if you so much as raise an undead anywhere within twenty miles of the city.”

“You—you don’t have the authority to do that.”

“Try me. And get out of my way!”

“I am going to the city. With Erin…indisposed I require sustenance there.”

“Then walk behind me! I don’t want to be anywhere near you!”

“I am entitled to walk wherever I please. If it bothers you so much, you may wait.”

“You flesh-faced jerk—”

Rags watched curiously as the arguing Drake and mage stormed past her. They didn’t even notice her—not that she was practically visible in the long grass anyways. Her dark green skin camouflaged her well, and if she closed her eyes she could practically disappear at times.

The other Goblins made her a bit more noticeable of course, but amazingly, Pisces and Selys had managed to miss them as well. And it was hard to miss thirty-odd Goblins.

It didn’t matter much anyways; Rags shook her head and walked towards the inn. She snapped at the Goblins following her and they dispersed into the grass while five waited outside the inn. As an escort they were important, but the inn was a peaceful area. Besides, her scouts had already determined the inn was empty aside from the skeleton and Erin Solstice.

Thus, when Rags stepped into the inn it was only Toren that saw her. Now free from the eyes of her followers, Rags took a moment to wince and feel at her side which was in complete agony. She chattered to herself as she prodded the huge bruise, but determined it wasn’t worth wasting a valuable healing potion over.

The skeleton took little heed of the Goblin except to assess how dangerous she might be. It noticed her frowning as she searched for Erin Solstice and mentally sighed again.

----

Refreshingly, Rags understood that Erin was sleeping and not to be disturbed quickest of all the inn’s guests that day. The small Goblin wasn’t happy, but Toren didn’t have to dissuade her from entering the kitchen.

Instead, the Goblin hopped up onto one of the chairs and grabbed a chess board. She muttered to herself as Toren stood patiently in his place in front of the kitchen. He stared impassively at the Goblin as she ignored him.

Perhaps someone who wasn’t an undead skeleton might have had a bit more of a reaction to Rag’s appearance. They might have questioned the cuts on the side of her face, the way she winced as she moved, or perhaps the glowing orange-pink potion strapped to her belt. It was one of many valuable items that an astute watcher could infer had been looted from travelers.

But Toren wasn’t interested in any of that. Instead, the skeleton was troubled by his own thoughts. He was guarding his master and that was well. But he had failed to guard a few days ago. He had lost to the Antinium, and that was wrong. Bad. He felt this should not be so.

But he was still only a Level 3 [Skeleton Warrior]. He had no way to level except in the [Barmaid] class, and Tor felt that this would not be particularly helpful.

Rags muttered to herself as she began playing a game of chess. Without any opponent she was forced to play both sides which she was not happy about. She groused to herself in her own language.

Again, to any other listener her words would be meaningless nonsense. The language of the Goblins was scratchy, garbled, and sounded vaguely like rocks being tossed into a blender. In short, incomprehensible to anyone who was not a Goblin.

But the dead speak a universal language, and so Toren understood her perfectly. He listened, at first mainly because he had no choice, but then with increasing fascination. He was fascinated by Rag’s comments about the [Strategist] class and chess and stared at the chess board.

The Goblin played one game by herself, and then two. After she won and lost the third game, she looked up and nearly tumbled out of her seat.

Toren stood silently over her, staring down. Rags unsheathed her short sword, but the skeleton made no move to attack. It stared down at the chess board and then slowly sat across from Rags.

With mechanical precision it began moving chess pieces to their starting positions. As Rags, disbelieving, watched, Toren choose a pawn and moved it forwards on the chess board.

She stared at the undead skeleton. Its fiery blue eyes fixed on her. Slowly, Rags got back onto her chair and stared at the board. She stared at the skeleton. Then she shrugged.

And began to play.

----

Ceria and Gerial walked through the streets of Liscor, laughing and talking. They were walking down a street filled with restaurants and pubs. They were being watched.

Gazi’s eye flicked around the street and she smiled as she walked forwards. Relc was headed straight for the leader of the Horns of Hammerad several streets over. The [Princess] was crouched at another table, under the cloak of an [Invisibility] spell, but she would not interfere.

The man was an average adventurer. Level 17 in the [Warrior] class—without much to distinguish him. But the half-Elf was as noticeable as the Minotaur. She could only be Ceria Springwalker, member of the Horns of Hammerad.

Just the ones Gazi had been looking for.

1.40

Erin woke up to the noise that defined her life.

The sounds of chess.

It was a soft sound, most of the time—one she’d learned in all of its subtleties. Chess sounded different.

The board mattered, for one thing. Erin usually played with wooden pieces—the ones from the DGT electronic chess board manufacturing line. It was the board chess tournaments used because of the sensors and electronic timer wired into the board itself.

It even had a chess computer you could buy to play against. It was high-tech and Erin didn’t like it.

She loved the sound and feel of stone pieces, like the one she’d bought in her inn and had in her personal collection in her home. Her home in the real world, her world, that was.

The soft clicking of stone on stone roused Erin gently. She sat up and reached for the rag she’d left near her head and blew her nose.

Of course, stone chess sets were a lot more fragile and it was inevitable that someone would drop a piece sooner or later. That was why she only brought it out if she was playing someone who held the same reverence for chess as she did.

Yes—the rhythm told her other things, too. This was a slower chess game because one player was worse than the other. You could almost feel it. One of the two players was decisive; confident and skilled enough to back up their abilities. They moved almost as soon as the other player did. But the other one paused and hesitated.

Different sounds for different players. Erin remembered the sound of cheap plastic being slammed down by impatient players, ones who grew angry when they were losing and excited over small gains. Bad players? Young players. Amateurs.

Professional chess players got mad too, but in different ways. Sometimes they got loud, but many went cold and focused everything in a silent battle. You could almost tell when a game was getting good, yes. Not by the noise—

But by the silence.

But in this case, the game wasn’t good. Erin could tell that in the moment she walked out of the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

Rags sat in front of a chess board, arms crossed while she stared at the skeleton sitting opposite her. Erin stared too. Toren’s presence threw her, but the chess—the chess was easy to understand.

It was a bad game. A very bad game. Rags had nearly all of her pieces—including her pawns—and Toren’s pieces were scattered.

Contrary to what people thought, a one-sided game wasn’t fun. Winning against an inferior opponent wasn’t fun.

Erin said as much after Rags effortlessly checkmated Toren’s king. Both Goblin and skeleton turned.

“I don’t know how you got him to play, but he clearly doesn’t know how to play.”

Rags shrugged indifferently as Toren sprang to his feet. Erin sighed. Her skeleton was playing chess. At this point she wasn’t surprised.

“Sit down.”

Toren sat. Erin pulled a chair over and slumped down on the table, resting her arms on her hands. She stared at Rags. The Goblin was busy rearranging her side, probably in expectation of playing Erin.

The small Goblin looked—battered. Was she hurt? If she was, she didn’t show it.

“How many games did you play?”

Rags paused and thought. It held up both hands with all five fingers splayed out. Then it kicked Toren. The skeleton held out its fingers too, keeping two down.

“Eighteen games? That’s a lot. And how many did he win?”

Rags grinned.

“That’s what I thought.”

Then again, there were always a few players who relished beating down amateurs. Especially kids. Erin had been one of the whiz-kids, the child prodigies of chess growing up. She’d known a few kids her age that positively enjoyed bullying adults.

It was a sign of immaturity. Erin frowned at Rags and the little Goblin looked away, scowling. How old was she? How old was she in Goblin years?

“You should at least teach him how to play. Here.”

Erin pointed to another chess board and Toren went to fetch it. Mechanically, she set up her side on both the boards facing her.

“I’ll teach you and get revenge, deal?”

The skeleton said nothing. But it sat obediently opposite Erin as Rags frowned at her board and carefully moved the knight forwards.

“It’s all about positioning, see? I don’t know if you saw me playing chess, but it’s a bit different than everyone thinks.”

Erin casually moved a piece on Rag’s board and then showed Toren.

“See this central area? Most openings or chess strategies revolve around capturing or controlling this spot. And that’s because your pieces need to move to get in position to attack the enemy. It’s not always about just killing other pieces. It’s about proper setup, and luring the enemy into traps.”

She played a few moves with Toren, watching and commenting as the skeleton moved.

“Everyone—well, everyone where I come from—knows the basic openings. You have to if you want to play chess. But chess is as much about reading the opponent as it is setting up your board. You trick them, open holes in their defenses. There’s all kinds of ways to do that. Forks, pins, deflection, checks, skewers, batteries…”

She began chattering away, a chess enthusiast unloading on a hapless victim. Toren absorbed it all like a sponge as she played a very light game against him, letting the skeleton learn as it lost.

Rags muttered as she lost her queen. Erin pointed to Tor as he tried to move his king and shook her head.

“I’ll let you take that one back. Try not to move the king so much. You can castle him to move if you have to, but he shouldn’t be the piece you keep moving. That’s usually a bad sign.”

She smiled, nostalgia gripping her. She’d had to learn that the hard way, too.

“I know you want to because he’s so important and you want to keep him safe, but you do that with other pieces. They’re the king’s shield and sword. Yeah, you don’t move the king. Because—”

A flicker of memory. The words came out of Erin automatically.

“The king is smart and uses his head. For if he moves, he’ll soon be dead.”

Rags and Toren stared at Erin. She blinked. That was it. She remembered.

“Oh. Um. That was a little rhyme I made up when I was a kid. It—it’s important.”

It felt that way, but Erin couldn’t remember why. It was just a silly thing she’d made up. But—

“Where was I?”

She stared at the board and found she had a way to checkmate Tor. She showed him it, and then glanced at the fuming Rags.

“Why don’t you try again? You’ll probably lose, but—”

Erin stared at Toren. It—he—it was an undead creature. Who knew how fast they could learn? It wasn’t as if he had a bad memory—he didn’t have a brain. Erin was suddenly gripped by curiosity, probably just as Rags had been. She wanted to see Toren play.

Carefully, she showed Toren a few classic openings and played slowly through another game as she crushed Rags again. Then she set up a board for the Goblin and skeleton and sat back.

“Do you get it? Let’s see.”

Rags and Erin waited. After a moment Toren moved a piece. Rags countered. The game lasted for about sixteen more moves before she checkmated him.

“You don’t get it.”

Toren clattered his jaw. Erin sighed.

“Don’t try taking your rook out so quickly. Remember—capture the center at the start and reinforce. Try again.”

He did. Two games later Erin had to face facts.

“Great. My undead skeleton sucks at chess.”

It wasn’t that he was bad it was just—

Okay, he was bad. Erin saw it as she played Rags and Toren at the same time. He was just an amateur.

Which was totally fine. But it was a marked contrast from the Antinium and Rags. The Workers might have been inexperienced, but they were fast learners who memorized openings and counters with ease. And Rags was gifted.

Compared to that, Toren was just normal. Not hopeless—she could see his game had improved from the travesty it had been before her coaching. It was just that he had no spark.

Erin sighed. She took one of Rag’s knights and ignored the little Goblin hissing in anger.

“Check.”

It was a shame. But there was something in her that was still happy. Even if her skeleton sucked, he was still playing chess. Even if she was sitting in another world, in an inn playing against a Goblin, she was still playing chess.

That was good. It made her feel at ease. It was the only thing that made her feel happy, really. Because it was the only thing she was good at. It was the only thing she knew how to do.

----

Ceria and Gerial walked through the city, talking. They were alone. Alone in a sea of Drakes and Gnolls and the occasional Antinium.

They were outsiders. But then, adventurers were always outsiders. They were used to it.

And perhaps if it had been another week, another place, they would have been laughing, joking and exploring a new city. But this was different. They walked and talked seriously; ignoring the hostile looks they got from the locals.

It was easy to be swept away in the inn they’d found. It was a soothing place, and far enough away that they could relax. But here, in the city, they were too close. The Ruins were several miles away from the city, but they might as well have been next to the adventurers. Their nerves hummed, and their hearts beat a little faster in anticipation of what was coming.

“Soon.”

Ceria nodded. She touched the knife at her belt and felt the hidden wand strapped to her arm.

“Rot, I wish it were tomorrow. No wonder the other adventurers wanted to stay at the inn. I can’t relax at all, here.”

Gerial nodded. He stepped aside politely for a female Drake and ignored her as she flicked her tongue out at him.

“The ah, local reception isn’t helping either.”

“Well, what do you expect? They don’t exactly like humans down here and I’m just another annoying adventurer. But that’s not what I’m talking about. You can feel it, can’t you?”

He could. Gerial was a veteran adventurer, and he sensed the same thing Ceria was tapping into. There was an undercurrent among the adventurers in the city. Fear—as well as expectation.

The Ruins of Liscor were a huge find, possibly the biggest in a decade. Untold and unplundered treasures were just waiting for the taking, the kind of rewards that could elevate any adventuring group into Gold-ranking—or higher. But by the same token, the dangers were just as unknown.

“We still don’t know what’s down there. Cervial found someone who was willing to explore and map out the first level, but no one is willing to go any further.”

“And he hasn’t found anyone who’s ventured further?”

“No one who’s gone down too far past the stairs has ever come back.”

Gerial tugged at his belt unconsciously. His hand touched the pommel of his sword and then moved away as a Gnoll guardsman glanced at him.

That was it. That was the fear. Something was down there and whatever it was, it was deadly. So much so that the treasure-lust of the other adventurers was being kept at bay.

What might be hiding down there? A bagrhaven? A nest of them, perhaps. But something that could kill a team of Silver-ranks without letting any of them live—

A trap? A colony of wurms? Some—some kind of undead army? Or—Gerial’s blood ran cold at the thought—had they dug up the burial site of one of the Old Things?

No. No, there was no sense in thinking of it. But that was the thing. Uncertainty was keeping these adventurers at bay. Once they knew what was down there, those who could take on the threat would band together and deal with it in a heartbeat. Adventurers would swarm over the ruins, stealing, fighting each other, trying to grab as much as possible.

All it took was the first, brave group who would uncover the secrets below and pay with blood. And for once, it was the Horns of Hammerad who would be paying that price.

“Hey.”

Gerial blinked and jerked in surprise as the elbow caught him in the side. He glanced down at Ceria and saw she was staring up at him.

“Don’t go panicking on me, now. We’ll be fine so stop worrying.”

He smiled, but Ceria’s jab had brought him back into reality. Casually, he rubbed at the spot she’d hit, wondering if he’d have a bruise.

“Someone has to worry. As far as our leader is concerned, this is going to be a simple extermination request, nothing more.”

Ceria made a face.

“Calruz is arrogant. But he’s confident and bold which is why he’s perfect for a vice-captain like you.”

Gerial felt the statement should have been reversed, but he smiled at the compliment anyways. Then he frowned.

“The [Illumination] spell. How’s it going?”

Ceria shrugged.

“My mastery of it is—incomplete. I’ll keep studying, but my best guess is that I’ll be able to cast it once and then I’ll need a mana potion. It’s too exhausting to use multiple times in a row.”

“Once should be enough. Just so we have an area permanently lit to fall back to.”

“We’ve got the formations worked out. Stop—”

“Yes, yes. And supplies are underway. It’s just—”

“I know.”

Ceria patted Gerial on the shoulder.

“I know, believe me. I’m feeling it too. But we’ve planned for as much as we can and we’ll pull out the instant there’s trouble. Don’t worry.”

He smiled at her. It was reassuring to have someone as old as Ceria in the group with him. She was over sixty years old, and if she hadn’t spent all that time adventuring, he was still glad she was here. In truth, he felt it was she who should be the vice-captain but she’d always refused.

Mainly because she didn’t want to do all the logistical work.

Their talk turned to lighter things. Neither Gerial nor Ceria were new to adventuring or the risks of exploring dungeons. Gerial had been an adventurer for eight years—Ceria for fourteen.

“Say we do get gold and gems rather than a magical item. We have the largest shares after the captains. What would you buy?”

Ceria smiled and eyed a few carved bracelets on display in a Gnoll’s shop. The large Gnoll woman eyed the half-Elf and bared her teeth politely, gesturing in an invitation. Ceria waved her hand and they continued on.

“If I have enough I’d like to buy another spell book. All the ones I have I’ve more or less mastered. With enough gold—a few hundred pieces more—I could buy a book with a few Tier 4 spells.”

“Just that? If the reward is all Calruz thinks it could be, you’d have a lot more money than that.”

Ceria raised an eyebrow at Gerial.

“You’ve never bought spell books, have you? Just one costs several hundred gold or thousands, and that’s for low-Tier spells. I’ve been saving up all this time just to buy one with a Tier 4 spell.”

“But if you leveled up your um, [Mage] class you’d learn those anyways, right?”

“Right, but—it’s complicated. There’s no guarantee which spells I’d learn and besides, I’d need to level up quite a bit. But with a spell book I could study a spell and learn it in a few months.”

“A few months?”

“A month,  a year, two years—so what? If I mastered just one good spell my Level would increase. And then we could take on stronger monsters.”

Gerial shook his head.

“A good thing I was never born with a talent for magic. I don’t have your patience—or your time.”

“Oh, and then what would you buy?”

“Armor. And a good sword. Or maybe just a magic ring.”

Ceria laughed.

“Not too adventurous, are you?”

Gerial smiled as he shook his head, a warrior talking to a mage.

“A good set of magic armor? I’d be able to fight without worrying about some monster clubbing my helmet in every five seconds.”

“I suppose. It just seems like a waste, that’s all.”

“Every bit counts. If I had good armor I could worry about other expenses. But that’s the first step.”

“True enough.”

Money. It was such a simple thing. But it was the bane of an adventurers’ existence. They earned more than skilled workers, but to keep adventuring they needed more. The Guild had its own fees for enrollment, armor repairs and healing potions were expensive, and an injury could leave one out of work for months. It was so hard to earn money.

“A good sword.”

Gerial murmured into his mustache.

“If I had that, I could polish my sword skills. Rank up. Start earning a Gold-rank adventurer’s pay…”

“And then perhaps you’d be able to talk to a certain Runner without needing me to push you, hm?”

Gerial turned red.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t. You human—no, you males. Idiots who fall in love with the first exotic female you see. You and Calruz both.”

Gerial took the ribbing with good humor although he didn’t point out that the first exotic female he’d ever laid eyes on was Ceria. It would have made the half-Elf blush and then retreat. He had learned long ago that her heart had been closed long ago to human men.

Nevertheless, he was quite glad when he spotted a familiar face sitting at an outdoor stall, eating pieces of roasted meat off of a skewer.

“Sostrom!”

The mage looked up and grinned around a mouthful of food as Gerial and Ceria sat to join him. They ordered a skewer of their own as the Drake shopkeeper rotated the sticks of meat over a fire.

“I saw you two had already left. The innkeeper—Miss Solstice was sick, so we all took our leaves without breakfast.”

Gerial nodded. He’d had a late breakfast with Ceria, but his appetite returned quickly as he inhaled the scents of roasted animal.

“Have you seen Calruz?”

“Not since last night. Why?”

“He left the inn and he hasn’t slept since last night, I think. You know what he’s like when he’s irritable.”

Sostrom made a face.

“Let the Watch deal with him. I don’t get paid to restrain him when he causes trouble.”

“If he gets arrested before we enter the Ruins—”

“The city will let him go if we pay a fine. And they’ll be happier to let him fight monsters than cause trouble in jail.”

There was truth in that statement, so Gerial let it go.

“So. A strange innkeeper we’ve met.”

“Too true. But it seems we’ve run across more than one strange girl as of late.”

“Ryoka.”

Gerial accepted a stick of meat and handed over coins for both him and Ceria. He bit into the hot meat and glanced at Ceria.

“What Yvlon said the other day. You’re sure she has no levels?”

Ceria shrugged.

“That’s what Cervial said. And Yvlon seemed to know something about her as well.”

“The entire incident was unfortunate.”

“It was her fault.”

“Perhaps, but Yvlon needn’t have challenged her. That wasn’t a fair fight no matter how you look at it.”

That was true. Gerial looked at Sostrom.

“You’re right. I’d forgotten because she won, but since when do the Silver Spears fight civilians?”

“Let alone in armor. Even if it was bravado, Yvlon would have never taken that fight normally. Makes you wonder, don’t it? What Yvlon knew. Or—what her aunt told her.”

Gerial and Ceria exchanged a quick glance.

“Lady Magnolia.”

Sostrom nodded.

“There’s a name that tells you how important she is.”

“Important?”

“Important.”

The human mage nodded again. He scratched at his forehead under his pointy hat. Sostrom was completely bald, and as such wore his mage’s hat whenever possible.

“That object I repaired, her fist-fighting skill. Her lack of levels…it’s enough to interest me, but why a scion of the Five Families? There’s something else to her, mark my words.”

“I hope she doesn’t do anything rash.”

Ceria snorted into her food. Gerial made a face.

“You know what I mean.”

“Just hope she survives. Once we’re done here we can ask her more questions.”

“It could be a while if these ruins are as deep as they seem.”

“She’s a big human. She’ll be fine.”

“Well, since we’re on the topic of secrets…what’s the story behind you and this Pisces character? I thought I saw him last night but you two hardly shared a word.”

“That was intentional. I get a headache whenever I have to talk to that idiot for too long.”

Ceria sighed, but Sostrom frowned.

“You might make fun of him, but he is a graduate of Wistram when all is said and done. And that display with healing Ryoka’s leg was nothing short of phenomenal. I certainly wouldn’t want to test myself against him.”

Gerial blinked at Sostrom. Of the three mages in the Horns of Hammerad he was second-strongest and though he couldn’t cast [Fireballs], Gerial had still grown to appreciate his ability.

“This Pisces is that good of a mage?”

Sostrom nodded seriously.

“I sensed it. He has quite a few levels on me I suspect. Perhaps the same as our Ceria?”

Both men looked over. Ceria scowled and shrugged.

“Maybe. But he’s still an idiot.”

“An idiot from Wistram.”

“He’s not…well, technically he’s a graduate. But some mages wouldn’t consider him one.”

“Wait. You said—”

“He was expelled. But you’re right. He was always at the head of his class whenever he showed up. If he had the money he could have advanced quite highly. But he dropped out about the same time I, uh, ran out of funds.”

“And he was expelled for his experiments. Yes, I recall. But does he have any combat aptitude? We could hire him for the expedition.”

Ceria glanced incredulously up at Gerial.

“I wouldn’t trust that idiot with my back.”

“Aren’t you being a little too harsh?”

“No.”

“But what’s his level? A mage living alone like he is has to have some skills. And a [Necromancer] would be perfect if there’s a large amount of undead in the ruins. Come on Ceria, at least tell us his classes.”

Ceria made a face.

“I—oh, alright. As far as I can remember he has the most levels in the [Necromancer] class, but he knows quite a few [Elementalist] spells too. He was always good at—”

“Excuse me.”

All three adventurers turned. Gerial and Sostrom blinked as they stared into one very large eye and a slight smile. Ceria dropped her half-eaten skewer of meat.

Gazi Pathseeker smiled politely at the three adventurers and bowed her head slightly.

“Greetings. I hope I’m not interrupting?”

There was a brief moment of assessment that Gerial and Sostrom went through. Their eyes noted the quality of Gazi’s armor. Unlike pedestrians, the brown and rust-red color of her equipment didn’t fool their eyes. Her armor was clearly high-quality and her sword made the two adventurers look twice.

That would have already told them she was Gold-rank or higher. But Gazi wore no armband or markings to indicate her rank. That either meant she was unaffiliated with the Guild or—

Gerial cleared his throat and stood up from his seat. He tried not to stammer.

“Um, pardon me. But you wouldn’t happen to be…?”

“I am Gazi.”

They had never seen her face, but both men had heard her name. Instantly, Sostrom was out of his seat and offering her his while Gazi politely refused. Ceria was still staring.

When Gerial had calmed down slightly he tried to be as accommodating as possible.

“Um, how can we help you Miss, ah—Adventurer Pathseeker?”

She smiled at Gerial. He felt a shock as her eye met his. In his stunned state, Gerial briefly wished Ceria would stop staring and be more respectful.

“You are members of the Horns of Hammerad, aren’t you?”

“Um yes, I mean, that’s correct. We are. All of us.”

“That is good.”

Gazi smiled again. It wasn’t a broad smile—rather, a mysterious small one that fit her perfectly. She nodded.

“I wished to speak with you.”

Gerial and Sostrom were agog.

“With us? You know our names?”

“Is it not appropriate? The Horns of Hammerad are well known in the cities around here.”

That was enough to inflate both men’s chests. Gazi’s eye flicked towards Ceria for a brief moment as she continued speaking.

“I have visited several Human cities to the north. And strangely, come back here chasing rumors. I hoped you could assist me.”

“Anything.”

Gerial breathed the words. The smile he got made his stomach jump.

“I have heard—from several sources—of a most extraordinary human female in this area. A Runner. I believe her name is Ryoka Griffin. A levelless girl who braved the High Passes and survived. A most…interesting person in short. And I am told the Horns of Hammerad are her acquaintances.”

Gerial and Sostrom exchanged a glance. How much of a coincidence could it be? Gerial vaguely noticed Ceria coming to stand next to him.

“We do—we do know that girl! We were in her company only two days ago.”

Gazi’s smile widened.

“Ah. So you know her. Good. Tell me, is she all that people say she is?”

“That, and more.”

Sostrom nodded eagerly. Gerial glared, but the bald mage had beaten him to the punch.

“She—well, I don’t know that she’s levelless, but another adventurer with [Appraisal] says it’s true. And she did survive the High Passes. And she has the favor of Lady Magnolia. And she runs barefoot.”

“Indeed? How fascinating. I should very much like to meet her. You wouldn’t happen to know where she is, by any chance?”

Gerial and Sostrom both opened their mouths but incredibly, it was Ceria who beat both of them.

“We don’t, I’m afraid. She moves around all the time so it’s hard to pin her down.”

Gerial felt something on his foot and looked down. Ceria had stepped on his foot for some reason. And Sostrom’s as well. Why? He glanced at Sostrom and saw the other man was blinking and touching at his head.

But Gazi was looking at Gerial and suddenly his attention was focused completely on her.

“Ah, but I would dearly like to meet her. Would you happen to know where she stays?”

“Celum. There’s an inn she stays at quite often there and she takes most of her requests there.”

Ceria stepped on his foot again. Gerial glanced at her, irritated. She mouthed something but then Gazi was speaking.

“Which inn?”

“The Bloody Tankard.”

This time Ceria abandoned all pretense and jabbed Gerial hard in the side. He winced and looked down at her, confused.

Ceria sighed and shoved Gerial back. Sostrom interposed himself between the vice-captain and Gazi, averting his gaze from Gazi’s eye. So did Ceria. She spoke to the air just over Gazi’s shoulder.

“Excuse me, Miss Gazi. But why the interest in Ryoka?”

Gazi’s eye shifted towards Ceria, but the half-Elf refused to meet her gaze.

“I would simply like to meet her.”

Her eye focused on Ceria and Gazi’s slight smile grew a fraction. Ceria bit the inside of her lip until it bled.

“Well you have the name of her inn. And we haven’t seen her. So if that’s all—”

“She was in Esthelm just two days ago!”

Ceria cursed and whirled to glare at Gerial. Behind her she heard Gazi chuckle.

“And do you have any way of finding her now? Or perhaps you know where she’s going?”

“We do not.”

Ceria cut Gerial off. She glared at Gazi, focusing hard, channeling mana into her eyes as a shield.

“We don’t know anything else. So stop asking. We would like to be left in peace.”

Gazi was still smiling.

“But I have more questions to ask about Ryoka. And I feel you can answer them.”

“I’ve got nothing for you. So you can take your answers and shove them.”

Gazi blinked. Ceria gasped as the pressure on her vanished. The half-Gazer looked disappointed.

“Hm. You would not answer questions for me? I am a Named Adventurer, you know. And you are, ah, yes, Silver-rank. Tradition would dictate you help me to the best of your abilities.”

Ceria snapped at Gazi.

“I know who you are. And a former soldier isn’t the same as a true adventurer. We got our levels from fighting monsters, not killing people.”

“But I am still higher rank than you. I could be…troublesome to you if you refuse to help.”

“I don’t help the insane. You and your mad king can go to hell for all I care—”

Gazi didn’t so much move as blur. One moment she was smiling, posture relaxed, talking calmly to Ceria. The next, the tip of her curved sword was suddenly at Ceria’s throat. And she was no longer smiling.

“I do not suffer insults to my lord’s name.”

It took a second for the two men behind Ceria to react. When they did, Gerial swore and went for his sword and Sostrom reached for his wand. But they both froze as Gazi poked the tip of the razor sharp blade a bit further into Ceria’s neck.

“How inconvenient. And we were doing so well with politeness. But I will have an answer. But first—an apology. I will hear it from you on your knees, half-Elf.”

Ceria was sweating. The blade was not pricking her throat, but lodged into her skin. She was already bleeding. If it went in just another inch—

Perhaps it was because it had been so quick. Gazi hadn’t attracted attention when she’d drawn her sword because she’d moved so fast no one had seen it leave her sheathe. But it was hard to ignore a drawn blade at the throat of a half-Elf in the middle of the street.

People began noticing the standoff and panicking in the course of a few moments. Within seconds the pedestrians cleared out and the adventurers could hear someone calling the Watch.

They were using a high-pitched whistle, which gave off a shrill whine that was impossible to ignore. Gazi didn’t lower her sword, through one of her smaller eyes rolled around in her head. Neither Gerial nor Sostrom moved either, and Ceria was already on her tiptoes. They knew how fast the Watch would react, and didn’t panic.

The filthy girl hiding behind the stall was no seasoned adventurer however, and she heard the whistle and thought it was for her. She rushed out from behind the shopkeeper’s stall, appearing in the street as her [Invisibility] spell failed.

Ceria was afraid to turn her head, but Sostrom and Gerial saw a blonde head of hair, filthy travelling clothes, pale skin, and the flash of magic. The girl raised an emerald ring, shouted something as she pointed at the adventurers and then fled.

From her ring, a huge, thick tendril of what looked like spider web shot out, growing larger and spreading out. It flew at the adventurers like a bird.

Gerial and Sostrom had seen the spell and they were already diving for the ground. The cobwebs struck their backs and stuck to them, instantly anchoring them with tendrils of silk as strong as stone.

Ceria could do nothing but watch as the spider webs flew at her. They wrapped around her and she fell to the ground, instantly cocooned.

Gazi eyed the unfurling spider web and flicked her sword twice. The tendrils of webbing fell at her feet, neatly severed.

None of the other adventurers were so lucky. Gerial and Sostrom were pinned to the ground and Ceria was covered head-to-toe. Gazi tsked in irritation and glanced around as the piercing whine continued.

The girl with the magic was nowhere to be seen. She’d already fled down an alleyway.

“How inconvenient. I suppose I must ask my questions another time.”

She looked down at Ceria, and the Gazer’s eyes were hard.

“But make no mistake. I shall see you again, and ask more questions. Unless of course I find this Ryoka Griffin first.”

She smiled then, her slight, mysterious smile.

“Farewell.”

Gazi turned and strode off. Her legs were a blur as she disappeared into an alleyway.

“Damnation!”

Gerial cursed as he fought the webs. But they had anchored him to the ground.

“What kind of magical artifact was that? Sostrom, I’m pinned. Can you—?”

“My wand is caught!”

The human mage cursed and fought to tear his wand free of the webbing. Lying helpless on the ground, Ceria gulped a few times. It didn’t feel like her throat was perforated.

“[Flashfire].”

The thick webbing burned off of Ceria in an instant, giving off thick, billowing clouds of smoke. She yelped and cursed as the fire burned her. But in moments the webbing was gone.

She stood up and unsheathed her belt dagger. Ceria ran to Gerial and Sostrom, working her blade into the webbing. It stuck.

She pulled the dagger away and pointed at it. A stream of fire burst from her fingers and engulfed the blade, turning it red-hot. Ceria began cutting again and the webbing fell away.

Gerial yelped as the heated blade burned him but Ceria yanked him to his feet.

“Complain later. Let’s go! If the Watch catches us—”

All three adventurers exchanged a look. They looked around the street. Sostrom pointed to an alleyway and they ran as the Watch arrived on the scene, led by an irate Drake with a spear.

----

“We were under a spell?”

Ceria nodded as she, Sostrom and Gerial walked back towards the inn. She winced with every step. Her skin was red and burned along her entire body. Only where her enchanted robes had covered her was her skin whole.

Sostrom fished out a potion and handed it to her as they walked. None of the adventurers slowed down, though. The commotion hadn’t spread to the rest of the city but they had no desire to get on the wrong side of the Watch.

“Yeah. She was casting a [Charm] spell with her eye. It hit both of you the instant you looked at her. I barely blocked it.”

“But she was only looking at us.”

“Gazers can cast spells as easily as looking. A Half-Gazer can do the same, it seems.”

“A Half-Gazer? Is that what she was?”

Ceria glanced sideways at Gerial. The man was still pale from their encounter—and the magic that had worn off on him.

“You’ve never heard of her?”

“I only know she’s a Named adventurer. Why?”

Ceria muttered darkly to herself as she rubbed the ointment over her burns.

“She wasn’t always. She was a soldier, once. A good one I suppose, but that only means she killed a lot of innocent people. She only became an adventurer after—it’s a long damn story. Let’s get something to drink back at the inn. I’ll tell you all about it as soon as we get clear of the area.”

“Tell us now. If she’s after us—”

“Not us. She wants Ryoka, and I don’t know why. Possibly the same reason Magnolia is interested in her, but that’s just a guess. It spells trouble and we need to let everyone know as soon as possible.”

“Give us the details on Gazi before we get there. How strong is she? Where does she come from?”

Ceria nodded. She took a deep breath as she waked. The pain from her burns was easing, but she was still shaky. But an adventurer was calm or she was dead. So she collected her thoughts and spoke.

“Right, so do you know about the desert continent south or maybe south-east of here? It’s huge, but there are several kingdoms to note. In one of them sleeps a king…”

----

“Good evening, Erin.”

Erin blinked at Gazi.

“Oh, hi Gazi. What’s up?”

Gazi smiled at Erin. She didn’t come in, although Erin held the door open for her.

“I won’t trespass here long. I just wished to tell you I will be travelling from this city for a while.”

“Oh?”

“I have business to attend to elsewhere. I just wished to know if you planned on travelling anywhere in the coming weeks.”

Erin blinked. Some people were strange. Gazi appeared on her doorstep and asked—she was staring quite hard at Erin with her huge eye. But maybe that was just how Gazers were.

“Oh, no. I’m not going anywhere in a hurry. Why?”

Gazi studied her with her central eye and then smiled.

“I was just curious. I would greatly enjoy having another meal here at a later date, and I would not wish for you to leave before then.”

Erin laughed.

“No chance of that I’m afraid.”

“Well then. Until we meet again.”

Gazi stepped back, smiling. Erin stared at her, nonplussed. Gazi turned, and paused. Someone was in her way.

“Excuse me.”

Calruz blinked down at Gazi. The large Minotaur had clearly not been intending to stop, preferring perhaps to run Gazi over or let her move aside, but when he saw her face his hooves stopped dead in their tracks.

The Minotaur’s eyes fixed on Gazi’s large eye and his widened in recognition. He instantly made room for her to walk past him, giving Gazi a lot of space. She brushed past him with her faint smile.

“Your pardons, warrior.”

Calruz stared at her back as she left. He turned to Erin.

“Do you know her?”

“Sort of. Why?”

Calruz stared at Erin, back at Gazi’s disappearing figure and shook his head.

“She looked like—it is nothing. You would not know her.”

Erin felt a little insulted at that, but she didn’t correct the Minotaur’s error. He snorted, rubbed at his face, and stomped into the inn, nearly running her over. She hopped back and eyed Calruz. His eyes were bloodshot and he looked tired.

“Well, can I help you Mr. Grumpy?”

“Food. Drink. I will have both.”

He didn’t seem to care if she was sick. Erin sighed, walked into her kitchen and got Calruz a sandwich. He eyed the hefty slices of ham and cheese packed between two flimsy pieces of bread, but devoured the meal without complaint. Then he sat back and eyed her.

Erin stared back. It was quite silent in her inn. Rags had left after losing to Erin several times, and Toren was busy cleaning dishes.

“Um. Nice day, isn’t it? I haven’t gone outside much, but I assume it’s nice.”

Calruz kept staring at her. Erin shifted in her seat. It was very quiet.

“It’s not a bad day when there are no monsters killing you, right?”

He kept staring. She avoided his gaze.

“It’s not raining, at least.”

“You should have fought.”

Erin glanced up and at Calruz. The Minotaur was still staring at her with bloodshot eyes.

“Excuse me?”

“You. You should have fought.”

“Fought…who?”

“Last night. You went out to avenge the insect. You did not. But you should have fought.”

Erin opened her mouth and closed it for a second.

“You mean Pawn and Ksm. I didn’t go out to fight.”

“You did not.”

Calruz agreed. He shifted in his seat and put his elbows on his knees as he faced her.

“But you should have. It was a matter of honor. If you cared for the one called Pawn, you should have fought to protect him.”

“Um.”

Erin didn’t know what to say. Where had this come from? But Calruz was direct and as blunt as…his giant axe would be if it met her face. Well, not that blunt. She’d met chess players like him.

“I’m sorry, but fighting would have been prett—really stupid. I would have lost and gotten chopped up.”

“That is immaterial.”

“Um. No it’s not. I don’t want to die.”

He snorted at her. Erin almost expected to see steam coming out of his nose.

“Those who believe they will lose before battle begins have already lost.”

“Yeah, but I know I would have lost. That guy you wanted me to fight? Ksm? He hit me once and I was seeing stars for an hour. He’s a warrior. I’m—not.”

“If you are not a warrior, you should become one. It is unbefitting for a female to be alone and not be a warrior.”

This conversation had taken another right-angle turn into weirdness. Erin tried to come up with a response.

“I have a skeleton. For…protection.”

Toren poked his head out of the kitchen. Calruz glanced at him and snorted.

“It is worthless. Weak.”

For some reason Erin thought Toren looked insulted, but skeletons didn’t have emotions, did they?

“Well—I uh, I can fight too. If I really have to. I’ve got [Bar Fighting] as a skill, you know.”

Calruz stared blankly at Erin. She blushed.

“I can fight. But I don’t want to pick fights I know I’ll lose. Look, this Ksm guy has levels in some kind of warrior class, right? He’d kill me if I fought.”

“There is more to strength than mere levels.”

“Yeah, but I’m not a Minotaur. I don’t have muscle. Or horns for poking people.”

Calruz rolled his eyes towards the roof.

“I refer to skills.”

“Yeah, like I said I’ve got one. And uh, [Lesser Strength]. Forgot that.”

“That is not what I meant. I mean skills for combat.”

Erin stared at Calruz with such complete incomprehension in her eyes that he seemed taken aback.

“You…do not know?”

“About what? Skills?”

“Activated skills. Combat skills.”

“…Noooooooo.”

He blinked at her. Then Calruz stood up.

“Follow me.”

----

“Observe. This is my skill.”

Calruz pointed to the rock he’d found on the ground. It was a good-sized boulder that came up to Erin’s waist. She blinked at it, and then at his axe.

“Won’t that break?”

“No.”

Calruz raised the massive battleaxe over his head like a woodcutter about to split a log. But then he spoke. Or rather—roared. Erin jumped as he brought the axe down.

“[Hammer Blow]!”

The axe met the rock and the next thing Erin knew, Toren had tackled her to the ground. All was confusion as the thunderous impact stopped ringing in her ears and her bones. When Erin got up she saw the boulder was rubble.

As in—a few split fragments of stone were all that remained at the impact site. The rest of the rock had split and shattered into a million pieces. Erin blinked at the rock, and then at Carluz’s axe.

“Oh. That’s what you meant by skills.”

“Yes. It is my sole skill.”

“And it’s uh—wow.”

Erin stared at the boulder.

“Wow. Wow. Uh. Wow.”

Calruz seemed happy that she was impressed. He stuck the battleaxe in the earth and pointed to it.

“That is what you should learn. Skills. If you must be alone, you must not be unprotected. You must fight.”

“But I’m not a warrior. I mean, I don’t have a class—”

Calruz snorted at Erin.

“Immaterial. Classes, levels, these are just additions. What you lack is the soul of the warrior. You must have it. A female must not be alone without the power to defend herself. The singer must not be silenced. You must be stronger.”

He pointed at Erin with a finger twice as wide as her own.

“I have decided this. I will teach you starting tomorrow. There are two days remaining before I go into the Ruins. I will have you learn to at least fight properly until then.”

Erin opened her mouth. She stared at the splintered rock and at Calruz.

“Um. Okay. Thank you.”

He nodded.

“I will rest now. My party will come soon. They must have food. See to it.”

“Uh—”

Calruz stomped towards the inn. Erin watched him go. She stared at the boulder. Slowly, she edged towards it.

The rock wasn’t warm from the impact. But it was sharp. Erin cut her finger.

“Ow.”

She stared at the blood, and then heard a scuffling sound. She looked around and saw Toren next to the battleaxe Calruz had embedded in the earth.

The skeleton was pulling and heaving at the battleaxe stuck in the dirt as hard as it could. The heavy blade didn’t budge.

Erin sighed. She watched the skeleton as it scrabbled for purchase, pushing its feet into the grass as it tried to uproot the weapon.

“That’s just so sad.”

----

Weak.

Calruz thought the word aloud as he lay in his room and the two beds Erin had pushed together for him. It was something he had never had to think about.

But she was weak. Pitifully weak. Normally that was fine. He expected that of humans. But she—

She was offensively weak. And it was wrong. It bothered Calruz. She should not be so weak. She had no right being so weak. Because there was something in her that demanded strength.

He was thinking about Erin. Or was it Ryoka? Either or. No—the Runner was strong. She was just not a warrior. She had to learn honor. Once she did, she would be a true warrior. If she gained levels she would be worthy.

But Erin Solstice was different. Even now Calruz could remember the music. It haunted him. It was wrong. It made him—

Weak? Weaker? It was not the music of his home. There were no pounding drums, no voices raised for battle. It was not strong music. But neither was it weak.

It was unique. And it should be protected. But she was weak. So she had to be stronger.

Calruz shifted in his bed, ignoring the groaning wood. She had to be stronger. If she were to perish, he would regret it. To let an innocent life end because of inaction was the worst strike against his honor. He would teach her.

But of course, it wasn’t Erin that Calruz wanted to teach. But she would be good—practice, yes. She was female. Ryoka was female. He would learn how to deal with human females. Because at least one—two of them were worthy of respect. For different reasons.

A tanned face appeared in Calruz’s mind, and he saw a quick form dashing away from him. A bird, tethered to the ground. A hunting raptor seeking a home.

Beautiful. Fierce. And she had proper breasts, not like the small-mammaried females he kept running across.

He wondered where she was right now.

1.13 R

On the first day she saw the Goblins. It was as she ran through the grasslands around Liscor, the Flood Plains which were a barrier to armies and passage in the spring and empty in the short winter on this continent.

She stopped when she crested the hill and saw them fighting in the small valley below. Ryoka immediately crouched low to avoid their attention. A tribe of Goblins could be outrun, but their bows and slings were still a threat.

Besides, Ryoka couldn’t run as fast. Not today.

Her fire was gone.

But this wasn’t a single tribe in the valley below. It was two. And they were fighting. Shrill screams and warcries floated up to where Ryoka hid in the grass. She could see—yes, one of the groups of Goblins was wearing feathers. Some kind of ornamentation.

They were led by a large Goblin—one nearly twice the size of his friends. Still shorter than Ryoka but heavyset and thick. He had rusted armor patched together on his chest, and an axe in one hand. Probably their chieftain.

It was hard to tell where the other Goblin’s chieftain was. There was no Goblin that stood out as particularly bigger than the rest, but this tribe—the defending one—seemed more coordinated than the feathered tribe.

They were holding the other group of Goblins back with a stiff line of clubs and daggers and their archers and sling-using Goblins were firing over the backs of their friends. It almost looked like an infantry line.

And even as Ryoka watched, another group of Goblins suddenly emerged from the grass and plowed into the right flank of the enemy. The attacking Goblins faltered and reacted slowly as this new group began cutting a line through their foes.

The surprise attack group was comprised of the largest Goblins and the best equipped. A group of heavy infantry? But Goblins didn’t work like that. Except that these ones did. And they were organized. They didn’t break ranks as they attacked the other Goblins. They kept in formation and guarded each other’s backs and the difference showed as they kept gaining ground.

One of these strange Goblins carried a sword and shield that seemed to shine in her hands. They flashed and glowed as she struck and blocked, killing other Goblins, leading the attack. It was a trick of the light. She was tiny—small even for her kind. But she was leading the strange Goblins, Ryoka could tell. The entire battle was coalescing around her and she was making straight for the enemy chieftain.

He was holding the line as his tribe fell back around him. He roared and raised his axe as the small Goblin approached with a bodyguard of her own. With one blow he split the head of the Goblin that charged him and struck at the tiny Goblin.

She retreated. He charged towards her, swinging wildly but she raised her shield and gave ground. Ryoka frowned. The Goblin’s mouth was open and she looked like she was saying something. And her finger was—glowing?

A flash of light blinded Ryoka for a second. She blinked, rubbing at her eyes. When she could see again, the Goblin chieftain was rolling on the ground, screaming.

He was on fire. And the Goblins around him were being chased by—fire? Yes. It was some kind of spell. It looked like a flickering bird or perhaps fiery insect that landed on its foes and set them alight. The small Goblin had conjured it out of the air.

That was too much. Their leader dead and surrounded by the enemy, the defending Goblins fled or fell to the ground, cowering. Ryoka saw the small Goblin begin rallying her side, pointing to the wounded and shouting orders, staring around at the Goblin who’d run up to her. Turning. Pointing at—

Ryoka blinked. Then her heart began to race. The tiny Goblin was pointing directly at her. How did she know Ryoka was there?

Ryoka stood up. She looked around and only now saw the Goblin sitting on the other hill. A sentry? Goblins using scouts?

He shouted and all the Goblins stared at Ryoka. The sentry swung a sling and the first rock barely missed Ryoka’s head.

She ran.

They followed.

----

She was faster. But her fire had gone out. And Ryoka was still tired. Still—she hadn’t slept. Not since then. She’d just kept running.

So she didn’t outdistance the Goblins quickly enough. That was why they were able to herd her. Different groups kept popping up, trying to ambush her, dashing ahead and pushing her towards the main horde.

She didn’t let them. But Ryoka didn’t know the hills and valleys. When she ran into a grove of strange trees a team of slingers pelted her with stones, making her run left. And that’s when she saw the small Goblin.

She was surrounded by her elite bodyguard of large Goblins. But the small Goblin was the best-equipped out of all of them. She had a short sword and a shield which seemed new. Pristine, compared to the other equipment the Goblins were using.

Ryoka had to break through them. She raised her fist and decked the first Goblin that ran at her. Not hard enough to break his skull like last time. Not hard enough to kill.

The Goblins hadn’t been expecting that. Ryoka kicked out and took another one down. They hesitated, and the small Goblin screeched something. She ran forwards and slashed at Ryoka’s leg.

Short. But quick. And her friends were too numerous. Ryoka retreated and sensed the other Goblins converging on her. She had to run.

She bull-rushed the Goblins to the right side and they fell back. They were still afraid of her, for all they had a competent leader. She kicked, punched. And then as she was nearly free something slashed at the rucksack at her back.

Ryoka spun and the blade missed her by inches. The small Goblin. She’d been aiming for the straps on Ryoka’s pack. Clever.

Goblins swarmed her. Ryoka cursed and kicked them away, throwing them down hard. They were trying to take her runner’s backpack. Steal her—

She shook herself like a dog and the Goblins went flying. Ryoka’s hands flashed and Goblins fell down.

The small Goblin blocked her way as Ryoka moved forwards again. She and another Goblin were the only things blocking Ryoka, but more of the tribe was screaming as they rushed towards her.

The girl crouched and kicked low. A Goblin took a hit to the groin and folded up silently. For a second, she and the small Goblin were alone. They locked eyes.

The small Goblin smiled. She raised a finger and Ryoka didn’t hesitate. She lunged forwards and kicked the small Goblin as hard as she could.

Her bare foot met the cold impact of metal rather than flesh. The Goblin had managed to raise her shield, but Ryoka’s kick still catapulted her across the ground.

She didn’t see whether the Goblin was going to get up. Ryoka turned and sprinted away, dodging Goblins as they poured over the hill. She felt something graze her arm and then heat on her back—she juked left and the fiery bird missed her. Ryoka kept running and then they were behind her.

----

After about ten minutes Ryoka couldn’t hear any more Goblins shouting. She kept running though. She didn’t trust her ears.

But her body was aching. She was at the end of her tether and eventually Ryoka had to slow to a jog. Her legs felt like lead. Like someone was holding onto each foot. She was tired.

But she ran on. The Goblins disappeared, giving up on her or having found better quarry.

And Ryoka ran on.

She had escaped with everything important. The ring Teriarch had given her—the letter—her money pouch—and she still had the potions strapped to her rucksack. She left the Goblins behind and ran on.

Ryoka ran.

----

As she bandaged her eighth cut Ryoka took stock. She unslung her rucksack, relieved the pack hadn’t been badly damaged by the Goblins. She didn’t have much. But she still carried a lot.

She carried three healing potions, a ruby ring, a letter, dry rations, two flasks of water, a change of clothing, a ball of lye soap, a toothbrush wrapped in wax paper, salt, a small lantern, what passed for toilet paper in this world, her iPhone and headphones, a lightweight blanket made of wool, a pouch full of gold coins, and her sins.

The last weighed heaviest. But Ryoka had stopped thinking. She only knew to run. So she did. She ran up and down the rolling hills, finding the road again. Following past the tall gates of Liscor, running down the road where the traffic thinned, until the road was barely visible around the grass that had reclaimed it.

Running on. Towards the Blood Fields.

----

On her fortieth mile the grasslands changed. The hills stopped rolling, and she felt herself travelling down an incline.

The longest hill in the world.

She would have laughed. Or screamed when the spiders came out of their pits. But she ran on, leaving the deathtraps behind and sticking to the road. The grass was not safe.

And the road was empty.

Because the land beyond Liscor was desolate for miles, even of bandits. Bandits preyed on travelers, and who would travel so far north? Better to take a ship. Or if travel had to be done, it was best done in a caravan armed to the teeth.

The road stretching south from Liscor ran down through the plains and branched into several paths that would lead to major cities, the Gnoll tribe lands, and even the coast. But to get there every traveler had to pass through the Blood Fields.

And they were death.

Ryoka knew this and she ran on. The landscape changed under her feet. Grass became sparser, tougher; less pleasant to run on and more full of weeds. She stepped in a patch of something like nettles and had to stop.

By the light of the first campfire Ryoka stared at her swollen foot and ankles. She used one of her precious healing potions, spreading a bit of the liquid over the worst parts, watching the swelling decrease.

But the itching remained. She didn’t want to waste any more potion so she stayed awake.

After the two thousand and thirty fourth sheep Ryoka drank a few gulps of water, flushed a bit of water out of her system, and slept.

----

When she found the second stream Ryoka’s water had nearly run out and it was the third day. She’d run all day on the first day, but the second had seen her walking.

Because of the rocks.

The road and the ground had lost vegetation, except for the most virulent and prickly of bushes and dried vegetation. And without a soft padding, the ground had become gravel. And try as she might, Ryoka couldn’t bring herself to keep running over mile after mile of pain.

She filled her water bottle, hoping the clear water was potable and walked on. Her feet hurt. But she had to keep going. There was no turning back.

----

As she popped the fifth blood blister, Ryoka wished she’d brought shoes. But she hadn’t and the pain was only fitting. So she kept walking. And only now, in the silence of slower motion could she hear her thoughts again.

She wished she couldn’t.

----

It was all a mistake. All of it. [60] I should never have come to Esthelm. I should have kept running.

My feet hurt. They’re in agony. The ground is broken. But if I keep walking I can go on. My calluses are tough. They’re—

I hit her. I shouldn’t have. And Calruz. That Yvlon…

I—shouldn’t have done it.[61]

But what could I have done? She challenged me and Calruz was—it was because he was rude to Garia. [62]

I try to erase the voices in my head. But they keep talking. Blaming. And they’re right.

This is all my fault.

I burn bridges as I breathe. I hurt people with my words and what I do. It sounds fine to me, until I remember that there are good people in this world. In every world.

I can still remember the feeling of hitting Ceria. I can still taste blood. Feel my fists and feet kicking Calruz.

It feels like a dream. Or—a waking nightmare. But it happened. And the sensation is not unfamiliar to me.

I have done this before. Many times before.

How many times is many? Enough so that I can recall sitting in small rooms, waiting for my parents to talk with teachers or the police. But those were fights and I was usually acting in self-defense even if only I saw it that way.

This is different.

This was wrong.

My feet hurt. A sharp burst of agony—I stop and pick the sharp rock out of the bridge of my foot. It’s just physical pain. Not important.

Why did I do it? Because I wanted to fight. Because I hate their levels. So I’ve said. But Ceria—

“But someone who rejects the way the world works just because she doesn’t like it—that’s new.”

Not because I don’t like it. Because the world is wrong.

Say who? Me. But that’s idiotic. Without Levels how would anyone survive against monsters? Perhaps—there are ways. But this is the way the world works. Why do I resist it?

Better…better to die an idiot than a slave.

Madness. This is all wrong. I hurt them. I hurt the ones who were kind to me. What did I think I was doing? I’ve cut off ties, estranged myself from adventurers, Magnolia, the Runner’s Guild—

To hell with them all. I don’t need them.

I do.

I don’t.

Ryoka Griffin doesn’t need friends. She’s lived so far without them.

Lived under her parent’s influence and money, you mean. Ryoka Griffin hasn’t tasted the real world. And she never would have. But here I can’t survive this way.

Why not? Who is Ryoka Griffin? Why does she need anyone?

I am Ryoka Griffin. But what does that mean? It’s just a name. Not even one I chose. But it’s mine. All I have.

Define Ryoka Griffin for me, then. Go ahead. Do it.

Smart. Brilliant. Or good at taking IQ tests. A clean bill of health—no physical illnesses, flaws, or anything else. Talented. The kind of student they look for in ivy league schools.

Flawed.

Terribly, cripplingly flawed. Flawed by perfection, which is to say that I have nothing which defines me. Some people are shaped by adversity and measure their selves against what they have accomplished and fought for. But the curse of the privileged is that without having needed to strive for anything, nothing of value is made.

I practiced martial arts because I wanted to be able to defend myself not because I had to. I studied in school and got perfect scores because I liked learning and winning, not because I was driven to it.

I—

—Am a hollow person.

Or am I looking at this the wrong way? Arrogance. Even in my own head I call what I have perfection. Perfection is perfect—if I was perfect I wouldn’t have these problems, would I? No. This isn’t perfection.

How do you define Ryoka Griffin? An equation?

(|Perfection| – Social Interaction) + Anger + A Bit of Magic = Ryoka Griffin? Or is it—

(|Perfection – Human Interaction | + Rage + Loneliness) + Another Chance = Ryoka Griffin?

Well, obviously I’m not perfect. But in certain areas I lack flaws or disadvantages. My IQ score—

Means nothing. It is an arbitrary measurement that does not take social ability, creativity, emotional stability into account. Rather than call your physical adeptness and mental ability a perfect standard, refer to it instead as tabula rasa. You are a blank slate, but what has been put in is arrogance, antisocial behaviors, rage. You have corrupted the purity of what has been given.

Corrupted? Is it my fault I was an outsider since I was born? My fault that those other little bastards can’t even see past the color of my skin or who gets the highest score in class?

Here come the excuses. Always the same rhetoric. Always the same lies. That was years ago. Why can’t you admit you caused most of your own problems yourself? Even your daddy issues are—

I do not have ‘daddy issues’.

But you hate him. You hate him for what he was not. And that is unfair. You hate your classmates for what they aren’t. You hate them for not accepting you and maybe that’s fair. But you hate everything you encounter sooner or later. They are all worthless. They will let you down.

What does Ryoka Griffin love? A list:

-Running

-Music

-Knowledge

-Magic

-Martial arts

-Being angry

-The open sky and breeze on my face as I stare across a thousand miles of untouched land

-Adventure

What did I want back there? To be free of Yvlon—no, Magnolia. Her and her damn attempts to control me. It’s her fault. If she hadn’t pushed.

All she’s done is ask you questions. She offered you aid and you refused it. She put a ninja on your rooftop, but was he there to hurt you or guard you? When has she directly attempted to hurt you? She’s not like Persua.

That bitch. She’s an example of why these people aren’t worth the time it takes to outrun them. Those cowards—

Garia is no coward. She is brave and honest in her own way. But she can’t run alone. Just because you can, why are you holding everyone to the same standard?

I—can’t think straight. I have to deliver this damn ring and the letter. From an elven mage. So many questions. That was what I should have done. But I got bogged down with all the adventuring nonsense—

You wanted to see them. More than learning magic, you wanted to talk to them, didn’t you?

I hurt everyone I see. I should never have gone to them. And they are not perfect.

Calruz is an arrogant, patriarchal fool. Gerial’s nothing special. Ceria is—

Listen to yourself. What about Sostrom? What has he ever done to you? He fixed your iPhone. He gave you music.

But the other adventurers—what were they like? The same. They enjoyed watching me fight. There was a hierarchy there, and the way they talked. ‘Work together. Don’t rock the boat. Keep your head down and maybe you’ll be okay.’

The same. The same as those bullies. The little bastards who strut around in their small world, pushing everyone down so they feel taller. And if you stand up to them they run and hide, cry, retreat in the face of any kind of bravery but always stab from the corners and shadows with words and actions, those—

void bullyMethodology() {
do {
if (bullies.size() >= 1){

System.out.print(hurtfulWords);

System.out.print(internalizedRacism);

System.out.print(thoughtlessBile);
if (bully.aggression >= 2){
hurt(bully, victim);

}

}else{

Bully b = new Bully(individual, victim);
bullies.add(b);

}

if (victim.isStillResisting == true){
bully.aggression++;
if (victim.fightingAbility >= bully.fightingAbility) {
makeFalseAccusation(bully, victim);
cowardlyAttack(bully, victim);
spreadLies(bully, victim);

}

}

} while (victim.alive == true);

}

//Of course, a bully is not an individual but a group. And the group dynamics mean all bully the ones who stand out so that a group can be a group. There can be no unity without someone to band together to hurt.

I hate them all. I will never forget them or their smallness. The world would be better off without them.

Yeah. Better off if they were dead.

I can’t keep thinking like this. When the fury boils in me and I want to lash out—it’s the same. The same. But at the wrong targets this time.

I stop and fish around in my pocket. There. My iPhone. The screen wonderfully, magically lights up. There’s not much power left. Too much listening to it during the night. Should have turned down the screen brightness. But enough.

I hit shuffle and the music starts. Centuries by Fall Out Boy starts playing. Good music. But—not the right music for the moment.

I switch to the next track. Counting Stars by One Republic. Better. Faster.

You can’t hide. You can’t run from what you’ve done. Not here.

Normally the music can drown out all of the voices. But not this time. They’re too loud. But I keep going. I walk faster and switch to the next song. A better one.

Another One Republic song starts playing, but this is a collaboration. Timbaland’s Apologize ft. One Republic.

For a second my finger hovers over the next button. But I keep walking. The song hurts. But that’s fine.

“It’s too late to apologize.”

I speak it to the desolate wasteland. The faint, cold breeze takes my words away.

Yeah. Too late.

Except it’s not too late.

If I could rip out the insides of my head I would. But I can’t. My feet bleed. They’re in agony. But even the pain and the music isn’t enough.

Go back. Grovel. Put aside your useless pride for once and maybe if you are sincere and humble they will find it in their hearts to forgive you.

Too late. Too late and I can’t do it. I don’t know how.

You’ve never tried. And these are the best people you’ve met. Good people. You admire them. Secretly, you want to be like them, don’t you? Free. You’d rather be an adventurer than a Runner, but you’re afraid of what you’ll find inside yourself if you start killing.

Shut up.

You’d rather level up and be part of this world, but you can’t believe it’s real. You can’t be part of anything larger than yourself because you fear it. But you like the Horns of Hammerad. You owe them.

Ceria.

She taught you magic. Gerial is honorable. They travelled a hundred miles and paid to heal you. You may have given them gold in return, but your debt is greater than that. You like them.

I can’t—can’t go back.

You can. They would forgive you. And if they don’t, they are not the people you think they are.

I can’t.

Try. You have to try. If you just give it once chance, who knows what might happen?

Besides, the Minotaur’s pretty damn ripped. And you’re a sucker for guys with good bodies, aren’t you? You could totally get over the fur. Size might be an issue but—

Okay, we’re done. I crank up the volume on my iPhone to max and wait until my ears are ringing before I turn it off. By that time the sun is setting.

It’s getting dark. And the grayish brown soil and rocks have changed under my feet. Now—the earth has turned dark. Crimson. Blackish red. Sangria and umber in places, but mainly, shades of red. Mahogany, rosewood, crimson, wine.

Red.

It’s wrong. How can blood stain the ground for so—so long? But the dark colors are everywhere. It can’t all be blood.

Can it?

The Blood Fields. The place of death where armies clashed and fight even to this day. An empty wasteland designated as a place to do battle. It sounds ridiculous—an area where nations march their armies to fight like gentlemen dueling each other?—but this is a good spot for it. It’s one of two gateways linking the northern and southern parts of the continent and so armies of Drakes and Humans collide here when one side invades the other.

And apparently, where thousands die in events like plague or war, the potential for the dead rising is far higher than anywhere else. Only places like the Blood Fields are safe. Something—I read something about the dead not seeming to rise or disappearing in this area?

A place of war. And a place of death. I’ve reached the outskirts of the Blood Fields by the color of the soil. I stare ahead. The ground is flat, but on the horizon a swathe of red seems to occupy both land and part of the sky.

Time to sleep. I make camp without a fire and mechanically eat and drink. Brush teeth. Pee.

I try to sleep. But the night is cold and I am alone. And the voices keep speaking. Haunting my thoughts and my dreams. Whispering.

Try.

----

When I wake up on the fourth day, I’m freezing. Today is colder—far, far colder than before. The thin blanket I brought wasn’t enough and the ground is hard with frost.

Winter. Apparently it doesn’t hit this continent much harder than this until it actually arrives, whatever that means. Weather like everything else here is screwy.

I get up, eat, and keep going.

The ground turns fully red. But as I walk I discover the truth behind the ominous colors. The soil is red, yes. But not from blood.

Rather—the color comes from the plants that have infested each part of the soil. It’s some kind of moss. Some kind of strange, rooted plant. And then I understand. The Blood Fields host one kind of plant. Something that drinks blood.

Hence the name. And the red ground begins to sprout the closer I get to the center. Red grass, strange stalks and leaves of plants begin reaching towards the sky. Like hands or—or strange fungi.

It doesn’t look like any scene from my world. If there is a hell, perhaps it looks like this. I walk on. The plants aren’t dangerous. I did a skin test with one of them and I don’t have any kind of reaction to them. They’re just creepy.

Red plants. Now I see what was on the horizon. The end-stage evolution of these plants are tall, twisted structures vaguely resembling trees. Only these plants have no bark and they stand alone, like sentinels. Their thin, mangled forms rise above me as I walk through the Blood Fields.

The plants bother me. What do they do? Just drink blood and grow like normal plants? That squares with what I understand of biology, but it doesn’t make sense in this world. This is a place of curses and death magic. Surely there should be some kind of danger inherent in them.

But it might also be the cold that keeps the plants inactive. Not only is this a cold day, but this is the winter season. Yes. They might be hibernating. Without food or much sunlight—what would this place look like in the spring?

I stare at a long stalk that seems to bend at every angle and wonder what flowers would bloom from it. What dark fruits would blossom here?

And I’m uneasy, for a second. But I’ve come all this way. I’m here.

Now what?

----

On the fifth hour after waking, Ryoka realized despair. She had reached the Blood Fields, but she had found nothing.

Nothing. There was no dragon. No monster to fight. No mountain to climb. The Blood Fields were a wasteland. A place of death.

But not a place to die.

She had expected a terror like the High Passes, some kind of guardian, a terrible landscape that would have taken all her wits to survive and pass through. But this place was simply empty.

And try as she might, the one she sought, the mysterious target of the ring and letter she held— Az’kerash—was nowhere to be found.

Ryoka looked. She searched desperately. The Blood Fields were vast. Many miles wide. But she could see far even through the native flora and she saw no signs of life.

She ran through the towering growths of crimson, searching. But the fields were endless and she was tired. In the end she simply stopped.

Ryoka stood in the center of the red jungle and began to laugh. Death was around her. In a thousand places she saw broken pieces of armor. Skeletal remains—weapons and scars on the ground from battles long past.

She’d already cut her feet on fragments from weapons. The soil drank her blood and the plants seemed to shift towards her.

In despair, she stopped in an open space in the center of the Blood Fields and looked around. Nothing. Not a thing.

What should she do? She had a task. But she had no way to complete it. What should she do?

Ryoka closed her eyes. Her mind was still—still broken. Still hurting. Still confused. But a part of her still whispered.

So she listened.

----

This is pointless. There’s nothing here. You were stupid to come.

I—did Teriarch lie to me? Or is Az’kerash not here?

He said he thought he was around here. Not that he was.  And he said that he would be surrounded by the dead. Well, there are a lot of dead things around here. But no one else.

What now?

Ryoka sat and put her face in her hands. Nothing. She’d come all this way expecting to fight for her life. She’d burned her friendships, torn her feet to shreds, run here in the middle of her pain and regret. And there was—nothing—

“Ha. Haha. Ahahahaha.”

She started laughing. It was hysterical; bitter. She couldn’t stop.

Tell me. Who is Ryoka?

No one.

What does she have? What does she want?

She has nothing. She is nothing.

She has a family. A father. A mother.

Nothing more. She does not love them as she should and they do not understand her. The family never acts like one. The parents work and seldom sit with their child and the child lashes out. Ryoka Griffin is alone.

She has many gifts.

That’s the problem, isn’t it? Many gifts. A nice home. A rich family with a father who is influential. All the things to make me spoiled. Useless.

I have not built anything. Lost anything. I have nothing to fight for. No cause. I am not a rebel without a cause because I have nothing to rebel against.

Society. But that’s just an excuse. I hate everything and everyone. Sometimes. Another excuse.

I am a prisoner. But not one tethered by social class or money or any of the things that most people struggle against. I am a victim of my success. I have never had anything I truly needed.

Question. What does Ryoka Griffin need?

So useless. I came here to deliver something and there’s nowhere else to go. I wouldn’t even know where to start. There are no clues. This is an empty place. Do I just start running in a random direction and pray I find—something?

Teriarch. That bastard. Giving me a useless mission. How dare he order me—

He seemed sure this Az’kerash existed, though. And he is powerful. But something is off about that mage. Is he an Elf? Who lives in such a dangerous place with no apparent defenses? Even if they were magical, why didn’t I trip them?

I am lost. Bereft. What do I do now?

Question. What is Ryoka Griffin’s next step?

What do I want? After I deliver the ring and letter and go back to Teriarch, then what? Do I keep running?

No—learn magic. From—not Ceria. Someone else. Learn more magic without those stupid Classes and Levels. Learn spells—a way to run faster? Something to defend myself with. Earn money. Once I have enough to buy potions and keep myself fed wherever I go I can start travelling.

Where? …Anywhere.

And then I’ll climb the highest mountains. I’ll go out at sea and see the full fury of an ocean storm for myself. I’ll see all this world has to offer. I will test myself against this world and see wonders. That is my dream. That is what I’ve always wanted to do.

To be alone.

To be free.

To hold my own destiny.

And then I’ll die. At some point my luck or my body will run out. If I keep climbing mountains, eventually I will fall. That is the knowledge every climber lives with. If I keep running eventually I will stop. But that’s enough. If I can live enough, that would be fine.

What does Ryoka Griffin want? Answer:

A place to die.

It’s wrong.

I know. But there’s nothing else for me. The only joy I’ve ever felt is in the moment when I run past my limits, take a breath at the top of the world. Stare up at the night sky and feel insignificant realizing how vast this infinite universe is.

There must be something else. Something. Or else all you’re looking for is a way to kill yourself.

What does Ryoka Griffin want? Addendum:

Something to die for. Something worthy of dying for.

I would have been a charity worker in my world when I graduated from college. Or—a soldier. A mercenary perhaps. A vigilante? A firefighter. Nothing that was safe. Nothing that would fit with the grain. I’d always be trying to push at the limits. Find something worth giving everything towards.

I hurt them. I made them suffer. And they were good. If—

Too late. I’m broken. A jagged piece of glass who cuts everything that touches me.

I wish there was another way. I guess I’ll keep searching until I run out of food. What else do I have? What else could I do?

What does Ryoka Griffin lack? Answer:

A friend.

My thoughts—grind to a halt. I stop. For a second I turn and stare back the way I’ve come.

Yes.

No. It’s stupid.

But.

But it’s all I want. And now that I hear it, the truth of it rings in my mind. Yes. Ever since I was young maybe—

I was always afraid. And when I reached out I got hurt.

But it’s what I want.

And suddenly, I am filled with regret. Truly, painfully. It comes and bites me after I’ve pushed it away for so long and the pain stabs my heart for the first time. True guilt. True regret.

I shouldn’t have run. I should have gone after Ceria. But instead I do what Ryoka Griffin does best: run away.

A friend. Something I’ve never had. Never truly. Never—never someone I could really trust. And the Horns of Hammerad—Garia—they were the closest. But when I came close to opening my heart I slammed the door shut on their fingers.

I regret.

Slowly, I kneel in the soft red grass. It is soft. Like death. Clumsily, I clasp my hands together. It’s been so long. I’ve forgotten how.

But I begin. I put my hands together and pray.

Oh God. Gods and goddesses. Spirits and bodhisattvas, and deities long dead from this world. Anyone who’s listening, really.

Please—

Don’t let me die alone.

Don’t let me die—

Without having made a single friend.

----

After a while I stand up. I have never prayed before. I don’t do it. If there is a God, surely the duty of humans is to rebel against him. A quote from Philip Pullman’s trilogy His Dark Materials. Words that resonated in my soul when I heard them.

But this time my plea comes from the heart. I want a friend. I want to not die alone. And if I can—

I’d like to apologize.

I need to go back.

I look back the way I’ve come. The road is long. I spent four days coming here. And I’m running low on food and water. But I can make it back. Time is no obstacle. My delivery will have to wait.

I have to make things right.

I take two steps away from the red soil and pause. My feet have stopped moving. I try to move, and suddenly I can’t. I’m rooted in place.

I want to go back. But another part of me wants to keep searching. I must complete my delivery. I promised.

But I didn’t. I was told. And suddenly—I realize.

Teriarch. When he first met me he controlled my every action. And yes, he ordered me to deliver his message. And I have carried out his order quite fitfully ever since meeting him, haven’t I? And that’s odd, because Ryoka Griffin is notoriously stubborn. She doesn’t like being ordered around.

But I’ve been going towards the Blood Fields as fast as I can. Because of Teriarch.

Ever since I met with him I’ve been heading in a straight line. Towards the Blood Fields. Towards my goal, this Az’kerash or whatever his true name is.

In short, following the task Teriarch set me.

“Magic.”

I am under a spell.

I try to move my feet. They refuse to budge. The spell is locking me down quite easily. And—was it doing something to my mind? Making me not want to turn back?

Perhaps. But I’ve realized my errors. I have to go back. And no magic will stop me.

Easier said than done. I try to lift my foot. Surprisingly, that’s really easy. But moving it to take a step?

Impossible.

I struggle. For an hour I try to move my feet. An hour. It’s an eternity. I try moving back and I can. I can run around. But the instant I try to move with the purpose of going back—

Immobility. I’m locked down. I can’t resist.

But I will.

It’s like pushing a boulder uphill with matchsticks for arms. Impossible. This is magic. How could you resist that? But I will.

I have to go back. I grit my teeth and push. My foot lifts—

And I take a step.

Instantly, my skin starts burning. I shout in agony and look down. Something—there are glowing runes, magical symbols like the one Ceria wrote tattooed on my arms! Did he write them? Part of the spell. They’re burning, searing my flesh.

The pain is unbelievable. Every part of me is telling me to move my foot back. For a second I nearly do, and then something in me rebels.

Teriarch might be a legendary mage. He might be the greatest damn sorcerer in the world. But he made one mistake.

He chose the wrong spell. The wrong person to cast it on. Maybe the geas is my death. Maybe I will die. But that’s fine.

I would rather die free.

The magic is burning me. Am I screaming? I think—

I’m pushing against a wall in my head. Except that it isn’t a wall. How can you fight your own thoughts? There’s no wall. There’s nothing to fight against and that’s why it’s so hard. But I’m good at raging against nothing. And I refuse to stay. My feet move.

North. Back to where I should be. But the fire burns. It’s agony. Burning pain. Desire. I have to search for him. Deliver the message. I have my duty.

But I don’t. I never agreed to it. I have my own will. My choice.

My destiny.

The air feels hot. The symbols on my arms are glowing, searing. I’m standing on a cliff. If I keep going I will die.

But I will be free.

So I take another step. The pain stops. Something breaks in me. I—

1.41

“Fire! Put out the fire!”

Of all the ways to wake up, hearing that shouted from below still beat being stabbed in the chest. But the Horns of Hammerad were still out of bed and racing downstairs within seconds of hearing it.

A cloud of black smoke billowed out of the kitchen as Erin stumbled out, hacking and coughing. Toren followed her, holding a smoking, flaming pan. He charged outside and the Horns of Hammerad saw him hurl the pan to the ground and begin stomping on whatever had been inside.

The smoke began to clear a bit, but it still stung the eyes. The smell of burnt grease and charcoal lingered unpleasantly in the air.

Erin stared up at the adventurers staring down at her from the staircase. She grinned weakly and waved.

“Oh. Hi. Um. Anyone want pancakes?”

----

Much to Erin’s surprise, the Horns of Hammerad actually knew what pancakes were. Apparently, pancakes weren’t a product of the modern age and so she served several heaping plates to her guests until they were all full.

Pancakes were fun. Pancakes were easy to make. Erin could let Toren stir the batter together while she cooked them on a pan over the fire. She used a spatula and oiled her pan well to get the pancakes to stop sticking. She’d tried flipping it like chefs did on TV, but she stopped after the pancakes kept landing on Toren and the fire.

She joined them for the last bit of the meal once she’d reached a critical mass of pancake. Erin munched on her food as the adventurers ate their way back into the waking world.

“What was all that about?”

Erin looked at the bald mage and tried to remember his name. Soulstorm? It was something like that.

“Oh, uh, I was trying to teach him how to cook.”

Erin pointed to Toren as the skeleton walked into the room with a pitcher of milk. She accepted a refill of the glass as the other adventurers stared at her.

“What? I thought it would be easy. Fun fact: it’s not.”

“A skeleton…cooking?”

“Well, he already does all the other chores. If he could do stuff like make eggs, stir soup and flip pancakes it’d make my life even easier. But uh, skeletons don’t really understand the difference between ‘cooked’ and ‘burned’.”

Gerial exchanged a glance with a female mage and shook his head. But Ceria looked intrigued.

“It’s not a bad idea. I’m still not sure what Pisces was thinking giving you only one skeleton as a guard, but I suppose that’s all your mana supply could take.”

Erin froze, fork stuck in her food.

“My what? I don’t have any magic. I mean, I can’t use magic.”

Ceria frowned at Erin.

“Really? Who told you that?”

“Pisces.”

“Ah. But I wasn’t talking about spellcasting. I just meant your internal mana supply.”

Ceria looked around and saw blank faces around her, except for the other two mages.

“Oh come on. You all know you have magic inside of you, right?”

Gerial looked down at his stomach, bemused.

“We do?”

“Of course. Magic is part of us. It’s in the air we breathe, the food we eat—we all have our own supply of mana, however small. My kind has a great deal of internal magic we generate simply by existing so we make good mages. Humans on the other hand—”

She shrugged and bit into a piece of pancake. She chewed and spoke around her food.

“Not as much. But exceptions exist and they make good mages. But even if you don’t cast spells you have some mana in you. Enough to sustain basic spells or supply a summoned creature with enough magic to survive if it can’t by itself.”

“So I have magic? In me? Does that mean if Toren wasn’t here I’d—be able to cast spells?”

Ceria paused and shook her head sympathetically.

“I’m sorry. But if Pisces tested you it’s unlikely. Maybe there’s a better chance but…”

“Oh.”

Erin said it quietly. She kept eating in silence as the other adventurers spoke.

“I’d like to go into the city and collect our share of the supplies. We also need to visit the Adventurer’s Guild to make sure we’re still cleared to enter the ruins. But ah, we can’t go if that adventurer is still around.”

Calruz scowled as he ate two pancakes in a single bite.

“Gazi the Omniscient. It would be inconvenient if she were to trouble us now. I will go with you.”

Erin blinked and looked up from her plate.

“Gazi? Oh, she’s gone.”

The other Horns of Hammerad stared at her.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. She told me she was going and looking for something. Somewhere else.”

Erin was aware of the other adventurers sharing a look at the table, but she didn’t understand what it meant. It was just a look that told you it was significant but didn’t share any of the details. It could be that it was a look to signify the world was changing and those present were at the precipice of a new era. Or it could be a look to subtly acknowledge some unlucky person had stepped in dog poo and hadn’t noticed. You couldn’t tell.

“Well then, that makes things simpler. At least for now.”

Gerial shook his head and stood up from the table.

“We’ll see if anything else needs doing in the city. Calruz, do you still want to join us?”

The Minotaur snorted.

“There is no need to waste any more time with useless chattering and polishing weapons. Tomorrow we fight. Tell the others I will be ready when the time comes.”

The adventurers nodded and began trooping out the door. Erin stared at their dirty dishes and pointed silently to Toren and then at the table. The skeleton obediently walked over and began to gather them.

Calruz was still eating, but Erin could hear the other adventurers debating how to spend their last day. Some were in favor of buying trinkets to send to family, others to see what kind of entertainment was available in the city. Erin clearly heard Gerial talking casually to the others as he closed the door behind him.

“That’s odd. Was that large rock there yesterday?”

Erin shot up in her seat.

“Wait!”

She threw the door open and caught the adventurers as they were descending the hill. Erin desperately waved her arms at them and shouted incoherently.

“Stop! Hold it! Don’t go any further!”

They turned and stared. Erin pointed with a trembling finger at the large, conspicuously inconspicuous boulder casually blocking their path towards the city.

“Stay right there! If the rock moves, hit it or cast spell or something!”

“Hit the rock?”

Perplexed, Gerial and the other adventurers stared at the hidden Rock Crab. Ceria on the other hand narrowed her eyes and took a few steps back.

Erin rushed inside her inn and came out a few seconds later with a basket full of seed cores. Calruz followed her and stared at the giant boulder.

“What are you worried about?”

Erin grabbed one of the seed cores carefully and held it in one hand. She pointed at the boulder as she glared at Calruz.

“There’s a monster down there.”

He squinted.

“I don’t see it. Is it hiding in the ground?”

“No!”

Erin pointed again.

“See that? That thing?”

Calruz looked. He frowned.

“That is a boulder. What of it?”

Ceria coughed.

“It’s actually not, Calruz. It’s a monster, hiding under the rock. What you’re actually looking at is a shell.”

The other adventurers reacted to that news. Several swore and those holding weapons backed up as they gripped their weapon hilts.

“Are you sure?”

Ceria nodded.

“I didn’t see it at first, but there’s definitely something odd about that boulder. It looks too—out of place. See how the grass is flattened around it? And it hasn’t sunk into the earth as it should have over time.”

Gerial frowned as he half-unsheathed his sword.

“I believe you, but my [Dangersense] hasn’t gone off.”

“Not everything trips the [Dangersense]. And if it’s a sneak attack you’d have to be right next to the creature and by that point you’d be dead.”

He blew out his mustache.

“Fair point. Well, how do you want to tackle it? Freezing spells and then we charge in?”

Calruz nodded. He reached for his axe.

“I’ll break its shell.”

“No need.”

To the adventurer’s surprise Erin walked forwards.

“I can totally scare it off.”

Calruz’s face was a statement of incredulity.

“Impossible.”

“Watch me.”

Erin took aim and threw. Her first seed core splattered harmlessly against the Rock Crab’s shell. The second and third did the same, as blue-gray seeds and liquid began trickling down the side of the boulder.

The adventurers were just starting to fidget in place when the Rock Crab suddenly lurched to its feet. They immediately readied their weapons, but the giant crab began scuttling away as Erin threw several more Seed Cores after it. Courtesy of her skill, each one struck the shell until the Rock Crab scuttled over a hilltop and disappeared.

Erin turned, smiling, and saw the Horns of Hammerad staring at her, slack-jawed.

“How did you do that?”

She showed them the seed cores and explained about the strange trees in the orchard she’d found. Ceria frowned at the small cores.

“I think I know what you’re talking about. Can I see one of those ah, seed cores?”

“Here.”

Erin casually tossed a seed core at Ceria. The Half-elf yelped, desperately grabbed the pod and held it gingerly in her hands as if it were a live grenade.

“Tree kissing rot! Don’t do that!”

“Why?”

Ceria’s hand shook as she very carefully held the seed core in her hand.

“I thought it had to be it. Blue fruit—hollow seed pod—this is a core of the Amentus fruit. It’s highly poisonous. Don’t you know that?”

“Um. No.”

Actually, Erin remembered Pisces mentioning it before.

“It’s toxic. Very dangerous stuff. Surely you realized consuming it was bad?”

“Well it smells so terrible that I never tried.”

“Here.”

Ceria gingerly handed the core back to Erin and watched it as she put it in the basket.

“It’s fine if you don’t break them, but don’t let any of the liquid get on your skin.”

“Why?”

“You could get sick. Not too badly, but it’s possible even touching the liquid could poison you mildly.”

Erin thought back to the time when she’s started throwing up randomly.

“Oh.”

“It’s not as if you’d die instantly. But ingest enough of the liquid or the seeds and you’d be dead within the day.”

“Ooh. That would explain why I got sick one time. I accidentally squished a seed pod while I was making blue juice.”

Ceria’s eyes bulged.

“We’ve been drinking that? Are you insane?”

“Just the outer part!”

Erin hurried to reassure Ceria. The Half-elf looked pale, but after a while she accepted that Erin probably hadn’t poisoned them.

Gerial frowned at the seed cores in Erin’s basket, confused.

“That explains why the crab ran off. But why is it afraid of a tiny bit of poison? It’s a lot bigger than we are.”

“It must not have strong resistance to poison. Either that or it has no way to reduce the buildup of toxins like we do. Those crab-creatures might carry the sickness within them for the rest of their lives if they’re not careful.”

Gerial and the other adventurers muttered as Erin handed Toren the seed cores to put back in the inn. This time far away from the kitchen.

“Well, you saved our hides from a nasty encounter. That thing was big and I don’t relish wasting any more healing potions before we go into the ruins.”

“Mm.”

Calruz folded his arms and stared at the place where the Rock Crab had been. He didn’t appear particularly impressed.

“Go, then. I will remain here.”

Ceria and the others eyed him curiously.

“Doing what? Sleeping?”

“No. Teaching.”

----

“Only Calruz would think about teaching an innkeeper to fight.”

Geiral shook his head as he and Ceria pushed their way into the local Adventurer’s Guild in Liscor. The building was far smaller than they were used to and bustling with activity. Countless Bronze-rank adventurers were trying to turn in bounties on monsters or take the few requests posted on the jobs board.

“Here.”

Ceria pointed and the two got into the shortest line. They kept talking as a harried-looking Drake receptionist dealt with the adventurers in front of them.

“I mean, why does she need training? You saw how she handled that crab thing.”

“That’s not the same as knowing how to fight. And besides, those seed cores won’t do much good against a group of bandits or even a few Goblins.”

Ceria had to raise her voice to talk over the hubbub in the room. The receptionist in front of them had a loud voice and she was using it liberally as she dealt with the line in front of them.

“Look, I don’t care how the Human cities do it. We don’t give out bounties for beating up thugs. How do you know they were guilty anyways? Next time, let the Watch take care of it. Next!”

“Still. Do you think he’s going to teach her how to use a weapon? In a day?”

“It’s Calruz. He probably expects Erin to be like Minotaur children. They grow up knowing how to use a blade.”

“Evil Goblins? Robbing you? And what are we supposed to do about it? Go and post a bounty if you’re that upset. But they’re Goblins. Go grab a sword and deal with it yourself!”

“I hope he goes easy on her. I’d hate for him to hurt her accidentally.”

“You Humans. Always so worried. She’s survived this far. Calruz won’t kill her by the time we get back. Probably.”

“No, there are no more requests available. Sorry. Next! You two, the Human and er, pointy-eared Human!”

Gerial and Ceria looked up. Selys waved at them and they approached.

“What can I do for you? And if it’s about lodging or supplies, don’t bother. The Guild is all out of everything.”

“No, ah it’s not that miss.”

Gerial cleared his throat and smiled at Selys. The Drake did not return the smile.

“We’re part of the Horns of Hammerad. We—and four other teams—put in a request a few days ago to enter the ruins as part of an expedition. We were wondering if we had permission—”

“Oh, you’re that lot.”

Selys’ eyes widened and she stared at Gerial and Ceria.

“You’re the first Silver-rank team we’ve had in the city in a while. I expected you’d be bigger. And don’t you have a Minotaur in your group? Please don’t let him cause any damage.”

She rushed on before either adventurer could respond.

“Anyways, the Guild already approved your request so there’s nothing to worry about. Go right ahead.”

Both Ceria and Gerial exchanged a quizzical glance. Gerial cleared his throat.

“Um. We don’t need any seals? Any letters or proof we can enter?”

This time it was Selys’ turn to look confused.

“Why would you need anything like that? You’re adventurers, right? Just go out and kill monsters and try not to get killed.”

“Oh it’s just—”

“It’s just that in Human cities adventuring is a lot more regulated.”

Ceria leaned over the counter and smiled at Selys.

“We don’t want to cause any trouble, being outsiders and all.”

Selys smiled at Ceria, her eyes flicking to the half-Elf’s pointed ears.

“Well, I appreciate that. Most of your Humans—er, the Humans we get don’t obey many of our laws. If you could clear out those Ruins so they all go away I think the city would throw you a celebration.”

“Something to look forwards to. We’re heading in tomorrow. So just to clarify—there’s nothing we need to do?”

Selys waved one hand.

“You’re fine. Go in whenever you like—just don’t bring any trouble out with you. The Watch is busy enough as it is.”

She turned to call for the next adventurer when another Drake walked over and put a hand on Selys’ shoulder. The other Drake murmured in Selys’ ear. She called out to Gerial and Ceria as they were about to leave.

“Wait! You two!”

They turned. Selys flashed them another smile.

“Sorry, but you’re from the north, aren’t you? There’s an annoying Human messenger in the city and he keeps bothering people.”

“Oh?”

Intrigued, Gerial and Ceria returned to the counter. Gossip and rumor were the lifeblood of an adventurer, and they were always curious about politics even in cities like Liscor.

“Apparently he’s come representing some flower. No—oh! I see. A Lady Magnolia. That makes more sense.”

“Lady Magnolia?”

“Yeah, something like that. He wants to talk to someone important. Well, we have a Council but they’re not going to listen to every Human noble who comes calling. But he’s persistent and he won’t go away. Is this Magnolia that important?”

“Very! She’s one of the Five Families!”

“The what?”

“You haven’t heard of them?”

Selys rolled her eyes and twitched her tail in annoyance.

“If I had I wouldn’t be asking. Who are they?”

“The Reinharts, Veltras, Terland, Wellfar and El families were the first humans to ever settle on this continent. They were aristocracy – related to kings from the continent Terandria. They’re still very rich and influential today.”

The female Drake frowned.

“El? What kind of name is that? You Humans and your strange names.”

She shook her head and continued.

“Okay, I suppose that means she’s important? Would you say she’s like the mayor of a village?”

“She would outrank the ruler of a city. The Reinharts have so many connections that if they declared war, half a dozen cities would march their armies at their command!”

Selys’ tail stopped moving. The receptionist next to her flicked out her tongue once.

“Um. Really?”

Ceria and Gerial both nodded seriously, as did the other Humans in earshot.

“The other four families have various scions with degrees of power, but as far as the Reinharts are concerned, Lady Magnolia rules the entire house. She’s wealthy, powerful, and probably one of the ten most important individuals in the continent.”

“Er. You mean in the north, right?”

“Anywhere.”

Selys exchanged a look with the other Drake. The other Drake’s bright orange scales and her green scales had lost a bit of their color.

“Um. Well. Thank you. We’ll—we’ll do something about that.”

The other receptionist practically sprinted out of the building. Selys stared at her back and then shook her head. She stared at the heaving room of mostly humanity and sighed. Then she raised her voice.

“Next!”

----

Erin made a fist with her hands. She raised it and prepared to punch. Then she hesitated.

“Aren’t you going to block?”

Calruz shook his head.

“Give me your strongest punch. I wish to feel it.”

Erin nodded. She raised her fist and then hesitated again.

“You’re sure I can hit you?”

Calruz snorted impatiently.

“If you can injure me I will hang up my axe and cease living as a warrior this instant.”

“Fine then. You asked for it!”

Erin clenched her hand tightly. She breathed in and out quickly a few times, trying to psyche herself up. Somehow, even though Calruz was just standing in the grass outside of her inn he suddenly looked huge—that was, even taller than he already was.

Three hundred pounds and closer to seven feet than six of solid Minotaur loomed over Erin. She took a deep breath and attacked.

“Hiyah!”

Erin tried to punch hard and fast. Her fist struck Calruz in his stomach and she yelped.

“Ow!”

His abs were like stone.

“Try again.”

Erin did. Her fist bounced off of Calrus’s stomach.

“Ow! Why do I feel like I’m hurting myself more than you?”

“Your form is terrible.”

“Thanks.”

“It is not a compliment.”

Calruz sighed.

“Do you not even know how to punch properly?”

Erin stared at him.

“Is there a way to punch right? Don’t you just make a fist and—”

She punched at the air and then saw Calruz’s expression.

“Well I don’t know! I’ve never been in a fight before I came here!”

This time it was Calruz’s turn to eye Erin.

“Never?”

“Never.”

“What about your creature? Surely it knows how to do battle.”

Calruz pointed at Toren, who was silently watching him teach Erin. The skeleton made a fist. It looked okay to Erin, but Calruz took one look and shook his head.

“That neither you nor your—pet know how to defend themselves is a shame. Were you never taught how to fight?”

The Minotaur looked both surprised and disgruntled. He shook his head unhappily.

“I see I have much to teach you. Starting with how to strike.”

“What about your skill? That [Hammer Blow] attack was amazing! How about you teach me how to do that?”

“Someone who cannot even punch properly would never learn a skill.”

That made sense, but Erin had more questions. She hadn’t really been able to ask Calruz yesterday, what with having to cook dinner.

“Okay, your skill is super-advanced. But how do you do it? I mean, is it magic?”

Calruz snorted.

“I am no mage. That was a Skill. It allows me to transcend my hardest strike and turn it into something even stronger.”

“Yeah…I still don’t get it.”

Erin pointed at Calruz’s axe.

“If you swing that thing as hard as you can, how can you somehow hit harder than your hardest hit? Um. What I meant was—”

“It is the act of exceeding one’s limits.”

Calruz tapped the handle of the axe on his back. Toren had barely managed to get it out of the ground, but the Minotaur swung it around easily.

“There is art in this. My kind practices little magic. We are not ‘gifted’ enough to study spells as other races do.”

He snorted dismissively.

“But we are not weak. We understand war and battle. And this—we understand the flow of combat. To learn and use such skills, you must forget your frailties and strike with heart.”

“That sounds deep. Like a martial art.”

“Is that a kind of fighting Humans practice?”

“Yeah. It’s sort of like…um…a way to fight with your hands? You kick and punch in special ways.”

Erin tried to demonstrate a karate chop. Calruz actually seemed interested, although he winced as he watched her.

“I know a human who fights with her fists. She is…skilled. But wild. And she does not understand. She fights with cunning and grace, but she only fights at her limit. She does not think she can go further. Thus—she never will.”

He stared off into the distance.

“She lacks vision. I will make her understand that.”

That made no sense to Erin, but it was nice to see that Calruz had a crush on someone. She just hoped whoever it was appreciated big…bull guys. Somehow she had doubts about his romantic prospects, but she continued asking questions.

“So what’s the key behind a skill? Desire?”

“Not just desire. It is the refinement of a single strike into a moment of perfection. But that is something far beyond you at this moment. For now, you must learn to punch.”

He held up a massive hand, twice as big as hers palm towards her.

“Strike my palm. I will show you how to attack properly.”

Erin made a fist. Calruz immediately shook his head.

“Not like that. You will break your fingers if you strike unevenly.”

He held up his other hand and made a fist. It looked like a furry brick and Erin wondered what would happen if he hit her with it.

“Like this. Strike with your knuckles here and here. And keep your thumb outside your fist.”

Calruz pointed to Erin’s index and ring fingers, demonstrating with his own fist. She copied him, awkwardly shifting her fingers into the right positions.

“And then when you strike, step forwards and move your hips like so.”

He shifted his hips as he threw a lightning-fast jab. Erin blinked. She felt the wind from his arm.

“Okay let me try. Like—this?”

She punched his hand. It felt better, somehow. She could put more weight into it. Calruz grunted and nodded.

“Again.”

Erin punched again and again, switching hands at his directive. He nodded after a few more tries.

“Good. That is the proper technique. Now—kick!”

He showed Erin how to kick at his midsection and had her try. Twice she fell down, but after about ten minutes she was kicking hard enough to make him block with two hands rather than one.

“Now, the skeleton. Punch it.”

Erin eyed Toren. He immediately raised his hands like Calruz, but the Minotaur pointed at him.

“You. Thing. Dodge her.”

The skeleton turned its head to Calruz silently, as if wondering whether it should obey. But it started dodging left and right.

“Try to strike it.”

Erin did. Toren dodged. He was quite quick. She punched and kicked but he kept on dodging.

“You are painfully slow. Move faster! Don’t strike where he is, but where he will be.”

Calruz gave her advice—or insulted her as Erin tried, sweating. She punched at Toren and he leaned back effortlessly.

“Fast. Faster. Pull back your arm quickly.”

Erin chased Toren around fruitlessly for a few minutes, and then stopped and glared at Calruz.

“Why am I learning to fight with my fists? Shouldn’t I be using a sword?”

He shook his head.

“I am teaching you a basic truth. You must know how to fight without weapons or it will be a weakness others will exploit. Besides, you understand nothing of the flow of combat. You must learn to strike your opponent before you are worthy of using a blade.”

He looked at Toren. The skeleton wasn’t winded from dodging Erin, having no lungs to worry about but Erin was sweaty and gasping for air.

“Very well. We shall try something else. The skeleton shall guard and you will break through. Punch him, kick him. Destroy your opponent.”

Something about the way he said that bothered Erin. She squared up against Toren and tried a punch. This time the skeleton blocked it.

“Ow.”

“If you break your fingers or cut your skin there are potions. Keep attacking.”

Erin did. Toren had a harder time blocking her. She was stronger than he was, which was odd to think of. Erin punched and he shifted backwards in the grass slightly as his arm caught her fist. She kicked and he stumbled.

Erin waited for Toren to regain his balance which earned her a roar of disapproval from Calruz.

“Don’t stop! Press the attack! Your goal is to defeat your enemy. Hurt him. Mercy is a luxury only the strong can afford. Attack until he lies in pieces.”

Again, the words bothered Erin. But she punched anyways. It was easy. So long as Toren just blocked and didn’t jump around she could feint a punch and then kick—

This time her foot kicked one leg out from under the skeleton. He fell to one knee and Erin stepped forwards and punched him in the face. His head twisted sideways. Erin ignored the stinging in her hand and raised it again to knock him down.

She stared down at the empty skull and froze. For a second, she was on the ground staring up at a Goblin Chieftain with a sword in his hands. She smelled burning flesh.

She remembered. She remembered another face. Klbkch. And a pool of green blood. She held him in her arms as he died.

Slowly, Toren righted himself and got to his feet. He stared at Erin—as did Calruz. She couldn’t know that her face had gone deadly white, or that she was suddenly shaking.

“I can’t do this.”

Calruz shook his head.

“You must. You must learn to fight.”

“No.”

Erin shook her head, or was it her entire body that shook. She felt sick. She was close to throwing up.

“I can’t. I’m no warrior.”

Unbidden, the words she’d dreamed of spoke themselves. Her childhood rhyme.

“The king is smart and uses his head. For if he moves, he’ll soon be dead.”

Calruz stared at her.

“What does that mean?”

“It means—it means that whenever I got into trouble before I always got people killed. Or I killed. I nearly died. I can’t do it. Better to just let Toren learn to fight. Teach him instead.”

Erin pointed at Toren. The skeleton nodded, but Calruz shook his head.

“Your king. In times of need even he defends himself, does he not?”

He meant real kings, but it was true of chess as well.

“Only as a last resort.”

“This is the last resort I speak of. Someday, you will surely be alone and without anyone to protect you. Will you die then, or fight?”

Erin didn’t have any good comeback to that. She bowed her head.

“Striking a downed opponent may be wrong.”

There was something in Calruz’s voice that made Erin look up. He didn’t bark his next few words, but spoke more quietly, choosing them carefully.

“Perhaps—yes. There is more honor in you than I thought. Very well. I have little time so I shall simply teach you to fight. If you practice against your creature, you may learn the basics quickly enough.”

He gestured, and Toren raised his guard again.

“The skeleton will block. Simply strike at him. He is dead so it matters little what you do. Forget death and battle for the moment. Simply know the purity of combat.”

That sounded better. Erin nodded and stood straight. She made a fist and Toren blocked.

“That doesn’t mean strike like a pathetic weakling! Hit harder!”

Erin did.

“Ow.”

It wasn’t as if there was any soft part on Toren to hit. Erin punched again and her fist collided with his bony arm.

“Ow.”

After a few minutes Calruz had Erin learn to block. This time Toren attacked, striking her hands and arms hard. But it was easy. Surprisingly easy to see everything coming. Erin’s arms hurt but the skeleton never landed a punch or kick on her. He was probably taking it easy like Calruz, but the Minotaur seemed approving.

“Now—a spar.”

“Can’t we rest instead?”

Erin complained as she rubbed at her arms. She needed a healing potion. She could already feel the bruises.

“No. Consider this a final test. Both of you—spar with each other. You are a good match. Equally weak. Well, the skeleton knows how to fight but it should be good practice.”

She wanted to protest, but arguing with Calruz was worse than trying to shift a stubborn bull. Erin stumbled towards Toren as the skeleton raised his guard. He feinted at her. Mechanically she blocked.

Blocking was easy. Punching was easy. It was too easy. Fighting was—wasn’t something Erin liked.

Toren kicked at her chest and Erin’s arm was pushed away. He punched her in the breast.

“Ow! Hey—”

His fist caught her in the jaw. Erin stumbled, and then got mad. She caught his fist and slugged Toren in the head. This time he stepped back. The skeleton carefully eyed Erin and then charged.

That was too fast. And he’d never tried that on Erin. But she was angry now. She stepped sideways at the last moment and rammed him from the side. Toren went sprawling and Erin kicked him in the ribs as he was getting up.

She didn’t see how Calruz’s eyes widened as she blocked Toren as he rapidly struck at her face and sides, kicking, punching without landing a hit on her. Erin was just acting on instinct. Toren was so slow. He was a fighting machine, but he fought like a machine. He wasn’t original.

She stomped on his foot and pushed him down. Toren rolled as she kicked at him and leapt to his feet. He feinted at her face. Erin didn’t move. She could tell it was fake. Toren pulled his fist back, confused. Erin hit him futilely in the shoulder. The problem was that she couldn’t really hurt him. He was all bones.

But she was winning. She could feel it.

Erin was still sick. And tired. And her hands hurt. But there was something else there, too.

Frustration. And a bit of anger.

No—not just a bit. A quiet ocean, sitting just below the depths of Erin’s thoughts. A part of her hated violence. But another part was relieved she could fight back. It wanted her to never be helpless. It was anger, and something else.

And it felt—good to let it out.

Toren punched and received a cross-counter to the face. Erin didn’t know that was what she did. She just saw the opening and took it.

She kicked and Toren blocked. She dodged a fist to her side and slapped his arm down before hitting his arms as he covered his face.

His guard was faltering. Erin felt a rush of energy. She punched faster, putting her hips into the blow like Calruz had shown her. More strength. She was stronger than Toren, thanks to her skill.

She just wanted to knock that stupid skeleton down. He kept coming at her, again and again. It didn’t matter that she hit him. He was dead, and he had no flesh to bruise. But he didn’t hold back and her arms were hurting.

Toren had just kicked Erin’s leg and she was staggering. But she saw him run at her and something in her mind clicked. She stood up, raised her hand, took one step, and kicked.

One of Toren’s legs broke. Not the bones themselves—but the leg disconnected and the skeleton went down. He raised his arms and saw Erin’s fist flying at his head.

She felt it. A perfect strike. A moment of truth. Erin put her entire body into one hit, throwing her entire weight into a strike that smashed right through Toren’s guard and crashed into where his nose would have been if he was alive.

Thud.

His head detached. In slow motion, Erin saw the skeleton’s head fly off the body. She stared as Toren’s head flew off the top of the hill, bounced down the incline, and rolled to a stop fifty feet away.

Erin stared at the upright torso of Toren in shock. After a second it buckled and fell down.

She stared at her hand. She’d opened up the skin on her knuckles and she was bleeding. But she’d felt it. She’d hit Toren harder than she’d ever hit—or done—anything in her life. She’d felt it.

Erin stared around. She wanted to know if that was what Calruz was talking about. She looked at the Minotaur. He was gaping at her, mouth wide open, eyes bulging.

After a few moments Calruz closed his mouth. He stared at Toren and then at Erin. He cleared his throat a few times, and then looked at Erin.

“…Can you do that again?”

----

“Take a good look at this.”

Gerial whistled and beckoned to Ceria. She broke off her conversation with Yvlon and both women walked over to see what was so interesting.

Cervial held up a massive crossbow, sleek black metal and pointed death. It wasn’t currently loaded of course, but just by looking the two adventurers could see how much power it had.

“What kind of weapon is that, Cervial?”

He grinned at Yvlon and held it out to her. She accepted it carefully and stared curiously at the device.

“A crossbow. Made by Dwarves. It’s like a bow, but one that you can load and wait until you need to shoot. This one’s a piece of art.”

“Beautiful.”

Gerial took the bow from Yvlon as Ceria rolled her eyes. She wasn’t as impressed as the other two humans, but listened readily enough as Cervial extolled the virtues of the device.

“It cost nearly every gold piece we had, but it was worth it. We cracked the armor of a Stone Golem with one shot and we’ve brought down more shielded enemies than I can count with this.”

“And this is your trump card for the expedition?”

“We might be at a disadvantage if we run into tight corridors, but with this we’ll be able to pull our weight.”

“Well, we’re all set here. We’ve got a battle plan worked out and my team and The Horns of Hammerad are set. Lir says his folks have enough mana potions. The only group not accounted for is Gerald’s. Where is he?”

Cervial grinned.

“Gerald is busy going through the last adventurers clamoring to join the expedition. He says he’ll probably turn them all down, but you never know who’ll turn up.”

Gerial reluctantly handed the crossbow back to Cervial. He could easily imagine the Horns of Hammerad with every member holding one of the deadly weapons. Well—everyone except Calruz and Ceria.

“Did we find anyone useful?”

“Some.”

Yvlon shrugged and counted off on her gauntleted fingers.

“A few mages, a Silver-rank with sword and shield…not too many, but better than nothing. I asked the mage you told me about Gerial, but he turned me down.”

Ceria glared at Gerial while he studiously looked the other way.

“It was ah, just a thought. We could use all the help we can get.”

Cervial shrugged. He carefully began unstringing the black crossbow.

“No use fretting about one or two swords now. We’re five adventuring teams. Counting the extras we’re over forty people strong and all of us are Silver-rank. If there’s a Gold-rank team better than this I’d love to see it.”

Gerial nodded. He glanced covetously at the crossbow as Cervial went to store it in a case, and then looked up. Both Yvlon and Ceria glanced up as well.

They were in the Adventurer’s Guild, sitting by themselves at a table. But someone had walked over. A Drake. He seemed…young, at least as far as they could tell. His scales were a lighter shade of blue than most, and he was smiling. At least, it looked like a smile. Just one with a lot of teeth.

“Um. Excuse me? I heard you were the team going into the ruins. Would you mind if I joined your group?”

The adventurers shared a glance. Yvlon cleared her throat and smiled at the Drake.

“I’m sorry, but we have enough fighters and this is a dangerous expedition we’re embarking on. We can’t take rookies or people who aren’t adventurers.”

The Drake looked surprised.

“How do you know I’m not an adventurer?”

“You don’t have any weapons or armor, and you act like a civilian.”

“Oh.”

The Drake nodded.

“But I still think you might be willing to take me. I have valuable skills I could contribute and I—I’d like to improve myself.”

“Oh? And what class are you, then? And I don’t believe I caught your name.”

Flustered, the Drake bowed his head slightly.

“Forgive me, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Olesm. I’m a [Tactician]. Level 24.”

----

Ceria and Geiral returned to the inn and paused. Instead of dinner they saw an unusual sight. All of the Horns of Hammerad were sitting in the grass, watching as Calruz chased Erin around. He was punching and kicking at her—not hard or quickly as they knew he could, but with enough force that Erin was screaming and running around, dodging frantically.

“Aaaah! Help!”

Erin ducked and scuttled away as Calruz swung one massive fist towards her head. He scowled at her.

“Stop running! Don’t—don’t crouch like that. If you must retreat, do it quickly and without wasting motion. Never turn your back to the enemy!”

“Calruz! What are you doing?”

Ceria ran forwards. Erin dove and hid behind her. The half-Elf barred Calruz’s way as the Minotaur tried to follow Erin.

“Move aside Ceria. I am teaching her to fight.”

“By bullying her?”

“She must learn to fight an enemy stronger and larger than she is.”

“Yeah, but there are limits. I wouldn’t ever get in a fight with a Minotaur. If I’m ever without mana or any potions I’ll just run for it.”

“Exactly!”

Erin tried to keep Ceria between her and Calruz as she glared at the Minotaur.

“I’m hungry! And tired! I’ve been doing stupid spars all day! I haven’t even had lunch!”

“Is this true?”

Calruz didn’t appear fazed by either female’s disapproval. He snorted and didn’t respond. Ceria crossed her arms.

“I’m sure Erin was grateful to learn from you, but if she doesn’t want to learn any more, you have to respect that.”

Calruz waved one hand dismissively.

“Running away will not solve anything. She must hone her instincts. I will let her rest after she lands a proper hit on me. Now move—”

He pushed Ceria aside. The half-Elf growled but Erin dashed forwards.

“Take this!”

Erin kicked upwards. Instantly, Calruz’s legs tried to lock together but it was too late. Gerial, Sostrom, and every male in the Horns of Hammerad winced as Calruz bellowed in agony.

Fleeing backwards again, Erin stopped ten feet away and stared at Calruz.

“How’s that you jerk? Happy?”

Ceria started laughing as Calruz swore in his own language, uttering several guttural sounds as he straightened. He covered his private…part with one hand as he glared at Erin.

“That—was a dishonorable blow.”

“But it was what you wanted. Keep chasing me and I’ll—I’ll do it again!”

He glared, but Erin could glare with the best and she was tired and upset. At last he blew out air through his nostrils, veins throbbing on his forehead.

“Go. Rest.”

Before he could change his mind, Erin fled. Ceria was still laughing.

Calruz turned to Toren and pointed.

“I will teach you. If you are to protect her, you must fight better. Come. Strike at me.”

The skeleton rushed at Calruz without needing further prompting. The Horns of Hammerad began taking bets on whether he’d hit Calruz.

Toren feinted at Calruz, and then tried to copy the move Erin had used. His foot came up. Calruz caught his leg and narrowed his eyes at the skeleton.

Erin had just poured herself a cup of water and come back outside in time to see Calruz hurl Toren’s head off the hill. She cleared her throat and the Horns of Hammerad looked around.

“If you’re done beating up my skeleton, does anyone want something to eat?”

----

“That was hilarious.”

“It was underhanded.”

“I’ve never seen anything funnier.”

Ceria was still chuckling as she sat with Calruz in the inn, eating pasta. It was Erin’s go-to option when she was pressed for time or tired. Boil water, insert pasta, chop up onions, add some butter and other ancillary parts and you’re done. Nothing simpler.

Calruz was still glaring at his plate, but he’d mostly recovered from Erin’s literal low blow. He shook his head as the half-Elf kept poking fun at him.

“At least she was able to strike at me, even by surprise. That is good.”

Ceria stopped laughing and grew serious for a moment.

“But really Calruz, why were you so intent on teaching her? I thought you were going to just show her how to punch properly, not try and turn her into an adventurer overnight.”

The Minotaur grunted and forked a huge mess of noodles and sauce into his mouth.

“I was. But she showed me that she had more potential than that.”

“Oh?”

He grunted.

“She is—talented. Very talented. Ceria. In the course of a few hours she was able to overwhelm that skeleton in a fist fight. And then she unlocked a skill.”

Ceria had been drinking blue juice. She choked on her drink and Calruz had to tap her on the back before she got her breath back.

“You’re joking.”

“No.”

“That’s impossible.”

“She has a sense for battle. I have met others like her. She is gifted. Talented. It is a shame she never trained before this.”

“Stop. My ears are burning.”

Erin smiled at Calruz as she brought another plate of steaming sausages out for the two at their table. The Minotaur and Ceria both made sounds of appreciation, but he stopped her as she was about to go back into the kitchen.

“You have potential. But if you are attacked now, what I have taught you will not suffice. You must practice. Train. Remember that for now you are still weak.”

“Oh, I know. I’m not going to do anything stupid even if I do learn to fight, though. Anyways, if I ever do get attacked I’ll just toss a jar of acid at them.”

Ceria paused as she reached for the largest sausage on the plate.

“What?”

Erin carefully brought out one of the small jars she’d made for the Goblins and showed it to Calruz and Ceria, explaining where she got it from. In the meantime, Ceria scooted her chair as far away from the glowing green liquid as she could.

“Do you—do you have no sense of danger? Why are you so casual with that stuff? What if you dropped it?”

“Hey, I’m not the one handling it! Toren doesn’t have any fleshy bits to melt and it’s useful.”

Ceria shook her head.

“You Human—no, you’re crazy. Pardon me Erin, but you are.”

Gerial leaned across the tables and studied the jar of acid. He looked up at Erin.

“May I buy one?”

“You? Are you insane, Gerial?”

“It may come in useful Ceria. Besides, it shouldn’t break if I put it in my pack.”

“It’s your funeral. Just don’t walk near me while we’re fighting.”

Erin nodded happily and took the silver coins from Gerial.

“I’ve got lots more if you want some.”

Gerial hesitated. He eyed the jar of acid and shook his head.

“One is fine. It may be quite useful, but I’ll trust to my usual preparations rather than rely on it.”

“Speaking of which…”

Ceria cleared his throat and nodded to the other Horns of Hammerad. They gathered around and the half-Elf pointed to a big pack she and Gerial had carried from the city.

“It’s time. Yvlon bought supplies, but I’ll hand them out now so you can put them in your packs. We’ve got rations and water and four healing potions and four mana potions each. Torches and flint—all the basic supplies but we’ll have a few carts we’ll take in with us.”

Erin was curious.

“Only four healing potions? Wouldn’t it be better to, I dunno, take a lot? That way you can just heal up again and again, right?”

The adventurers laughed, but not condescendingly. Ceria shook her head and smiled as she explained.

“There’s a limit to how much we can heal. After so many potions the body just—quits. And besides, if we’re taking enough injuries to need more than a few healing potions we’re already in trouble.”

Gerial nodded as he handed out bulky packages of dried rations and water flasks around.

“The longest battle we’ve had was against an undead Lich a while back. We ran out of potions and half of our group could barely move from healing up. We can’t rely on magic for everything.”

“Just everything important.”

Ceria muttered under her breath and smiled at Gerial when he glared at her. Calruz cleared his throat and all the people in the room quieted.

“I am not one for speeches. But tomorrow we go into new ruins, and we may find treasure beyond our dreams there or the greatest of enemies. Regardless, we go together. The Horns of Hammerad shall return triumphant.”

He raised his mug.

“To honor and glory.”

“To honor.”

The Horns of Hammerad clinked glasses. Erin watched, silently, as they drained their mugs in a single go. She was impressed. Even Ceria managed to do it. You wouldn’t expect such a petite form to be able to hold so much liquor—especially when she repeated the trick.

“Can you really handle drinking so much?”

Ceria grinned and shrugged.

“This isn’t that strong. And besides, we’re heading in later in the morning. If I get really drunk I’ll get someone to heal me. Or drink a mana potion.”

Erin looked confused. Ceria explained.

“Mana potions and alcohol don’t mix well. I drink it, everything comes back up. It’s messy, but effective.”

Somehow the idea of a graceful half-Elf puking like a college student after a night of hard drinking offended Erin more than anything else.

“Just so long as you don’t forget and drink the acid.”

Ceria shuddered and Gerial shook his head.

“No worries. I’ve got that securely put away.”

They went to bed early. That surprised Erin. She wouldn’t have been able to sleep a wink, but maybe it was the alcohol that did it.

The Horns of Hammerad trooped upstairs. Erin remained in the common room. She wasn’t tired yet. Well, she was, but there was still some part of her that was awake.

She sat in the empty room, watching Toren move around collecting mugs and sweeping up dust. Vaguely, Erin rubbed at the knuckles of her right hand. It still hurt.

She stared at her hand. It was just a hand. She’d moved chess pieces with it for so long her fingers were callused. But now she stared at her knuckles. She’d never hit anything before in her life. But today she’d won a fight.

Erin closed her fingers into a fist and then sighed. She shook her head.

“…What a crappy thing to be good at.”

[Skill – Power Strike Learned.]

----

On the first day Ryoka woke up. Her head was screaming but her mind was clear. She heard the voice in her head – only it wasn’t her own.

[Skill – Indomitable Will Learned.]

She cancelled it. A skill was meaningless. She didn’t need what she already had. She would never be controlled again.

Ryoka got up and began to run.

North.

Towards Liscor.

1.00 H

On the day of the expedition all the members of the Horns of Hammerad woke and trooped downstairs to breakfast in silence. Erin, the cheerful innkeeper had provided breakfast—eggs and bacon.

Ceria sat at one of the tables, blinking and poking at the wobbling yellow yolk of one of her poached eggs. She was still sleepy, but the blue juice woke her up in a pleasant way.

She looked up from her food and glanced around the room. Good. Everyone was present. All ten members of the Horns of Hammerad were sitting, eating or talking quietly. Calruz and Gerial sat together, discussing the plan no doubt. Sostrom and the only other mage in the party, Marian, sat at the same table talking while the five warriors sat at another table and ate silently.

Aside from Hunt, the most senior among them, Ceria didn’t know them well. They were colleagues and friends of course, but she’d only fought with them for less than a year—in the case of their most junior members, only a month.

Sostrom laughed at something Marian had said. He liked her. Or rather, he liked her as the only other human mage in the group, and the only person who didn’t make fun of his bald spot on occasion. Ceria still hadn’t figured out if he and Marian were sleeping together.

If they were, she hoped Marian wouldn’t break his heart when she left. She was a good mage, a solid Level 16 [Elementalist] – ordinary in both class choice and spell selection, but she pulled her weight.

It was just—

She wasn’t a true adventurer, a true member of the Horns of Hammerad. Ceria still respected her, but Marian only wanted to earn enough money to start a store or an inn. Adventuring was a job for her.

It was for Ceria of course, but it was also her life. She lived to adventure. By earning gold she could master new spells, and with the rare magical items she looted she could continue to improve herself as a mage and level. She wouldn’t stop adventuring even if she found a thousand gold pieces lying around. She’d just buy a new spell book or a wand and continue on.

Ceria was a lifer, although she didn’t know that reference. She, Gerial, Calruz, Sostrom, and Hunt were all adventurers who would never quit. Even before they’d joined together to form the Horns of Hammerad two years ago, each one of them had spent years working their way up the ranks to get where they were.

Someday Marian would quit. And they would find someone else to fill her place. Perhaps right after the expedition. If she didn’t die.

That was a dark thought, and not one she should be having. Ceria shook her head and concentrated on her meal. She broke the yolk on her egg and watched it soak into the slice of toasted bread. How delicious.

She loved eggs. She loved climbing into trees and stealing them out of nests. Humans tended to disapprove of that in general, but Ceria had grown up part of her life foraging off the land. She wasn’t picky about where her food came from.

She’d eaten earthworms, beetles, bark off of trees which wasn’t good for your bowels or health, birds both raw and uncooked, and occasionally, mushrooms and roots and such. She’d come close to starvation so many times she had developed an appetite for unusual things. Like bugs, although Ceria didn’t like having to pick them out of her teeth afterwards. But they were fun to eat.

Mm. She wondered what those acid flies Erin sold tasted like…

----

“Mm. We’re all set. Time to head out?”

Gerial took a drink of the sweet blue juice before replying to Calruz.

“We’ve got an hour yet. Plenty of time. Let’s not rush things.”

The Minotaur nodded silently and gestured at Toren for another plate of bacon. Gerial wondered how he could eat so much. His stomach wasn’t letting him eat more than a bit of breakfast. He was so energized with nerves as much as anticipation he felt like getting up to pace around.

But of course, he couldn’t. The vice-captain of the Horns of Hammerad had to project calm, and that was what Gerial was going to do. He took his job seriously. He had to be a leader like Calruz.

And Ceria, for that matter. Gerial spotted her sitting at her table, looking pensively down into her plate of food. She didn’t seem the slightest bit nervous. He envied her that.

The half-Elf’s gaze had turned far-off, and her expression had become distant. Gerial was familiar with that look. Another thing to envy.

He felt he would never understand the true complexities and unearthly thoughts that surely ran through her mind. She might appear human in many ways, but Ceria was half Elf. Half of her was descended from legends and who knew what deep thoughts she pondered at times like these?

“Hey there!”

Gerial jumped and quickly looked away from Ceria. He smiled up at Erin and smoothed his mustache. Now here was someone he could understand. Erin Solstice was as likeable and approachable as any innkeeper he had ever met. He would be sorry to say goodbye.

“Ah. Miss Erin. I hope you are recovering from your cold? We were intending to leave payment and go without bothering you, but you were up before we were.”

Erin looked startled.

“What? Oh, no I couldn’t do that. I’m feeling a lot better. And you guys paid me so well—a big breakfast is the least I could do. You’re uh, heading into the ruins today, aren’t you?”

Calruz grunted and Gerial nodded.

“Indeed we are. We and four other adventuring teams are going in.”

“Wasn’t it six?”

Gerial winced and glanced at Calruz surreptitiously.

“The last adventuring Captain ah, pulled out at the last moment.”

“Hendric. Coward.”

Calruz rumbled darkly. Gerial hoped he wouldn’t start shouting. That would be the last thing they needed right before the expedition.

To his relief, Erin didn’t seem off-put by the Minotaur’s ire. She poked Calruz in the side, causing the Minotaur to glare at her while Gerial choked on his food.

“Cheer up, grumpy. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

She glanced at Gerial.

“So—should I expect you guys to come back tomorrow? Or tonight…? How long is this uh, dungeon exploration going to take?”

“We’re not sure. I wouldn’t count on our return, but it could happen.”

Gerial shrugged uncomfortably, not liking the uncertainty in his own voice.

“We have enough supplies for at least four days. I doubt we’ll be down there that long unless we need to do excavation, though.”

Across the room Hunt looked up from his meal. He had egg in his beard, which Gerial didn’t comment on.

“Those ruins could be deep, though. No telling how far down they go.”

“We’re not clearing out every room. As soon as we strike a treasury or find enough to justify the costs we’ll leave.”

“Hah! Tell that to the other teams. Gerald is saying his team won’t quit until they reach the bottom floor. A big change from what he was saying earlier.”

“Well, if we’re going in we might as well go all in.”

“Speaking of which…Gerial, is it time?”

Ceria glanced meaningfully at the sky. Gerial nodded.

“I suppose we should be going. The meeting is about an hour’s time away and we don’t want to be late. Is everyone finished?”

They were. Or they were once he spoke. The strange skeleton walked around the room collecting dishes while Erin saw the Horns of Hammerad off.

“Good luck. Don’t get uh, killed by a dragon or anything.”

Gerial and the others had to laugh at that.

“There are no dragons on this side of the world, miss. Probably anywhere.”

“Um. There are. I’ve seen one.”

Their laughter stopped abruptly. Gerial stared into Erin’s honest expression. He opened his mouth to say something—

“Hello? Hello! I’m sorry I’m late!”

A figure dashed up the hill. A pale blue Drake wearing leather armor ran up the hill. He was desperately trying to buckle his sheathed sword to his belt as he stopped before the Horns of Hammerad.

“I’m not late, am I? I forgot we were supposed to meet here.”

“Olesm?”

Erin stared incredulously at the Drake.

“What are you—you’re going on the expedition too? But you’re not an adventurer!”

Olesm, the [Tactician] they’d hired on yesterday widened his eyes and his tail began twitching as he noticed Erin.

“Oh, Erin. I didn’t—well of course you’d be here. This is your inn—yes, I am going on the expedition! I’m hoping to raise my level. I was so inspired by you that I decided it was time to break out of my shell, so to speak.”

“But can you defend yourself? I mean, I don’t want to be rude but…”

The way Erin looked at Olesm spoke very plainly of her opinion of his fighting prowess. The Drake blushed, but stuck out his chest.

“I may not be a good fighter, but my skills should help quite a bit. Believe me, I will come back better than ever. And perhaps then I’ll win a game against you.”

“But it’s chess. That’s not the same as—as fighting.”

“I’ve stayed the same level for far too long, hiding in the city rather than joining the army or adventuring myself. Today I’m going to change that.”

“Enough talk.”

Calruz growled, making Olesm jump and stammer. He pointed.

“We have to go. Follow us but don’t lag behind.”

“Oh of course. My apologies.”

Olesm sidled behind the Minotaur and smiled toothily at Gerial. The man tried to smile back, unsure of whether he should bare his own teeth.

Erin was talking to Ceria while she tried to offer the Horns of Hammerad a basket of food to take with them.

“I’ll be happy to serve you if you guys come back tonight, no matter how late. Just knock, okay? I’ve got guests coming anyways.”

“Oh? Who?”

“We’re going.”

Calruz poked Ceria in the back, making her stumble. She turned and kicked at the Minotaur, but it was time to go. Gerial bade farewell to Erin as the Horns of Hammerad began descending the hill.

They saw Erin’s guests about fifteen minutes after they’d began walking. Five Antinium were making their way from the city. Two of them were carrying one Gerial recognized. His stomach still clenched to see Pawn’s mangled limbs, but the Antinium greeted them without any inflection of pain in his voice.

“Greetings, adventurers. Olesm.”

“Oh? Pawn! Are you going to play chess at Miss Erin’s?”

Olesm greeted the Antinium cheerfully as the other adventurers mumbled awkward greetings. Pawn nodded at him.

“Yes. We do not have any duties so we go to play.”

“Oh? I thought you always worked in the morning. Is something wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong. We have no tasks because we are waiting.”

“Waiting? Waiting for what?”

Calruz growled and started walking again. Olesm followed, but Pawn and the other Antinium simply followed their group, continuing the conversation.

“We wait for the Queen.”

“The Queen? Is she…is she doing something?”

“Yes. She is close to completing her task.”

“I heard about that. She didn’t talk to anyone and sent that new Prognugator out. Ksmvr, right? What was she doing that was so important.”

“We do not know. But it will be tomorrow.”

Olesm stared at Pawn. Gerial saw Ceria glance swiftly backwards at the Antinium.

“What will be tomorrow?”

“It will be. Good luck on your mission Olesm.”

“Oh, um bye—”

The Antinium left. Calruz growled and stomped onwards, muttering about delays while Gerial pondered the conversation. What did it mean? Did it even matter? The Antinium were strange. Gerial had learned long ago how dangerous they could be, and how strange they were. But Pawn didn’t seem evil. Odd, perhaps but—

Whatever thoughts he had, they were put out of Gerial’s mind when he saw the ruins in the distance. Even from miles away, the dark, grey and black stone of the huge structure stood out against the hill it had been excavated from.

The Horns of Hammerad paused, and then began walking faster. Suddenly this morning, their small concerns, and indeed, everything else in the world had ceased for them. They had been waiting patiently, these last few days. They had enjoyed themselves, gotten into small trouble or out of it, but what they had really been doing behind it all was waiting.

Waiting for this. The ruins loomed, massive, unexplored. It called to them. They were adventurers.

They resumed their march. Unconsciously, their pace increased. They felt it in their blood, in their bones, and the beating of their hearts.

Danger and glory, waiting for them in the darkness below.

----

The ruins had first been discovered a few months ago by a shepherd tending his flock. Drakes kept sheep and other animals just like humans, and one of them had been walking over a hill when he’d tripped over a rock.

After he’d nearly broken his foot trying to kick the rock, the Drake had dug a bit of it up and realized the rock wasn’t so much a rock as part of a building. And when he’d dug further with the help of his friends, they had discovered that the bit of the building was in fact an entire structure hidden in the earth.

And after the Antinium had been called and days of excavations had gone by, the city had found that the hill the building had been found on wasn’t so much a hill as the entire structure itself.

Today, the ruins sat half-uncovered against the large hill, black stone entrance gaping open in the light of the sun. Ceria, Gerial and the other Horns of Hammerad stared up at it.

A wall of black rock. A carved stone doorway and in places, open windows that allowed some ventilation into the massive structure.

From up close the massive stone doors were even more imposing. Although some of the dirt that had once covered the structure had been excavated, it was clear that this—building was huge on a completely different scale than the structures in Liscor.

The roof had not been excavated, and nor had the lower half of the structure. Apparently, an Antinium had dug down but had gone over a hundred feet without reaching the bottom of this massive structure. The city had decided to only dig up what was necessary, and so the doorway had been uncovered and the rest of the building left alone.

That made the sight of the black entrance poking out of the hillside covered in grass and flowers all the more odd. And disturbing. The massive doors could easily hold two creatures twice Calruz’s height and you could push two wagons through at the same time. It dwarfed even the large group of adventurers standing in front of the entrance.

Perhaps there had once been a fresco or decorative front of some kind, but age had worn away any details. And besides, there was really only one message the giant stone doors told. No one was meant to easily enter this place—or exit.

“Gods, I saw it from far away but up close this is something else entirely.”

Gerial shook his head as he and Ceria stood looking up at the ruins. She nodded.

“The Ruins of Albez seem tiny compared to this one. Well, they’re more spread out but still.”

“Look at that.”

Sostrom pointed to one side of the doors. Aside from the miniature village that had popped up around the ruins full of enterprising shopkeepers, adventurers, and curious watchers, another group had already occupied this space.

Around fifteen armed warriors, mainly Drakes and a few Gnolls – sat together around an open fire, talking and eating while two of them stood watch at the doors.

Hunt growled under this throat and gripped the mace at his side as he eyed the other group.

“More adventurers? I thought we were the only ones entering. If they’re trying to steal a march on us—”

Olesm shook his head before anyone else could.

“They’re not adventurers. That’s the local Watch.”

“The Watch? Why are they out here?”

Ceria nodded to the group of guardsmen and then pointed to another group of warriors sitting across from them. They had no fire, but they were watching the doors as well.

“There are several Bronze-rank adventuring teams on permanent guard duty as well as several members of the Watch. Seems like this place disgorges monsters every few days. Nothing more dangerous than a mob of zombies or the local wildlife, but they’re being cautious.”

Hunt relaxed and the other Horns of Hammerad nodded. They weren’t used to a city militia taking such an active role, but none of them were strangers to the idea of guarding a dungeon.

“Good thing we’re going in today. Otherwise the city’d probably put up a request to clear out this place in a month or two.”

“It still might come to that. Unless they destroy this damn place something’s going to make its nest here.”

“True.”

Gerial nodded in agreement as he studied the massive building. It was certainly inconvenient to have so close to the city. It would surely attract monsters and worse, provide a lair for them to reproduce.

It wasn’t as if monsters popped out of thin air. Except for the ones that did, of course. But caves, abandoned buildings, and magical sites tended to attract monsters like honey followed bees. Monsters would breed in the darkness or reanimate in the case of the dead. Sometimes they fought each other but often they lived in disturbing harmony—until the unlucky adventurer intruded on their lair.

“There’s Yvlon. Move up.”

Calruz finally spotted the person he was looking for. He began walking towards Yvlon and her group of female adventurers wearing polished silver metal. Gerial picked up his pace so he arrived just as his Captain did. Calruz had no time for minor details like that, but proper courtesy was important. It was one of Gerial’s few complaints that the Minotaur so often forgot that.

But Yvlon was not the kind of petty person to be bothered by such things in the first place. She smiled at Gerial and Calruz as they approached and his heart skipped a beat. She was truly beautiful. Almost as beautiful as Ryoka, but different of course…

“Calruz. Gerial. I’m glad your team is here on time. Everyone else has already assembled. Shall we begin?”

“Why waste time waiting?”

Yvlon nodded. She stepped back and let Calruz precede her. Gerial called to to the Horns of Hammerad and they joined the group of adventurers waiting outside the doors.

Ceria walked with the Horns of Hammerad, merging with the main body of adventurers as she stared up at the dark doors. It was hard—even for someone who had lived as long as she had—to stand still in this crowd. And indeed, the other adventurers around her were constantly shifting, moving around with the same energy she felt.

There were so many! It was a crowd of adventurers like a full day at the Adventurer’s Guild, but in this case every single one of them was Silver-rank. They let the Horns of Hammerad move next to them, calling out good naturedly and exchanging slaps on the back in the case of the warriors, polite nods and only the occasional spine-shattering slap in the case of the mages.

At the head of the crowd, Yvlon and Calruz joined three other captains. Lir, Gerald, and Cervial nodded at the Minotaur and female adventurer as the crowd grew silent.

The blonde adventurer raised her hands for silence, but it was already present. The adventurers – and come to that, the large crowd of onlookers waited in breathless expectation.

“Captains, I am pleased to see you all here. May I inquire if you are all ready?”

They nodded. Calruz was the first to speak. The Minotaur’s rumbling voice was loud enough to be heard quite audibly even from the back of the crowd.

“The Horns of Hammerad are all here.”

“The Flawless Fight are ready to go.”

“Kyrial’s Pride is armed and ready to fight!”

“We of the Circle of Reneë have prepared our spells.”

“And the Silver Spears are assembled.”

Yvlon nodded to the other adventuring Captains and raised her voice to address the crowd.

“I’m pleased to see everyone is present. But I expected nothing less of the best adventurers on this side of the continent! We are here today to make history by entering the Ruins of Liscor. We don’t know exactly what is down there, but we do know something dangerous lurks below. And where there is danger, there is treasure and fame to be found.”

The adventurers shifted at that. Yvlon was speaking their language, and her gaze was open and honest. She didn’t lie about the danger and that they appreciated.

“Some of us may perish on this expedition. Lords willing, it will be few or none. But I swear that each of you will receive a portion of the reward, and your families and loved ones will not be left penniless should you fall. That is the pledge I make towards each of my Silver Spears and I offer the same to you today.”

She shook her head, and her golden blonde hair shook in the air, catching the light. Ceria smiled at that; Yvlon had to know exactly what she was doing and how her armor and hair shone.

“But enough dire thoughts. We are about to head in. Steel yourselves. Trust in each other. We know what must be done. Calruz, your Horns of Hammerad and Gerald, your Kyrial’s Pride have been chosen to lead the expedition. Would you do the honors?”

Calruz and Gerald nodded. They stepped towards the doorway and gestured.

“Kryial’s Pride—form up!”

“To me, Horns of Hammerad.”

That was their signal. Ceria walked out of the crowd, ignoring the gazes of the other adventurers. Some of their group weren’t so graceful and stumbled or blushed, but they formed up behind Calruz as the Minotaur stood next to Gerald.

The massive, armored man who carried a battleaxe almost as large as Calruz’s scowled when he saw Olesm tagging along with the other adventurers.

“Who’s the Drake? I thought we agreed not to hire anyone else, Yvlon.”

Olesm jumped and his scales faded in color, but Yvlon shook her head.

“He’s a [Tactician], not a warrior Gerald. A Level 24. He came to us yesterday. I thought you’d agree we could definitely use him.”

Gerald scowled, but Yvlon was right. He nodded grudgingly.

“Hmph. Very well. Just so long as he doesn’t start giving orders to the rest of us.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that. I’m just here to help.”

“Fine.”

“Are you done?”

Calruz growled at Gerald. He was breathing harder, and his gaze was narrowed as he stared into the darkness of the ruins. Gerald opened his mouth to snap something back, and then paused.

“I’m done. Shall we?”

“Yes. Let us begin.”

The two Silver-rank Captains shared a glance. Then, as one they unholstered their battleaxes. It was pure showmanship—none of the adventurers expected to be attacked the instant they entered, but the crowd loved it.

The adventurers and civilians cheered as Calruz and Gerald advanced into the ruins, weapons at the ready. Their vice-captains, Gerial and a big man named Ulgrim followed. Ceria was right behind Gerial as they stepped into the darkness. She held her glowing wand at the ready as the adventurers around her ignited torches or cast [Light] spells.

The darkness enveloped the adventurers even as Yvlon and the other two captains began following their teams in. Ceria felt the air change; grow dead and stale as the darkness closed around them. The grass and dirt became carved stone, and their footfalls echoed in the silence.

The adventurers readied themselves for anything. They could sense it. They had broken the sanctity of this dark place, and they would not leave until they had uncovered its every secret.

It had begun.

----

“You know, I would have expected something to happen by now.”

“Oh really? You haven’t explored many dungeons, then.”

Even in the flickering light of their torch, Ceria could see Olesm blush.

“This is my first one, actually.”

“Oh? Don’t freeze up and you’ll be fine. Besides, once this is done you can tell all your friends about it. I’m sure Erin would be very impressed. Everyone loves experienced…adventurers. Especially ones who have big…swords. And explored a lot of dungeons of course.”

It was quite entertaining to Ceria, seeing how red she could make Olesm’s scales. The Drake cleared his throat and quickly cast around for something else to say.

“These rooms—are quite odd, aren’t they?”

Ceria nodded. It was fifteen minutes into their expedition, but so far the adventurers had seen very little. They’d passed through a long entrance hall of some kind, into large, open rooms with little ornamentation and a lot of dust. Their group had split up – scouts from Cervial’s group going ahead while the main group went through the various rooms, but they’d found little.

“Broken chairs, metal—I can’t tell. It’s been too long and everything is dust now. This was once some kind of temple, perhaps? A massive one.”

“It’s big. But I could see that. Strange though—all these rooms must be living quarters, kitchens, storage rooms, and so on. This is practically a city within this one building. How come no one knew of this before?”

“It must be ancient. Far older than Liscor. I can’t imagine how they built all of this—and out of stone! They must have had hundreds, thousands of workers or some kind of powerful magic.”

Ceria nodded as she stepped around a collapsed table that might have once served twenty guests at a time.

“Another time. Another world. They knew how to build such things back then. Is this one of the Walled Cities, perhaps, only forgotten by time? Or something like Liscor?”

“The design of the gates certainly suggest that. Of course, you need a roof or some good magic when the rainy season comes. I suppose it could have been built by my people.”

Olesm looked around and shuddered. Ceria knew how he felt. She wasn’t comfortable with the dark, echoing rooms any more than he was. For all they were spacious, she felt like she was cramped, confined. She could handle it, but Olesm was nervous and chatty, and she didn’t mind talking to them.

It wasn’t as if the other adventurers weren’t talking. The scouts and leading adventurers were silent as they walked up ahead, but the main group of adventurers kept quiet conversations going, joking, talking idly, anything to keep the tension at bay.

“So—I’m with your group. The ah, Horns of Hammerad? I’m afraid I don’t know much about it. Liscor didn’t get many high-profile adventurers before this.”

Ceria raised her eyebrows.

“High profile? Hear that Gerial? I wish we were that famous.”

Gerial looked back and smiled wryly at Ceria. Olesm was confused.

“But you’re Silver-rank adventurers. I just assumed—”

“Ceria is just teasing you Mister ah, Olesm. We are quite well known locally. It’s just that we’re hardly the only Silver-rank teams in the north. And if you count the coastal cities—well, there are a number of Gold-rank teams and adventurers up there and we can hardly compare.”

“Well you seem quite competent to me. What does your group do? Aside from exploring ruins, that is.”

Gerial smiled.

“We specialize in monster slaying. If a troublesome group of monsters is infesting a region we’re usually one of the first groups who answer the call. The Horns of Hammerad are a close-combat group. We close in and smash the enemy while our mages provide backup. Gerald’s Pride group is the same.”

“Oh I see, I see. And the Silver Spears?”

“Good at defense, coordination, strategy; a solid team. The Flawless Flight on the other hand do a lot of scouting work and hunting troublesome monsters that hide.”

“And the—the Circle? They were all mages. Is that usual?”

Ceria shrugged.

“Not usual, but not unusual either. They take on almost all requests. They’ve got a bad reputation, though.”

“Why is that?”

Ceria grinned.

“Because they run away quite often.”

A mage from further up ahead had heard that. He turned and flicked up a middle finger at Ceria and she grinned and waved at him in apology. Mollified, the mage went back to his conversation.

Lowering her voice so she wouldn’t be heard, Gerial murmured to Olesm.

“If they’re out of mana there’s not much they can do. So yes, often Lir’s team will abandon a mission if something makes them use up all their potions or if the enemy is more numerous or stronger than they anticipated.”

“Oh. I see.”

“They do good work most of the time, though.”

Gerial nodded in agreement.

“But they do have their own style. They prioritize all contracts with anything magically related. It’s their specialty, just like how Cervial has a lot of archers in his group and Yvlon’s team wears silver armor.”

“Do the Horns of Hammerad have a, um, noticeable feature?”

“…Not so much a feature as a code. We don’t break our promises. We don’t retreat and if we have to abandon a job, we repay all we took in advance.”

Gerial murmured into his mustache.

“‘Death before dishonor.’”

“Really?”

“It’s what we live by. Our leader is Calruz. And you know what Minotaurs are like.”

“Oh. Of course.”

Olesm was silent for a while longer as the adventurers trooped onwards. They reached some kind of audience chamber with a large altar at the front. Ceria pointed while the Captains called for a short break.

“Look at that. You can tell this place is old because they have a place to pray.”

Yvlon nodded.

“True. What do you make of it, Olesm? Was this place built by your people?”

He could only shrug helplessly.

“It certainly seems like it. How else would you explain it being so close to Liscor?”

“And if it was, would they have much treasure?”

Every adventurer in earshot stared expectantly at Olesm. He thought about it and nodded.

“Oh, most definitely. We love collecting things. We are descended from dragons, after all. IF this place was at all important I’d expect some sort of vault.”

That made the other adventurers perk up, including Gerial and Ceria. It was always welcome to know their efforts might not be in vain.

They were about to keep moving when a loud voice cut through the hushed conversations.

“Contact.”

The word made every adventurer’s head snap up as they scanned for any sign of movement. But the person who had spoken was passing a message from further ahead.

“One of our scouts found a nest of Shield Spiders. The damn things must be infesting this place already.”

Several adventurers swore, but Gerald hushed them with a slashing movement on one hand.

“Shut it. How big’s the nest?”

“Not big. Around eight adults and a few dozen children that we could see. Perhaps there’s more in another room, but they’ve only webbed up one so far.”

Gerald looked at Olesm.

“You’re the local expert. Any advice?”

The Drake nodded.

“Shield Spiders are weak against fire. Two mages with armed warriors holding shields should be able to burn the nest if they know the [Fireball] spell or equivalents.”

Yvlon nodded.

“My team can do the fighting. Lir, if you want to send some of your mages…?”

“Done.”

The scout led a detachment of nine adventurers off as the others prepared to move. That was the benefit of such a large group. They could keep going even if they ran into smaller groups of monsters.

Their path took them onwards, through rooms in a winding pattern. If the ruins had been fully excavated, they could have made much faster progress, but the diggers and adventurers who had come before them had dug randomly and created a maze within the maze. More than once the expedition had to halt to dig out a collapsed tunnel again.

Cervial shook his head as they passed by a corridor blocked off by a wall of dirt.

“I don’t like these unexcavated areas. Something could tunnel their way around and ambush us.”

Yvlon paused and considered the situation. Lir tapped her on the shoulder and gestured to his wand.

“We don’t have time to block everything off. How about this? We’ll set wards that will go off if something crosses them.”

She looked at Calruz and Gerald. They nodded in agreement.

“That sounds good. Do it.”

They left a few mages and warriors to set wards while they moved on. After about thirty minutes they’d reached a long, long corridor wide enough for eight people to walk across when they heard a shout.

This time they saw a woman running back towards them. She was a [Thief], and her footfalls barely made any sound despite her rapid approach. She stopped and gasped out her message, panting as more scouts ran back towards them.

“Zombies. At least thirty of them up ahead. Probably more. They’re coming from below.”

This time every adventurer drew their weapon. Olesm fumbled as he unsheathed his sword and the Captains glanced at each other.

“My team will take the front—”

“Let my archers soften them up first. We can take down at least half in this open area. Save you the energy.”

“Good. Try not to use magic just yet if we can help it. Form up!”

Calruz turned and began ordering the Horns of Hammerad while the other captains did the same. The adventurers somehow understood what they were meant to do and moved smoothly into position, but Olesm blinked around, confused.

“Over here.”

Ceria tugged him into line behind the warriors, who’d formed a wall of shields and weapons staggered so that they could fall back if need be. The mages waited in the back, ready to cast if need be while Cervial took his team to the front.

Eight adventurers, including him set arrows to a collection of bows. Several longbows and shortbow, but the Dwarven crossbow and two slings as well. Cervial held the crossbow, sighting down it calmly as he knelt with one knee raised to steady the weapon.

He raised a hand. The adventurers, already silent, made no sound.

“I hear them.”

Ceria did too. And soon every human could hear the rapid, thudding footfalls echoing in the distance. It was faint, but growing louder.

Olesm was shaking with nervous energy. Ceria wanted to calm him down, buit she was afraid touching him would make him shout. So she waited.

As the sounds grew louder, she also heard faint moaning and growling in the distance. The zombies were making noise. She saw Cervial’s eyes narrow, and he swung the crossbow up.

The bolt discharged with a loud thunk and two of the adventurers with longbows shot as well. Ceria couldn’t even see that far into the darkness, but Cervial nodded.

“Got one.”

One of his team nodded and the other shook his head.

“Hit one in the leg.”

“Chest shot. Didn’t even slow him.”

They reloaded as they spoke. In a few seconds their bows flew up and they fired again.  They did this twice more before the zombies came into view of the adventurer’s light.

Corpses ran at the adventurers. Corpses given life. They were not human. They couldn’t be, with parts of them rotted so that intestines and bone poked through their dead skin. They were also dark, some green with fungi and rot, but others blue or black in death, their skin leaking bits of their liquefied innards.

Olesm gulped as they came into view, but Cervial’s team didn’t hesitate. Every weapon moved up and they began shooting, the slings whirling heavy stones into the eyes and faces of the zombies as the arrows cut down others.

A bolt from the black crossbow punched through the heads of two zombies, tripping up their companions as they ran at the adventurers.

Ten zombies fell. Then twelve. Sixteen. As they were twenty feet away Cervial surged to his feet.

“Back!”

The rest of his team rushed through the gaps in the line the warriors had left for them. Instantly, the adventurers in front closed ranks. The zombies ran at them, biting, mouths gaping obscenely wide as they lunged at the adventurers.

Calruz was up in front next to Gerald. Ceria saw him raise his axe, but not to swing as a zombie ran at him. He just leveled the head at the zombie and extended his arm.

The sharp blades of the battleaxe crashed into the zombie’s chest, flipping it backwards. It fell back and Calruz brought his axe casually down on its ribcage. Bone broke and the zombie lay still.

The other adventurers met the undead charge in the same way. Shields rammed into the frail dead bodies, pushing them back while swords, axes, and maces clubbed them down, bashing in their skulls, severing their heads. It wasn’t even close to a fair fight. The adventurers worked in tandem, outnumbered the dead, and had Levels and Skills. The dead only had rotting bodies, and soon, not even that.

After the last crawling zombie had been dispatched, Yvlon looked around.

“Anyone hurt? Any injuries?”

There were none. She went to inspect the corpses along with Cervial and a few of their scouts.

“Hm. Look at this, Yvlon.”

Cervial showed her a few of the corpses. Yvlon saw ruined human faces, their flesh reeking from their rapid decay. She coughed and a mage murmured a spell.

“[Cleansing Wind].”

“Thank you. What am I supposed to see, Cervial?”

“This. They’re mostly human, these zombies. And freshly dead. If they weren’t, we’d be fighting skeletons.”

“More of the adventurers who first came in?”

“Very likely. But see behind them—?”

Yvlon saw.

“Drakes. Badly rotted, too.”

“But not too badly to be useless. That looks like a preservation spell, to me. Something is keeping them from rotting.”

“Or restoring their flesh. Wonderful. Do you think the main threat will be the undead, then?”

“They don’t play nice with other monsters. That would be my best bet.”

Cervial grinned, his teeth illuminated in the torchlight. But then his smile faded.

“Still, that was quite a group. Not exactly a small welcoming committee, was it?”

Yvlon shook her head.

“For our first real encounter in here? I’d say it was light enough.”

The other man nodded, but he still seemed trouble.

“Zombies can sense the living. It’s only natural they’d feel so many of us and come running.”

He paused.

“Still. That was a bit too convenient and quick for my liking. Normally I’d expect them to be spread out as they sense us and follow each other, not rush all at once like that.”

The armored woman paused, thinking.

“Could be coincidence.”

“Perhaps not.”

She nodded to the scouts.

“Go wary.”

They nodded, and disappeared up ahead, their lights rapidly fading in the blackness.

Ceria found Olesm was shaking, but not with fear after the short battle. He stared at the dead, gagging slightly until the magic wind took away the stench.

“That was so—so impressive! There were so many, but you took care of them like—like—”

The Drake tried to snap shaking fingers. Ceria smiled.

“I had nothing to do with it. Good old fashioned metal did the trick here. Which is a good thing. If we had to start casting over a few undead we’d be in trouble.”

“Ceria!”

The half-Elf glanced up. Yvlon was waving her to the front next to the other Captains. She also gestured at Olesm.

Ceria approached, Olesm trailing behind her. Yvlon smiled at both.

“Not a bad start, is it? We work well together.”

“Still, that was a lot of undead. Should we expect more up ahead?”

“More than likely. We were debating using your [Illumination] spell now, Ceria. What do you think?”

Ceria hesitated.

“I can’t use the lights to illuminate where I haven’t been. I could use it to light the way back  but—I think I should wait. It’s not like we’re so far in that it’s hard to find out way back, and when I do cast it, it should be at a place we mean to hold in for a longer time.”

Yvlon nodded.

“When we make camp, then. We’ll find a spot. But we’re hours from needing rest so we’ll hold off.”

“Are we moving forwards now?”

“Almost. The scouts are saying this corridor begins to slope downwards. This is the place that leads to the second floor.”

“That’s where all the other teams disappeared.”

“Exactly. We’re going in ready for anything.”

Gerald and Calruz were indeed bringing all of the best adventurers to the front, creating a wall of flesh and metal while the mages and adventurers carrying ranged weapons followed behind.

“I’m sticking in the middle while Cervial’s team covers the rear. Will you walk with me, Ceria?”

“I’d be delighted to. Olesm?”

“Oh, I’d be honored. And they’re moving. Should we—?”

Yvlon and Ceria walked forwards and took their position in the middle of the group. The Silver Spears spaced themselves out across the corridor, forming a second line that could hold if the front had to fall back.

The human adventurer talked quietly with Ceria while Olesm lagged behind them, awkwardly chatting up Sostrom as they walked down the corridor’s increasing slope.

“I’m glad you aren’t angry at me.”

“Angry? Why would I be?”

Yvlon smiled ruefully.

“I feel like I had a lot to do with the—incident involving Ryoka earlier. I truly didn’t mean to cause that much trouble.”

Ceria shrugged awkwardly.

“That was mostly her fault.”

“Even so. My aunt had mentioned how much she wanted to meet this Runner, and I couldn’t fathom why. I wanted to test her, but not push her over the edge.”

“That girl is all edge. I don’t understand why Magnolia—well, there are certain things that strike me about her. But why the lady of Reinhart would spend so much effort on her is beyond me.”

“Beyond me as well, I’m afraid. My aunt does not confide in anyone, and she has—eclectic interests. But I do hope Ryoka doesn’t do anything rash. Once you fall into my aunt’s machinations it is hard to break free.”

Ceria was surprised. She looked at Yvlon in the flickering light and saw the adventurer smile.

“You don’t want to capture Ryoka to gain favor with her?”

“Let’s just say I admire her independence, if not her self-control. Besides, it’s bad if Aunt Magnolia gets everything she wants. Hold up, what’s this?”

The adventurers had stopped at an open room, large and filled with stone altars and the remains of wooden tables. And curiously, open stone slabs, placed symmetrically around the room.

“Another prayer room? How strange. But this is definitely a temple, then.”

“But why have a shrine underground? It makes no sense.”

Ceria shook her head as she stared at the stone slabs placed around the room.

“No. This is—different from above. What are those open places for? They look—big. Long enough to accommodate a body.”

“A place to sleep? But why the place to pray?”

Ceria shrugged. And then her eyes widened.

“I know. This is a place to put dead bodies to be cleansed before they’re buried. This isn’t a temple. It’s a crypt.”

The adventurers around her who heard that muttered, half in agreement, the other half worried. It was good and bad news. Ceria heard Gerial explaining why to Olesm behind her.

“A crypt or a tomb is good because there’s probably treasure buried with the dead. But it usually means traps, ancient curses and hexes on the lid of tombs and so on. Not to mention the undead.”

Yvlon raised her voice to be heard by the others.

“It’s a good sign, though. We know there’s something valuable here. Any place with this much architecture had to be important.”

Gerald nodded. He seemed happier than Ceria remembered ever seeing him.

“Could be powerful artifacts up ahead. Let’s keep moving.”

“This is a good place to fall back to, though. See—there’s only two ways in and we can use that long corridor as a killing zone with our bows if we need to.”

Cervial pointed around the room. Yvlon nodded with the other Captains.

“If we can’t find anywhere better we’ll camp here. But for now—let’s continue.”

The adventurers formed up again and moved onwards, a bit faster now that they knew what might lie ahead. A tomb, or perhaps a treasury for the dead. It made their hearts beat a little faster, their feet move a little quicker.

Ceria was just about to ask Yvlon more about Ryoka and what she had been told about the girl when someone exclaimed up ahead. She and Yvlon pushed forwards again and found a split in their path.

“What’s this? A split in the road? Which way did the scouts go?”

Gerald growled while Calruz squatted on the ground and looked around for a sign.

“No markings on the walls. Why didn’t they double back and warn us?”

Yvlon frowned as Cervial and Lir both pushed their way forwards.

“That is odd. Should we send a spell to contact them? Lir, you said your group used a short-distance communication spell, right?”

Lir nodded. He raised his glowing staff.

“I will talk with them. One mom—hold on, what’s this?”

The glowing bright-blue light from his staff had illuminated something further down the corridor. Lir pointed, and walked over to something on the ground while the other captains followed him.

“It’s quite large—a bag?”

It was indeed a bag, or rather, a large, bulky sack sitting on the ground. It wasn’t alone. Ceria could see a few more objects lying on the floor, although the light didn’t illuminate them.

“Careful Lir. It could be a trap.”

“Hm. [Detect Magic]. Nothing.”

Cautiously, Lir poked the bag with the tip of his staff. He moved the sides a bit and something spilled out. Lir swung the tip of his staff down and his eyes widened.

“Gold? Gold?”

It was indeed gold. As the other adventurers exclaimed, Lir carefully picked up the piece of gold and stared at it.

“It’s not money obviously. But what is it? It looks—like part of something else. A broken piece of gold from a wall or—or statue or something.”

Gerald frowned.

“Is there more inside?”

Cautiously, an adventurer opened the bag and exclaimed in amazement.

“More gold! And jewels! Gods, it’s a small fortune!”

Several other adventurers clustered around instantly, but Cervial pushed them back. He bent and picked up a small ruby, staring hard at it.

“This is strange.”

“What is?”

He showed the gem to Yvlon and the others. Ceria could see it glowing in the light. It was clearly high-quality, but there was something off about it.

“Look at the sides. Stone. It was attached to something. A wall perhaps, or some kind of art…?”

“You’re saying this is from some other part of the building. Looted by an adventurer…?”

“Must be. And these other…yes, these are all bags full of loot! Abandoned. Why?”

“Something got them. Or—scared them enough that they dropped everything and ran.”

“But no one ever made it down to the second floor and returned.”

The adventurers were silent. Ceria felt the slight pricking of unease in her stomach.

Strangely, it was Olesm who spoke in the silence. He looked around in the darkness, eyes flicking around him.

“Those scouts. They never reported the split in the tunnel. And they would have come back. Where did they go?”

Yvlon opened her mouth, and then her eyes widened. A third of the adventurers in the room jerked or grabbed at their weapons. Ceria had felt it too.

Ceria and Yvlon exchanged a look.

“My [Dangersense]—”

“Ambush!”

That was the only warning they had. Something shrieked off in the distance, and then the walls around them slid open, and the dead poured out.

1.01 H

The dead charged out of the darkness in an unending tide of desiccated corpses. Their ruined flesh and glowing eyes in hollow sockets flickered in the torch and magelight. Zombies ran, crawled or shuffled in a wave of discolored skin, but they weren’t alone.

More undead had appeared: skeletons that sprang at the nearest adventurers with inhuman grace and ghouls, the advanced form of a zombie which moved and fought with supernatural speed and strength. And far worse, in between the lesser varieties of the dead larger shapes and pale figures could be spotted.

“Crypt Lord!”

“Not just one! Four of them!”

“We’re surrounded! Retreat!”

“Hold your ground!”

Calruz’s massive voice rose above the others. He cleaved a running zombie in two as he shouted at the adventurers.

“Hold, damn you! Fall back in order! Warriors, hold and mages retreat to the chamber!”

It was impossible to tell if anyone had heard. The undead were coming from all sides, not just the two passageways but from behind the adventurers as well.

Yvlon and Ceria stood side by side, eyes darting left and right. The undead were everywhere. They were already attacking the adventurers around Ceria and Yvlon, and only their position in the middle of the group had given them a chance to react.

Ceria raised her wand, but there were too many bodies in the way from where she was. Yvlon was in the same situation. The blonde adventurer looked behind her. The adventurers were trying to move back, but a group of the dead had appeared behind them, holding them in place.

“Where are they coming from?”

Ceria pointed.

“There! Secret passages!”

Parts of the stone wall had opened up to let the undead come pouring out. They were only small alcoves, barely large enough for a small group to stand comfortably. But the dead had been packed inside, waiting until someone stepped in their trap.

And now the trap was sprung and death was all around.

The warriors in front of Ceria were grappling with the undead, but they were hemmed in, and had trouble lifting their weapons. Yvlon stepped backwards and slashed at a skeleton that was stabbing a mage. The woman collapsed, bleeding, but disappeared under the press of legs before Ceria could grab her.

Desperately, Ceria shifted to line up a spell, but she was trapped. They were too close together. She looked at the back of a warrior in chainmail and raised her wand. She could help him with a spell—

A huge, clawed hand seized the warrior around the waist and dragged him screaming up into the air. Ceria froze as the undead monster who had seized the armored man hurled him into the press of the dead where he was instantly swarmed and torn apart.

The other adventurers around Ceria fell back rather than get into range of the thing’s claws. She tried to retreat, but now the press worked against her. She was suddenly at the front and the monster was in front of her. It was no zombie. She knew she was staring at a Crypt Lord, one of the thinking undead.

A Crypt Lord was a dead creature animated by powerful magic that had grown even more terrible over the years since its reanimation. Whatever shape they originally had, it had been twisted by rot and decay. They stood taller than every adventurer save for Calruz, their hunched backs and huge, bloated faces grinning with more sharp teeth than a human could have.

It wasn’t teeth, but bones. Yellowed bones that had been shifted and broken to create the illusion. The Crypt Lords ate the dead to recover their bodies. That was why their powerful arms and legs had a terrible patchwork appearance as the flesh and bone had fused to become whole.

The Crypt Lord grinned at Ceria, and black liquid ran from between its teeth. They had blood, of a kind. Poisonous black blood that carried disease and death.

It spat and Ceria dove at once. The black poison struck her, but most of it landed on her robes. She rolled to a safe patch and saw two glowing blue eyes peering at her from above.

For a second Ceria relaxed. It was just Toren. But—this skeleton wasn’t the same. It was covered with red blood and held a jagged, broken sword in its hands. And Toren was miles away and above ground.

The bloody skeleton raised the blade and brought it down on Ceria as she tried to roll again. It struck her in the back.

Ceria shouted in agony, but again her robes caught the blade and took most of the blow. She still felt like something was trying to crush her spine, but she was alive. Not for long, though. The skeleton raised its sword again.

Ceria pointed her wand up. A shard of ice blasted the skeleton’s head off and the rest of the body crumpled to the floor.

Shaking, she leapt to her feet. She was exposed. The Crypt Lord spat again, but this time at another adventurer. It was too dangerous. She raised her wand and aimed.

The monster had an amalgamation of eyes it had stolen from corpses. They clustered together in huge fleshy sockets, around fifteen individual eyeballs in each ‘eye’. They spun towards her and she spoke.

“[Ice Spike]!”

The thick shard of ice buried itself in the Crypt Lord’s head and a gout of black blood spurted outwards with the ruined eyeballs. The Crypt Lord roared soundlessly and ran towards Ceria.

“Duck!”

Ceria didn’t know where the voice came from, but she instantly crouched. She felt her hair catch on something and several strands were yanked out as Cervial loosed a crossbow bolt straight into the Crypt Lord’s other eye.

This time it did scream out loud, a wailing cry that came from multiple voices within it. Ceria staggered back as it began to flail around, striking the other undead around it as it searched for something to kill.

Ceria turned, but suddenly five zombies appeared out of the melee and ran at her and the archer-Captain. He cursed and pulled out a shortsword rather than reload. Ceria took one down with another [Ice Spike] before two of them lunged at her.

Ceria knew over fifty spells she could use, but her wand had contained the [Ice Spike] spell and thus she could cast it faster than anything else. She hammered a shard of ice into the chest of one zombie, making it sit down hard and then fled from the other one’s hands.

The undead Drake lurched after her, but a woman with a mace bashed it to the ground. She was one of Yvlon’s Silver Spears, although her silvery armor was covered in gore.

Ceria didn’t bother to even shout thanks. In the next moment both she and the warrior were fighting again. She fired over the head of an archer and caught a ghoul as it leapt down on the man. He looked up, backed away, and then shot the creature three times in the face.

More movement. Ceria spun and saw a downed figure she recognized.

A ghoul was crouching on top of Gerial, slashing at him with its claws. Ceria didn’t hesitate. She ran forwards, drawing her belt dagger from its sheath. She planted it in the back of the ghouls’ head, ramming it through the softened skull and into the exposed brain.

To her horror, the ghoul didn’t die from her attack. It turned its head, glowing crimson eyes flashing with hatred at her. It raised a claw, and Gerial kicked up. The Ghoul tumbled off him and he sat up and ran his sword through its shoulder.

Ceria raised her wand and blasted the creature’s face apart. It went down for good and she helped Gerial to his feet. His face was a bloody mask, but he grabbed a potion from his belt and emptied it over his injuries. They began healing even as Ceria watched.

He gasped and shuddered as Ceria covered them with her wand.

“Gods, this is a mess. Where are the others?”

“I don’t know.”

Most of the torches had been dropped on the ground, and only a few [Light] spells were illuminating the darkness. It made everything twice as hard, as adventurers mistook each other for enemies.

“Gerial. We can’t regroup like this. I need to cast [Illumination], but I’ll need defending.”

He nodded.

“Do it.”

Ceria raised her wand and began focusing on the spell. It was so difficult as adventurers fought and monsters screamed around her, but she had to. Her mind was focused on a single point, and then that single point became many. She held the image of what she wanted in her head and willed it to be certainty.

“Form on me! Horns of Hammerad, to me!”

Gerial shouted as he struck and kicked undead around them, trying to keep them from reaching Ceria. She saw as the magic in her surged. She was in a half-place, half in this world, watching, fearing, trying desperately to cast a little faster to save her friends, half in the world of magic, riding the eddies and currents and seeking the truth.

Motion. She saw a Drake—the only one that wasn’t dead in this place—running away. A break in the dead coming from behind had created an opening, and he ran through it, fleeing the battle.

Part of her wanted to shout, but the magic was nearly ready. Olesm was running in the other direction faster than Ceria thought he could move. Eight other adventurers fled with him, all of them mages to judge by their clothing.

A group of skeletons was in hot pursuit. They disappeared into the darkness and Ceria prayed she wouldn’t be too late. The magic reached a tipping point, and she opened her mouth.

“[Illumination]!”

Light suddenly filled the long corridor. Adventurers cried out, shielding their faces as orbs of light flew up from the ground, bright, shining white beacons spaced ten feet apart. They turned the darkness of the crypt into day.

For a second the undead faltered with the living. They hesitated, perhaps as the Crypt Lords sensed their advantage was gone. The adventurers shook the temporary blindness from their eyes. Now they could see the enemy. They roared and attacked.

Gerial crashed into two skeletons, scattering their bones. Ceria raised her wand and used another spell.

A small wave of water struck Gerial behind the knees. He staggered, but his heavy armor kept him upright. The skeletons weren’t so lucky. They fell to the ground and immediately began pushing themselves upright.

That wasn’t her main goal, though. Ceria aimed her wand at the spreading pool of water and it froze. Gerial cursed as the water turned to ice, but he was suddenly surrounded by a huge area of iced ground. Adventurers jumped out of the way rather than fight on the unstable footing, but the dead were less intelligent. They slipped and fell as they came after them, easy targets.

More zombies rushed at Ceria and she ran back. The adventurers had formed a rough circle and she found another mage throwing bolts of fire off of his staff. He whirled and smiled at her.

“Ceria!”

“Sostrom!”

“You take that side I’ll take this.”

They stood back-to-back, blasting corpses back with their magic. Ceria spotted Calruz and several other warriors fighting the Crypt Lords, keeping the four massive creatures at bay while the lesser undead tried to break through the ranks of adventurers.

“We need more space!”

Sostrom yelled it in Ceria’s ears. She nodded.

“There! Get to Lir!”

The two mages ran back, letting other warriors close the gap. The mage-Captain was hurling lightning with his staff at a Crypt Lord. Ceria grabbed him by the shoulder and he spun.

“We need to cut them off! Can you cast a spell?”

He shouted back.

“I can! But I need an opening! And the dead are behind us as well!”

“No!”

Both Lir and Ceria stared at Sostrom. He pointed.

“Look!”

Another hole had opened up behind the embattled adventurers. Flashes of light and spells blasted apart zombies and skeletons. More adventurers, fighting in the burial room they’d passed.

“There’s our opening! If you can buy us time—”

“Give me a minute. Can you clear the area first?”

Ceria nodded.

“Sostrom—”

“On it.”

He covered both mages as they began to concentrate again. Ceria raised her wand and felt the heat building in her wand. She aimed and shouted at the adventurers in front of her.

“I’m going to cast a big one. Everyone get back!”

They looked around, saw the fiery glow coming from her wand, and scattered to the left and right. Ceria saw Gerial ram into Calruz to get the Minotaur to move aside. She aimed at one of Crypt Lords as it swiped at the retreating adventurers.

“[Fireball]!”

A glowing orange orb of fire as large as a basketball burst from her wand. It shot down the corridor and struck the Crypt Lord in the chest.

Ceria felt the blast kick her backwards and heard only ringing. Sostrom caught her, and for a few seconds all was smoke and confusion. Then Ceria saw the Crypt Lord howling, caught ablaze and the dead around it scattered, literally in fiery pieces or thrown to the ground.

She shouted at the mage next to her.

“Now, Lir!”

His face was covered in sweat. Lir raised his staff and pointed at the open space as the undead tried to gather for another charge.

“[Wall of Flames].”

Fire burst from his staff and shot past the adventurers, some of whom were unlucky enough to be scorched by the magical flames. A curtain of fire blocked off the corridor, each flame reaching nearly to the ceiling. The adventurers in front fell back, as the undead entered the flames and retreated, burning and screaming.

“Now—everyone, to the rear!”

Yvlon’s voice rose and the adventurers turned. Some of the undead had been caught behind the fire. They were hacked to pieces and the group ran back to the large room.

“The spell is about to run out! Mages, buy us some time.”

Lir nodded. He raised his staff and two more mages joined him. They pointed at the single entrance to the room and walls of light and magical runes appeared on the floor, blocking entry.

“[Ward of Safety].”

“[Lesser Barrier].”

“[Sanctuary of Light].”

None of them were particularly high-level spells, all being Tier 1 and Tier 2, but together they did what an individual spell would not.

Ceria saw the wall of flames spell Lir had cast die out, and then the undead ran at the barrier. But they crashed against the spells and though they struck and hit the magical walls, they were unable to break through.

The adventurers watched, tense, until the undead began to pull back. The four Crypt Lords stared silently at the magic and then began walking back into the darkness. The undead followed silently. In a matter of minutes they were gone.

The battle was over. And just as if another spell had been cast, suddenly Ceria could hear the other noises around her. Men and women crying out in pain, the voices, the scraping of metal and splashing as people poured potions over wounds or took off armor to get at injures—all the noises that had been covered by the pounding of her heart.

“Screw me with a Wyvern’s tooth, what the hell was that?”

Gerald was shouting in the center of the milling adventurers. He was holding a piece of cloth to stop the bleeding as a healing potion regenerated a huge bite that had been taken out of one of his legs. He pointed to the corridor filled with corpses.

“They tore us apart out there! That was an ambush! A damn ambush from the undead!”

“How many people are injured? Who’s missing?”

Yvlon strode around the room, listening as adventurers called out. Ceria looked around for her group and ran to the Horns of Hammerad. Miraculously, they were all there. Marian, Gerial, Calruz, Sostrom—

“Hunt? Where’s Hunt?”

Ceria looked around in sudden panic.

“Here. He’s here, Ceria.”

One of the other warriors, Barr, pointed to the ground. Ceria saw Hunt was lying with his head propped up against a pack, his face twisted into a grimace, hands frozen in a clawed position.

“What—”

“A Wight got him from behind. It raked him with those damn paralyzing claws and he froze up. He’s okay—but the magic isn’t going away for a while.”

Ceria sighed in relief. It wasn’t good—Hunt was out of commission, but he wasn’t dead. She looked at the other adventurers. They were all battered, including herself. Even with healing potions, they all had some injuries. Except for Calruz. The Minotaur looked like he’d barely taken a scratch in the fight, and only the gore painting every inch of his battleaxe testified to his involvement.

“Ceria. It is good you are well. The lighting spell was well-timed, as was the fireball.”

He nodded at her as he scanned the room. She opened her mouth for a scathing retort, and closed it.

“Yeah. I’m glad everyone’s here. How many people didn’t make it?”

The answer was six, which was nothing short of a miracle. But it was really only six dead, and many more wounded. Most of the injuries the adventurers had taken could be cured with healing potions, but several had lost fingers or limbs, and some had broken bones in ways that couldn’t be healed with a mere potion.

The hardest-hit group had been Cervial’s Flawess Flight. They’d lost two in the ambush, and two more in the scouting group. He was weeping as he reloaded his crossbow with another bolt.

“I fired it right at the damn monster, but it just took Elise and ate her. Damn it. Damn them.”

“That was a disaster.”

Lir agreed as he rested on a stone slab. His face was grey, a sign he’d used too much magic. Ceria felt the same way, although the mana potion she’d taken was helping.

“How did they sneak up on us like that? We let our guards down, thinking the undead couldn’t.”

“They were being lead by Crypt Lords, that’s how. Those bastards can command the other dead.”

“Crypt Lords. I’ve never fought their kind. Those giant things at the back—they can think?”

Lir and Ceria nodded.

“How dangerous are they?”

“A Crypt Lord is a threat capable of wiping out a Silver-rank team if they’re not careful. Estimated level is…around 22. Possibly 26 if you factor in their special abilities. They’re mostly dangerous because they can command the dead around them to do things like lie in wait or use pincer attacks.”

Gerald swore.

“Gods. No wonder Charlez and his team didn’t make it out. We very nearly didn’t either.”

“Good job on that [Illumination] spell, Ceria. Without it we would have been cooked.”

Ceria bowed her head as Yvlon nodded at her. Cervial nodded dully and Gerald grunted.

“Yes, and the mages certainly saved us. But there’s a problem. Where’s that damned lizard?”

“W-who? Me?”

Gerald scowled across the room at Olesm. The Drake flinched as he stormed towards him.

“You! I saw you running away! I should run you through myself, you coward!”

Olesm raised his hands as Gerald’s fists tightened.

“Please, allow me to explain—”

“Hold it Gerald!”

Another mage sitting with his back to a wall raised his hand wearily as Gerald’s face reddened. He pointed at Olesm.

“That Drake didn’t run. He saved us. And you as well. When the undead were running at us, he got a group of us mages and used a skill to let us escape the ambush. That let us get back here and open a path for the rest of you.”

“What?”

Gerald stared incredulously at Olesm. The Drake grinned nervously at him.

“[Rapid Retreat]. It’s ah, a [Tactician] skill although many [Thieves] and similar classes know it too. I heard Calruz shouting to get back over here and I thought the rest of you would be right behind me.”

The adventurers murmured in appreciation. Gerald hesitated, and then nodded slowly.

“Well. Good job. My apologies. Thank you for doing that. If you hadn’t—”

“It was a terrible ambush. My [Dangersense] only went off at the last moment. If we’d paid more attention to the scouts—”

“They were our best. Nothing should have been able to take out all of them without making a sound. Not even a horde of the undead. All of them had escape skills. So how—”

Yvlon rested a hand on Cervial’s shoulder comfortingly. She looked around at the other adventurers.

“We can worry about that after the threat is gone. Those spells won’t last forever. And we need a fast decision. Do we press on, now we know how many undead are out there, including Crypt Lords? Or do we retreat?”

“Retreat?”

Even Cervial raised his head at that word. He shook his head, dark fury in his eyes.

“No. We don’t do that. That was an ambush, not a fair fight. We’re going to go after those monsters and shoot them to bits.”

“Any idea on how?”

That came from Gerial. He stood at the barrier and stared out into the darkness. Ceria’s [Illumination] spell had cast light on the entire floor, but only as far as she’d walked. The branching corridor was still dark, and not a single undead could be seen from where he stood.

“They’ve already hidden themselves again. If we keep going, we’ll just run into another ambush. Granted, we know it’s coming, but I’d rather not do that again.”

Lir nodded as he got to his feet slowly.

“We could set traps and fortify this location. If we need to retreat—”

“An extended battle like that is risky. We’d be looking over our shoulders the entire time, and we’d never know we got them all.”

Yvlon sighed as she wiped her sword clean with a cloth.

“Those Crypt Lords are deadly. We need to take them out first. Do that, and the rest of the undead lose a lot of their threat.”

“Do we have any way of detecting them? A spell?”

“We could search for trapped rooms, but we’ll burn through magic fast that way. It’s risky.”

Cervial bared his teeth.

“There’s no way in hell I’m retreating, not without a huge pile of gold to put on my people’s tombstones.”

“I’m right with you, but how—?”

“I have a plan.”

Every adventurers turned and the arguing stopped as Calruz spoke. Ceria looked up from her second mana potion and had to stop herself from raising her eyebrows. Calruz? His plans were about as complex as a Goblin’s, and everyone knew it. Including him. He left all of the finesse to Gerial and Ceria.

But the Minotaur had taken the stage and it was her job to back him up. Or kick him in the tail if he said something really stupid.

“We should face them all at once.”

Ceria’s foot twitched, but Gerald was quicker.

“Are you mad, Calruz? Why in the hells do you want to do that? They nearly tore us apart in that ambush and you want to take on the rest all at once?”

The Minotaur snorted at him.

“You speak of seeking them out in their homes, but that is foolish. We are adventurers. We are stronger than they are. If we remove the element of surprise and cowardly attacks from behind, we stand a better chance of wiping them out at once than fighting with our backs to the walls every five minutes.”

The other Captains and vice-Captains fell silent at that. Yvlon raised her eyebrows and looked at Lir, who nodded.

“Calruz is right. In a straight battle without an ambush we’d hold the advantage. If we could turn it into that I’d place all my bets on our side winning handily. But how do you propose we do that, Calruz? Those monsters aren’t exactly smart, but they’re clever enough not to commit to an all-out attack. You saw how they retreated once we put the barriers up.”

“I will lure them out. If one of you possesses a [Loudness] spell or something similar, I will provoke them into attacking.”

“I know that spell. But are the rest of you agreed…?”

Lir glanced around. Yvlon hesitated before nodding, but Gerald and Cervial were already picking up their weapons.

Calruz glanced around.

“You. [Tactician]. Do you have any skills that would turn the tide of battle?”

Olesm gulped.

“Yes. A…a few. One good one. Should I use it now…?”

“No. Wait. We will recover a while longer. And then we will go and destroy those who would take our own.”

Calruz’s eyes flashed. He lifted his battleaxe and the adventurers began to stand. It swept over them, a moment of passion that turned to anger. They had been attacked. Hurt. Some of their friends had died. It was time to fight again.

Ceria felt the same mood swing through her. She eyed her wand and estimated that she could cast quite a number of spells before she ran out of mana. Yes, the undead had struck first and done damage. But they hadn’t killed the adventurers.

Now it was their turn to strike back.

----

Calruz strode down the corridor and waited as the adventurers formed up around him. He hadn’t gone too far from their room which was now their camp for the wounded and where they’d fittingly placed their dead. He waited with his hands on his axe as Lir cast the spell to amplify his voice.

“Done. I’ll cast a [Muffle] spell so we don’t get the worst of whatever you’re about to do.”

Calruz nodded. He stared into the darkness. All of the undead had vanished into the darkness, leaving only the truly dead behind. Yvlon stood next to Calruz, staring up at him curiously.

“Do you have [Taunt] as a skill? I don’t know that would even work on the dead…”

“Pah.”

That single word echoed loudly in the darkness. Calruz’s already loud, rumbling voice had been amplified several times over so that Yvlon winced. He motioned her back silently and whispered, which was still louder than shouting with the spell in effect.

“I do not need a skill. Be ready. When they attack we will crush them.”

Yvlon nodded and stepped back into line. This time all of the best warriors and other four adventuring captains were in front, with all the mages and archers towards the back. Ceria stood next to Sostrom, heart beating rapidly. Assuming Calruz’s undisclosed plan worked, they would be in a perfect position to meet the undead. If he knew what he was doing.

When the [Muffle] spell had been cast, Calruz narrowed his eyes. He raised his battleaxe and gripped it tightly. Then he raised his voice and shouted.

No. Not just shouted. His first word made Ceria’s ears ring, and she went temporarily deaf as his voice rumbled through the entire building.

“Pathetic spirits of the dead! I am Calruz, leader of the Horns of Hammerad! I challenge you. Face me and meet your end!”

Outside the ruins, the guardsmen and adventurers standing guard in front of the building looked around. They thought they’d heard something, and the shifting of dirt within made them reach for their weapons. But no attack came. Above, that was.

Even with both her hands covering her ears and the [Muffle] spell, Ceria could still only hear ringing after Calruz had finished. His voice had echoed in her bones and she felt almost nauseous as well.

She tried to say something, and realized she still wasn’t hearing. She shouted, and heard a bit of sound.

“What?”

Sostrom looked at her. Ceria pointed. He looked, and then saw it.

Movement. In the shadows, in the darkness of the long corridor at the edges of where Ceria’s [Illumination] spell had been cast, things moved. A huge shape appeared and grinning teeth and long claws made of yellowed bones moved into view.

One Crypt Lord, and then two, three…four of them appeared out of the darkness, followed by a horde of the dead. They opened their mouths and howled at Calruz as the Minotaur took his place in the line of adventurers.

“Strike me blind Calruz!”

Gerial had to shout above the ringing of his ears. He grinned wildly at the Minotaur as Calruz bared his teeth at him.

“How’d you know that would work?”

“The dead do not like sound any more than you do. It is an intrusion. I have challenged their honor. And so—we begin!”

Lir really should have taken the [Loudness] spell off of Calruz. He did, but only after the Minotaur’s large voice had set everyone’s ears ringing a second time. The Minotaur pointed.

The undead were indeed massing to charge. The adventurers waited, hearts beating, ears filled with echoes of thunder.

Olesm cleared his throat. Ceria thought he did, at any rate. She was still having trouble hearing, but the Drake spoke loudly.

“It looks like it’s my turn.”

“What?”

“I said—never mind. Here!”

The Drake pointed as the undead began to run down the long corridor. He opened his mouth, and Ceria heard the words clearly.

“[Attack Formation].”

All of the adventures gasped and looked around. As Olesm had spoken, the weapons and armor they carried felt like they had grown lighter. Even the mages felt a second wind and their magic came to them more strongly than before.

Ceria gaped at Olesm as he grinned at her.

“What was that? A skill?”

He nodded.

“I can only do that once a day at my level. But yes—it can change a battle. The rest of my skills are mostly defensive or information-oriented so this is all I can do.”

“What?”

“Never mind!”

The undead were running now, closing the long distance at alarming speed. Olesm raised his voice again as he pointed to one of the Crypt Lords. It was the one Ceria had hit with the fireball, and though it had eaten some eyes, it was still half-blind as well.

“That one is more injured than the rest. Bring it down first.”

The mages around him nodded as they readied their spell. Ceria watched the undead approach. Cervial loosed crossbow bolt after bolt with the other three adventurers in his group, felling zombies and skeletons, but the Crypt Lords and the rest of the horde ran on.

Yvlon raised her voice as the undead drew closer. They were around thirty meters away and closing ever faster. She unsheathed her sword and pointed.

“Mages!”

The magic casters needed no further invitation. Ceria and Sostrom pointed their wands and loosed their spells along with the other casters, filling the hallway with magic as the warriors kept their heads down.

The first row of undead met a wave of magic and simply…vanished. Lightning crackled through gouts of flame and spiraling bolts of energy blew limbs apart. Not all the magic had gone into the attack though; pools of slippery liquid appeared on the ground, slowing the undead and a second wall of flames turned a group of zombies into screaming torches.

Half of the mages loosed another spell before the undead were too close. Calruz stood upright and Gerald shouted.

“Now warriors, follow me! Charge!”

The armed rose to their feet and roared, drowning out the howling of the undead as they ran straight at the undead. Ceria saw the first zombie raise its hand to strike Gerial before Calruz’s massive hand punched straight through the zombie’s hand.

The adventurers and undead collided in a crash of sound that nearly rendered Ceria deaf again. But she was already running with the other mages, firing shards of ice at one of the Crypt Lords as she did.

----

All was motion. Gerial spun and cleaved the head off of one zombie effortlessly. He felt like his body was on fire. He felt like his heart was on fire. He was fighting at his best, thanks to Olesm’s skill. And not just him. Around him the captains were cutting through the undead now that they didn’t have to worry about hitting allies in front of them.

“[Whirlwind Cleave]!”

Gerald’s axe scythed through the stomachs of three zombies and a ghoul, dropping them to the ground where the big man crushed their heads with an armored boot. He turned and barely dodged a Crypt Lord’s massive hand, but Cervial raised his bow and loosed a bolt right into the monster’s face.

“[Point-Blank Shot]!”

The flesh around the bolt tore and the big monster lurched back. Gerald and two other warriors attacked it from below as it tried to recover and Gerial caught a skeleton that was trying to attack them from behind. He bashed it repeatedly with the pommel of his swords and watched it collapse as he broke a hole in its skull.

Yvlon’s sword tip exited the neck of one zombie as she struck a skeleton in the head with her shield. The blow shattered the undead’s skull and it collapsed, the crimson light fading from its eyes.

She whirled, and her shield came up to block a ghoul’s slash. She pushed the monster away and it staggered. Gerial saw Yvlon pull her sword out of the dead man’s stomach and the ghoul folded up. He hadn’t even seen her strike.

Gerial turned and found another Crypt Lord about to spit at him and Yvlon. He tackled her to the floor and the black rain covered another adventurer who fell to the ground, screaming.

“Back, back!”

Someone yanked Gerial to his feet. He looked up and saw Sostrom as the mage struck the Crypt Lord in the head with several fiery bolts of magic. It roared and seized him in one huge fist.

“Sostrom!”

The mage screamed in agony as the Crypt Lord squeezed. Gerial stabbed it in the stomach desperately, but it was too big and wouldn’t let his friend go.

“Move!”

He felt something shove him aside and then Calruz was there. The Minotaur raised his battleaxe and Sostrom fell to the ground, the severed hand still holding him.

The Crypt Lord howled and grabbed at Calruz, but the Minotaur dropped his axe and gripped the undead’s head with both of his hands. He roared in fury as he ripped the Crypt Lord’s head off. The black blood spurted from the stump and covered the Minotaurs’ fur as he hurled the head and bit of spine away.

“Gerial! Back me up!”

Gerial nodded and fended off a Ghoul while Calruz reclaimed his axe. The Minotaur’s skin was fizzing where the black blood had landed and he unceremoniously dumped two potions over his fur and then downed an antidote.

Several feet away, Ceria was in trouble. She’d been separated by Sostrom when the monster grabbed him, and a Ghoul was trying to catch her as she dodged backwards.

Gerial sliced a huge hole in the ghoul’s side, giving Ceria an opening. She hit the ghoul with three ice spikes, sending it spinning away.

A zombie struck Gerial from behind, hitting him in the back and knocking him to the floor. It fell on Gerial, biting and tearing as he shouted for help.

Ceria didn’t hesitate. She pointed her wand at the zombie’s back.

“[Flashfire]!”

Instantly, the zombie burst into flames. It stopped clawing at Gerial and started writhing, trying to put out the flames. Gerial shoved the corpse off him and got to his feet. The zombie tried to crawl after him but Calruz ran forward and bashed its skull in with a single kick.

“How many Crypt Lords are down?”

“Two—no, three!”

Gerald had just cleaved the head off of the Crypt Lord he’d been fighting. The last monstrous undead hesitated as its minions surrounded it.

“I will take care of it if you get me close.”

“Done!”

Ceria nodded and she and Sostrom ran towards Lir. The mage turned, and then all three began blasting at the undead, sending charred and broken bodies spinning to the ground.

Calruz looked at Gerial as the other man panted for air.

“With me?”

“Of course!”

They charged into the ranks of the undead. Gerial body-rushed a skeleton and planted his sword in a zombie’s chest as Calruz swung his axe and sent body parts flying. The Crypt Lord raised its head and stared at the Minotaur, possibly seeing a threat in the only creature larger than it was.

It raised its clawed hands at the same time Calruz raised his axe. Gerial knew what he was going to do and ran backwards as Calruz roared.

The Minotaur brought down his axe, cutting through the Crypt Lord’s twisted arms as it tried to block. His axe cleaved downwards, not stopping for bone or sinew as he vertically bisected the front part of the Crypt Lord’s body and struck the ground in an impact that smashed the stone floor.

Even from several feet away, Ceria felt the impact in her bones. The Crypt Lord lay on the ground, bones and skin twisted and torn.

The undead faltered, and then began to attack again. But suddenly they were without their controlling intelligence. Calruz roared, and the adventurers formed up around him. They pressed the undead back, back, until they hit a wall and were ground into paste upon it.

In the silence after the battle, Olesm shakily walked around the few twitching corpses and stared at the Crypt Lord Calruz had killed with his [Hammer Blow] skill. He stared at Calruz as the Minotaur leaned on his battleaxe, panting.

“I—I didn’t hear you say anything.”

Calmly, Calruz raised his battleaxe and shook the bits of gore from it.

“Not every skill or spell must be shouted.”

The Drake nodded slowly and looked around. The battle was over. He looked at his own sword. He’d hung back and fought with the mages, but he’d still killed several zombies and skeletons. He felt shaky, sick, exhausted as the adrenaline left him. He looked at Ceria as the half-Elf downed another mana potion and wiped at her mouth.

“We’re alive. Now what?”

The half-Elf grinned at Olesm, threw up a bit as the mana potion ran through her system, and grinned even harder. Blood and entrails had painted her face, but she didn’t seem to mind.

“Now? Now we get the treasure.”

----

On the second day, Ryoka found the dead Gnolls as she was running through the underbrush. The six warriors had been stripped of all their gear, but she saw where they had been stabbed repeatedly before being left to rot. They were freshly dead, but the insects were already gathering and they stank.

She stared at the corpses a long time, until the crawling acid flies chased her away. There was nothing she could do. She ran on, not knowing she was being watched.

1.02 H

“What about this room?”

“Empty.”

Sostrom shook his head as he walked out of another dark room, his staff glowing. Calruz stomped out behind him, growling irately. Ceria tried not to scowl at her friend, but it was hard.

“Not a thing?”

“You can see for yourself.”

Sostrom pointed into the dark room and shook his head.

“Whatever was in here, it wasn’t a treasury. And now it’s long gone.”

“Damn.”

Ceria cursed and kicked at the ground. Olesm peered over her shoulder into the empty room.

“I don’t get it. This is the lowest level, isn’t it? And you said there would be treasure—”

“I did. But who knew this place would be so cursed big?”

“But the treasure’s around here somewhere, right?”

Ceria growled at Olesm and he backed away, hands raised. Gerial put a hand on her shoulder, but she sensed the tension in it too.

“Most likely. We just haven’t found it yet, and we’re all tired. Why don’t you go with Sostrom and check those rooms out?”

Sostrom made a face, but walked with Olesm down the dark corridor to peer into another room.

Ceria made a face and patted his hand with hers.

“Sorry, Gerial.”

“I know how you’re feeling. But he’s trying to be helpful.”

“I know. It’s just—”

It was later. In fact, it was two hours later. The last of the undead had been killed and their remains incinerated with a spell and those adventurers wounded too badly to move had been sent back to the burial room. A few more had remained as guards in case more undead popped up, but the rest had been searching nonstop since then.

Searching for treasure.

“Any word from Gerald’s team?”

They’d split into two groups, one going down the left passage, the other the right. Of all the teams, Calruz’s hadn’t lost any adventurers besides Horn in either battle, so they’d taken a few of Lir’s mages while the other adventurers under Gerald had gone left. Yvlon had remained with the wounded and they were keeping up a stream of communications with several adventurers who ran messages across the vast ruins.

“We just had one come by. There he is—”

Gerial led Ceria towards a panting adventurer drinking water and talking to Calruz.

“Any word on the other team’s progress?”

The man made a face.

“Nothing substantial. They’ve come across more empty rooms same as you. There’s some kind of urns in one room—just filled with dust, whatever’s in them is long gone. Old scrolls in another, none magical. They found a few undead, but nothing else. How’s it going over here?”

“Uneventful. We killed a few zombies but they’re mostly cleared out here as well. Has Yvlon seen anything?”

“Nothing. I’ll get back to Gerald’s side of things if you’ve nothing else.”

Calruz grunted irritably and the man took off. Gerial shook his head as he watched the man jog slowly off into the darkness, a ball of light following him.

“This is where a Runner would have come in handy.”

“This is where a hundred Runners would come in handy. They could search this place faster than we can.”

Ceria kicked at a wall. She knew she was frustrated, but she was exhausted from fighting and irritable from countless annoying questions from a certain Drake. Calruz had suggested quite sensibly – which was surprising – that instead of splitting up, their team should move together closely to avoid unpleasant surprises. The need to check each room and hallway for traps or ambushes had saved them a few nasty surprises, but meant they were moving at a snail’s pace.

The fire of battle had left all the adventurers tired, it was true, but it was more than even that which made the searching arduous. The ruins had become silent once more, and somehow, without the presence of the undead it made everything feel more ominous.

Ceria kept expecting another zombie to pop out of the shadows, and one or two had—but the feeling hadn’t disappeared. The worst thing about an ambush is that you don’t stop worrying after you survive one. Rather, you keep worrying it was only the first.

Gerial was probably feeling the same, but he still tried to be reasonable.

“You know he’s never done this before. And he helped us get through that fight a lot more easily than we would have otherwise. Just don’t snap at him.”

“I know. I know. But he keeps asking and—what if he’s right?”

“Yeah.”

Gerial, Ceria, and Calruz all fell silent. Treasure. They were all certain—had been certain—it was down here. You didn’t have ruins with this many guardians without treasure of some kind. But what if the valuable goods had been knowledge, or something more intangible?

What if the dead had just congregated here because this was a glorified graveyard, and the only goods were the few bags of gold and jewels they’d recovered from the dead adventurers? It was a good haul for a single team, but wouldn’t even recoup the losses of their expedition.

Ruins could potentially be sources of amazing wealth, like the Ruins of Albez where magical items were still hidden under the rubble. But sometimes ruins were just old.

You heard stories, sometimes, of adventurers who would fight their way down to the lowest part of a dungeon, sacrificing all they had, losing friends and bleeding each step of the way to discover they’d cleared out an ancient storage house for grain, or the living quarters of some subterranean people.That was the nightmare that hid behind the dream, and Ceria and the other adventurers were living it right now.

“We’ve still got a ways to go. There’s plenty of chances the vault is just ahead.”

“Sure.”

Ceria nodded and Calruz grunted. She sighed, and was about to stand up when she heard pounding feet.

All three adventurers grabbed at their weapons and the others down the hall turned, ready for battle. But the woman who ran towards them was beaming and waving her arms.

“We’ve found something! Possibly a treasury!”

The shock that ran through Ceria was electric. She smiled and the other adventurers whooped and cheered.

“Where is it? How big?”

“It’s right at the other end of the ruins, down the other passage.”

The woman pointed back as she explained.

“We’re not sure it’s a treasury, but it has every signs of—they’ve found a huge pair of double doors. Sealed. Magical runes of warding on the fronts and Lir says some of them look like warnings.”

Ceria frowned at the same time Gerial did.

“Wait a second. That’s doesn’t sound like a vault to me. It sounds like a guarded treasury, the kind that has the nastiest monster waiting right behind the door. You didn’t try to open it, right?”

The adventurer rolled her eyes.

“We’re not idiots. Lir and the other mages are already setting up traps near the entrance with Cervial’s team. Yvlon wants a hallway full of traps before we crack the seal.”

She grinned.

“Cervial’s group even has two beartraps. Don’t know how they carried them all the way down, but they’re setting them up. Even if what’s inside is as big as an Ogre, it won’t be able to ignore that.”

Ceria had seen the iron and occasionally steel contraptions used to hunt bears and larger monsters. They were nasty, vicious, and she’d nearly stepped in one more than once. She shuddered, but it was a fine weapon to use.

“As soon as you lot finish on your side we’ll seal off this passage with a spell and open those doors. Yvlon is going to join us and we’ll see exactly what’s inside. Lir says the runes might be warning of the undead guardians, and if so, we just killed them all!”

“Or more could be inside. Wait for us.”

“How soon until you’ll be done here? Gerald wants to know.”

Ceria and Gerial looked at Calruz. He shrugged.

“We’ve found nothing of worth so far. Give us a few minutes to gather everyone and we’ll follow you.”

“Well hurry up. Gerald wants to crack the seal this instant and the other two Captains are the only thing holding him back.”

The woman grinned and dashed back as the other adventurers began to chatter excitedly. Ceria and Gerial exchanged a look.

“Warded doors? That’s right out of one of those classic stories you hear about. Odds are three-to-one it’s trapped or something nasty is lurking inside. Gerald better not open them before we get there.”

“He’s no idiot. But Yvlon has the right idea. Regardless of what’s in there, we can turn the passageway into a killing field. Even ten Crypt Lords wouldn’t survive a fully spelled passage if we combine resources.”

“Hey, hey everyone!”

That voice came from behind the others. They turned to see Olesm running towards them, beaming in excitement.

“Olesm? You’ll never believe this, but we found something! A vault, sealed by magic over on the other side of the ruins.”

The Drake skidded to a stop and gaped. He grinned.

“Really? That’s great news! But we found something as well!”

“You did?”

Ceria exchanged a glance with the others, but they followed as Olesm eagerly led the way back down the corridor. They stopped at a huge opening in the wall, possibly where doors had once stood. Olesm pointed in.

“Look—but be quiet!”

He pointed and Ceria gasped as she stared into a massive room. It was some kind of crypt. Well, the ruins were a giant crypt. Only this was the crypt inside of the crypt. What that all meant was—

“Tombs.”

“Coffins.”

Hundreds of them. Each one was stone, spaced apart evenly in a room that was so large it made Ceria feel as if she was standing outside again. She could barely see the far wall. The only light in the massive room came from a single staff. Sostrom was just inside, staring at one of the walls.

“This is the place where all the dead go.”

Olesm whispered loudly in Ceria’s ear.

“It must have countless tombs, probably with a lot of important people! And probably treasure if they bury their dead with their valuables like we Drakes do!”

That was true, but Ceria stared at the tombs and had another thought.

“They could all be undead in those graves. There’s no telling how many of them reanimated with the Crypt Lords about.”

The other adventurers crowding behind her groaned and grabbed at their weapons. Gerial shushed them while Olesm whispered.

“That’s what Sostrom said. But he found something else in there as well.”

He pointed, and Ceria saw the mage looking up at something on the wall. She nudged Calruz and he nodded, so Ceria slowly approached with the others.

Sostrom jumped when Ceria put her hand on his shoulder. He whirled, staff raised, and relaxed when he saw her face. He bent down and whispered to her.

“Ceria. You nearly scared the piss out of me.”

“Better that than you screaming. What are you looking at?”

Carefully, Sostrom edged to one site and raised his staff higher so Ceria could get a look at what he was seeing. The white light illuminated a dark stone wall, but etched into it deeply were…

“Words?”

“Something like that. It’s not magic—at least, no runes I’ve seen before. But what language it is I can’t tell for the life of me.”

Ceria stared up at the strange words, if words they were. She was familiar with several written languages and she had travelled far and wide, but for all that she had never seen this style of writing. She beckoned, and Olesm softly padded over with the other adventurers following.

“Olesm. What do you make of this?”

The Drake frowned up at the wall as Gerial turned, watching the rest of the room for movement. There was none, but the countless tombs disturbed him greatly. He could just imagine something creeping up on them while they studied the wall, and so he faced the other way while his friends conferred.

“I’m not sure. It looks like some kind of message, but is it a prayer or something else?”

“You can’t read it? Does it look like something your people might have written long ago?”

He hesitated.

“It—it could be something written in the past. But we don’t write in the old tongue anymore. I certainly can’t read it.”

“Is this important?”

Gerial winced as Calruz’s voice echoed through the room. The Minotaur wasn’t worried about waking anything. He folded his arms as he stared at the carvings.

“It could be nothing. But it might give us a clue as to what this place was or what it contains.”

“But you cannot read it.”

“I can.”

Gerial twisted his head and stared at Ceria in disbelief. She was raising her wand, and the color had changed to a light purple as she illuminated the wall.

“A little spell I picked up when I was at Wistram. [Translate].”

Sostrom whistled softly.

“That’s handy.”

Ceria nodded as the words glowed faintly with purple light. She frowned, concentrating as she spoke.

“It is. But I’d prefer a translator even so. The spell takes time, and it doesn’t work unless there are enough words to read at once. And I often get a muddled message, sometimes nonsensical depending on the content. But it should…oh.”

None of the other adventures saw anything change, but Ceria’s pulse began to quicken as the words on the wall—

They didn’t exactly change, but somehow she understood them. And she could put them into her own language. She turned to Olesm, eyes wide.

“I really don’t think this is a prayer for the dead.”

“What? What does it say?”

“I—it’s disturbing. Really disturbing.”

Calruz snorted.

“We are not mewling human children. Speak.”

The half-Elf hesitated, and then she cleared her throat and began to read haltingly. The words she read were almost like a song, and had the same cadence, the same innocent rhymes. Her words were swallowed by the darkness of the massive room.

“Skinner, Skinner!

He’ll eat your tails and tear off your skin!

He’ll pluck out your eyeballs and devour your kin!

Skinner, Skinner!

Run while you can!

Your flesh will be taken with a touch of his hand!

Hide in the darkness, hide in the light.

Fighting is useless; Skinner is fright.

He takes our scales and hides our bones

And makes this place our very last home.

Skinner, Skinner, never open his door.

Or soon your bones will lie on this floor.”

When she finished, there was only silence. Then one of the other adventurers laughed nervously, and someone else joined him. Their laughter echoed in the vast room, and then faded away uneasily.

Gerial didn’t laugh. Neither did Calruz or most of the other adventurers. Ceria’s face was pale as the light of her wand and the glowing words faded again, letting darkness creep back.

Gerial’s voice cracked a bit as he spoke.

“That was disturbing, to say the least. But what does that mean?”

Sostrom hesitated as he stared at the words on the wall.

“It sounds…almost like a nursery rhyme. But not one I’d ever tell any child of mine.”

Olesm shivered.

“I’ve never heard that…that kind of song before. Who in their right minds would write such a thing?”

“It was a warning.”

Ceria whispered the words and Calruz nodded. The Minotaur’s hand was twitching towards the handle of his battleaxe, and that made Gerial even more nervous. He tried to laugh it off, but couldn’t bring himself to smile.

“A warning? Who writes their warnings so—so cryptically?”

“Maybe someone who’s afraid of speaking plainly. Or—or—this isn’t a warning. Maybe it is a nursery rhyme, or a prayer. The kind you write of something that’s been around forever.”

Sostrom shook his head.

“Who is this Skinner, then? An undead? Or a [Necromancer] or some kind? Whoever wrote this message seems to fear him.”

“Perhaps he’s the reason this place exists.”

Olesm frowned as he looked around the room. The other adventurers blinked at him and he pointed to the tombs.

“This is clearly a burial place, but that’s odd because we Drakes don’t tend to bury our dead in stone. Too expensive. We usually cremate them. But that line…”

He stared upwards and murmured.

“‘He takes our scales and hides our bones…’. That can only be my people who wrote this. So—so they built coffins to hide their flesh from him? But is he locked away with the dead down here? That would make no sense. Why not burn the bodies? Surely they’d want to keep him far away as possible.”

Sostrom raised a finger.

“A thought. Was this a trap for this Skinner creature or—or is he the guardian of this place?”

More silence. Gerial shivered. He felt cold, the uneasy chill of fear he’d felt on the most dangerous of missions. He opened his mouth, but another adventurer raised his voice.

“What the hell is a Skinner? Some kind of special undead?”

“We don’t know. But odds are that is what’s hiding behind that door Gerald and the others found. We should go back and let them know we’re in for a fight.”

Calruz nodded.

“Agreed. We will hold off opening them until we are prepared. And perhaps—”

He hesitated.

“—Perhaps we should send word to the surface. Ask if any know of this ‘Skinner’ creature.”

Ceria nodded. She felt relieved that he was the voice of reason, for once. She turned.

“Let’s hurry before Gerald makes a mistake. I’ll go f—”

It happened suddenly. Ceria screamed and dropped her wand, her hands flying to her head. Gerial drew his sword, but other adventurers around him were shouting or falling too. He looked around wildly, but nothing was attacking them.

Half of the Horns of Hammerad clutched at their heads. Ceria fell to her knees. Her [Dangersense] was going off, but it wasn’t like the ambush. That had been a premonition. Fear, foreboding, the knowledge of danger suddenly chilling her to her core.

This—

This was terror. This was death. She heard howling in her mind, and knew she would die if she stayed. She—

“Ceria!”

Calruz’s massive hand shook her back into reality. She looked up at him. He yanked her upright with one hand.

“On your feet! What’s happening?”

“My [Dangersense]—something just happened! The doors—the vault—”

He cursed.

“They opened them? The fools!”

He began to storm down the corridor, but Ceria grabbed at him.

“Calruz! This isn’t like before. This—my Skill is telling me something bad has happened. Really bad. Far worse than the ambush.”

He stared at her, only partly comprehending. He couldn’t feel the certainty, the absolute terror in her head and heart. Olesm stumbled towards them, sword drawn.

“We are in danger. Extreme danger. We have to retreat.”

Olesm shakily wiped at his mouth. He’d thrown up. His tail thrashed wildly as he stared around in the darkness.

“I’ve never felt anything like that. When I was a child and the [Necromancer] attacked ten years back—that was the closest. But this is different. I am afraid, and the [Dangersense] doesn’t convey fear. We have to go.”

“Let us regroup. With speed. Warriors, form up and mages, follow close behind. Prepare for—”

He broke off as Ceria grabbed his arm. The Minotaur stared down at her as she looked around.

“Shh! Quiet. Do you hear that?”

The other adventurers fell silent. It took them only a second to make out what Ceria had heard. In the distance, a high pitched sound. No—many sounds, all joined together.

“Screaming.”

It was faint, but echoed down the long corridor into this room. And as if that had started something, they heard another noise.

Cracking. Dull thumps sounding from behind them. Muffled moans and hissing. The adventurers turned.

Gerial’s hand turned white on his sword. He stared at the coffins in the room as suddenly, noises began to echo from within.

“Oh lords and ladies preserve us.”

Half of the lids of the stone coffins shifted or crashed to the ground as their occupants suddenly began to move. The adventurers’ light didn’t illuminate all of the room, but they saw things crawl out of their stone beds, jerking upright, faint pinpricks of crimson light flare into existence as they stared at the living.

Their moans and ghastly sounds filled the huge room, echoing, growing louder—then they screamed as they got up and began running towards the living.

“Run!”

Gerial wasn’t sure who said it. It could have been him. But every adventurer in the room was suddenly running for the door as hundreds of undead began pouring towards them.

“The door!”

Calruz caught Sostrom as the mage ran out the double doors. He pointed to the corridor.

“Can you slow them down?”

The bald man hesitated. He raised his staff.

“I—I could cast [Sticky Ground]. The webbing would slow them down but this many—”

“Cast it! The rest of you, follow me!”

Calruz started running before the words had even left his mouth. Sostrom desperately raised his staff and cast the spell as the other adventurers sprinted down the corridor after Calruz. Suddenly, the lower levels were filled with sounds again, the clash of metal, surprised shouts from up ahead.

Screaming.

Sostrom caught up with Ceria, his longer legs pumping madly as he ran with his staff raised before him. He shouted, wildly.

“We don’t have much time! Only a few minutes before they catch up!”

No one else said a word. They pounded down the corridor, and when they rounded a corridor they saw a group of armed adventurers, around fourteen of them led by Yvlon. They raised their weapons but lowered them when they saw who it was.

“Calruz!”

Yvlon waved the Minotaur over as he ran towards her. Her sword was drawn and she had formed up her group into a solid line blocking the corridor down which Gerald had gone.

Calruz paused and pointed. Ceria and Gerial fell into line with the other adventurers, covering the way they had came as the Minotaur talked with Yvlon.

“What’s happening? Where are Gerald and the others?”

She shook her head.

“Last I heard they were up ahead, trapping the corridor. But then our [Dangersense] went off and—the door. They must have opened it.”

“Fools!”

“They didn’t say they were going to open the vault. I made it clear to Gerald he had to wait until he regrouped. So why…?”

“Have you sent anyone down there?”

Calruz looked down the dark corridor and Yvlon nodded.

“Two people. I told them to run back the instant they saw something. They—they never came back.”

She looked pale.

“The screaming ended a few minutes ago. I was waiting for you to get back. What did you find? Anything?”

He nodded.

“A message. Too long to explain. Know that we most likely face Skinner, the guardian of this place. He—steals skin.”

“Steals? Skin?”

The other adventurer shifted restlessly. Calruz nodded.

“So it was written. And his awakening woke the other undead too. There is a horde approaching from behind.”

The adventurers groaned as Yvlon frowned.

“Right then, it seems we have a choice. We can’t fight another battle here, not understrength. We should retreat.”

Calruz shook his head.

“What of Gerald and the others?”

Her face was grim.

“I think we should fear the worst, don’t you?”

Calruz gritted his teeth.

“I do not want to run without seeing the enemy’s face.”

“It’ll be the last thing you see if we stay here. If we get caught in a pincer attack from both sides—”

“Calruz.”

The Minotaur ignored Ceria. He gestured to the corridor back where they had come.

“Set spells to slow the enemy advance. I will go to see if there are any living before we fall back. If we leave our comrades—”

“Calruz!”

Both captains looked over. Ceria was cupping one pointed ear with her hand. She raised her wand shakily and pointed into the darkness ahead.

“I hear something. Something is coming this way.”

They fell silent, and then heard it too. Pounding footsteps.

Sostrom raised his staff, but hesitated as he saw an adventurer run out of the darkness. It was one man, someone he recognized. A warrior from Kyrial’s Pride. The man wasn’t carrying a weapon, though. He was wild-eyed and running as if chased by a legion of monsters. But nothing was following him.

Gerial stood up and caught the man as he ran towards the adventurers. He would have bowled over their front line, and he tried to dodge around Gerial as the other man grabbed at him.

“Hey, what’s happening? Where are Gerald and—”

The other warrior struck at Gerial with a gauntleted fist. Gerial stumbled back, and the man tried to run past him. Calruz seized him and pinned him against a wall.

“You! How dare you?”

The man stared up wild-eyed into Calruz’s furious gaze. He didn’t even seem to see the Minotaur. He twisted wildly in Calruz’s grip, fighting to be free.

“Let go of me! Let go! I have to get away!”

Yvlon stared down the corridor, staring into the darkness.

“What is? What happened? What was behind those doors?”

The man spat and fought against Calruz, futilely kicking to be free. He seemed barely conscious as he babbled almost incoherently.

“Run, run! It’s right behind us!”

“What is?”

Calruz gripped the man even harder, until Gerial could swear he heard the other man’s bones creak. The Minotaur raised his voice.

“Why were the doors opened? Gerald was told to wait! Who—”

“We didn’t open the doors!”

The Minotaur stared at the man. He was panting, sweating, his eyes darting around as he strained towards freedom.

“If you did not open them, then who—”

“It opened them from inside!”

The man shouted it in the corridor, his voice echoing as he screamed.

“It opened them, and then it took Gerald and the others! Let me go. It is coming. We must run, all of us. Can’t you feel it? It is coming!”

“Who is? Skinner? Is it an undead?”

But the man refused to reply. His foot came up and he kicked Calruz hard enough to make the Minotaur grunt and stumble back. He dropped the warrior and the man scrambled to his feet. He burst through the ranks of adventurers, dashing down the corridor, his footsteps echoing and fading as he fled towards the stairs.

Calruz cursed as he rubbed at his stomach. He looked at Yvlon and the two Captains paused.

“They’re dead. But what caught them? This Skinner—”

“We should retreat. Let us gather the wounded, and go. If we have the mages cast spells to delay pursuit—”

Yvlon nodded. She turned and raised her voice to order the adventurers, but the words died in her throat.

Something. Somehow, as they had listened to the panicked adventurer screaming they hadn’t heard it. It was such a faint sound. A sort of…dragging, scraping sound. It had been growing louder, slowly. And it wouldn’t have mattered. But now it had come closer and—something—had appeared far down the corridor.

The light cast from wands, staves, and flickering torches and lanterns illuminated perhaps a hundred feet of space of the wide, empty stone passageway. At the very edges of that light, something had appeared.

Something white. It was so far away, but it filled the corridor. It looked like—a cloud? Or fog, rippling slowly towards them out of the darkness. A wall of white that moved.

But that wasn’t what caught Yvlon’s voice in her throat. It was the faint thing she could see in the middle of that unearthly cloud, the familiar shape that appeared in the darkness, staring at her.

A face.

“Gerald…?”

He didn’t react to Yvlon’s voice. The Captain of Kyrial’s Pride stared ahead blankly, his face shifting in the mists. He stared ahead blankly, face pale and bloodless. And his head—it was moving in ways a head shouldn’t, not if it were attached to a body.

The white sea surrounding him rippled closer, but now the adventurers could see another face slowly float upwards. Cervial. He stared ahead, gaze empty and vacant, moving in the same disturbing way as Gerald.

“Cervial! Is that you?”

Again, no response.

Closer. Now the mists didn’t seem as transparent. It wasn’t mist, but something else. Something that rippled and shook as it was pulled along the corridor. Closer.

“Gerald, Cervial! Answer me! What’s going on? Are you alright?”

Neither face moved. Neither head twitched. The adventurers watched Gerald stare ahead, eyes unseeing.

They knew. They knew what had happened. And as Lir’s head emerged from the folds of the creature in front of them and it pulled itself into the light, they understood what they were seeing.

Flesh. Dead flesh. It rippled, shook, twisted, shining in the light. It was yellowed in places, fleshy pink in others, bloody in spots. But mainly white. White with age and bloodless death. It was dead skin, layered and congealed.

It was a body. And the faces of their friends, the Captains—

They were part of it.

Not just their faces. Their skin. As the creature drew closer, several men and women gagged or vomited in place. This—thing was made up of bodies. Entire bodies, skinned. Torn from their owners and pasted together.

And what it made was a long, bloated slug-like body that reared upright. Two massive arms reached out and seized at the ground, dragging the rest of the body behind it. There was no head. Rather, a sunken face, a mockery of the human face. No nose. No ears or hair. Just two sunken sockets filled with a crimson glow and a gaping, empty mouth.

Pieces of white flesh trailed behind the creature as it pulled itself forwards another ten meters with its hands. It was falling apart, leaving bits of itself where it went. But it was massive, hands wide enough to curl around any human, long, almost delicate fingers of slick white flesh, exposed along the palms where red flesh could be seen underneath.

Something. Something was living in the body of dead skin. And it was coming. The creature slowly moved towards the adventurers, pulling itself along the ground as the faces of their comrades—all of them—stared blankly ahead, the latest addition to its skin.

Because that was what it was. And Ceria knew. She knew as it stared down at her and she felt death in her bones.

She knew its name.

Skinner.

----

He came towards them, slow, dragging himself along with one arm as he travelled down the corridor. He had no legs. He was just a torso, a disfigured mockery of something human. Not even that.

He wasn’t even remotely humanoid. Unlike the Crypt Lords who looked like bloated, twisted mockeries of something once living, Skinner just looked dead.

Ceria knew she should move. She knew she should raise her wand and start blasting at the creature now it had appeared. She should rain fire upon it with the others, eradicate it from the face of the earth. It was in front of her.

But she couldn’t move. She couldn’t raise her wand. She was petrified.

Two ruby eyes flashed deep within the folds of dried, caked skin. They didn’t move, not like normal eyes. Skinner had to twist and turn his head to see with them, but the light they cast created a cone of—of—

Terror.

It had struck her the instant he had appeared down the corridor. Something had reached inside her, taken hold of her heart. She shook as he approached, and she was unable to move.

“It’s just…dead skin.”

Yvlon muttered it. Ceria had to turn her head to see. The woman was trembling, hand gripped on her sword. She was trying to raise it, but she couldn’t.

Fear.

“We’re under a spell.”

Ceria said it through numb lips. She tried to gather mana inside of her, fight off the magic. But it was too strong. And terror was consuming all of her. She couldn’t even think of resisting. All she wanted to do was run.

But she was too afraid to do even that.

It was like the nightmares Ceria had had as a child, in between waking and sleep, at midnight. She would be in her bed, staring at a door, a window. She knew something was behind it, that something was watching her. She knew, but she was too afraid to get up and see. If she moved—if she made any motion—it would get her.

So she would lie still, and eventually she would fall asleep or morning would come. Her night terrors would disappear in the light of day.

But this was different. This was horror made flesh, and it wouldn’t disappear. But like her childhood fears, Ceria was trapped. She couldn’t move.

“Horns of Hammerad—”

Calruz’s voice choked in their silence. She saw him raise a foot and struggle to step forwards. Even the Minotaur, even her fearless leader was paralyzed.

“We must—retreat.”

Olesm said that. He was trying to shift backwards, but even escape was difficult. They were paralyzed.

Skinner pulled himself closer. Too close. He was in front of them now, and they smelled him. Dead flesh. Blood, too. Blood and death and rot. It was horrific.

His eyes gaze down on them, bringing fear. Calruz tried to raise his axe, but his arms shook. Skinner’s mouth opened.

He smiled.

A hand shot out. A woman in the front—a warrior with an axe and shield—screamed in sudden terror. It brought the other adventurers out of their paralysis. They scattered as Skinner encircled her with one hand and then pulled.

Her skin came off. All at once. It left—it left a bloody body that felt to the ground. Possibly dead. Or worse—alive.

The woman’s skin flapped and trembled in Skinner’s hand. He reached up and laid it delicately across one arm. Her skin…melted into his flesh and suddenly there she was. Her empty face stared down at the others.

They fled. Their terror hadn’t ended, just shifted. Instead, the seasoned Silver-rank adventurers dropped their weapons and ran, pushing, shoving, trying to get away.

But as they turned to flee, they found they were not alone. Bodies stood in the way, blocking the corridor. Dead bodies.

Zombies. Skeletons. Ghouls. Even more Crypt Lords and Wights. The undead had reappeared, and they had cut the adventurers off from escape. They fell upon the adventurers silently, grabbing them, biting them, pushing them back towards Skinner.

“Retreat!”

It was Calruz who bellowed it. He gripped his battleaxe in shaking hands and decapitated a zombie. Ceria also moved. She raised her wand slowly and fired a spike of ice at one of the dead as her feet took her backwards.

She could move. She and Gerial ran back down the corridor with the other adventurers, knocking away the undead. She could fight. But the instant she turned towards Skinner or even thought of raising her wand to fight him—

Paralysis. Fear. She couldn’t. She couldn’t. All she could do was run. She had to get away. She had to get away.

The adventurers screamed and ran down the corridor, some tripping, some fighting with the undead or dragged backwards. Skinner seized a mage who screamed for help but no one turned for him.

They ran. But they stopped when they saw the wall of undead warriors. They were blocking the way back up to the surface. They waited, the dead body of the warrior who had fled earlier crushed against one wall, his brains pasted against the stone.

“We must run.”

“We must fight.”

Yvlon and Calruz spoke at the same time. She was trembling, but he had stopped. His head was turned. He was looking back towards Skinner.

Ceria didn’t want to look. She wanted to run, but Calruz had stopped. He raised his voice, not shouting, but speaking loudly, his voice echoing in the silence.

“Horns of Hammerad. If you have any pride, turn and face your enemy.”

She didn’t want to. But she had to. Just to know how close it was. Ceria turned—

And saw Sostrom.

He dangled from Skinner’s hands. Or part of him did. His skin had been taken and had become part of Skinner’s body. The monster cast aside what remained.

He had screamed for help. But Ceria had ignored him. He had screamed. And now he was dead.

Ceria saw it. She saw it, but her eyes fled from Skinner. She shook, unable to look at him. He was advancing slowly, taking his time as the undead boxed the other adventurers in. She—Sostrom was dead. But she had to run.

Her feet moved back. But a pair of hooves stepped forwards.

Calruz took one step, and then two. He moved haltingly—his body leaning forwards as if he were struggling against something. But he moved towards Skinner, and he spoke.

“Do not run. You are the Horns of Hammerad. This thing had slain our own. We must avenge—”

“Calruz. We have to go. Help us.”

Ceria breathed the words. The Minotaur shook his head.

“Honor. We must not run. Face your death with pride.”

He hefted his battleaxe. Skinner paused, staring down the corridor at the only adventurer not running from him. He seemed…intrigued, as far as his expressionless face could be. He raised a hand.

“I am Calruz. I challenge you.”

The Minotaur raised his axe. He dodged under one of Skinner’s hands as it shot towards him and raced towards the body. He brought his axe up and sliced at Skinner’s chest.

The weapon bit deep into flesh. Calruz roared as he tore it through the dead skin, and for a moment Ceria dared hope. The adventurers paused in their fighting, and so did the dead, staring at Skinner.

Calruz’s axe severed the chunk of Skinner he’d carved away and it fell to the ground. Skinner blinked down at it. It was—

It was dead skin. Calruz stared into the gaping wound he’d left. Dead skin was all he saw. Just dead skin. No blood. Not even any organs or bones. Just dead skin, layered to create armor.

He raised his axe again and it bit deep. But he struck nothing but skin. And above him, the monster moved.

A massive hand swung towards Calruz. The Minotaur had lodged his axe in the skin and he had to roll and abandon it. He dodged sideways, but too slowly. Too late.

Skinner turned and seized Calruz’s arm with one of its hands. It twisted, and the Minotaur screamed and fell back. The monster tossed his arm to the ground dismissively and his mouth moved.

He grinned.

Ceria screamed as Calruz stumbled away, one of his shoulders suddenly a bleeding stump. He roared in pain, fury, and fear. He raised his hand to strike at Skinner, but something caught him from behind.

A zombie. The dead Drake grabbed Calruz by the legs. He turned and kicked, and it fell to the ground, skull fractured. But a skeleton tackled him, grabbing onto his arm, and then more zombies seized him. Calruz threw them aside, pounding, fighting, but they engulfed him.

He disappeared under a swarm of bodies, roaring in agony as their claws and blades tore at his flesh. The darkness swallowed the Minotaur as Skinner turned towards Ceria.

She trembled. She was fixed in place as the crimson eyes fixed on her. She wanted to run. She needed to run. But fear kept her in place.

A skeleton drew near, grinning, a sword in its hands. It raised the blade and Gerial slammed into the skeleton, knocking it to the floor.

“Ceria!”

He shouted at her, shielding her with his back from Skinner’s gaze. She could suddenly move again, and she gasped and shuddered as he pushed her back.

Gerial held Ceria as she clutched at him, his head swiveled around at the dead fighting the living, the adventurer still screaming and trying to escape. His arms tightened and he held her close. He spoke to her, his voice the only thing she could hear above the roaring in her ears.

“Go. Run.”

“What?”

Ceria stared at him. Geria’s face was white, and he looked almost as bloodless as Skinner’s body. He shuddered and she felt it.

“Run. I’ll—I’ll buy you some time.”

He pointed down the corridor. Ceria’s feet began to move, but she halted them.

“Gerial—”

He shoved her away.

“Run, damn you!”

He turned and walked down the corridor towards Skinner. He couldn’t look at it, and his legs shook. They stopped fifteen feet from Skinner. Gerial couldn’t move any closer.

Again, Skinner halted and stared at him with interest. Gerial tried to raise his sword, but he couldn’t. Terror gripped him, and he couldn’t even lift his weapon.

It wasn’t fair. But he heard and felt Ceria turn and flee behind him. That was enough. That was—

He raised the other object in his right hand. A jar of acid sloshed around in his gauntleted hand. Maybe. If he could get Skinner to turn back, maybe—

He was going to die. Gerial knew it. The undead surrounded him, not attacking. The adventurers were running or dead, but the dead waited for Skinner to take him. He had to buy time. To let her live. To let one of them survive.

“Death before dishonor.”

The words were enough to make him look up, to meet that terrifying gaze. Skinner smiled at him, and Gerial’s heart stopped. The hand came down, and he raised his arm, drew back his arm to throw the jar.

But he hesitated. The fear made his arm spasm and the jar of acid broke on the ground in front of Skinner, showering only the monster’s lower half with acid.

Skinner lurched back. The skin began to smoke and peel away, but the creature didn’t let the acid consume any more. He reached down and peeled off several layers of his own body, digging his hand into the white skin and hurling the smoking bits to the ground where they were consumed.

Gerial stared numbly at the dead flesh. He raised his sword, but Skinner lashed out with one finger and the weapon went flying. Gerial’s hand broke with the impact.

He looked up bitterly. Skinner loomed over him. It was no longer smiling, at least.

“If—”

A hand seized him, and Gerial felt tearing—and then coldness. He was gone before he hit the floor.

----

Ceria saw Gerial die. She stopped in the corridor and screamed. He fell to the ground as Skinner carefully took his skin. The creature placed it where acid had struck him and then continued on as if nothing had happened.

She had to run. But something in Ceria was screaming louder than the fear. Sostrom. Calruz. Gerial. Her friends were dead. Her family was dying.

She faced Skinner, her body shaking. Ceria couldn’t even stare into his face. He laughed at her, soundlessly, crumbling lips revealing a body that was hollow. He was just skin. Skin and something red that twisted through the dead body, giving it life.

She couldn’t raise her wand. Fear consumed every part of her. Ceria howled in despair and fled. It was the only thing she could do. She left her friend behind and ran.

Live. She would die if she faced Skinner. She had to live.

A hand shot out and seized her by the leg. Ceria screamed as the skin along the back of her leg tore.

Her skin curled as Skinner regarded it in one hand. He brought it up to his ‘mouth’ as if tasting it, and then tossed the bit of flesh away. And he took no notice of Ceria either. Skinner turned and began to drag himself along the ground, after the humans.

For a moment Ceria lay on the ground, disbelieving. But then she saw the dead moving towards her, and reality came back with the pain.

She got up. Her leg—she could move. But only just. Ceria limped and pulled herself along the corridor. The undead were around her, striking at adventurers as they cowered or chasing those that fled.

It was chaos. Ceria raised her wand and blasted a skeleton out of her path. She was close to the room with the injured but—

Yvlon was ahead of her, part of the scrum of adventurers screaming and fighting to get past two Crypt Lords. The massive abominations blocked the passage, smashing adventurers against the walls and crushing them with contemptuous ease.

There was no attempt to fight as a group. Men and women shoved each other, striking even their friends as they sought to escape. Skinner slowly dragged himself down the corridor, ripping the humans apart as they screamed in terror.

The captain of the Silver Spears was shouting, trying to be heard above the din. She was gripped by terror like the others, but she was at least coherent enough to try and fight the Crypt Lords. But no one was listening to her.

The undead were everywhere. They flooded out of the tunnels, biting, clawing, tearing. Ceria screamed as a skeleton stabbed her in the back with a dagger. Again, her robes saved her but she felt the skin break even as the blade slashed at her.

He stabbed her in the leg. Ceria screamed as she felt her exposed sinews tear and her bones crack.

She raised her wand and this time burned him. The skeleton staggered away as his bones cracked from the heat. Ceria pulled herself upright. The pain was overwhelming, but if she stopped to consider it she would die.

The Crypt Lords barred the way, but there were gaps between their bloated bodies. Enough for her to get through. She could run. She could use the other adventurers as a shield so long as Skinner ignored her. If Ceria sacrificed them she could—

Yvlon was fighting. Her blonde hair was dirty with blood, but she whirled, cutting down ghouls and zombies as she struggled to protect her friends. She was trying to carve a path open before Skinner reached them. But the Crypt Lords were too strong, the adventurers too disorganized.

They would all die. Ceria looked at Skinner, and her mouth opened. She couldn’t raise her wand despite it all. The magic was too strong. She was too afraid. She cursed herself for that.

But the others—Gerial’s face swam in front of Ceria. She closed her eyes.

“Death before dishonor.”

Ceria snapped her wand. She had to break it over her good knee, but when she did, the magic burst out. Cold, endless cold instantly covered the walls and floor around her with frost, and the undead trying to attack her froze. But Ceria took the magic and used it.

A spell.

Yvlon turned, her sword raised just in time to see Ceria point. The half-Elf was standing down the corridor, behind Skinner, but she aimed at the Crypt Lord closest to Yvlon. Her finger glowed with white-blue light and a blizzard had appeared around her.

The female adventurer dove to the floor as a spike of ice twice as long and wide as a human fired down the passage. It struck the Crypt Lord in the chest and continued down the passage, shattering into shards against a wall. The undead, and even adventurers unlucky enough to be caught in the way fell to the ground, frozen. Or dead.

The lower half of the Crypt Lord fell down, and adventurers scrambled through the opening. The other Crypt Lord seized two men, but other men and women darted past, pursued by the faster undead.

Ceria nearly blacked out as the magical backlash struck her. She would have screamed, but the pain was just one more layer in her agony. But the coldness she had channeled struck her as well. The hand she had used for the spell was already numb, but now she could no longer move it.

Her hand froze. Her skin began to peel away, and turned black in places. She fell to her knees as Yvlon turned.

Fifteen feet. An eternity of space. That was what separated the two. But the dead were running, and Skinner followed, snatching lives away. Yvlon wavered for a second, and her eyes met Ceria’s.

Their gazes met for a long second, and then the Captain of the Silver Spears tore herself away. She kept running, and the dead surged after her.

Most of them. Skinner ignored the half-Elf, but others were drawn to her. She got to her feet, and began to run as a few undead broke off to chase her.

Down the hallway, to the right. Through the maze of corridors she’d explored. Ceria ran, dodging flailing arms and gaping jaws, knowing there was no escape.

She tripped and fell down as she reached the place where she had read Skinner’s message. Ceria tried to get up and realized she hadn’t tripped. Her broken leg had stopped moving.

This was it. She scrambled to get up, pushing at the ground with her one good arm and leg. She leaned against one wall, feeling something important draining from her.

A shape appeared out of the darkness. A ghoul bounded down the corridor, glowing yellow eyes fixed on Ceria. It had been female, once. It stared at Ceria, grinning with jagged teeth.

Ceria drew her dagger in her shaking right hand. It was heavy in her hand.

The ghoul drew closer, feinting, dodging around Ceria to get at her back. She staggered, trying to keep it in front of her.

Ceria felt hollow. Empty. She was crying. She was sobbing. She wished—

She wished it hadn’t happened. Any of it. But it was too late now.

The ghoul slashed at her, drawing blood, dodging back. It was about to go for the kill.

Tears fell from her eyes, but Ceria blinked them away. She lunged and her dagger caught the ghoul in the cheek. It thrashed, ripping her blade out of her hand and then its teeth were biting, tearing at her ear, her flesh.

Ceria reached out her hand, but there was no one to take it. She closed her eyes and waited for the end. It came with sharp teeth to take her away from the pain. And then she was gone.

----

The darkness covered the ruins as the orbs of light cast by Ceria’s [Illumination] spell went out one at a time as Skinner passed by. The thing that stole flesh and hunted the living raised its head towards the surface and the dead followed, clustering, hungering. They streamed out of the catacombs, through tunnels and secret passages, running, crawling, towards the surface.

Above.

And Skinner began to move upwards. It—he—had harvested enough flesh. Now he would take the rest. He left the ruins, and left behind only death.

Death.

And silence.

1.42

Erin sat in her inn, staring at the table. She didn’t have anything better to do. Normally she served customers, chatted, or played chess, but she couldn’t today.

They were all gone. Pawn had left for the city with the other Workers, promising to come back tomorrow.

He—still couldn’t move right. But the other Workers helped him walk and move and—

“Something’s different about him.”

Toren looked up from his table at Erin. He paused, waiting for an instruction and then went back to scrubbing.

“I mean, he seems different. He acts different. More confident, y’know?”

Toren carefully picked up a small beetle that had wandered into the building and squished it between his fingers.

“Ew! Don’t do that! Just get rid of them outside!”

Obediently, the skeleton walked out the door. Erin tried not to let her stomach remember the sight of the orange insides of the insect oozing—

“Not many bugs around. But it’s winter. Apparently.”

It wasn’t very cold. Toren opened the door and walked back in, fingers clean, but Erin barely shivered.

“Am I near the equator?”

The skeleton shrugged at her. At least that was something. He generally didn’t respond to questions aimed at him, but he was far more useful than he had been.

Erin leaned over the table. She had no one else to talk to and at least Toren looked confused when she spoke, which was better than nothing.

“It was the chess. Pawn was totally on the offense this morning! Did you notice that? He was better—I mean, he’s still learning, but he’s taking chances. I can’t wait to see what happens if he and Rags play a game. It’s like he had a massive confidence boost or something. Do you think it was what happened with Ksmvr?”

Toren stared at Erin and then picked up the rag and dipped it into the bucket. Erin sighed. She leaned back on her chair, wondering how much it would hurt if she fell over. It would hurt more if Toren dove to catch her like he had twice before. Landing on floorboards? Ouch. Landing on bony skeleton bits? Double ouch.

Erin closed her eyes, and then her eyes opened wide. She lost her balance and tipped forwards, smacking her face on the table. But she didn’t even process that.

An alarm. It sounded—no, it felt like a tornado warning siren blasting in her head at full volume. But that wasn’t sound, it was the feeling, a high-pitched whine that told her she was in danger.

Erin looked around. Toren stared at her, holding the dripping rag in one hand. Erin knocked her chair over as she ran into the kitchen and grabbed the frying pan and a jar of acid. Toren looked up and dropped the rag when he saw Erin was armed.

“Something’s out there.”

He immediately dashed into the kitchen and came out with the sword he’d taken from one of the adventurers. Erin knelt next to one of the tables, heart beating out of her chest. The alarm was still going off in her head, and she felt scared.

Toren was behind her. He lifted the sword as he peered around the inn. He stared at Erin expectantly and pointed to the door.

“I don’t know where it is. But there’s something. Something bad.”

It didn’t sound like something was outside. Erin opened the door cautiously and peered out. She gestured, and Toren ran upstairs and returned in a few moments, shaking his head. She looked out her windows, and then threw caution to the wind.

She ran outside, standing at the top of the hill, staring around at the grasslands. Nothing. She ran around the other side of the inn and stared in the other direction. Then she had Toren boost her up and stared from the top of the roof.

After a while Erin jumped down and Toren collapsed as he tried to catch her.

“Ow! Get out of the way next time!”

He helped her up and Erin stared around the empty grasslands. Nothing. The sun was still lowering in the sky, and it wasn’t even night yet. She couldn’t see anything. But she had felt it, with a certainty that didn’t go away.

“What was that, then?”

For ten more minutes Erin walked around, listening hard, eyes scanning the horizon. But she couldn’t see anything. And being out in the open was starting to bother her more than anything else.

Perhaps—perhaps it was a false alarm? Or whatever was happening was far away. Like…

“Maybe someone dropped a nuke? Or a magical nuke?”

Erin shook her head as Toren stared at her. No good.

“It might be nothing. Just—keep an eye out, okay?”

He nodded. Erin sighed and shook her head. She went back into her inn. But she kept the frying pan, the jar of acid, and one of the kitchen knives on the table.

Just in case.

----

The dead poured out of the ruins, howling. They ran through the grass, the evening sun at their backs. They ran towards the city, arms outstretched, eyes glowing as they hunted for the living. To add them to their ranks.

The small shantytown that had sprung up around the ruins was gone. Broken timber and dead bodies were all that remained of the adventurers and merchants that had lived there. They had been cut down trying to flee in the first few minutes of the attack.

So many dead. Hundreds, all moving as one. This wasn’t just a horde of random undead monsters that had come together, or even a group under control of a Lich or Crypt Lord. This was an invasion, led by a single creature.

The dead ran towards Liscor even as the gates began to close. But they halted as the guards manning the gates suddenly threw down their weapons and ran, screaming. Something had touched them. Something invisible.

Skinner’s eyes shifted away from the gates and Rags ducked down and pulled the Goblin next to her into the grass. She and her followers flattened themselves into the earth, making themselves as small as possible.

Fear touched them, making their hearts pound wildly. It was a familiar thing. The Goblins peeked out of the grass while Rags whisper-shouted insults at them and made them keep their heads down.

Only after a few minutes did they dare look again. Far below, the creature known as Skinner had focused its attention back on the city. The undead were already pouring through the gates, and they could hear screaming even from this distance.

From their hilltop the group of armed Goblins watched the carnage. Rags touched the sheathed short sword at her side, but only to make sure it was there. She had no intention of moving from this spot.

Skinner was moving slowly. He had to pull himself through the grass, while even the Crypt Lords outpaced him. But he was the most dangerous thing down there by far, Rags was sure.

She saw the twisted, grotesque thing made of dead flesh twist its head towards her again and immediately crouched to hide in the grass. The Goblins around her shivered and held their weapons more firmly. Rags shook her head as she watched Skinner slowly drag himself towards the city.

It was intelligent. And it was deadly. She knew it in her bones. But more deadly than the city full of Drakes and Gnolls? She sat on the hill and watched as death poured into Liscor. Watching. Waiting.

Calculating.

After a few minutes, her belly rumbled.

----

“Hm. Rags should be here by now.”

Erin checked the position of the sun in the sky, shading her eyes as Toren laid out plates and utensils. Well, one utensil to be specific. All Goblins needed was a fork, and that was only because Erin insisted.

She’d cooked a fine meal of pasta and sausage, or perhaps it was sausage and pasta. Goblins liked meat, so she’d made the pot mostly that, with some spiral noodles thrown in just to add color.

Erin hesitated. The food was warm, but she didn’t want to eat alone—or with Toren as the case may be. She could wait. Besides, Rags and her crew never missed a meal. They were probably running from Rock Crabs, or attacking helpless travelers. She should really talk to them about that.

Still. Erin glanced towards the window. It would be night in an hour or less. And the Goblins quite sensibly hated travelling at night.

“Do you think she forgot?”

Toren shrugged. He raised his head and stared in the direction of Liscor. He felt…something. A voice? A calling. But it was faint. He shrugged and continued setting the table. But Erin’s earlier warning combined with this decided the skeleton. She was right.

Something was out there.

----

“Close the gates!”

The streets of Liscor were filled with the dead. Civilians screamed and fled or barricaded themselves in their homes as zombies, skeletons and other lurching forms ran through the streets. But they ran up against a wall of blades before they made it far down the streets.

The city Watch stood shoulder-to-shoulder, firing arrows into the crowd while armed Gnolls and Drakes held the front ranks back. The Captain of the Watch, a tall Drake named Zevara, shouted up towards the walls as she cut down another zombie.

“Where the hell are the other guardsmen? Why aren’t those gates closing?”

She bellowed as she chopped down on a skeleton’s arm, severing the bones. The guardsmen in front of her closed ranks and threw the undead back. A Gnoll ran towards Zevara and she turned towards him.

“Tkrn. What’s happening out there?”

He grinned, the fur on his chest matted with blood and gore.

“Fighting, Captain. We’ve closed off the streets like you said. That’s stopping them, but there are larger creatures out there.”

“Crypt Lords. They’re extremely dangerous. Shoot them down if you can. But what about the Southern gates? If they’ve fallen—”

Tkrn shook his head and Zevara shielded her face as bits of flesh flew everywhere.

“Sorry Captain. The Southern Gates are closed and we’ve got archers shooting down any undead that try to climb up. But all our guards on the north walls have fled!”

“That doesn’t make sense. I saw those gates closing! What could have…?”

A zombie shoved aside a Drake and lunged for Zevara, jaw gaping wide. She stepped back and Tkrn’s hand axe buried itself in his exposed brain.

“Close ranks!”

Zevara’s voice cracked like a whip and the guardsmen around her flinched. She pointed and more warriors ran forwards to fill in the weak spot in the line. Not all of the Watch was fighting. Zevara had kept several groups back, spread around the city to fill in weak spots.

Now she raised her voice as more undead ran down the streets and hit the ranks of armed warriors hard.

“Are you human cowards or guardsmen? Put your tails into it!”

The Drakes and Gnolls heard her and answered with a roar. They pushed the undead back several feet and Zevara turned back to Tkrn as he wiped the hand axe on his fur.

“What else?”

He grinned at her, showing his teeth.

“The adventurers are asking what they can do. They’re fighting with our people—but poorly. There aren’t many good teams around.”

“Have them pick off any stragglers that break through. We’ll hold the line here and push forwards. Now, where’s Relc?”

“He’s holding them off down Tessaract Street.”

Zevara grunted.

“Good. They won’t get through that way, then. But this is insane.”

She pointed to the massive gates, visible from where she and Tkrn stood.

“We shouldn’t be fighting in the streets! If we can get close to those gates and close them these undead will die outside the city. Why the hell are they still open?”

Tkrn growled.

“Many of those large things are standing next to the entrance. We cannot kill them and more keep coming.”

“Crypt Lords standing guard? That’s…”

Zevara trailed off. She glanced at the undead and suddenly a cold bit of fear wormed its way into her heart. She had a thought.

“The Necromancer?”

Tkrn raised his axe.

“I saw him in the city earlier today. I could track and kill him—”

“Not that idiot. I mean the Necromancer.”

“Oh.”

Tkrn looked worried. Zevara shook her head.

“If it was him, we’d be dead already. There aren’t any giants, or wights or ghosts or any of the other horrors he brings. No—this is something else.”

She pointed down the street.

“This area is secure. I’ve got civilians holding bows and a few mages are catching any Crypt Lords they see. You go and organize the adventurers. Tell Relc I want to see him, and find Olesm! We need his Skills!”

“No one has seen him this day. They saw him leaving the city, but—”

“If he’s here, find him! I’ve got to go. The east streets need help.”

Tkrn nodded and loped off. Zevara exchanged a few curt words with a large Drake sergeant and ran through the streets.

The undead had caught the city by surprise, but the city militia wasn’t like a human one. Nor were the citizens. The undead had overrun the first few streets, but their momentum had halted once the Watch and groups of combat-capable citizens had formed barricades and halted their advance.

The problem was that the undead weren’t sticking to the streets. They went through houses, over rooftops—attacking the beleaguered defenders from behind. They were hunted down, but it added another layer of complexity to Zevara’s nightmare.

And the eastern streets were furthest from the guardsmen’s barracks. They needed reinforcements or else—

Zevara ran out of the alleyway just in time to see a Crypt Lord smash her way into a group of guardsmen and civilians, sending them flying. The bloated Drake’s corpse was immediately attacked from all sides and pushed back by a pillar of stone, but while everyone was concentrated on her, a pack of zombies ran past the line and towards the civilian archers.

The fifteen or so Drakes and Gnolls froze up in fear with one exception. Krshia calmly took down one zombie, shooting an arrow through its eye. She drew a wickedly long dagger and grabbed a second zombie while Zevara crashed onto two more.

The last zombie ran past the two and opened up a male Drake’s scales with a devastating strike. He had a piece of sword buried in his hand, making all of his wild swings deadly.

The Drake fell down, screaming, and his companion backed away in horror. Selys raised her bow, but the zombie split it in two with a single blow. She screamed for help, but the corpse of the Gnoll ran at her, mouth opened wide to bite.

“Begone, pest.”

Selys screamed in horror as the zombie’s neck suddenly twisted around. The undead Gnoll collapsed to the ground, twitching.

“Just so we’re clear: I didn’t raise them.”

Pisces appeared out of the air next to Selys and Zevara, hands glowing with purple energy. Selys gaped at him, scales nearly white.

“You!”

“Ah. Hello to you, receptionist. Don’t wait to thank me for saving your life.”

Pisces gave Selys a mocking bow and then turned. He pointed, and two more zombies and a skeleton fell to the ground, necks broken.

Krshia bared her teeth as she hammered her zombie’s head into the cobblestones, breaking its bones until what she held wasn’t so much a head as bits of one.

She stood up as Zevara beheaded her opponent. The Drake turned to Pisces as Selys backed away from him. He raised his hands protectively, and a wall of wind swirled around him.

“I mean you no harm. And this wasn’t my fault! I was in the city all day, and I knew nothing of this—this event.”

The Drake eyed him. She shook her head and shouted to the guardsmen as they wavered, trying to form their line.

Another group of eight armed Drakes ran into the street. They rushed into battle with a roar as Pisces pointed and another zombie that had gotten past fell down, dead.

“Believe me, ah, Captain. I would never jeopardize my good standing with your city. In fact, I am helping to prove my innocence. I—”

“I believe you.”

Pisces blinked. So did Selys. Krshia was firing into the crowd of the dead already.

“We have countless witnesses who saw the undead emerge from the ruins. Besides, I doubt a [Necromancer] of your level could reanimate more than five bodies, let alone a horde like this.”

Pisces scowled.

“I—”

He hesitated and glanced at Zevara.

“Um, that is correct. But this is rather inconvenient, is it not?”

She glared at him.

“Are all you humans as damn crazy as this? Liscor is under attack!”

He shrugged.

“They’re just the undead. Quite easy to subdue. I have every confidence your Watch will safeguard innocent civilians like myself.”

He turned.

“If you’ll excuse me—”

“Oh no you don’t!”

Selys stomped on the hem of Pisces’s robe and the mage stumbled. His arms wind milled frantically as he tried to keep his balance. He turned and glared at Selys, but she advanced on him, tail thrashing.

“You stay here and help! If this wasn’t your fault, then help us!”

Pisces hesitated. Zevara hesitated. She didn’t like the mage, but she needed all the help she could get.

“Can do you do that neck-snapping thing many times?”

He sniffed and clicked his fingers. Three skeletons fell down like dolls that had their strings cut.

“It’s spine snapping, and I have ample mana reserve. I suppose if it means exonerating myself…”

“Good. Do it!”

The Crypt Lord finally fell to the ground, splashing those nearby with toxic blood. Zevara cursed as those hit cried out and retreated to be cured. She ran towards the line of guardsmen, already shouting. Selys stared at Pisces, finger raised. He raised his hands.

“I understand. I will help. Stay here and ah, try not to put an arrow in my back.”

She spluttered, but Pisces was already striding forwards. He kept a safe distance between the struggling fighters and the dead as he stared at the masses of the undead running through the streets.

“I assume I will be remunerated appropriately for this?”

Zevara turned her head and snarled at Pisces.

“Kill these things and I’ll give you a medal. Now start casting or I’ll slice your damn hands off!”

Pisces sniffed and conjured a flaming sphere into existence. He aimed it at a crowd of the dead as they surged down the street.

“I prefer gold, myself.”

He threw the orb, and fire consumed the dead bodies.

----

“Something is wrong.”

Toren looked up from the floorboards. He was using an old knife to lever up bits of food from between the floorboards. Erin stared out the window.

“Can’t you feel it? Something is wrong.”

She pointed out the window. It was dark now, but there was a faint speck of light coming from outside.

“That’s Liscor. Why is it red over there? Is something burning?”

Toren walked over and saw the skies around Liscor were indeed glowing. And there was smoke, rising and barely visible in the moonlight.

Erin stared out the window worriedly. The pot of meat and noodles sat untouched on a table. She leaned over the windowsill and then grabbed at her stomach. The anxiety was getting to her in a physical way.

“I feel—bathroom.”

She pointed at Toren.

“Keep an eye on that, okay? If you see anything—”

Her stomach gurbled and Erin ran out the door, leaving the skeleton by himself.

Toren hesitated. He looked at the knife and the floorboards. Then he carefully put the knife on one of the tables and reached for the sword he’d leaned against one wall. He opened the door and walked outside.

The skeleton had made it halfway down the hill when the Antinium seized him and ripped his skull off his body. The Worker tossed Toren’s skull to the ground and seized his sword. He left the flailing skeleton’s body and walked up the hill towards the inn.

----

A ghoul caught a Drake’s halberd in one hand and punched him in the midsection with the other. The guardsmen gasped and collapsed as the ghoul tossed aside the weapon and tried to race past the other guardsmen.

Zevara’s sword cut through the top of the ghoul’s skull, severing the flesh and rotted brain. The ghoul collapsed and she helped the Drake to her feet.

“Watch the damned ghouls! They’re strong enough to rip your scales apart if you let them!”

Another zombie ran at them. Zevara turned her head and growled low in her throat. Then she took a deep breath and exhaled.

A gout of fire leapt from her jaws and blasted the zombie off its feet. It fell to the ground, screaming and burning as Zevara coughed.

“Where are the damned Antinium?”

The Watch had retreated back down another street, giving ground up as more undead flooded into the city. They were fighting well, and healing potions and a rain of arrows and magic had given them the advantage, but the undead kept coming.

And the Watch was not equipped to deal with them. Or at least, they were well equipped, but they needed reinforcements. And those reinforcements were not coming.

The Watch was one half of the city’s defenses, but in truth they only handled bandit raids, criminals, the occasional monster pack, and so on. The landscape took care of most armies, but the other half of Liscor’s considerable defenses were the Antinium. And they were the bigger half by far. In truth, the Watch was more like a third, or a quarter. A big quarter, though.

But the ants, always present in some capacity in the city, were nowhere to be found.

Zevara growled again and coughed out some smoke. She walked backwards as the Drake found his halberd and joined the line of guardsmen and shouted.

“Tkrn! Where are you slithering about? Get over here!”

The Gnoll ran towards Zevara, panting. He was still drenched in gore, but now he was bleeding in places, dark blood covering his fur.

“Here, Captain.”

“Where are the ants? Send a message to the Queen at once! We need those soldiers!”

“That will not be necessary, Captain Zevara. We are here.”

Zevara and Tkrn spun around. Ksmvr walked towards them, two swords and two daggers held at the ready. Fifteen Soldier Antinium followed him.

Ksmvr pointed towards the failing line of guardsmen.

“Join the battle. Kill all undead. Retreat if you suffer significant injuries.”

The Soldiers ran forwards instantly. They pushed aside the surprised guardsmen and civilians and crashed into the undead in a black wave of their own.

A ghoul lunged at the first of the Soldier Antinium. The huge ant man grabbed the undead woman and held her shoulders with two of his hands. The other two punched downwards.

As Erin had seen, the hands of the Soldiers were more like spades or weapons than actual digits. They pummeled the ghoul, breaking bones, stabbing through flesh with ease. The Soldier held the ghoul down, pounding it into paste. When it was done it stood up and grabbed a zombie and ripped its head off.

A skeleton stabbed the soldier Antinium in the back. It didn’t stagger as the blade buried and stuck in its carapace. It swung around and began ripping the skeleton apart.

Ksmvr watched the Soldiers fighting as the Drakes, Gnolls, and few humans staggered back, suddenly reprieved from battle. He nodded to Zevara as she stalked over to him.

“Watch-Captain Zevara. It is good to see you alive.”

Zevara was in no mood to exchange pleasantries.

“Where the hell were you? And where are the other Soldiers? I don’t need fifteen of them, I need every single one in your hive! Bring them out!”

Ksmvr calmly replied to Zevara as he kept one eye on the battle.

“As this is not a period of war or crises as declared by the Council, I must decline your request. The maximum number of soldiers the Watch Captain is allowed to command is fifty Soldier Antinium and a hundred Workers in a time of crisis.”

“That is exactly what’s happening! Or do you not see the undead? Bring the Soldiers, and all the Workers then! We need barricades, fortifications—”

“I regret to say that is impossible at the moment. I have brought fifteen Soldiers. That is all that can be spared at the moment.”

Zevara gaped at Ksmvr. She opened her mouth and smoke plumed outwards as she shouted at him in fury.

“Why by all the broken eggs—”

Again, Ksmvr cut Zevara off calmly.

“The Soldiers guard the entrance to the Hive and the surrounding streets. We will let nothing disturb our Queen. She is in the middle of a critical process. She is hours—less perhaps—to completion.”

“Your Queen can take her damned ritual or whatever it is and shove it—”

Zevara cut herself off as the blades in Ksmvr’s hands twitched. Half of the guardsmen near her raised their weapons but their Captain waved them away. She eyed Ksmvr and tried to modulate her tone slightly.

“This is a state of emergency. If we can’t push the undead back soon, they will overrun this place. Your Soldiers can buy us some time, but there’s not enough. We need all fifty and soon. More than that. We need all of them! Talk to your Queen. Tell her we need help!”

“I regret that is impossible. The Queen must not be disturbed at this moment. I am sorry.”

Flames trickled from Zevara’s mouth as she opened it in rage. Ksmvr held up one hand.

“As soon as our Queen finishes the Rite of Anastases we will fully cooperate in defense of the city.”

There was no use arguing with the Antinium, so despite the building heat behind Zevara’s eyes, in her heart…and her lungs, she bit off her reply.

“The Workers, then. We could use them. Not just for building. If they can fight—”

“They are unable to be summoned as well.”

“Why?”

For the first time, Ksmvr visibly hesitated. He clicked his mandibles together and stared at the battle. Already the Soldiers had pushed the undead back the street, and two were attacking a Crypt Lord as he spat black blood on them.

“The Workers are in rebellion. Many have left the hive and fought with the Soldiers at the entrance.”

Ksmvr lowered his voice as Zevara stared at him in horror.

“Already three have become Aberration. We fear the rest may have as well. They are violent, and many are armed.”

“You’re serious.”

“Very.”

For a moment Zevara’s mind was caught up with images of Worker Antinium ripping apart Drakes and Gnolls. Then she brought herself back to reality and stared at the dead bodies lining the street. She snapped at Ksmvr.

“If we didn’t have a horde of the undead trying to eat us all, I’d be more worried. The citizens are either in their homes or fighting with us. If these Workers kill a few zombies, I won’t shed any tears.”

Ksmvr shook his head.

“I fear the Workers are not in the city any longer. They are moving towards a human. Erin Solstice.”

“The one who got Klbkch killed?”

“Yes. One of the Aberrations who escaped was intent on killing her.”

Zevara didn’t have to think about this one. She gestured at the undead. The Crypt Lord was dead, but the two Soldier Antinium who had killed it were curled up, arms and legs withdrawn as they lay on the ground, dead of the deadly poison.

“Whatever the reason is, I can’t spare anyone. She’s not a citizen here and we’re up to our necks in trouble. The human will be on her own.”

Ksmvr nodded shortly.

“The Queen is all. She must not be placed in danger. Erin Solstice…is merely important.”

Zevara eyed him. The words he’d just said—she couldn’t dwell on them now. She pointed towards the Soldier Antinium as she signaled the guardsmen to form up.

“Will you stay and fight?”

Ksmvr nodded. He followed Zevara as she strode down the street, Drakes and Gnolls seizing weapons and standing to follow her.

“I will fulfill my duty as Prognugator within Liscor. However, my position will cease in a few hours. Another will take my place.”

“Until then follow me. We’ve got to use this moment until your Soldiers all die.”

Tkrn fell into place next to Zevara, grinning as the guardsmen and lone Antinium ran after the Soldier Antinium.

“Anything I can do Captain?”

“You heard the ant. Looks like we’ve got no choice. We need to close those gates. Get Relc. He’s the only one who has a chance of cutting his way through.”

The Gnoll nodded and broke away from the group. Zevara and the guardsmen rounded a corner and skidded to a stop. The Soldier Antinium had thrown back the undead, mercilessly cutting their way through them until they’d reached the main street down which the north gates were located. But there they had been stopped.

Zevara saw a Soldier born down by the weight of a Crypt Lord and another hurling ghouls to the ground as they swarmed him. She saw groups of guardsmen, struggling to contain the main flow of undead. But that wasn’t what struck fear into her soul. She pointed towards the gates, where something was dragging itself through the open stone doors.

Her heart froze. The sword in her hands grew heavy, and around her the Gnolls, Drakes, and Humans shuddered and felt terror coursing through their bodies. All around her, guardsmen and civilians fell back, screaming, unable to fight.

Zevara forced the words through her numb lips.

“What is that?”

----

It was nearly ten minutes before Erin managed to extricate herself from the bathroom and stagger back to the inn. She held her unhappy stomach and walked through the open door.

“Toren?”

The inn was dark. Erin stared around. The skeleton normally came the instant she called. Where was he?

“Hey Toren. Where are you?”

No response. Erin didn’t hear the clicking of bones on floorboards. She stared around. He’d left the knife on the table. Had he gone out to fetch water?

Erin stared around the dark inn. He could at least have lit the lanterns. Or a candle. It was so dark—the only light came from the moon.

Where was he? And why—

Why was Erin feeling that same warning in her head again?

She spun around. Nothing. The grass shone in the moonlight from the open door. Erin relaxed. But then a prickling feeling ran down her spine.

She’d walked through the open door. But Toren always closed the door behind him. And if he hadn’t opened the door—

Who had?

“Hello?”

Erin backed up towards the door. Something moved in the shadows and shut it. She spun around, fists raised, and then relaxed.

“Oh. Pawn. It’s just you.”

The Antinium stood in the doorway, nearly invisible in the light. Erin frowned. Then she took another step back.

“Wait a second.”

The Antinium had four arms. And two legs. Pawn—Pawn didn’t have all his limbs anymore. But Workers weren’t allowed to leave the city unattended, and this Antinium didn’t have swords.

“Who…are you?”

He was familiar. At least, he seemed familiar, but he definitely wasn’t Pawn or Ksmvr. The Worker—if that was what he was—shuddered. He shook slightly, and then stepped suddenly towards Erin. She backed up quickly.

“H-hello? Can you hear me? Who are you? What do you want?”

The Worker’s head twitched suddenly. Erin jerked back and his voice came out, quivering with emotion.

“i aM AnTiNium. i haVe a NaMe.”

Erin backed up even further. That wasn’t what a Worker normally sounded like. The one in front of her was speaking rapidly, his voice surging and falling. He sounded—

Insane.

“You have a name? Um. Good. That’s good, right?”

He stared at her.

“I Am iNdivIDuAL. BuT i reJECT. I rejEcT aLL.”

“Reject? Reject what?”

He pointed at her with two arms.

“YOu. ThiS is yOuR FAulT.”

“Me? What did I do?”

The Worker raised his hand and a sword shone in the moonlight. He walked towards Erin, still speaking.

“YOU DiD ThiS To me. yOu mAde Me THis waY. For yOU I did tHis. bUT alL iS SuffERIng.”

Erin backed up, speaking fast. She tried to sense where her frying pan and jar of acid were, but it was impossible in the darkness.

“What did I do? I don’t remember—”

“yOU knoW.”

“Please—”

Erin took another step back and suddenly tripped over a chair. She sprawled to the ground and desperately tried to get up. But the Worker was too fast. He loomed over her, sword raised.

Erin kicked up at his groin, but the Antinium caught her leg. He pinned her down with three arms and held the last one with its tip pointed at her face. Erin tried to scream, to shout. But her breath was gone. She stared at the gleaming blade as the Worker shuddered and stared at her.

“diE.”

The sword flashed towards her eye. Erin screamed—

And another Antinium seized the first and threw him off Erin. She gasped as the sword fell to the ground and rolled away as the two Antinium crashed into chairs, fighting, punching and kicking in the darkness.

Erin scrambled away and struck a table. She ran to a shuttered window and threw it open. The moonlight illuminated the room just in time for her to see one of the two Workers mount the other. The Antinium seized his struggling opponent’s head and twisted with all four arms.

The neck broke. The Worker lay still. The other Worker stood up and stared at Erin.

She held the frying pan and jar of acid in shaking hands.

“Stay back! I’m warning you!”

The Worker walked towards Erin. She raised the frying pan and he stopped. The Worker raised all four arms.

“Please. I mean you no harm.”

The words were familiar. The way of speaking was familiar. Erin hesitated.

“…Pawn?”

“I am not Pawn.”

The Worker shook his head. But he was not Ksmvr either. He knelt before Erin suddenly, and she nearly tossed the jar of acid. But the Worker made no move. He spoke to her, voice loud in the silence.

“I am Knight.”

“Knight?”

He nodded. The Worker stared up at Erin.

“I have named myself. I have chosen. I am individual, first and last of my kind. I am Knight and no other is like me. And I am here to protect you. We are here to protect you.”

Erin stared at him. The frying pan loosened in her grip and she nearly dropped it. Her mind was spinning. She stared at Knight. There was something familiar about him, too.

“I—I don’t know you. I never—”

Knight straightened.

“Please, Erin Solstice. You must remain calm. We are here to protect you.”

“We?”

Movement. Suddenly Erin saw it outside the window. She threw caution to the wind and raced outside, brushing past Knight. There she stopped.

Antinium. Workers. They stood around the inn, arms folded, or holding weapons. Swords, maces, axes—and not just those. Rolling pins, rocks, large branches…even a large vase in one case. They stared silently at Erin as she froze in place.

“Who—”

Knight emerged from the inn and bowed his head to Erin.

“The dead are coming. Please remain inside. We will protect you with our lives.”

She looked at him.

“You? But who are you? Where’s Pawn?”

“He was kept in the Hive by the Prognugator. He remains. But we have come. We have chosen. We are individual.”

“Individual?”

Knight nodded. In front of Erin, a Worker turned. He bowed to her, low, as far as his stiff exoskeleton would permit.

“I have chosen. I am Bishop.”

Another Antinium turned, and then another.

“I too chose. I have decided. My name is Vladimir.”

“I am Calabrian.”

“I am Emanuel.”

“Call me Garry.”

“I wish to be known as Milner-Barry.”

“Belgrade. I will die for you.”

“We will all die for you. I am Jose.”

They spoke, one by one, in the faint moonlight. Antinium looked at Erin, all alike on the outside. But each one different, each one individual.

They were all familiar to her. And only now did Erin realize. She knew them. She knew them all. They had never had names, but she knew their faces, the way they played. She knew them.

They were her chess club.

Thirty odd Workers stood on the hilltop, ringing the inn, waiting. Erin could barely speak. She felt it. A surge of terrible emotion—whether fear or happiness or sadness it was impossible to say. But she knew something had happened. They had all chosen names.

But that was only half of the question. The other half burned in her fiercely. She turned to Knight. The Antinium was staring into the darkness, splashes of green blood still coating his carapace.

“Why are you all here? Why now? Why tonight? What—what’s happening?”

He opened his mandibles to reply. And that was when the first zombie appeared out of the night and tried to take a bite out of Erin’s face. Toren leapt out of the darkness, crashing into the zombie and the two rolled down the hill.

Erin screamed. More bodies shuffled and ran through the grass as the Workers moved to intercept them. And then the night was filled with the dead, and Erin found herself fighting for her life.

----

“Fall back! Fall back!”

Zevara screamed as Skinner grabbed a Drake and pulled his scales and skin off him like a child pulling a wrapper off a bit of candy. The horrific white face grinned down at her, sunken crimson eyes staring around layers of folded dead flesh.

She tried to raise her sword to slash at it, but her arm refused to move. Zevara had fought countless monsters, had faced death and come close to it several times. But the terror that Skinner projected dwarfed anything she had ever felt before.

Zevara retreated, trembling, as Skinner’s hand swept around and grabbed a struggling guardsman. The female Gnoll had only a moment to howl in fear and agony before she was dead.

All around Zevara, guardsmen were retreating or dying. The undead flooded through the gates around Skinner, slaughtering the helpless warriors. Only the Antinium fought on, Ksmvr and the five remaining Soldiers blockading one street, but even they were falling back. No one could fight Skinner, and every time one of his hands swung down, someone died.

Zevara prayed they died. To live without skin—she hoped they died instantly, rather than imagine there was still life in the silent piles of bones and intestines and skin that lay on the ground.

Skinner grinned at her. His folds of thick white skin grinned at her too, the faces of the dead stretched to canvas his body.

She had to run. Zevara felt it in her bones, in the marrow. But she was Captain of the Watch. She couldn’t run. She had to fight. But her body wasn’t listening to her mind.

Skinner loomed over her. He tossed what remained of the Gnoll to the ground and raised his hand towards Zevara. She dove out of the way, dropping her sword, and the palm smashed into the ground next to her.

The impact knocked the Drake sideways, but she scrambled away. The red spots. It was the red spots on Skinner’s hand. Touch those, and your skin would be peeled away. She had to keep her distance. She had to run—

Too late, Zevara saw the other hand circling around. She was running right into it. She tried to stop, but it was too late. Skinner closed his hand around Zevara’s scales—

“Relc attack!”

Something blurred past Zevara and stabbed into the hand. Dead skin fell around a spear tip as a green Drake grabbed both spear and Zevara and ran nimbly past Skinner. Zevara gaped as Relc, Senior Guardsmen of the Watch grinned toothily at her and twirled the spear.

“Heya Captain! Mind if I take this one on?”

“Relc!”

It was a warning. Relc turned his head and both he and Zevara hit the ground as Skinner swiped at them. His hand smashed into a wooden building instead and shook the foundations. Skinner stared at both Drakes and Zevara felt her scales growing cold with fear. But Relc just shook himself and bared his sharp teeth.

“Well, isn’t this fun? Back up, Captain. I’m going to need some room for this.”

So saying, Relc jumped and rolled, running back into the melee towards Skinner. A zombie popped up on his right side, but Relc raised his spear and ran the undead human through. He kicked the zombie’s corpse off his blade into a skeleton, punched a ghoul to the ground, and looked up as Skinner’s other hand swept towards him.

Relc raised his spear and met the hand as it flew at him. His spear’s tip stabbed rapidly into the open red sores in Skinner’s hand. The monster jerked, and for the first time Zevara thought she heard a sound come from the creature’s mouth.

No—not the mouth. It came from inside Skinner, a high-pitched shriek that echoed across the city.

It was deafeningly loud, but barely within Zevara’s auditory range. She clapped her hands to her ears and Relc staggered back, doing the same.

Skinner swiped at Relc, and caught him on the leg with open palm. Relc roared and stabbed down with his spear, and Skinner let go just as quickly. The Drake staggered backwards, and Zevara saw part of the scales on his leg had been stripped away.

Relc roared and stabbed and cut at Skinner’s arm, but the monster brought his limb out of harm’s way.

Again, Skinner fixed Relc with his crimson gaze. But though Zevara saw Relc shudder, he gritted his teeth and fought through the magic affecting him. He raised his spear and dashed towards Skinner, cutting and stabbing as he ran across the monster’s side.

Chunks of flesh sloughed to the ground as Skinner swung his hands at Relc. The Drake dodged away, keeping too close to Skinner’s body to be caught. The massive undead suddenly rolled and Relc had to dodge away before being squashed.

“You bastard!”

Relc ran through the undead, stabbing and knocking them aside like flies. The zombies and skeletons weren’t able to even slow him down, and the ghouls he neatly dispatched with a spear strike to the neck or head.

Suddenly free of Skinner’s gaze, the guardsmen around Zevara turned and formed another line. The Drake Captain found another sword and sliced a zombie apart as Relc blurred towards them.

Faster, stronger, and unaffected by fear. That was Relc, Senior Guardsman, the strongest guard in the city. Perhaps the world. A Level 33 [Spearmaster].

He paused in front of Zevara, panting. She saw red blood running from his leg and grabbed a healing potion from her belt.

“Here!”

“Thanks.”

He nodded and smashed the bottle against his leg. The purple liquid ran into the gaping wound and he sighed.

“Damn. This isn’t good.”

“Do you know what that thing is?”

Zevara pointed to Skinner as the monster slowly rolled back upright, the undead around him forming a living wall. Relc shook his head.

“Something ugly? But it’s strong. All that dead flesh is like armor. I need to slice it away to get at what’s underneath. But one touch of those hands—”

“Can you kill it?”

Relc paused, and then grinned at Zevara.

“I can. Maybe. Probably. But give me some of those Antinium just to be safe.”

“The Antinium? Why—”

Relc pointed. Ksmvr was slicing apart zombies as the four Soldiers still alive covered his back. Even as Skinner rolled back upright and stared at Ksmvr, he kept fighting, undeterred by the crimson stare.

“The Ants are immune to whatever he’s doing. So am I?”

“Why’s that?”

Relc grinned and tapped his head with one claw.

“[Indomitable Will]. Anyone without a similar Skill should fall back. This thing—it’s projecting fear.”

“I got that. Can you take it out with just them?”

“I can try. But give me more archers and mages to get rid of the undead. I can’t have them on my back and that thing.”

“Just stop it for now while I call a retreat. We’ll set up another street and give you a chance—”

Zevara stopped and Relc turned. Skinner was moving. The giant creature stared hard at Relc as the Drake raised his spear. But suddenly, Skinner turned. He pulled himself around and began moving back through the crowd of undead.

Relc crowed as Skinner pulled himself away. He twirled his spear and broke a skeleton’s skull with the butt end as he shouted at Skinner.

“Yeah, that’s right! Run! Run! Finally met someone with too many scales for ya, huh? Run away and…wait a second.”

Relc blinked. Skinner was leaving. Not just retreating; he was pulling himself back out the gates while a wall of undead protected his ‘back’.

“It’s…leaving?”

Zevara stared at Skinner in confusion. Why was he going?

“He must sense you’re a threat.”

Relc swore and Zevara nearly spat fire at Pisces as the mage appeared out of thin air. The human flinched, but pointed at Skinner as Relc glared at him.

“This creature is highly intelligent, guardsmen. It won’t fight anything that can resist its fear effect and poses a credible threat. Perhaps it could win, but it won’t risk that.”

“Why?”

Pisces shrugged.

“Most of the more valuable undead specimens have some kind of survival function built into it. I surmise this being may be the same.”

“Being? It’s not undead?”

“No.”

Relc grabbed Pisces as Zevara stared at him. The Drake shook the mage none too gently.

“Okay, but where is that thing going? Is it going back into the ruins or do we have to worry about reinforcements now? Even without that monster we’re still up to our ears in undead!”

“I don’t know! I don’t know!”

Pisces fought to get Relc to release him. He shouted as the undead resumed their attack on the lines of guardsmen.

“Perhaps it seeks to wear us down first! Or maybe it goes after easier prey! I can’t tell!”

Relc released Pisces with disgust.

“Well that’s just great. If it comes back with another horde, we’re cooked. But what could it want if it wants more victims? There’s no cities or villages around here. So where—”

He broke off, eyes widening. Zevara looked at him as Relc turned towards the south. He breathed the words.

“Oh no.”

Pisces looked at Relc’s face, and then south too. He blinked in sudden comprehension and his face turned slightly pale.

“Erin.”

1.43

Why do the dead try to kill the living? Is it hatred?

Do they seek to defile the living, to drag them into the same unending torment of their lives? Do they envy those who still draw breath? Or is it a greater mystery? Do the undead simply want others to join them, to add to their endless numbers?

Maybe—perhaps—the dead simply resent the living. Maybe they remember the past, and it hurts them. Or that they can understand the living and wish to ease their suffering.

It could be they just know how ugly they are and don’t want anyone to look.

Erin screamed as an almost completely decomposed Gnoll came close. He had no face. Nothing that she would use that word for. Just—rot. Horrible, black innards that still twitched and slapped together wetly as he lurched at her.

A hand seized the zombie around the remains of his ruined head. Ignoring completely the flesh and other things that squelched around his fist, Knight tightened his grip until something crunched and the zombie jerked and fell still. The Worker dropped the corpse to the ground and kicked the body away. He stood, protectively shielding Erin at the entrance of the inn.

Around the hill, the dead were struggling with the living. But there were no screams. At least, the Antinium did not scream. The dead did. They howled, or made ghastly sucking sounds or sometimes groaned, but the screaming was what terrified Erin. She felt they shouldn’t be able to. The dead should be silent.

But they weren’t. If anything, it was the Workers who more closely resembled silent reapers. They moved in unison, fighting, blocking, forming a living line as they fought against the undead. Sometimes they spoke, but with a terrifying calmness of their own.

“Die.”

“Suffer.”

“Perish.”

Two Antinium gripped a zombie by each arm and tore him apart. Another seized a skeleton with two hands and ripped out its ribs with the other two.

They fought like machines. Uncaring machines that took apart the undead like a child taking apart legos. Sometimes it was a clean dissection. Other times they smashed the dead bodies to make them fall apart.

But for all that, they were like children. None of the Workers knew how to fight. They were extremely strong, but clumsy. And the undead may have been rotting, but they were all killers.

A Worker staggered back, arms grasping as a skeleton slid forwards, bashing at the Antinium’s head with a mace. It nimbly dodged the Worker as it strove to seize a bony arm and raised its mace to crush the Antinium’s skull.

“No!”

The skeleton looked up and a flying frying pan crashed into its face. The yellow flames in its eyes dimmed and the Antinium took the chance to seize it.

Erin watched the Worker begin to dismantle the skeleton and stared at her hand. She hadn’t even realized she’d thrown the frying pan. But more undead were charging up the hill towards the inn.

“Stay behind me, please.”

Knight pushed Erin back as more undead crashed into the line of Antinium, this time from the back. The Antinium wavered as they struggled to hold the dead back. Erin saw one of the Workers slip and fall as a ghoul tackled him. The undead began tearing at him.

He had a name. He’d told it to Erin. Magnus. Magnus as in Magnus Carlsen, a name taken from the World Chess Champion. He fell down and Erin saw his blood. It was green.

“No!”

She tried to run forwards, but Knight seized Erin by the waist and lifted her up.

“You must not. You must not put yourself in danger. We are here for your protection.”

Magnus fell, shielding his face. Erin pulled harder, but Knight refused to let go.

“He’s dying!”

“Yes. The enemy surrounds us. We are at a disadvantage. This must be rectified.”

Knight pulled Erin back and raised his hand. He spoke calmly.

“[Defense Formation].”

Magnus thrust the ghoul back and raised his hand, ignoring the green blood that splattered the ground around him.

“[Attack Formation].”

He collapsed silently as a ghoul finished tearing through his exoskeleton. The undead Drake pulled something out of Magnus and opened his mouth to consume it.

A scream of rage preceded a jar of acid by only a second. The ghoul stumbled backwards, clawing at his face as the acid melted his flesh away. He fell back, and another Antinium calmly hit him with a mop, sending him slumping to the ground.

Erin felt the effects of the two Skills hit her as she raised another jar of acid and threw it. She felt lighter—so much lighter! And it seemed as though she had suddenly grown a pair of eyes on the back of her head. She was aware of the undead around her, just as she was aware of how the other Antinium were moving.

They held the line. Even as the undead ran up the hill, the Workers met them, calmly ganging up on the individual undead in twos and threes. The Antinium had no sense of fair play, and the undead were hard pressed to defend themselves against three sets of four hands stabbing at once.

A ghoul rushed past two Antinium and ran towards Knight. The Antinium raised his sword, but a skeleton leapt past him and knifed the ghoul in the chest. Toren and the ghoul fell, stabbing and biting at each other.

Erin spun. She lifted a pot and hurled it. A zombie staggered backwards. She had—she had quite a few pots and pans she’d seized from her kitchen, but she was running out. She’d hurled them into the crowd, trusting to her [Unerring Throw] skill.

Now the undead were falling, retreating. Erin stared as zombies began turning, running backwards. Was it a feint? Were more undead coming? She looked around wildly, searching for movement in the darkness.

No. No more undead were coming for the moment—they were all dead. Toren pulled himself away from the ghoul, reclaiming an arm as the ghoul jerked once and then lay still.

How many horrors had died here? A hundred? Two hundred? It felt like a thousand.

“Thirty four.”

Knight said it calmly as a skeleton fell down, skull cracked open from one of Erin’s frying pans. She stared at the Worker as silence fell and the last corpse stopped twitching.

“What?”

“We have killed thirty four of the undead. The rest have retreated. They will return in greater numbers, I believe.”

Erin stared at Knight as the Antinium calmly cleaned gore off of his sword. Around her, the Workers were helping each other to their feet, carrying the bodies down, and…digging?

Yes, the uninjured Workers were digging in the ground. Dirt flew into the air as they dug a long, wide trench around the inn. They were building a moat. A moat.

“What’s happening? What is all this?”

Erin stared at the dead, at the Workers, and at Knight. She felt dizzy; sick. And not just from the carnage. Just a few moments ago she’d been waiting for Rags, and now there were Workers with names and the living dead.

And the smell. Erin threw up a little in her mouth but refused to let her stomach heave anything else up.

Knight bowed his head to Erin again. He was like Pawn only—different. Physically they were the same, but even though they had the same voice, the same body, and both had named themselves after chess pieces, he was different. Erin couldn’t explain why or how. She just knew.

“The city of Liscor and the surrounding area is under attack, Erin Solstice. A horde of the undead emerged from the Ruins and besieged the city around an hour ago.”

Erin stared in horror at Knight. She fought to make her mouth work.

“The ruins? Undead? You mean they came from there? Did something set them—”

Her heart skipped a beat and her stomach lurched.

“Oh no. The Horns of Hammerad. They went in there. Are they…?”

Knight shook his head.

“Several adventurers reached the city alive. I do not know any more than that.”

Erin seized Knight by the shoulder, ignoring the fluids that coated his carapace.

“Any Minotaurs? Anyone with pointy ears? An Elf? Half-elf, I mean.”

Again, he shook his head.

“No such adventurers were seen. The only ones who survived were humans. A…captain of one of the teams. A woman wearing silver armor. And a few other humans. No one else.”

Erin stared at Knight, wide-eyed. Her thoughts melded together and then shut down. Knight nodded his head at her.

“I am sorry.”

She did throw up, then. Erin bent down and hurled up her lunch and dinner. She felt a cool hand on her neck, steadying her, and as she gasped and cried, Knight helped her back up.

It took several minutes for Erin to regain…control of herself. She was crying, talking incoherently, clutching Knight’s hand in a death grip as Toren brought her some water. She drank it, spat, threw up, drank some more, and finally stopped.

She didn’t stop panicking. She didn’t stop the agony in her heart or the terrible loss. But she put it inside her for a while to focus on the now. Erin looked at Knight as the Antinium studied the trench which was only getting deeper around her inn.

“What’s happening? How many zombies are in the city?”

He paused, and another Worker—Calabrian volunteered the details.

“The fighting was intensifying as we left. Over forty thousand undead creatures have attacked Liscor, and the Watch fights them in the streets.”

Forty thousand. Erin tried to remember how many guards she’d seen at the gates, or patrolling through the city. There were so many of them, but against tens of thousands of undead? More than that?

She turned to Knight.

“Should we—I mean, can we help them? How bad is it?”

He shook his head and gestured to her inn.

“Going out would not be wise. The undead fill the grasslands and will attack anything living. They have come here and will attack again, soon. We are here to protect you, but you must stay here.”

Erin stared at him in horror. She stammered and her voice cracked.

“Me? But—I’m just one person. Why me?”

He returned her gaze seriously, black, faceted eyes intent on her face.

“You are alive. That is all the reason they need.”

“And they’re out there? Regrouping?”

“Yes. Can you see them?”

He pointed, and Erin looked out. There was little light anywhere—the stars and moon were the only sources out here, but her eyes had grown accustomed to the night. She looked and the sight made her stomach tighten with fear.

Dark shapes moving in the moonlight. They filled the plains, moving slowly, a cluster of shapes surrounding something white that was approaching the inn.

“Oh gods. There are thousands of them.”

“Hundreds. They move towards us.”

Knight’s words sent a chill down Erin’s spine. She opened her mouth to say something, and then froze.

“Hold on. What’s that thing in the distance?”

Erin squinted. It was the white mass the undead were surrounding. At first she thought it was just a bunch of them moving together, but it was something else. It was far away, but coming…closer?

“Is it…a giant slug?”

----

The Watch of Liscor fell back, fighting, loosing arrows into the undead crowd, casting spells. Fighting, retreating.

Dying.

They were outnumbered and fighting across a wider and wider area. The gates had let in the undead like a virus. And so long as they had been contained to the first few streets, the battle had been even, perhaps even in the defender’s favor.

But with Skinner’s arrival breaking their ranks and the ceaseless influx of the dead, the streets had been overrun. And more and more dead had surged down alleyways, forcing Zevara to pull her warriors back further and further or become surrounded. And as they did, the scope of the battle extended, until dozens of streets were locked in desperate combat, stretching thin numbers even further.

A sign of how the battle was going lay with the civilians. They were being evacuated to the southern section of the city, the children and those unable to fight, that was. Everyone else was fighting. Those with class levels and even those without.

They fought, Drakes and Gnolls and the few Humans, healing themselves with potions, making the enemy pay for each step with blood. But the dead were bloodless. And they just kept coming.

Zevara and twenty guardsmen fought down one of the main streets, trying to stem the flow of the dead. They weren’t enough, not for such a wide passage. But overturned wagons had barricaded part of the street and created a kill zone.

The problem was that the dead were coming over the roofs, scaling walls, running through alleys. Zevara had archers shooting down as many as possible, but the defenders would still have been quickly overrun were it not for the human and Drake fighting at the front.

Pisces pointed and another ghoul jerked. Beneath his rotted skin, his spine twisted and broke, and the undead collapsed soundlessly. The [Necromancer] turned and more undead fell down as if their strings had been cut. He had accounted for over half of the fallen dead lying in piles on the street. The other half was due to Relc.

The Drake stood in the center of the undead mob, spear spinning around him too quick to follow. He stuck a zombie through its head with the shaft of his spear, twirled the butt up to shatter a skeleton’s jaw, ducked another skeleton, punched a ghoul hard enough to break its ribs, and then beheaded a zombie with a wicked cut from the tip of his spear.

Zevara cut down a skeleton and gasped as it cut her shallowly across one arm as it fell. She stabbed it until the lights in its eyes faded and saw the massive creature approaching Relc from behind.

“Relc!”

The Senior Guardsman spun around and hurled his spear. The Crypt Lord staggered back, the spear lodged deep within its chest. Relc ran forwards and seized the shaft of the spear. With a roar he ripped it back out, kicking the giant undead backwards as he did. The Crypt Lord fell on its back and Relc stabbed downwards, spear blurring until the bloated creature lay still.

He staggered back, and ran back towards the barricade as the undead tried to encircle him. The guardsmen opened up a small gap for him to squeeze through, and then he was beside Zevara as they pushed the dead back.

“Damn.”

Relc coughed and swore as Zevara moved back with him. His scales were covered in black bile and she instantly grabbed a potion out of one of the crates and handed it to him.

Relc took a sip of the potion, spat black liquid out, and drank the rest. He threw the empty flask over the barricade and nodded at Zevara.

“Thanks. I got some of the poison in my mouth.”

She scowled, but couldn’t put any of her usual force in her words.

“Be careful. If we lose you, our line will collapse.”

Relc grinned at her wearily.

“Hey, don’t worry Captain Z. None of those things can scratch my scales. If there weren’t so many of them this would be as easy as frying fish.”

“But there are a lot of them and they just don’t stop coming.”

Zevara hissed in fury and her tail lashed the ground as she pointed.

“It makes no sense. They’re not congregating in one spot and they’re attacking every side. Like a real army would do. And that guard they have around the gates is—”

“Not like them. I know.”

Relc’s eyes narrowed as she stared in the direction of the open north gate. Despite their best efforts, they hadn’t managed to retake it, not even with Relc. The dead around the massive stone doors refused to budge, and the gates were cumbersome enough to close on their own. Normally any attacking force would have been barred from entering long before they made it across the open plains, but Skinner’s fear-inducing gaze had sent all the guards fleeing.

“It’s that damned skin-creature that’s doing it. So long as it’s around, they’re going to keep coming. If you’d let me go after it.”

Zevara shook her head curtly.

“You wouldn’t make it out the gates before they surrounded you. And that thing is too much for you to handle alone.”

He glared at her.

“And so we’re going to leave it? I told you, it’s going after Erin—”

“Do you want me to try and save one human in this mess?”

Zevara shouted at Relc. He blinked and she continued.

“No matter what that thing is doing, we can’t spare anyone to go after it, let alone you. If we knew what it was doing, then maybe—”

“Waiting.”

Zevara and Relc turned. Pisces stumbled back towards them. His face was pale and his hair and robes were matted with sweat. He stumbled towards a cart holding water flasks and drank greedily.

The Captain of the Watch looked back towards the fighting. Without Relc and Pisces, the guardsmen were already beginning to be pushed back.

“We need you to keep casting, human. If you can’t we have plenty of mana potions—”

Pisces glared at Zevara.

“Potions do not cure exhaustion. Even my efficient spells tax me. I must rest.”

“I’ll go. The poison’s cured.”

So saying, Relc sprinted to one of the wagons and leapt. He kicked the skeleton that was climbing over it and landed on the other side, spear already blurring. Pisces drank more water and both watched as Relc kept fighting.

Zevara glanced at Pisces.

“What did you mean? That creature is waiting?”

He nodded and wiped at his mouth.

“It is clear that these dead are protecting that skin creature in some way. It may have control over the dead or spellcasting ability—regardless, they act as convenient fodder while it takes the skin of creatures to sustain itself.”

“Then why did it leave?”

“The danger. As I said, your Senior Guardsman posed an actual threat. It realized this and withdrew. It will let the undead keep fighting until we are exhausted and it returns. Remember—for each one of us that falls, it has another minion to use against us.”

Zevara frowned.

“Does it not harvest all of the dead, then? If they’re just bones and insides, they can’t reanimate.”

Pisces shrugged.

“There must be an upper limit to how much ah, flesh, that creature can carry. I surmise the rest it reanimates or stores for later, hence the undead. The Crypt Lords are likely a byproduct of that effect. So many dead gathered for so long together—”

“And why the girl? Why that Erin person you spoke of? Is she important?”

Pisces hesitated again, and Zevara wondered if he was about to lie. When he spoke, it was with clear reluctance.

“…No. She probably doesn’t matter at all. It’s simply how that creature works. He will eliminate every living being in the area and surround the city with his army. He senses her no doubt and wishes to eliminate any possible threat.”

“Well. We may have time if that’s the case.”

Pisces opened his mouth, looked at Zevara, and closed it.

“Yes. Perhaps. But we will be overrun soon if there are many more of the undead.”

It was a statement both knew to be true. Zevara shook her head. She raised her sword, feeling exhaustion in her arm. Flames trickled from around her mouth as she spoke.

“Drink whatever potions you need. Rest if you must. But get back to casting quickly, mage.”

She ran back towards the guardsmen as they struggled to hold back several zombies. Pisces stared after her and shook his head. He took a few quick steps back, and then made his way to a pile of dead corpses that archers had shot off rooftops.

The skeletons, ghouls, and zombies had taken and smashed in their skulls or splattered on the ground when the arrows had knocked them off their perches. But as Pisces raised his hands, the shattered flesh and bone reknit, and the dead rose back upwards, unearthly lights appearing in their eyes.

Six zombies, three skeletons, and four ghouls stood up, staring at Pisces. He pointed north, in the direction of the gates.

“Go. Avoid fighting until you reach the inn. Protect the girl. Kill any who would harm her. Go.”

Pisces watched the undead run towards the barricade, moving past the startled defenders. He smiled crookedly, and had to sit down as the effects of the spell hit him.

“My, my. I suppose I’m a little too invested in that girl for my own good.”

He laughed, and cast his eyes towards the sky.

“Well. A token deed. It will not amount to much. Not when…”

His voice trailed off. Pisces stared blankly at the undead fighting with the Watch. He was a [Necromancer]. He could sense how many dead were in the city and outside it, a fact he had carefully neglected to mention.

After a moment he smiled again and stood up. His blood was burning in agony, and he felt nauseous; exhausted. Even a potion wouldn’t help him, but the undead still fell as he killed them methodically.

Pisces laughed as the dead fell around him, uncaring of the toll. They would die. All of them. The few living guardsmen and citizens couldn’t stem the tide any more than Erin would survive. He laughed and cast his eyes skyward again, perhaps for the last time.

“Ah, but what a wonderful night to die!”

He waved his hand and a group of zombies collapsed. He pointed and the dead died. But they kept coming. And coming.

And coming.

----

“Oh god. What is that?”

Erin stared down towards the white shape moving towards them. Every time it dragged itself towards her, more horrific details emerged. At first, it was just a white shape, a sickly slug. Then it was a slug with arms, and then…a creature of some kind. But then she saw that its skin wasn’t skin but dead flesh packed together. And then she saw the faces, stretched across the skin and…

The undead ran towards the Antinium, Skinner’s small army. They fell into the huge trench the Antinium had dug, breaking bones, climbing out only to be kicked back in by the Workers.

There weren’t many. Around a hundred, or less. That’s what Knight had said. As if that wasn’t enough to bury them all in corpses anyways. Most of the undead had moved back towards the city. But the creature came on, dragging itself through the grass.

It left glistening chunks of itself behind. Pieces of dead skin. It horrified Erin more than anything.

But she had to fight. Erin lifted another jar of acid and hurled it at a Crypt Lord. The massive, bloated creature shrieked and slapped itself with its clawed hands. But the acid ate away its skin, melting the massive creature’s outsides in a matter of minutes.

That was her role. Erin stood at the door of her inn, throwing jars of acid, pots, pans, knives, anything she could. She had one frying pan next to her as an emergency weapon and she’d already hurled most of her chairs down the hill.

It was working. It was working. The dead were filling the trenches, but they hadn’t broken past the Workers yet. It was working—

Skinner had reached the bottom of the hill the inn was on. He raised his head, and looked up. Two crimson eyes flashed at Erin and suddenly she knew fear.

Fear.

“No…no.”

Skinner’s eyes flashed at her in the moonlight. His gaze touched Erin and held her. It caught her and made her feel fear beyond anything she had felt. She was helpless.

She shook. Erin was consumed by horror, pure, unfiltered terror that paralyzed her to her core. The crimson stare was death. Hers.

She couldn’t even move. She couldn’t even scream.

Erin felt something tugging at her. Knight grabbed her and pulled her backwards, towards the doors of her inn. He shoved her inside and she stumbled, partly free of Skinner’s gaze on her.

“This creature projects fear of some kind. Please, move back. We will handle this.”

Erin stared at Knight. She worked her jaw soundlessly.

“I—”

She wanted to say she’d keep fighting. But she couldn’t. She glanced outside and Skinner stared at her. He was grinning, his toothless, empty mouth a gaping hole. She froze up and Knight blocked the door with his body.

“Stay behind me.”

The undead surged forwards as one. The Workers met them as they tried to leap the moat and failed and knocked the undead into the pit. Several zombies managed to tug one Worker into the pit where he disappeared under a pile of discolored limbs. But the line was holding.

Was holding.

Skinner’s gaze moved from the inn for one second. He seemed to regard the ditch and then looked back towards the inn. For a second, Knight wondered what had happened. And then the ranks of the dead drew back and a larger creature lurched forwards.

A Crypt Lord stood on the other side of the trench. But he—or rather she—didn’t try to cross. Instead, the Crypt Lord began spitting, sending huge gouts of black blood raining over the Workers.

Several Workers hurled their weapons across the ditch, but they bounced off the Crypt Lord’s thick, discolored skin. It spat blood back at them, and the Workers shielded their faces ineffectually with their hands.

Suddenly, the moat was no longer a barrier but a liability. The Antinium could not cross to fight the Crypt Lord, and instead had to retreat while it poisoned them.

Knight watched as two Workers fell, curling up into balls as the poison killed them. He stared as the undead swarmed into the trenches and up the other side. He sighed.

Chess was not at all like battle. There were some similarities, and the [Tactician] class leveled with chess. But it did not teach fighting. It did not account for unpredictability. Chess was a beautiful thing. But battle—

Battle was uncertainty.

“Ah. Alas.”

Knight made sure his body was covering the door. The other shutters around the inn were closed, and the second floor was also shut off. Any dead creature could break in, though. He gestured and raised his voice.

“Close ranks.”

The Workers stepped back, forming a wall around the inn. There were just over twenty left now, some injured, many without weapons. They had learned something of fighting though. They would not die easily.

Knight turned his head slightly and saw Erin was still staring out at the undead as they cleared the moat. Her face was pale. He tried to smile, but all he could do was lift his mandibles slightly. What would Pawn say at a time like this? What was the right thing to say?

“Please stay inside. You will be safe here.”

She tried to say something. But Skinner’s stare paralyzed her, took away her words. Knight closed the door and put his back to it.

Twenty workers. A hundred undead creatures. Skinner. They would hold with all their might. As long as they could.

Until they could no longer move. Until they were no longer alive. Each Worker was resolved to die. That was simple. Knight only wished—he only wished—

He only wished it were enough.

----

Rags sat on the hilltop, watching. She was no longer watching the city of Liscor. That place would fall or burn. It mattered not to her.

Instead, she was watching a small hill, covering in flickering motion. Rag’s eyes were good. Even in the night she could see the Workers, struggling against the undead. She was also good at counting. That was why despite her entire tribe sitting with her on the hill, she did not order them to move.

It was a sensible choice. All of Rags agreed with that. Aside from Skinner, the terrifying monster that struck fear into her heart, the undead were too numerous, too deadly. Goblins weren’t good at killing things that were already dead, and they would have been outnumbered by the dead even if they joined the Workers. Not a good fight. So why fight?

All of Rags agreed with her choice, even if not all of her tribe did. The frightened, pitiful Goblin part of her told her to run. And the cold [Tactician] self she had learned told her the battle was unwinnable. Rags knew this. But another part of her hurt.

It was a small part. It wasn’t a practical part, or a particularly useful part. It knew there was no other choice. But it hurt. And it distracted her as she watched the battle.

Absently, Rags’s hand went up and poked at her flesh. No. It wouldn’t stop hurting. She knew she couldn’t do a thing. So why try.

A Goblin shifted next to Rags. He wanted to go down there. But one glare from her and he stopped moving. She was Chieftain. She decided. And she had decided not to interfere. It was only logical.

She just wished that part of her would stop hurting.

Rags touched her heart again. There was nothing she could do. Nothing but watch. She would watch until the end.

That was all she could do.

----

Knight stood against the doorway, arms stretched wide, putting his entire weight against the wood behind him. His legs buckled. But he refused to fall.

The undead had broken through the moat. They had reached the inn itself, and it was there the Workers were making their final stand.

They were doing well. Well enough. The lone Crypt Lord had fallen, taking five Workers with him. But the remaining Workers fought together, shielding the inn, letting their strong bodies take the brunt of the assault to protect the fragile wood.

They had learned. A few short minutes—or was it hours?—of battle had made them stronger. They fought with weapons, methodically, killing, guarding. They were holding.

It was just that the dead were relentless. And they clustered thickest around the door of the inn, seeking entry.

Knight blocked them. He took the swords and claws, not even bothering to block. He couldn’t move his arms anyways. He just had to cover the door. Simple enough. Simple. But so difficult.

Green blood trickled down his sides. He was cold. He had been stabbed. Was being stabbed. A group of the undead savaged him, stabbing, biting.

A Worker hurled a zombie off him. Two more joined him, and they crushed the others, breaking them, taking them apart like a building or a carcass to be butchered.

Knight tried to move, but felt himself sinking to the ground. No good. He had to stand. He had to be a shield. A Knight. He moved in an L-shape, but his name was more than that. He was a protector. A champion of the innocent. She had told him that. He remembered. He remembered everything.

One of the Workers paused before Knight. Knight struggled to remember his name. Garry? Yes, Garry. Named after Garry Kasparov, one of the greatest Grandmasters of all time. A good name.

Garry stood beside Knight as the others covered them. He spoke.

“You are dying.”

Knight could no longer feel his body. But he could see. Green blood—his blood—stained the ground.

“Yes.”

It was a pointless comment to make. He strained to ask the more important question.

“Is she still safe?”

“She is.”

“Good.”

There wasn’t much else to say. Knight’s vision was growing dark. But he struggled to move, to block the doorway with just a bit more of his body. It was important. He rasped at Garry.

“Protect her.”

The Worker nodded.

“Of course. Until we perish.”

“Good.”

The world was growing dark. And cold. But Knight didn’t care. He just wanted to play another game of chess again. He was sure he was better. And if—if she was alive, maybe she would remember. He had loved playing with her. Each time, no matter how few they had been, how short.

He wished he could play another game. He would open with the Danish Opening, risky, but push her as hard as he could. Just to hear her laugh in delight or praise him. If he could play another game in that warm room, it would be perfect bliss if—

Knight didn’t close his eyes. He had no eyelids to close. But he stiffened, and something left him. The other Workers took no notice. They were fighting, bleeding, holding the enemy off. Only one person noticed among the dead and the living. Only one person cared.

Erin.

----

They were dying. Erin sat in her inn and heard it. She knew it. They were dying.

All of them.

The Workers fought outside, so close she could hear them as they spoke. They were short phrases that tore pieces out of her heart.

“I have fallen.”

“My arm has been torn off.”

“Continue on without me. Protect her. Please.”

Passionless inflection. But not passionless words. She heard them fall and die, begging the others to keep fighting. To protect. Protect her.

It hurt more than anything else. More than being stabbed, more than physical pain. But she couldn’t move. She was rooted to the spot, unable to do anything but hide.

Hide in her inn while her friends died.

She didn’t know their names. She’d forgotten them as they’d spoken. But she knew them. She’d played chess with each of them. Taught them. Klbkch and Pawn had brought each one countless times and Erin knew their every move in chess.

And they were dying. For her.

She tried to move her legs. They shook, trembling against the floorboards, refusing to carry even a bit of her weight. Her hands were the same.

They were dying. She had to do something.

Erin grabbed at her frying pan, and then let go of the handle. She covered her ears with her hands and curled up. She was afraid.

Afraid.

The fear was overpowering. It wasn’t even a conscious thing, something Erin could fight against. It was like a basic math equation, an unchangeable part of the universe. If she fought, if she tried to fight, she would die. She couldn’t overcome that.

But she could still move. Erin felt it. She could run. The Workers would protect her. If she ran—

Something in Erin rebelled against the thought. Run? Run while they died for her?

It was the only sensible choice. But they were dying. For her. And that made running wrong.

Even if it saved her? No. It was impossible. They were all trapped. The undead were everywhere. That thing was coming. Running was just a slower death.

Erin shuddered. She had heard Knight’s last words. They cut at her, pulling pieces out of her soul. She wished she could move. She wished—

Her foot trembled, and knocked against the table. Erin heard something clatter to the floor and flinched. She looked down.

In the moonlight, something rolled next to the chair and stopped. Erin stared at it.

She saw a chess piece lying on the floor. It was a broken knight piece, a Drake holding a sword and a shield, only someone had snapped it off so only the legs and base remained.

Slowly, Erin bent to pick it up. She held the chess piece in her hand, and felt at the sharp edges.

She put the chess piece on the board. She stared at the two sides, white and black, bathed in the red light from Skinner’s eyes. Her heart was filled with fear. Her mind was broken by terror. But her soul cried out as her friends died.

Erin’s hand moved. She pushed the white pawn piece forwards. She hesitated, and then pushed a black pawn two spaces forwards.

Pawn to E4. Pawn to E5. Bishop came next, to C4. A classic opening.

Slowly, Erin began to play. It was wrong. It was the wrong thing to do as the Workers bled and perished. But she played anyways, mechanically, playing out the game on pure instinct.

The pieces moved mechanically. Erin played the game and time slowed around her. Time stopped. Time—

Time was a strange thing. It didn’t matter at times, and mattered the world at others. For Erin, time had always disappeared when she played chess. That was why the skill she had learned was so fitting.

Such a silly thing. A useless thing. It made one moment longer. It was good for a little bit, but only that. It only made a second into an eternity. It couldn’t level mountains or grant her luck or do anything else.

It just made a moment immortal. So Erin played. She played as the undead slaughtered her friends and Skinner’s gaze touched her heart. She played.

A useless game. A worthless game. She lost to herself with half her pieces still on the board. But that wasn’t important. Erin reset the board and played again, moving the pieces with reckless abandon.

It wasn’t about chess. It was just about the time. Every second, fear etched itself into her mind, always present, always there. It was part of her, and part of the endless games she played. Again. And again. Playing, always playing, until fear and living were one and the same.

“The king is smart and uses his head. For if he moves, he’ll soon be dead.”

Erin muttered the words again. She remembered her dream, and the certainty of it. The dead Goblin Chieftain. The blood. The smell of oil.

Death and violence.

If she were a king, moving, fighting, would only lead to her misery. And death. She had lost friends because she’d fought. But she would lose them again if she did nothing.

“If he moves, he’ll soon be dead.”

But that was just it. Someone died, even if the king didn’t. The king was a selfish jerk, letting people suffer in his place. Erin’s hand moved on the king, and slowly tipped it over.

“I am no king.”

Erin stood up. The fear was still in her, still biting, still trying to hold her down. But it was part of her now. It still tried to paralyze her thoughts, but it was old now. And there was something more important than fear. More important than pain or death.

“I am a queen. And this is my inn.”

How many minutes had passed? How many seconds? It felt like years, but the battle was still raging. The only difference was that Erin could move. She seized the frying pan, and then hesitated.

Slowly, Erin walked into the kitchen and came back carrying a huge glass jar. It was one of the big jars she used to store the bulk of the acid fly’s acid in. She pushed the door slowly open and saw Knight lying in front of it.

For a second Erin wavered. The jar of acid tipped in her hands. She steadied it, and then looked around.

The dead were everywhere. But down the hill, Skinner was looking upwards. He was commanding the flow of the battle. Like a general. Like a king.

Erin supposed that made her the other king. And this was check. Well. She was promoting herself to queen.

Skinner stared at Erin. The crimson gaze fixed her, sending tendrils of terror into her to squeeze at her heart. But she had felt it before. It was an old trick. She lifted the jar of acid.

“Come on you bastard!”

Her voice echoed from the hilltop, cutting through the sounds of battle like thunder. Erin surprised herself, but remembered her Skill. [Loud Voice].

Skinner didn’t blink. He couldn’t. But he seemed surprised, as far as Erin could tell. His gaze moved sideways and she sensed undead moving towards her. The Workers cut them off.

The jar of acid sloshed in her grip. Heavy. Without her [Lesser Strength] skill she would barely have been able to lift it. But she raised it up onto one shoulder and then heaved it into the air like a giant shot put.

The glowing green projectile flew down the hill towards Skinner’s face, straight as an arrow. He raised his hand, too slowly. It broke on him and green liquid drenched the giant monster.

Acid covered Skinner’s face and body. He screamed, a high-pitched sound that made Erin’s teeth hurt and the Antinium clap their hands to their ear holes. But he didn’t die. He ripped his own flesh away, tearing layers of skin away. Then he looked up at Erin and screamed.

The dead flooded the hilltop and Skinner shrieked in rage, pulling himself up towards Erin, hands digging into the soil and earth.

“Come on!”

Erin stood on top of the hill, frying pan raised, as the Workers surrounded her. Her blood was on fire. Her heart hurt. But she would keep fighting.

Skinner stared at her. Erin stared back. Neither one blinked. He was her target. She could keep fighting until he was dead.

She wouldn’t stop. She would keep going, regardless of fear or death.

Until the moment he stopped moving. Until her last breath. Until her friends were safe, or they were all dead.

Until the end.

The dead rushed at Erin, and she raised the frying pan and hit the first zombie hard enough to break all of its teeth free. The darkness moved, and the dead were everywhere.

Everywhere.

1.44

She knew when the first skeleton cut her that she was going to die. Erin stared down at the open skin on her arm and wondered if she could push the two red halves together. She raised the frying pan and hit the skeleton with all her strength.

It fell down. Erin kicked it until the lights in its eyes went out. She was strong. Strong as a man? Strong enough to kill. She’d hit a dead Drake until the iron frying pan had dented and his skull had caved in and bits had squished outwards.

But the dead were everywhere, and somehow, each time Erin turned around, there were less Antinium around her. But there were always more undead. Their glowing eyes watched Erin, and their clawed hands sought her life.

Once she thought she saw Toren. Her skeleton danced among the undead, sword raised, stabbing, cutting. His fellows seemed to only half notice him, only fighting back after he’d made the first blow. But he was only one, and she couldn’t tell him apart from the other skeletons.

Erin ran back and forth, ducking under slow swings, throwing the few jars of acid she had at the ghouls as they bounded towards her, hitting skeletons aside, and seeing the black shapes protecting her. Each time a sword thrust at her heart or she stumbled, a Worker would be there, grappling a zombie away or seizing a ghoul by the throat.

The girl fought, and every time she turned around, another Worker, another friend, was dying.

And then she turned around and there were only the dead. The few Workers that remained struggled alone, isolated.

Erin backed up towards her inn. Eight Workers came with her. The rest lay silent. They barricaded the doors even as the undead began breaking through the windows. Erin tossed aside the frying pan that was bent nearly out of shape and realized she’d torn the skin from her palms even as she grabbed a chair.

The dead battered at the door as the Antinium clubbed at arms and heads breaking through the shutters, and outside Skinner’s crimson gaze lit up the inn. He was close.

Erin was bleeding. Blood dripped from her arms and legs. Something had stabbed her in one of her breasts, and she was sure she’d never heard of that happening in a story. She clutched at her bleeding chest and sat down.

Just for a second.

It was very dark.

----

Zevara stood in the center of the street, as the undead rushed towards her. She took a deep breath and breathed fire.

A stream of bright flame shot from her mouth incinerating the front rank of the undead and making the others stop to claw at their burning forms. Zevara kept up the stream of bright fire as long as she could. Five seconds. Ten. And then she had to stop and gasp for air.

The world was dark. Spinning. She couldn’t breathe. But the enemy had been stopped for a moment. But only a moment.

They were everywhere. And they had pushed the defenders of the city back, back, until they were battling down the main street, next to the barracks, outside the entrance to the Antinium’s hive. And though the battle still raged on, Zevara knew this was it.

The end. Once their lines broke this time, there would be nowhere else to go. The children and those citizens not fighting would be exposed. Already they’d been crammed like sardines as the guardsmen had them move further and further back from the fighting. Any more and—

It wasn’t her fault. That was what Zevara wanted to say. She’d done her best, damn it. With hundreds of warriors she’d held off thousands. Who could ask for more than that?

But she’d failed, even though she was always going to fail. The Watch had never been meant to protect the city from siege. They were over four thousand in the city that held over eighty thousand civilians. They were able to quell fights, catch thieves, stop bandit raids—

But never an army. And especially not an army of the dead.

How many were there? Thousands. Tens of thousands. They kept getting back up. The living became the dead, and the dead refused to die. Stab wounds didn’t slow them. Fire melted their skin but had to crack their bones before they stopped. Beheading didn’t slow some skeletons and the Crypt Lords could kill scores before they were brought down.

If. If the walls had been held the Watch would have prevailed. If they had held the first few streets instead of fighting in every damned alleyway, they would have held the line.

If she’d let Relc try to kill Skinner, they might have pushed the undead out of the city. And if the Antinium had joined them, they might have won.

They were still fighting. Ksmvr’s Soldiers guarded several streets leading to their Hive. More warriors stood guarding the sloping tunnel into the earth, but none had joined the Watch. They were all back, protecting their Queen.

Another group of undead ran down the street. Zevara gulped down more air.

Damn him. Damn him. She’d counted on the Antinium. They were what had been needed, but he’d refused to send them out. The Hive’s Soldiers and the Workers would have made all the difference. They could field far more than three hundred if the needed to. But Ksmvr had refused. He was heartless. Not at all like his predecessor.

A Ghoul bounded ahead of the running zombies and skeletons. Too fast. Zevara raised her sword and slashed at her chest. The dead woman stumbled, but then raised a hand. Too quick, and her sword was caught on bone.

Zevara opened her mouth and exhaled. Fire ignited in her lungs and spilled out her mouth. It burned the air, the dead, and even her. It was her ancient birthright, but it was not hers.

The world greyed out and spun as Zevara stumbled. The ghoul was lurching back, screaming and clawing at her ruined face, but then she lunged forward. A spear tip punctured the tip of her head and she fell down.

Someone was at Zevara’s side. The Watch Captain felt a huge arm helping her up.

“Careful, Z. You’re running low on air.”

Zevara gasped and shook Relc’s hand off. She tried to inhale air, but her breath was coming in short gasps. She gasped and clawed at her throat. She could barely breathe, but she had to. She spat fire again, and a crowd of the undead went up in flames.

Coughing. Gasping. It was pain and she couldn’t breathe. Zevara stumbled backwards as the undead seized the lull in the deadly blasts of fire and surged forwards.

Relc stepped forwards, spear blurring. He stabbed two zombies in the chest with blinding speed, pivoted, punched a skeleton down, and then raised his spear as another zombie lurched at him.

“[Triple—]!”

The zombie’s head exploded as Relc’s spear struck three times at once. The Drake caught a bit of flesh in his open mouth and gagged on the rest of what he’d been about to say. He spat, coughing, and whirled his spear around.

More guardsmen rushed forwards and Zevara stumbled backwards. She’d given them all the time to rest she could. Any more and she would stop breathing, she knew.

She gasped for more air and then raised her voice. She had to know.

“Tkrn. How are the others doing?”

The guardsmen fought in front of her, a thin line of weary soldiers, blades and armor covered in gore. Zevara looked around.

“…Tkrn?”

The Gnoll was nowhere to be seen. Zevara tried to remember where she’d seen him last. Running down a street to deliver a message? She shook her head.

Gone. They were all gone. Or going.

Relc fell back cursing as the undead pushed forward. The thin red line grew redder and fell back as the undead pushed forwards. And this street was not alone.

Across the city, guardsmen fell back as the barricades broke. Ghouls raced over the rooftops, too many to be stopped by the few arrows and spells coming from below. They raced towards the streets where the citizens of Liscor were guarded by the wounded, sensing their prey was helpless.

“We’re out of healing potions.”

Tkrn appeared out of the chaos, limping to tell Zevara that as the Watch fell back another street. She just nodded at him. What else was there to say?

“Fall back towards Market Street. We’ll make a stand there.”

He nodded as the guardsman ran or carried each other past Zevara. Relc brought up the rear, spear still blurring with speed. But even he was slowing down. Exhaustion was doing what all the undead could not.

“Relc. Can you…?”

He grinned at her.

“Leave it to me. Just save a spot for me when I get back, huh?”

She nodded and ran with her guardsmen. Back, back again. Relc didn’t need to say anything. Both she and he felt it.

The guardsmen met a larger force holding the entrance to Market Street. The burned out road had been torn up again, this time so that stalls and doors could be turned into another barricade. The Drakes and Gnolls who held this spot were exhausted, wounded, but the dead clogging the street were a testament to their will to fight.

Zevara took to the front of the line and looked back over her guardsmen. She knew she had to speak, to give them hope, a reason to keep fighting. She just had nothing left to say.

A voice raised above the shouting and ever-present noise in the distance. A calm, emotionless tone.

“Watch Captain Zevara. I must speak with you.”

Zevara turned and saw Ksmvr. The Prognugator of the Antinium strode towards her, two Soldier Antinium at his side.

His exoskeleton had been crushed on one of his arms and something had torn open his side. A gauze binding had already turned dark green with blood, but was otherwise unharmed.

One of the Soldiers limped as he walked and Zevara saw his left foot had been half torn off. But the Soldier did not cry out or show any sign of distress. They halted before her and Ksmvr nodded as if nothing was urgent in the world.

“Watch Captain Zevara. I regret that we must part ways now.”

She stared at him.

“What?”

“This battle comes too close to the hive. I must pull back the Soldier Antinium from the streets, to better guard the hive. I tell you this as a matter of courtesy.”

Zevara struggled for words. The only reason they’d held on for so long was that the Soldiers were blocking off several streets. Without them—

“Coward.”

Tkrn barked it at Ksmvr. The Antinium flicked his gaze towards the Gnoll, and then away dismissively.

“I regret this decision. But I must prioritize my Hive. I hope you understand. Your duties are similar to mine in nature, Watch Captain Zevara.”

She stared at him. Tkrn was growling, but she put a hand on his shoulder.

“I understand.”

Ksmvr nodded.

“Good. I wish you—”

“I understand that you’re a coward and a fool.”

Ksmvr paused. Zevara raised her voice as the guardsmen around her looked around.

“We’ve fought and bled for this city, and your blasted hive. If we fall here, everyone dies! But you won’t even give us more than a handful of Soldiers! Don’t you realize what’s happening? Or is your damned Queen not aware of what’s happening?”

The air around Ksmvr and the two Soldier Antinium froze. His hands touched at his sword hilts.

“My Queen completes her duties. As do I. Insults to her name—”

“Eggs rot your damned Queen!”

Zevara shouted at Ksmvr. She pointed at the destroyed streets and ruined buildings.

“We’ve kept Liscor safe! We’ve held up our end of the Bargain—you Antinium swore to protect this city from attack! And where are you when we need you!?”

Ksmvr paused.

“I must protect my Hive.”

“Liscor will fall!”

“Liscor may. But the Hive shall never be taken, even if a hundred thousand undead should attack.”

What was worse, Zevara believed him. She cursed him, but Ksmvr remained impassive. He shook his head.

“Say what you will. But the Queen’s safety is—”

“Zevara!”

Relc shouted behind her, desperately. A Crypt Lord had appeared down the street, from the wrong side. He must have broken through somewhere else. Guardsmen streamed towards him, shouting as Relc held off the undead coming from the other direction.

Zevara cursed and turned towards Ksmvr, but the Antinium was already striding away. She opened her mouth, and then closed it. There was no point in wasting her breath.

The Captain of the Watch stared bitterly at Ksmvr’s back. She longed to plant a sword in it, or strike at the Antinium, but that would just see her dead sooner. Instead, she turned. Drakes and Gnolls were already fighting the Crypt Lord as he spat black blood at them, slicing at them with claws made of broken bone.

Zevara raised her sword and ran back towards the fighting.

For the last time.

----

“Erin.”

For a moment, Erin thought someone else was shaking her. When she looked up into the dark eyes and saw the four arms of the Antinium, she remembered someone else.

“What?”

The Worker pulled her upright.

“You must not sleep. Here.”

He shoved something at Erin. She took it and stared at the red liquid. A potion…? A healing potion. Hers. That was right. Hers. She’d—bought it after that day.

“Drink.”

The bottle was at her lips. Erin swallowed, grimaced, and felt life returning. She was tired. So tired that the world seemed to call her back to sleep. But the potion made her live.

She got to her feet. The Worker helped her up, and she saw he was wounded. He was missing an antenna and two fingers on one of his right hands. His carapace was broken in places, but when she offered him the potion he shook his head.

“Drink.”

She did, finishing the foul liquid and feeling life return with every gulp. Erin threw the bottle across the room and struck a skeleton in the face as it sought to climb in. It slowed the creature long enough for another Worker to behead it with an axe.

Erin looked at the Worker who had given her the potion. It seemed silly, with the undead clawing at the walls and howling outside, but she had to say it.

“I’m sorry. I’ve forgotten your name.”

“Bird. I am Bird.”

He nodded at her. Erin nodded back.

“I guess this is it, then.”

“We will protect you until the end.”

“Which is now.”

“Yes.”

She paused. Erin’s head was still spinning, but she looked around and saw only the dead. The undead, but also fallen Workers. Death.

Crimson light was what she saw by. Skinner’s glowing red eyes lit up the inn brighter than the light from the moon. Bird had taken his place by one of the windows, a sword in his hand, a buckler in another.

“There are few undead left. Many are moving towards the city.”

“But that thing is out there.”

“Yes. It is close.”

Erin peeked outside. She could see Skinner, his massive, obscene frame a shadow around the two red spotlights in the darkness. A guard of undead stood around him, silently waiting in the darkness.

“He’s waiting.”

“Yes.”

Bird nodded again. Erin looked at the undead. They were still bashing at the doors, the walls, trying to climb through the windows as the seven other Antinium moved around the room, slicing off limbs and bashing heads.

The inn’s walls were protecting them. For the moment. But Erin knew it wouldn’t last.

“We’ve got to go. They’ll tear this place down around us if we stay.”

Erin walked into the kitchen. She had one jar of acid left. She took it. Bird grabbed her arm as she walked towards the door. The Worker stared at her.

“It is death out there, Erin Solstice.”

She nodded.

“Yeah. But it’s death everywhere.”

He paused, staring at her face. Another Worker turned.

“Better to place the enemy in check than suffer it yourself.”

Erin blinked at him, and then grinned.

“Right.”

She opened the door. A zombie stared at her in surprise, arm raised to hammer at the wood again. Erin threw a jar of acid in his face and he staggered back, screaming. She was nearly out of acid. She’d rained it all down on Skinner and the other undead.

She had a knife in one hand. It was sharp. Erin held it in her hand and thought she was dreaming. She stepped around Knight’s body, heart beating faster and faster. The knife was slippery in her hand.

Skinner looked at her, eyes projecting fear. Erin gritted her teeth.

“Go to hell.”

She ran out the door, and the eight Antinium followed her. Erin stabbed a zombie in the face, punched him, and looked up as Skinner’s massive hand flattened the undead Gnoll. Two glowing eyes stared down at her.

She raised the kitchen knife.

“Come on. Let’s end this.”

----

Ksmvr strode through the streets as the noise of battle receded into the dull roar of sound around him. He thought as he moved, considering all that was occurring and would occur.

Zevara and the guardsmen would soon fall. Perhaps the citizens in Liscor would make a stand. It was possible they might prevail—the undead horde’s numbers had thinned. But they were still a danger.

Duty towards Liscor and the Bargain obliged the Hive to send soldiers to defend Liscor. But as Prognugator, Ksmvr was able to determine whether such actions were wise. And with the Queen still occupied by the Rite of Anastases, he had determined her safety was paramount.

Zevara had cursed him. Shouted at him. Her anger was understandable, but there was nothing Ksmvr could do. His actions were the only sound choice.

They were logical. He knew that. The Queen had to be protected, especially when carrying out the Rite. It was quite clear in the priorities he had been given. Her life and the well being of the hive were far more important than the agreement made with the city of Liscor.

He spoke to one of the Soldiers accompanying him. To speak to one was to speak to all.

“Pull all Soldiers back. The streets are meaningless. We must protect the Hive.”

The Soldier didn’t respond, but Ksmvr could feel the other Antinium abandoning their position at the street entrances. They would retreat to the Hive, guarding both entrances within the city.

There were three entrances to the Hive, only two of which were known to the Council of Liscor. The third remained outside the city, buried by several tons of dirt. They could be easily excavated, but the undead had not located that entrance as of yet.

Ksmvr continued to consider the siege as he stood at the entrance to the tunnel, watching the streets for the undead as Soldiers ran past him into the Hive. The Antinium had food and supplies for at least a month of continuous operation, which made things simple. The creature that had appeared with the undead was still at large outside the city, but it had shown little interest in the Antinium.

Regardless of the outcome above, Ksmvr estimated that the Queen would be finished with her task by the end of the night. Then he could request further orders. If she wished the city to be cleansed, the Soldiers were fully capable of doing so. Otherwise the Hive could easily be sealed off.

Ksmvr did not worry about his Queen’s reaction to his decisions. He did not worry. He had fulfilled his highest priority, even if it meant sacrificing lesser commitments towards the city. She would understand, would she not? She had given him no other directives.

“The city is expendable. The rogue Aberrations are of little concern and may be hunted down in time. The innkeeper—”

He hesitated. She was valuable. The city was valuable. But—

“The Hive is all. The Queen is all.”

She would understand. He dared not risk her safety by reducing the Soldiers protecting her. She had given explicit instructions not to be disturbed at any cost. At any cost. He was following orders.

And he had secured the individual known as Pawn. That was quite an achievement. Ksmvr remembered what the former Worker had said and shifted. He had been…unsure how to respond to Pawn’s words, as close to disloyalty as they had seemed.

“My judgement is not in error. My logic is sound.”

Reassured, Ksmvr nodded again. The last of the Soldiers were about to enter the hive. But suddenly, they paused. And stopped.

Ksmvr stared as one of the Soldiers seemed to glance up at the sky, listening. And then, suddenly, he turned around and began to run back down the street.

“You. Halt!”

The Soldier halted as Ksmvr strode towards him. The Prognugator held one hand on his sword’s hilt as he stopped a few feet away from the errant Soldier.

“What are you doing? I ordered you to return to the Hive and guard the entrance.”

The Soldier stared at Ksmvr silently. Of course, he couldn’t respond, but Ksmvr sensed no difference in the Soldier’s thoughts. He was following orders. Following orders, but whose? Ksmvr hadn’t ordered—

Something brushed past the Prognugator. Ksmvr whirled, but it was another Soldier. And not just one.

Suddenly, the massive Antinium warriors were streaming out of the Hive’s entrance again. Ksmvr whirled.

“What are you doing? What is happening?”

They ran past him, silently. He turned, and saw them running into the city. Even as he watched, they began charging towards the undead.

“What…?”

A hand tapped Ksmvr politely on the shoulder. The Antinium turned, and another fist crashed into his face. He fell down, hands grasping at his swords.

Ksmvr was Prognugator of the Antinium. He had been born to war, and so he drew both swords and daggers even as he rolled. He could not die. His life was important; he led the hive in his Queen’s absence. But he froze as he looked up.

The world was different. Ksmvr felt it. In an instant, his reality changed. He looked up and knew. He felt his Queen’s anger; he sensed her ire in his mind. She had returned. She had completed the Rite. And he—

He stood above Ksmvr.

“You.”

The world began to shift.

----

Selys had never used a sword. Swords were for warriors, and she was just a receptionist. She had a few archery skills from a few levels as a [Hunter], but she had never touched a sword except to sell it or appraise it.

She had used a sword today, though. Selys staggered back and watched as the zombie fell, the hilt sticking out of his stomach.

The female Drake felt sick. But Krshia yanked the sword out of the dead human’s body and handed it back to her.

“Hrr. Good that you killed. You may gain a new class, yes? If we survive the night.”

It didn’t seem likely. Selys was behind the main line of guardsmen Zevara commanded, but already the undead had attacked their spot twice. They were everywhere. Overrunning the streets.

“We’re going to die.”

Krshia smacked her on the head. Selys gaped as her hand flew to cover her head, but the Gnoll just snorted at her.

“Save your weeping for when you are dead, yes? We are not done. Fight. Fight until all is lost.”

But all was lost. More undead were struggling at the barricades, fighting to break through. It was only a matter of time.

Part of Selys wanted to throw down her sword and wait for death. But it would be a terrible death, she knew. And she wouldn’t even die at the end of it. So she raised her blade awkwardly, waiting for the end. If she’d only been an adventurer, levelled in another class—

A voice. A shout. Selys turned, raising the sword. She’d long since ran out of arrows. But it wasn’t another attack. Tkrn ran down the street, waving the axe in his hand. He was running at a sprint, but his eyes were open, wide. And he was—smiling?

“The Ants! The Antinium are coming!”

Selys looked at Krshia. It couldn’t be. They’d retreated. But now another guardsman had taken up the call.

“The black tide marches!”

“The Soldiers are fighting in the streets!”

Wildfire ran through Selys’ veins, giving her new hope. It couldn’t be. But then she saw them. Shapes. Moving out of the darkness. Not one. Not two. A moving mass. An endless stream of bodies.

The Antinium.

Soldiers ran down the street. They crashed into the line of the undead even as Selys watched, gaping. First twenty Soldiers filled the street, rushing at the enemy, and then fifty. A hundred. Thousands.

And they were not alone. Ksmvr, the Prognugator was among them. He slashed at a zombie with his daggers and suddenly a Worker was next to him. The smaller Antinium seized the dead zombie and bore him down, and two more were suddenly next to Ksmvr, stomping at the dead Drake until it was paste.

Soldiers and Workers flooded out of the tunnel, an endless stream of black bodies. But that wasn’t all. The ground and streets began to ripple and hands thrust out of the stones. The undead paused, and then a huge spade-like hand seized a zombie and dragged it into the earth. A Soldier Antinium rose out of the ground and finished ripping the undead woman apart.

The undead in the street hesitated. They were an army without fear, an endless tide of death that bowed to neither pain nor exhaustion. They would fight on even when they had lost arms or legs. They were pitiless, emotionless killers. But that was the nature of the Antinium as well.

Out of the tunnels. Out of the darkness. Workers raced next to huge, thundering Soldiers. They didn’t even slow down as the first group of undead appeared in front of them. The first Soldier smashed bodily into a ghoul knocking the smaller dead Gnoll down. He didn’t pause but ran on. The dead Gnoll struggled to get up but a Worker trampled him. And then another. The stream of Antinium did not cease.

A crowd of zombies met a Soldier. He ripped into them, shovel-like hands punching, gouging their weak flesh. Workers swarmed over another zombie, ripping, pulling him apart from every direction.

A Crypt Lord raised a clawed hand to shield at its face. A Soldier leapt from a rooftop, plunging thirty feet to smash its knee into the Crypt Lord’s face. Bone and flesh gave way as the Soldier began tearing the larger undead apart. The Soldier stood up, carapace covered in steaming black blood. His right leg was shattered from impact and green blood oozed around the broken black carapace. He took two halting steps forward, smashed a skeleton to the side, and then collapsed.

The Workers and Soldiers paid no attention to the fallen Soldier. They surged around and over him, rampaging through the ranks of the undead, fighting with mindless fury.

The guardsmen and warriors in the streets stared. Hundreds of black bodies ran through the streets, killing, pounding, tearing.

The Antinium. They had come out of the hive, leaving it practically undefended. But why?

Krshia pulled Selys out of the way as a group of Soldiers thundered past them. They barely noticed the Drakes and Gnolls. But one of them was leading the charge. Ksmvr paused as ahead of them, Zevara blocked his way.

“You! What’s happening?”

The Drake stared at the Prognugator, but he shook his head. Selys saw the Antinium had cracked the chitin around his face somewhere. He looked—confused. She heard him raise his voice.

“We are attacking. We will drive the undead out of the city.”

“What?”

The look Zevara gave Ksmvr was incredulous, and she wasn’t alone. Selys had heard the Antinium had called all the Soldiers back. So why had he changed his mind?

Ksmvr shook his head helplessly.

“I did not order it. I did not. The Queen did not either. He—”

“Who?”

“He has gone to Erin Solstice with many Soldiers.”

“Who?”

Relc ran past Selys, his scales streaked with blood and grime. Selys grabbed at him. Relc nearly threw her off before he stopped.

“Relc? What’s happening? Why are the Antinium fighting now?”

He looked at her, wild-eyed. Selys took a step back. She had known Relc for a long time, but she’d never seen him look like that. His scales were grey. He pointed.

“I saw him. I saw—he was leading them.”

“Who was? Relc?”

The Drake didn’t answer. He sagged, staring at the Antinium as they filled the streets, fighting. He whispered, so softly only Selys and Krshia heard it.

“He’s back.”

----

This was how it ended. In the last hours of the night, Erin fought outside of her inn, the undead and the Antinium mixing into a blur. She stared up at Skinner and saw death and horrors in his face. She raised a kitchen knife, a tiny weapon, and vowed in her heart to hurt him before she died.

This was how it started.

Skinner grabbed for Erin. She ducked and stabbed at his arm. Her blade cut a few inches into his dead skin and stopped.

Erin rolled out of the way as the hand came back. It still caught her a glancing blow but the red spot didn’t touch her, didn’t steal her skin. It had taken two Workers already. Their carapaces had been torn away by Skinner and tossed to the ground.

A Worker caught Skinner’s hand. He knocked the Antinium away, but three more gripped his arm and stopped it. Skinner raised his other hand and Erin threw the jar of acid.

The acid splashed on his face and he shrieked. The sound went through her bones. She covered her ears as he clawed at his face and the Antinium did likewise.

But something moved despite the ear-piercing sound. Toren ran out of the darkness and leapt towards Skinner, dagger in hand. He leapt onto Skinner’s face and began stabbing wildly. Skinner tried to shake his head, but he had no neck.

His eyes. Those crimson eyes. Toren clung to Skinner’s face, wriggling into the sunken sockets, tearing and cutting with his dagger as the giant creature tried to shake him free.

Again Skinner screamed, and this time ripped Toren away with a huge chunk of flesh. He hurled the skeleton aside.

Toren fell away with something red in his hands. But no blood. Skinner howled and struck after him with a massive hand, but Toren was already gone.

One of Skinner’s eyes was gone. In its place, a huge crater of dead flesh was all that remained. Dead flesh.

It was as if all Skinner was made of was just flesh. There had to be bones or muscle or—or organs. But all Erin had seen as the Workers and she had carved bits out of the creature was skin.

Something struck her from behind. She turned and a zombie bared rotten teeth, biting at her. Erin struck at him with her knife, but it wasn’t good for killing something already dead. It glanced off bone and she screamed as the zombie grabbed towards her face.

A blue hand reached out and pulled the zombie backwards. A ghoul—a long-dead human with blue, moldy skin—pulled the zombie back.

Erin blinked. The ghoul tore off the zombie’s head and then rushed at another skeleton. The group of the undead tore into their allies.

“What the—?”

Above her, Skinner was still clutching at his face. He was feeling at his eyes, as if he couldn’t tell one was missing. As his fingers touched the gaps he shrieked again. His ruined face turned towards Erin.

Skinner swung at Erin and she dove to one side. She scrambled to her feet and threw the knife in her right hand. It caught a ghoul in the eye and it fell back as a Worker dug into Skinner’s side. The Antinium dug at the hard, dead flesh like it dug at dirt, pulling away huge layers and pieces as Skinner thrashed and tried to reach the Worker. But they were too close, too hard to grab at.

More undead ran around Skinner, fighting Erin and the Antinium. But something was happening. Half of them seemed to be trying to kill the other half. Even as Erin watched, two skeletons bore down a ghoul that had a sword stuck through its belly.

Erin seized the sword and dragged it out. It was heavy and unwieldly in her hands, but she hacked at Skinner’s arm with it. Bits of dead flesh flew everywhere.

Skinner backed up. He was trying to shield his body, but the Workers were everywhere, and the human girl kept coming.

It shouldn’t be like this. She should be cowering. The Antinium should be dead. And his own undead had turned against him. It was all wrong.

But the girl ignored his fear. The dead had no minds to torment with horrors, and the Antinium were fearless. Skinner could only crush them, struggling to catch the Workers and undead.

He was just a slothful, hulking thing. He had no legs. He didn’t even have good hand-to-eye coordination. It was only his hands, his flaying touch and his aura of fear that were the threats. And Erin had come far. She refused to run.

She plunged the sword into Skinner’s arm. Deep. Nearly to the hilt. She hit something—something besides dead flesh. Skinner howled in agony.

He backhanded her and Erin flew. She actually felt herself lift into the air before she hit the ground so hard she forgot everything for a second. When she looked up, he was raising a hand to squash her.

She rolled out of the way just in time. The hand smashed down and she grabbed at it. There was no time to think. As the arm lifted again and Skinner searched for Erin she leapt onto its head. The grotesque layers of flesh cushioned her and she tried not to vomit.

She climbed the dead flesh, feeling it, slick and horribly cold beneath her skin. Erin raised the sword and stabbed down into Skinner’s head, clumsily sawing and hacking with the blade.

Skinner shrieked again. And only now, touching him, did Erin feel the vibrations coming from inside. She pushed the sword deeper and then cut again, levering out a square of compacted skin.

Below her, zombies began trying to pull her off. They crowded around her, but the Workers shoved them back, fighting them. Erin desperately clung to Skinner and he writhed, sawing away like she was cutting wood. She had already given herself two deep slices, but she desperately kept cutting away.

The friendly undead were fighting with the Workers now, and half were climbing Skinner as well, tearing into the large creature like she was.

Erin had just pulled another socket of flesh away when she saw something change. Instead of the putrid white and yellowed skin something else shone in the moonlight.

Something red. Erin stopped. The piece of dead skin peeled away and something raised its head within Skinner’s body and stared at her. She stared back.

“Oh.”

It was all she could say. Something inside of Skinner raised its head around the skin Erin had chopped away. Something wet and serpentine.

A dark red, eyeless face swung towards Erin. A segmented head with two long…antennae made of flesh seemed to drop down towards her, and a fleshy mouth opened, revealing sharp teeth.

Skinner—the real Skinner, the thing hiding in the puppet of dead flesh—slithered out of the ruined shell. Two long, whip-like tendrils followed the main body, long and thick roots of corded flesh. They were Skinner’s ‘hands’, and they were still coated with the black remains of the Worker he had seized.

Erin let go of the ruined flesh of Skinner’s face just in time. The red worm-thing lashed out, its tendrils scything through the air so fast she heard the whistling sound they made. They caught a ghoul and cut clean through his torso, shattering bone, breaking flesh.

A Worker caught Erin as she fell. Bird. He pulled Erin away, handing her a knife from one of his hands. Skinner was screaming again, the wormlike parasite emitting that high-pitched wail, only twice as loud now it was out in the open.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god. What is that?”

Bird shook his head as Skinner’s blind head moved back and forth, the fleshy antennas twisting around.

“I do not know. It is dangerous. Please. Stay back—”

A tendril shot towards Bird. He choked and Erin screamed as the tendril lanced through the Antinium’s side. She cut at the tendril with the knife and Skinner screamed again and pulled the tendril out. Bird collapsed on the ground, bleeding.

Erin threw the knife. It spun towards Skinner’s head, but the red worm dodged the spinning projectile effortlessly.

Two skeletons ran at Skinner. The red worm-creature hissed and lashed out with its tendril arms, scattering both skeletons. He cast around again, and struck like a cobra.

A zombie was lifted into the air and his skin was removed in a sickening ripping sound. Only Erin was sure that was one of Skinner’s own monsters. The crimson worm slithered back to the layers of skin and pasted the zombie’s flesh over part of the broken skin, as if he was repairing a papier-mâché doll.

“Do not allow it to rebuild. Kill it now.”

Erin couldn’t tell which Worker spoke. But they all ran towards Skinner at once, slashing at the huge segmented creature.

Skinner whirled around, and its tail sent several Antinium sprawling. It seized two Antinium with its tendrils and ripped parts of their bodies away. It was impossibly fast now, and it stabbed two more Antinium as they ran at it.

“No!”

Erin was on her feet. She scrambled for something to throw. Acid. She had to have another jar of acid in the inn. She ran towards it, but Skinner slithered forwards and blocked the entrance. It lowered its head and bit at her.

She ducked. She felt the smooth, sticky body of Skinner just above her, and then it rammed her. She hit the ground, stunned as Skinner raised its head. It regarded her, two antennae probing at her face, and then raised a fleshy tendril to spear her.

Erin couldn’t scream. She just looked at Skinner and held her breath. Waiting. The fleshy appendage rose and then scythed downwards towards her neck.

Death came for Erin, and stopped halfway. A sword cut through the air; a pair of silvery blades. They flashed together and Skinner reeled back, screaming. Yellow, pus-like blood oozed from the cuts, splashing onto Erin as she stared. She looked around.

“Wha—”

Someone was standing over her. An Antinium. But not like any she had ever seen. He had only two arms, and a slim, graceful body, not like a Worker’s or a Soldier’s. In his arms he held two swords she recognized, and he faced Skinner calmly as the red creature writhed and screamed.

Around Erin, black shapes suddenly appeared out of the darkness, grabbing the undead and tearing them apart. Large Soldier Antinium. They ran after Skinner as the red worm retreated. But that wasn’t what captured Erin’s gaze.

She was still staring at the Antinium who had saved her. He was a tall fellow. Some kind of Soldier? A new kind? But—

“Are you unharmed, Miss Solstice?”

For a moment the voice was just a memory. And then Erin’s eyes widened. Memory. The Antinium tilted his head as he regarded her. Her heart froze in her chest, and then began to pound wildly.

It couldn’t be. It was impossible. But the voice was the same. The way he talked was the same. His body was different but he—

“Impossible.”

“You have fallen. Allow me to help you up.”

She blinked. He reached down and pulled her to her feet. She clutched at him, ignoring the foul-smelling pus clinging to her clothing, Skinner and the undead. Everything.

“You—you can’t be. I saw you dead. You were dead.”

Her eyes were filling with tears. Part of her was screaming something wordless. Erin reached out and her fingers shook as she touched the Antinium’s black carapace.

“You—how?”

He smiled. Klbkch of the Free Antinium sheathed his swords and bowed to her.

“Have you not heard it said? The Antinium never truly die.”

The world stopped. The dark night ceased. Light filled Erin’s head. She staggered, and Klbkch caught her with one arm. She felt his cold, hard chitin on her skin. Smooth, hard carapace. An alien’s touch. An unnatural feeling.

But she looked up and saw a friend.

Erin stared at Klbkch. He turned his head and raised his swords. A ghoul ran onto one of his blades while the other beheaded it. He turned to Erin.

“It is not safe here. Remain behind me, Erin.”

She was unable to speak or even form a thought. Klbkch seemed to gesture, and two Soldiers appeared out of the darkness. They surrounded her while Klbkch gave orders.

“Harry the undead. Pursue that creature.”

“Oh!”

Erin stared as the Soldiers ran towards Skinner. The red, fleshy slithering thing was trying to retreat towards its dead skin, but the Soldiers weren’t letting it. They tried to corner Skinner, but it seized a Soldier, ripped his carapace away, and slithered away from them, down a hill.

Skinner screamed in fury as he ran. And he was running, slithering down the incline, a freakish worm-creature from the depths of hell. But he was running, nevertheless. His body of skin was gone. The Soldiers chased him, pounding through the grass.

But they were too slow. Too slow. They’d wounded Skinner. One of his ‘hands’ was missing thanks to Klbkch’s blades, and he was bleeding and torn in a dozen places. But he was too fast. Without his body he would get away.

“Do not slow! The creature must not be allowed to retreat into the Ruins!”

Klbkch thundered at his Soldiers. But even Erin could see it. Skinner was too quick. And he was—it was—

The worm laughed. It let out a ghastly, staccato chittering that made Erin’s skin crawl. It looked back as it wriggled away, as if taunting Erin and the others. It laughed, mocking them.

Erin gritted her teeth. If she had a weapon or something to throw she would have—but it was too far away. All she could hear was that taunting, echoing laughter. That high-pitched sound. She wanted to cover her ears, but they were already splashed by blood and worse. It was so loud, so repetitive. In fact—

“What’s that sound?”

Klbkch cocked his head. Erin looked around. She heard something else, another high-pitched noise, echoing across the plains. It wasn’t coming from Skinner. It was something else.

“That sound. What is it?”

It was faint, but growing louder. It was a high-pitched sound, countless…countless voices, ululating and screaming wildly.

Yiyiyiyiyiyiyiyiyiyiyiyiyiyiyiyiyiyiyiyiyiyiyiyiyiyiyiyiyiyiyiyiyiyiyi—

Erin knew. She breathed the word.

“Goblins.”

They streamed down one of the hills, countless small shapes lit by torchlight. Light glinted off their weapons and ragtag armor as they ran towards Skinner, faster than it could run. It halted, rearing up onto its serpentine body, seemingly unsure of what to do.

As the Goblins drew nearer Skinner lanced out. He skewered two Goblins and ripped the skin from another, but they were so many.

One of Skinner’s red, glowing eyes still shone in the carcass of flesh. Erin could feel the fear. But the Antinium ignored fear. And Goblins—Goblins were different. Goblins were always afraid.

They swarmed the massive worm, ducking under him as he lashed out with his tendril arms. He bit and screeched, but the Goblins screamed too, louder than him. Skinner tried to wriggle away, but he was caught.

“No way.”

Erin breathed the words incredulously. But the Goblins came on, little green demons with eyes that flashed red in the moonlight. They were just pests. The lowest kind of monster.

But they were quick. And they were everywhere. For each one Skinner killed, five more were stabbing, biting.

They were no match for Skinner. No match for the undead. But they killed the wounded, attacked from behind.

They were cowards, like that.

Skinner lashed out. He tore left and right, a fiend, a worm, a parasite living in dead flesh. He had come out of the Ruins, a horror from the past. But the Goblins stabbed and stabbed, and his vulnerable skin bled.

He collapsed, born down by the weight of countless small bodies. Skinner thrashed and screamed, but the Goblins drowned out even that. They stabbed, bit, burned him with acid and with fire.

Small jars of acid. They smashed it on Skinner’s side, leaping away as his red skin smoked and he writhed in agony. And fire—a flaming creature of fire was dancing round Skinner, burning him, making the red worm twist as the flames seared his unprotected flesh.

Rags. From her spot on the hill, Erin saw a small Goblin controlling the fire. Her hands glowed red and her face and body were illuminated by the flame as the spell struck Skinner again and again.

She raised a sword that shone like gold even though it was bronze and stabbed him in the head. Skinner screamed then, and the dead howled with him. Then, slowly, he collapsed.

Skinner, the guardian of the Ruins of Liscor, the death of adventurers and stealer of flesh, opened his mouth to howl one last time. Rags tossed a jar of acid into his mouth and he convulsed. She pushed the sword deeper and his body jerked. Once. Twice.

And then he was dead.

The dead stood still, staring at Skinner’s remains. And then slowly, they moved. Those closest to the living fought on and died. But the others walked away. Back, out of the city, away from the inn. Towards the ruins, down the long dark corridors, into dark places. Back towards the place they had died and risen. Back towards their lair.

Back home.

It was over.

----

Klbkch of the Free Antinium, Prognugator of the Hive and Senior Guardsman of Liscor sheathed his blades as the last zombie stopped moving. He stared around the battlefield quietly, making sure all the corpses lay still.

Erin stood next to him, not saying anything either. Just looking.

Death. She saw it everywhere. The corpses, the pieces and blood that stained the ground—

And the friends.

Knight lay against the doorway of her inn, arms stills spread outwards. Other Workers lay around him, still locked in battle. More still dotted the hill. Erin’s eyes picked out each one as the Soldiers collected the bodies.

So much death. So much grief and pain. But at least one small part of the world was right.

Erin stared at Klbkch. Her hands shook, but he took it in hers. His hands were cool and smooth. An alien’s hands. A friend’s hands.

He gestured at her inn, still standing. Light played across its worn exterior, but it was home. Home. A place to rest. A place to be safe.

A place to protect. And after so long, her first guest had come back again.

Tears made Erin’s eyes blurry. But Klbkch just clicked his mandibles together and raised them. The closest thing he could come towards a smile.

They walked to the door in silence. Erin stared down at Knight, and gently folded the Antinium’s arms across his chest. Klbkch watched her do it, and saw her wipe away the tears.

Erin stood in the doorway and faced Klbkch. He looked at her, and saw a girl. Perhaps a woman by some standards, but someone young. Her clothes were covered in blood and gore, and she was cut in places, bruised in others. She had been aged by violence and death and loss. But something still shone in them. Something bright.

There were many things Klbkch could have said. But none were quite right, quite fitting. So he said the only thing he could.

“Greetings, Erin Solstice. May I come in?”

And she smiled and wept and for a moment—

Everything was right again.

1.45

She ran back. Back, towards the city where her friends were. Perhaps they were her friends or maybe it was just a word. But they called to her. And so she ran.

----

[Innkeeper Level 18!]

[Skill – Immunity: Alcohol obtained!]

[Skill – Quick Recovery obtained!]

Erin didn’t know that she’d slept. She raised her head and realized she was sitting down. Dawn had come, but she had only drifted off for a second.

The sky was still mostly dark. But light still illuminated the grasslands. Dancing shadows. Twisting flames.

Fire.

The Antinium were burning the dead. All of them. They had created a huge pyre of bodies and set it alight. The terrible, suffocating smoke fanned away from the inn, but Erin’s eyes still burned. Or perhaps it was just her grief.

The bodies of the Workers were gone. Sometime when she hadn’t been watching, the Soldier had taken them away. Erin had asked one of the surviving Workers – Bird – where they had gone. He told her she didn’t want to know.

She was afraid to ask more. Even of Klbkch. He had barely left her side all night. Now he stood on the hill, staring down at a large shape several hundred meters away.

Erin got up and walked to his side. He turned his head slightly, but continued looking down. Erin stared at the red, elongated form of the creature that had lived in dead flesh and led an army of the dead. It was still surrounded by the Goblins that had felled it.

But something was different about Skinner’s body this morning. He seemed…diminished. Erin stared down as the Goblins milled around him, and then she realized what was going on.

“Are they…eating it?”

“Yes.”

Her stomach roiled. But Klbkch was unmoved and so too were the Goblins. They tore into the red body of Skinner, tearing him apart, drinking the fluids and—

She couldn’t watch. Erin went back to her inn and threw up in the outhouse. It was still standing, at least. It needed repairs. Everything needed repairs.

She sat on the toilet Pawn and the other Antinium had built and rested her head in her hands. She was so tired, still. She would have given everything to sleep. But sleep was a luxury and she owed a debt of pain.

First things first. Her…level. Yes, she’d leveled up three times. Was that a lot? Probably. And she had new skills.

They were an [Innkeeper]’s skills. And they were worthless. Trash.

“Shit.”

Yes. Erin glanced at the wood walls of the outhouse. Less than crap. That was how she felt about her levels and skills at the moment.

It felt wrong to level when her friends had died. It felt wrong to be stronger in exchange for killing things. But there was nothing Erin could do about it. She felt like vomiting, or punching a hole in the wall of the outhouse. She nearly did, but stopped herself.

Erin walked back out and stood next to Klbkch. After a while, she had the courage to ask him what she couldn’t last night.

“How many?”

He looked at her, and Erin wondered if he was going to lie. But after a second he spoke again.

She listened to the numbers. When they were just numbers, it didn’t seem so bad. But when she stared at the bodies, it was too terrible to be counted.

Twenty seven Goblins lay in the grass. Too many. Even in Skinner’s last moments, he had killed with terrible ease.

Of the thirty two Workers that had chosen to save her, four remained. Bird, Garry, Belgrade, and Anand. They lay in her inn, or sat propped up, wounds covered by some kind of sticky red substance. The Antinium had little in the way of medicine, but they were tough. They would heal.

Less than a hundred people had died around Erin’s inn. Too many, but in the city it had been worse, or so Klbkch told her.

“Over eighty guardsmen and nearly two hundred civilians perished before the Hive was mobilized.”

She hadn’t even known there were that many guardsmen in the city. But they’d had healing potions and armor and—it was just a number.

“How many Antinium? Your people…?”

“Sixty five Workers and forty seven Soldiers. Nearly half again as many are wounded, but the losses were quite minimal.”

“…Really?”

He shrugged.

“It was a small price to pay, and would have been smaller still had my predecessor not erred. Had we fought with the Watch, we would have pushed the undead back without taking nearly so many losses.”

“Why didn’t you, then?”

A pause.

“Ksmvr believed the Queen had to be protected above all else. He withdrew all Soldiers into the Hive while she finished the Rite of Anastases.”

“What’s that? What Rite?”

“The process to revive me.”

“Oh.”

Klbkch nodded calmly. He went on, listing the things he had to do on one hand.

“There is much that must be done. Reparations must be made to the city. The Antinium did not honor their promise. We must rebuild, put up barriers outside the Ruins.”

“And you’re going do to it? You’re the new Prognugator? Or does Ksmvr still have that job.”

“He does not.”

Klbkch shook his head as he watched a Soldier dragging a body towards the burning heap.

“Ksmvr was a fool. He nearly cost the Hive the city, our position here and status across the continent and…other assets. I will deal with him soon enough.”

For a while Erin and the Antinium watched the dead burn. She swayed on her feet. Klbkch watched in silence.

“Yes. Many things.”

“Klbkch?”

“Yes, Erin?”

“How did you come back?”

“It is called the Rite of Anastases. It is a…process which the Queen of the Antinium may undertake. It allows the dead to be reborn into a new body.”

“Oh.”

Erin thought about that for a second.

“Okay. I understand. I think. Then…does that mean you can revive the others who died?”

“Others? Ah. You mean the individuals who were once Workers. No.”

“Why not?”

He hesitated.

“In truth, only a Prognugator would be considered…worthy of the effort and time required for such an act. Moreover, it is not something done lightly. There are consequences. I have lost ten levels in every class. A considerable setback, although my new body reduces the impact on my abilities quite significantly. And the time it took—my Queen labored for nearly three weeks without rest to restore my being.”

“That’s a lot of work.”

“There were other material costs as well. The Hive would not be able to support such an action more than once or twice. The others—”

“I get it.”

It nearly didn’t hurt. Nearly. But it was just another cut in a heart bleeding from a thousand places.

“They died well. I would not have expected mere—they rose above what they were. For that I honor them.”

“Thanks.”

For once, Klbkch didn’t seem to know how to reply. Erin looked at him. He was as he had been, but different.

“What’s with the new body? Upgrades?”

He nodded.

“The Prognugator role was never meant for specialized action. Moreover it was thought that the Worker form would allow a Prognugator to blend in to reduce the dangers of assassination during times of war. This new form will greatly improve my abilities.”

“Two arms are better than four?”

“Yes. I am swifter, more mobile, and possess several changes to my anatomy not incorporated into other Antinium. The older design of four arms was inefficient. This new body will serve me better.”

“Harder, better, faster, stronger, huh?”

“That is broadly correct, yes.”

“Okay.”

Klbkch was watching her. Erin knew, even if he didn’t have pupils to follow her. He hadn’t really let her leave his sight since that night. She was so tired.

“Thanks for saving me. Really.”

“It was nothing.”

“It was something.”

“Yes.”

She looked at him. Just the same as always. And then she looked at her inn. She looked at the broken wood, at the marks of violence, and at the place where a Worker named Knight had died. She looked at the dead and the Soldiers. She remembered a half-Elf, a Minotaur, a Drake obsessed with chess, and a bunch of smiling faces.

Klbkch saw Erin fold up and fall backwards. He tried to catch her, but she thumped back into the soft grass.

“Miss Solstice. Are you alright?”

Erin smiled emptily as Klbkch hovered over her. She raised one hand and let it fall.

“I’m just going to lie down for a while.”

She lay in the trampled grass as the Goblins feasted, listening to the dead burn.

Erin wept.

----

On the night of the second day, Ryoka found the dead Gnolls. They lay where they had fallen, eight warriors holding spears and bows and in one case, a morning star. Each had been beheaded by a single slash.

She stared at the bodies for a long time. They were already rotting and the green glowing flies were crawling out of the bloody cuts. She could do nothing for them, but still Ryoka lingered for a while before running on.

She knew she was being followed, but every time she turned her head, she saw nothing.

----

Selys sat in the Adventurer’s Guild, listening to Zevara argue with the guildmaster. She stared dreamily at her bandaged wrist, and felt the healing cuts on her legs and torso burning and itching.

Even after a day, Liscor was silent. The streets were still busy, and the people still spoke. But it was a different place. Death and destruction had taken their toll, and people still mourned.

But they had survived. They had all come out stronger for their ordeals. Selys was now a [Warrior] and had gained several levels in her [Hunter] class. It was a wonderful thing, especially since she hadn’t leveled in a month.

But she was still tired. And this latest argument that she could hear from her desk bothered her.

“I want those humans responsible for unleashing the undead held accountable!”

That was Zevara, Captain of the Watch. Selys knew her if not in person, then by reputation. She was a good leader, and she had saved countless lives during the battle with the undead. Her voice was raw and she coughed every few words now.

Throwback. Old blood. Dragon’s child.

Selys thought the words, but didn’t say them out loud. Zevara had breathed fire to hold the undead back. She was a hero. But she was wrong in this.

“All the adventurers who went in are dead. Only a handful remain, and they’re in no condition to repay anyone for anything. They’ve suffered enough. Leave them alone.”

The Guildmistress of the Adventurer’s Guild in Liscor, an elderly Drake with dusky purple scales who was also Selys’ grandmother shot back when Zevara stopped to breathe. The Drake Captain coughed a few times and glared at the old Drake, but she was unmoved.

“They have nothing. Nothing will be gained from blaming them, either. The Council was glad enough when they volunteered to explore the Ruins. This is on their tails as much as ours.”

“The Council wants to hold someone responsible. And if it won’t be the adventurers, it will be this Guild. You choose which one.”

Selys winced, but her grandmother just sighed.

“Stubborn child. If you really wish to push this—Selys!”

Selys jumped and tried to shuffle some papers around. Her grandmother raised her voice.

“Take Zevara to the leader of the adventurers she wants to blame so badly. Let her make her case there.”

That clearly wasn’t what Zevara had been expecting. The taller Drake hesitated when Selys poked her head around the corner.

“Um. Hi. Follow me Watch Captain.”

She led Zevara down the corridor, into a part of the Guild reserved for injured adventurers. Like the rest of the building it was small, only large enough to treat one adventurer at a time. And it was filled to occupancy.

Selys pushed open the door carefully. Zevara’s breath caught as the door swung open to reveal the lone occupant.

A human sat in a white bed, staring emptily out one window. It was a bright, day with clear skies in Liscor. A bit chilly given it was winter, but winter had not yet arrived and Yvlon Byres took no notice of the temperature.

She paid no attention to anything at all, really.

Half of the skin on her face had been torn away. Her long blonde hair was ragged; her fair skin cut and marred. She stared empty-eyed though the window, sitting and looking at nothing.

Her armor had been torn to shreds when they’d cut her out of it. Even now Selys could remember the human woman screaming. But now she was silent. It was little better.

“Human.”

Yvlon didn’t move. She didn’t blink. Zevara called out a few times, but Yvlon was still. The Watch Captain hesitated.

“If you’re going to try and shake her, you might as well give up. She doesn’t respond.”

Zevara turned towards the elderly drake as Selys rearranged the pillow around Yvlon, trying not to touch the human female. She avoided the empty stare as well as Zevara and her grandmother whispered.

“She has no coin or anything else. Everything she owned was lost in the Ruins. Her comrades, her pride, her health—what more would you take from her, good Captain?”

Zevara glared down at the older Drake, lips tight, tail thrashing.

“Someone must pay.”

“Someone must. But I don’t believe she or any of the adventurers has enough coin to cover the costs.”

Zevara looked back at Yvlon. The adventurer sat quietly in bed, back straight, hands folded. Face scarred.

The Watch Captain shook her head. She had a million things to do. Relc was patrolling for any undead while the rest of the guardsmen rebuilt. She had to go through the roster of wounded and dead, focus on rebuilding the city, address the Antinium issue for the Council.

She turned her heel. It was pointless to waste her time here arguing with a Drake three times as old as she was. Zevara strode away and turned her head only once.

Yvlon stared into the blue sky, a few feet away and a thousand miles gone. Zevara stared into her empty eyes and left.

----

On the third day, Ryoka met a strange woman with a large eye and a curved sword who knew her name. She said nothing and ran on. The strange, smiling adventurer faded into the distance behind her and Ryoka wondered if she had killed the Gnolls.

She ran on, thinking of things to say and ways to apologize. She slept that night, anxiously. Waiting to return and make things right.

----

Toren sat on the roof of the inn, staring at nothing and everything at the same time. Below him Erin pounded away with a hammer, covering up broken windows with boards. She’d banned him from helping the second time he’d put a hole in a wall.

He hadn’t meant to. But on the other hand, he’d meant to. Some part of Toren knew that was the only way to earn a reprieve. And he wanted one. For the first time he wanted to stop and think.

The skeleton sat on the roof, staring out at the empty plains. From here he could see Liscor in the distance. The city seemed whole from here, and it was rebuilding quickly, according to Erin. But much like the area around the inn, marks of the battle still remained.

The battle. Toren still remembered Skinner, still remembered the countless enemies and only the pure joy of battle coupled with the need to keep Erin safe. It had been glorious, liberating.

And all too short.

It was a curious thing. He had leveled, and in doing so, he had become more. More…himself. He could think, act, feel on a level he had not previously.

Level 11.

That was what he was. It was…eight levels? Yes, a huge leap. But he had earned each one. And the part of Toren that thought and remembered wondered if it was because he had wounded the large flesh-stealing creature so badly. That, and the countless number of his brethren he had slain had done it.

He wondered how many levels the small Goblin had gained. How many levels her tribe had gained. It was meaningless, and yet it was not. Why should he care what level a Goblin was? Unless she was a threat it was meaningless.

But some part of Toren wondered. And it was that part which had awakened after the battle, as he had gained those levels. He had begun to think, and that was a mystery in itself. A welcome one to be sure, but vexing nonetheless.

Now he could ask why he obeyed. Now he could think of Erin as a person, not just as a master. Now he could wonder…

The red gemstone turned in his skeletal hands. Toren could sense the magic contained within. He had taken it from the creature of skin, plucked it away. It had powerful magic. It had fear; he understood that much. But how might he use it? Should he use it? Should he give it to Erin?

No. yes. Perhaps. It was not so simple anymore. Toren studied the gemstone. It was red, darker red than crimson. The red of dried blood and death. He had taken it from the corpse; he didn’t know where its twin had gone. But one was all he needed.

Needed…for what exactly? Toren wasn’t sure. But he was beginning to understand. Something was calling to him. He didn’t know what yet, but he would in time. If he had more levels he would understand more. And when he did, perhaps he would think more. Perhaps he would question more. And then when he had levelled enough—

“Hey Toren! Get your bony butt down here and help me lift this thing!”

A voice from below. His master’s. Or was it mistresses’? He had had a master, once. The mage called Pisces. But he was no longer a master. Was Erin a master? Or a mistress? Or was she neither? Another question.

He had so many. But not enough time to consider them, and Erin was beginning to yell again.

Toren got up without sighing. Skeletons didn’t sigh. But he looked at the red crimson eye in his hand. She would not want it. She would take it away. Therefore, he had thought about what to do.

Carefully, very carefully, he opened his mouth and placed the gem inside. It was quite simple. A bit of sticky tar used for repairing the inn’s roof and it could be stored in the hollow of his skull, where brains were normally kept. That way no one would see it.

It was the [Tactician] part of him that suggested it, and the rest of him agreed. Toren made sure the gemstone was firmly tucked away and stuck in place before he leapt from the rooftop. He was stronger now, that was clear. Strong enough to help Erin wrestle the planks of wood into place and hold them there while she hammered nails haphazardly into the wood.

Stronger, yes, and more aware. But what would that lead to? What would he become?

For the first time Toren asked these questions. And for the first time, he was curious to find out the answer.

A bit of crimson light flashed in the blue flames of his eyes. Only for a second.

----

The day rolled on, and many important things happened. Just like yesterday, and the day before that. They were important things, surely, for each person who experienced them thought of themselves as important.

In his hiding place in the plains, Pisces dragged away another body he had managed to save from the purging flames. It was an effort to bring them so far, but worth it. He propped the ghoul’s headless body against a wall and studied the dead Crypt Lord that occupied most of the dirt cave. He smiled gleefully, as a child about to unwrap a present might.

A human girl, a thief, crouched in an alleyway, debating where to steal next. She wouldn’t have cared if the undead had killed all the filthy lizards and furry halfbreeds in the city. She was starving, alone, and desperate.

Far north Magnolia spoke into the air. She was berating or perhaps arguing with someone invisible. The other speaker growled at her while she castigated him. Teriarch sulked while Magnolia studied a map of the northern continent, and then the world. She thought, tapping her lips with one finger and the ground with her foot.

Relc patrolled the city; Ksmvr knelt trembling before his wroth Queen. Garia ran her deliveries, wondering all the while where her friend had gone. And more. More people carried out their lives and shaped the world in ways small and large.

But one girl ran through the grass, tired, exhausted. She had run for four days, running back through the grass, north along seldom-used roads from the Blood Fields. She had left in anger and despair. And on the fourth day, she came back.

----

On the fourth day, Ryoka returned to Liscor. There she stopped and stared a while. She wandered into the city and smelled burnt flesh, walked past destroyed homes, and heard those mourning the dead. She dodged thrown rocks and rubbish hurled at her and the other humans and came to the Adventurer’s Guild.

She asked about her friends. She asked about Ceria and Calruz and Gerial and Sostrom. She listened, and felt the world drop away.

The Drake receptionist took her to a small room with a small bed. She opened the door and Ryoka sat next to Yvlon for a while. The other girl’s eyes were blank and she scratched at the scarred flesh on her face.

After a while, Ryoka stood up. Yvlon paid no notice. The girl walked out of the guild and out of the city. She walked towards the Ruins and saw the entrance had been blockaded. Twenty giant ant-men stood in front of a wall of dirt, barring entry.

She watched them, until it was too much to bear. Ryoka left the ruins and walked through the long grass outside of Liscor. She walked until she was lost among the grass, walking and walking without a purpose.

Ryoka never noticed the Goblin which rose out of the grass with his fellows, following her. She never noticed the large rock that moved towards her slowly. She walked on, staring at the sky.

She did not cry. She did not rage. She was empty. Emptiness became her.

Guilt and sadness was the air she breathed. Death walked next to her and whispered in her ear. Ryoka walked, and scarcely thought.

When it was all too much, Ryoka stopped. The Goblin drew a sharp knife from his side and the moving stone crept up on both Goblins and humans, unnoticed.

Ryoka took a deep breath. She stood in the plains and screamed. The Goblins covered their ears. The moving boulder jerked and began to retreat.

Large, leathery birds rose out of the grass in panic. They flew away as the Goblins ran away and the Rock Crab scuttled away. The sound pierced the air, travelled miles, and made travelers on the road look up at the sky.

Ryoka screamed until she could bear it no more. She punched at the ground wildly, tore at her own hair. She screamed and screamed until her body was unable to scream any more.

Then Ryoka stopped.

Her throat was raw and she coughed and tasted blood. Ryoka had to sip from one of the healing potions she’d bought before she could breathe without agony.

She walked on, despairing. Ryoka tripped over a rock and fell face-first onto the ground. She lay there a while. Empty.

After a while, her stomach growled. Ryoka ignored it.

She lay on the ground, cursing it. She cursed the blue sky and the citizens of Liscor and the adventurers. She cursed the undead, the monster that had killed her friends. She cursed the dead gods, the ones she had known, the world she now lived in and the one she had come from. She cursed all things, and especially herself.

After a while, her stomach growled again. This time Ryoka listened and sat up.

She scrubbed at her face with handfuls of grass and looked around. Evening. She was starving, and lost. But when she looked towards Liscor, she saw a building on a hill. When Ryoka drew closer, she saw it was an inn.

Like the city, it had been touched by death and battle. The inn was cracked in places, broken in others. The ground was churned in places; the soil upturned and grass trampled. An outhouse around back had been smashed in one part.

Everything had been hastily patched back up. Ryoka eyed the boards nailed clumsily together. They spoke of life, and she was starving.

She looked up at the sign above the inn.

The Wandering Inn. Like the rest of the building, the words were scratched in places, and green blood had dried on part of the sign.

Yet still the inn stood. It drew Ryoka towards it, although she couldn’t say why. Here was a place to rest. A place to eat, perhaps. Or just a place to wait until the pain went away.

It would do.

Ryoka put her hand on the door and hesitated. She stared at the half-ruined building. Then she turned away.

Not here. Not yet. Her heart still hurt too much for words, much less mundane company. Ryoka turned, ignoring her stomach. She was empty.

She walked down the slope, not knowing where she was going. Perhaps north. Perhaps nowhere. She just had to run. Run, and run.

Because there was nothing left to stop for anymore.

Ryoka took out her iPhone and turned it on. She began to walk, and then to jog. She made it ten steps before a sound distracted her.

Her phone began to ring. Ryoka stared at it. Slowly, she hit the glowing green button and raised her phone to her ear.

“…Hello?”

End of Volume 1

Author’s Note:

Well, here we are. It’s slightly strange for me to be publishing Volume 1 of The Wandering Inn when I just started Volume 5 last month. But that’s the irony of the entire thing, isn’t it? The Wandering Inn has been going on for over two years now, and yet only today will the e-book be coming out.

It’s strange and funny and amazing how a story can be told entirely online these days. When I was growing up that idea would be inconceivable, and yet if I look at magazines stories, I see the origin of what web serials are today—an ongoing tale told in segments rather than coming out one book at a time. And that’s what this story is: a web serial. It’s online and it’s free. If you want to read it, you can find every chapter online at wanderinginn.com.

It’s not perfect. It’s far from perfect. This was a first draft gone well, and every chapter I write has typos and plot inconsistencies and I fear the e-book will be guilty of the same faults. However, I intend to keep revising and editing, and offer my story for free. Buying this e-book is a way to support the story (and read on a Kindle), not a requirement to join in. I want as many people to read The Wandering Inn as possible, and to the people who buy this book or support me on Patreon, I thank you.

It’s been a wild, funny, interesting, sad, scary, and sometimes silly journey, and I encourage anyone who liked the story enough to come this far to read the web serial online. The Wandering Inn is free, and there are four more volumes waiting as of this writing. And we’re still going, week by week, month by month. I hope you continue enjoying the story. Thanks for buying this book and as always, thanks for reading.

--pirateaba

[1] Obviously, New York.

[2] I’ve never actually seen these particular monsters. I’m not even sure if that name is right—the locals just call them ‘Tunnel Crawlers’. Apparently they’re not something you want to meet.

[3]If I make it sound horrible, it’s only because I’m aware of the possible dangers. At any given time there’s really not that many monsters lurking around. It’s just that you never know when one will pop up.

[4] More like just a city. It’s not that big, but all of the cities have their own form of rule. Some are ruled by a council, others have elected leaders like we do back at home, and some still have lords and ladies, although apparently only one or two still stick to that system. The point is they all band together if threatened, but they have their individual squabbles and goals. Just like good old USA.

[5] It would probably be realistic. I’m still not ruling out me being in some kind of virtual reality or simulation in my head.

[6] Pop. And rock. And techno, but that’s hit-or-miss. Look, if I can run to it I will. I have a soft spot for country music, but it’s hard to keep up speed when I’m listening to a harmonica’s croon. Country is for crying or nostalgia. At least, that’s the only kind of song I download.

[7] Everyone.

[8] Almost everyone.

[9] Territory. What are we, dogs? But apparently we are, with all the little groups and infighting the runners seem to do. It’s a mess of politics and friendships in each Runner’s Guild.

[10] Has it really only been that long? It feels…so much longer.

[11] Local currencies differ from city to city or by region. Here the currency is called Thestals, but that just means they have a unique weight and percentage of actual silver or gold used in each coin. Those who deal with money a lot care about the currency, but they’re all roughly silver, gold, and copper coins.

[12] Where does that quote originate from? No, focus, focus.

[13] I still don’t get classes. Apparently, [Fighter] is a general class, although there are [Warriors] as well. And some cultures have the same classes, only different names for them. Does that mean they have the same skills? Either way, it’s the first class most warriors take, but if this Minotaur guy were higher-level he’d be an [Axemaster] or [Knight]. Huh.

[14] I personally have problems with calling it a Lich. Apparently, unlike in games and stories, Liches are rather common. They’re more like an undead type rather than unique and rare examples of mages living forever. They’re not even that deadly. Well, they’re very deadly, but even scarier types of undead exist apparently.

[15] Seriously. How the hell does it do that? Are there that many bones in the ground? Or is it just magic?

[16] Oh, please no. Not that stupid, inbred rodent girl. No one in the world has a voice more high-pitched and annoying that her and her moronic cronies. I’d rather go back and dance naked in front of the Lich than deal with this.

[17] Is sallow the right word here? I think it means pinched, and narrow, but I could be wrong. That’s the problem with not having the internet. Anyways, her face is shrewish, although I forget what a shrew looks like too. I’m going with sallow either way.

[18] What language! I’m ashamed of myself. Mainly because I don’t have a wider vocabulary to describe someone like her. I could get vulgar, but I’d rather just slap her on the back of the head. Must resist temptation.

[19] Yeah, that’s the city I left. Wales. It’s odd that it has the same name as a country from my world, but then again…it’s not. There are only so many words in the English language, after all.

[20] Well, not literally.

[21] If I have to eat ice cream, it’s got to be mint chocolate chip. Vanilla is just vanilla. But I love mint. And peppermint. And spearmint. I…really wish I had some gum.

[22] Which, considering how far Liscor is away from the human lands is pretty damn impressive. The Horns of Hammerad must have set a blistering pace to get this far so quickly.

[23] Mana. Magical energy. This world already sounds like a classic videogame, and they use terms right out of most games I know. Still, the idea that we all have our own internal reservoir of magic is cool.

[24] It’s a nice witch’s hat, too. Good to see we’re all conforming to stereotypes here. I might as well get a katana and start talking like a ninja while I’m at it.

[25] Not all pop songs are bad, okay?

[26] Not that it’s hard to think about. Apparently the most common type of monster between the human cities and Liscor are Goblins or a variety of avian species. I’m told that it would be far better to have the birds start eating me alive than suffer what male Goblins do to women. Next time I see one of those buggers I’m kicking his head in.

[27] Of course, shaping up for him would be going into politics to kiss ass and tell lies 24/7, so he can go jump off a cliff.

[28] It’s a great look, too. It says that they were clearly expecting someone, anyone besides me but I’m here now and they have to put up with me – mainly by pretending I don’t exist. Gods. This is why I hate looking at people’s faces.

[29] I assume it’s a charming smile. The problem is, I’ve seen so many charming smiles that this particular type of charm makes me want to break something every time I see it.

[30] Why are they always female? Oh, right. Feminism isn’t dead in this world; it probably never existed to begin with. Unless you count someone like Lady Magnolia, and she’s probably a rare exception due to her influence and wealth. Lovely.

[31] I don’t. Really. But I might have stepped a bit on his foot.

[32] I generally think of a good run at anything about 80%. On those runs I get into the zone and outperform my best. Obviously I can still run really fast even when I’m not motivated, but there’s a clear difference between me when I’m feeling good and feeling bad. I could make 40% motivation Ryoka eat my dust and lap her if I were at 90% motivation.

[33] More than once. Painful, and way worse than stepping on glass. Actually, barefoot runners rarely step on glass. Everyone thinks we do, but if you were running around barefoot would you step on glass? Seriously. Think about it.

[34] I use the word road only in the loosest sense. Rather than a road, you could call it the only vaguely flat terrain that winds through the mountains and through stone passes and the network of caves.

[35] I do not know kung fu. I practice a version of Muay Thai geared towards MMA, although I don’t do any actual mixed martial arts. Damn overprotective parents.

[36] Calm down! Don’t panic! Holy gods it’s huge!

[37] Having a personal gym and near-perfect memory helps, though. Also, parents who let you practice martial arts as much as you want if it keeps you out of trouble.

[38] Mcdojo. Great term. It describes every cafeteria and gym for kids who just want to show off rather than learn actual techniques. I kicked a black-belt ‘expert’ once and broke two of his ribs. Good times.

[39] Never been tased. Run!

[40] Vintage, if you’re a hipster. And if you are, don’t talk to me.

[41] Probably because it was magic.

[42] I think my brain’s literally shutting down. This is wrong. People…a person shouldn’t be this perfect.

[43] I don’t know what that actually feels like firsthand but—it’s like my entire body is being shocked, and not just in a bad way.

[44] Look, obviously I care about the dignity of women. Anyone whistling at me on the street I have an urge to throw into a trashcan. But when nakedness occurs, you expect at least some kind of reaction out of any male, gay or straight or asexual. Even if it’s covering their eyes and turning away politely, or staring like a monkey. But this guy doesn’t even blink. Even a blind guy would be happier to be told there was a naked woman in front of him. Respect is very important, but I’d like some acknowledgement I’m more important than a rock.

[45] Ryoka Griffin, 1995 – 2016. “Never knew when to shut up.”

[46] He’s still up by a few hundred thousand points, though.

[47] Note to self: have this checked out and buy something soon.

[48] Kanji, the written language of Japan. My name is Japanese, and although my U.S. birth certificate shows the English reading of it – Ryoka, my real name as given to me is 涼香. I’m willing to bet that he’d need to know that in order to find me.

[49] A geas, or geis if you prefer the Irish spelling is a type of quest. Or…an oath bound by fate and magic. Look it up if you don’t know. Old myths and stories were full of them, and they never ended well for the people who took them on. Here’s hoping this one’s a simple task.

[50] If I weren’t so tired I think I’d be running around waving my arms and screaming in a high-pitched voice.

[51] Probably not. But I’m really, really excited. It’s magic! Magic! I wonder what spells I can learn and—damnit, here come the people.

[52] Seriously. What’s up with that? Is it just a rule that white people are always the colonists who screw over the indigenous groups? I know humans aren’t native to this continent, but does that also mean white—excuse me—caucasian groups are the dominant ethnic group in this world? Or…is it mirroring our world somehow? Hm.

[53] Technically speaking, caucasian is also not politically correct since it implies someone who’s descended from the Caucasus region which isn’t necessarily true. Plus, the word literally means white people, just without saying the word white overtly. The correct term here would be European-American, except that it doesn’t apply to people here since there is no America or Europe, which means that white people is the best damn word there is and stop thinking about this—

[54] Barley. Barley bread, barley pizza, barley pancakes, barley soup…yeah. They didn’t have many options back then.

[55] My eyes are up here. Not that I really want people to stare into my eyes. Over my shoulder is nice, but I’m used to them looking at my feet, too. And at least Gerial doesn’t stare much and stops when he realizes he is. That’s the sign of a semi-decent guy, as opposed to the other guy sitting next to him who can’t stop looking at them.

[56] Lies like ‘oh, I’m so sorry your stupid hamster died’, or ‘I just cannot believe your stupid inbred boyfriend dumped you! How terrible!’ And so on.

[57] Or something else. Honestly, I could be a golden poodle for all I care. I hate being stared at when I’m not running, and even then it’s not exactly a blast. But at least then I can outrun the eyes.

[58] But I won’t. I’m too tired. And pugilist is a stupid word, anyways.

[59] It totally did. I was not impressed.

[60] Not a mistake. Your fault. You fool. Fool.

[61] Of course not. You fucking idiot.

[62] No it wasn’t. It was you. You idiot. You fool. Foolish, stupid, inbred bitch without a shred of gratitude for the people who saved you! HEALED YOU. Gave you a hand when everyone else turned their backs and YOU ATTACKED THEM AND HURT—